Districts

Summary: Six teens, six victors, six stories, twelve districts, one bloodthirsty Capitol; and 73 games to the date – and a whole lot of night terrors. It's not easy. (Inspired by the trilogy The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins.)

Authors note: The Hunger Games and the Powerpuff girls do not belong to me and belong to their rightful owners. As always they have human appendages.

*No named characters from the Hunger games will be mentioned.

**I have done my research into the actual victors who were named in the books, as I didn't want one of the girls or boys to win during a year where a named victor won. I found that no named victors won during the 50's aside from Haymitch, so that is my reasoning behind making them win their games in that particular decade.

This is an idea I've had in my mind since last June and wanted to share with the rest of you. Please enjoy.

Also, shout out to Carriedreamer, who has been patiently waiting from me to release this since I told her about it last year – enjoy darling! And happy 20th Pinky-Keene! Hope you had a great one my dear!

Lets begin.

Chapter 1: Bubbles

Your name is Bubbles Sinclair and you are five years old.

You live in District 4 with your Grandfather – A short little man with a white mustache who happens to be your district's mayor. He's aloof and sometimes he isn't all there, but he adores you and takes good care of you.

He is the only family you have after all – seeing how both of your parents were killed in a boating accident, orphaning you when you were three.

Try as you might, you cannot remember what they sounded like, which makes you quite sad at times but you never let it affect your bright and cheerful personality.

That is after all; the reason why your parents named you Bubbles, and you don't want to make them regret their decision.

There is one other person in your district that understands how you feel. He also happens to be your very closest friend.

His name is Boomer.

Just like you, his parents were killed in the same boating accident that killed yours. The only difference with him being he didn't have any other family members he could stay with, and was sent to live in your districts orphanage.

This never stopped you from going to see him every single day though.

Often times you would wait just outside the sad looking building – in view of his window – and he would sneak out by climbing down the creeping ivy shortly after spotting you, take your hand, and bolt towards the beach.

Boomer has features similar to your own; he has the same sandy blonde hair that you do, only his is always styled in beach waves as opposed to your pig tails, and dark blue eyes that remind you of the ocean.

It's because of his eyes that you like the large body of water that surrounds your district so much.

He takes you by the hand and drags you down to the beach's shallow shore, kicking off his shoes as he does so. For the briefest of moments, you pause.

Ever since the accident that killed your parents, you haven't spent much time in the water. In fact you're pretty sure that you're boarder-line scared of it, just because you know how dangerous it can be.

Because of this fear that you harbor, you're not as strong of a swimmer as you should be

Even at five, you know this fear is irrational. You live in District 4: The Fishing District. Everyone here lives around water, and everyone knows how to swim.

Except you apparently.

Boomer is the only other person aside from your Grandfather that knows about your fear of water, and he's taken it upon himself to teach you how to swim.

It's easier said than done.

The first couple of times he tried, you broke down and almost had a panic attack. His approaches after that were more slow and deliberate, gently easing you into the shallow waves; teaching you how to float and control your breathing in the calm water.

"Come on Bubs." You remember him say to you one time. "You need to learn how to swim. What if you drown and I'm not there to save you? Then I'll really have no one left."

It was that sentence that finally pushed you into the water for the first time since your parent's deaths.

Boomer is thankfully very patient for a five-year-old, and is actually a remarkably good teacher. Soon, you were both swimming side by side in the water, laughing and playing –gradually becoming a better swimmer thanks to his support.

You're lying with him on the beach one evening on a towel the two of you are sharing. You cast a look over at him and take his hand in your own – squeezing it gently.

He returns the gesture after a moment, gripping your hand in his own. You look back out at the setting sun, sinking below the waves and you quietly tell him.

"I wish we could stay like this forever."

Out of the corner of your eye you see him sigh gently and without looking at you he whispers:

"Me too."

You are now eight years old and you are drowning.

You kick and thrash and scream, air bubbles escaping your mouth, as you desperately try to free your leg from the rope that is snagged around it to no avail.

You had been out on one of the fishing boats with your Grandfather and Boomer. Your Grandfather had taken the two of you out on the water to teach you how to spear fish, along with some of the expert fishermen to monitor you.

You had been sitting in the boat weaving nets together and checking to make sure all the ropes on the boat were tied properly, since spearing fish made you slightly queasy. You had been standing near the edge of the boat, watching as some of the fisherman were about to toss one of you weighted nets out into the water in order to trap some of the fish.

What you didn't notice was that one of the net's thick ropes was caught around your ankle.

Boomer had turned his head at the last second just as the fisherman where getting ready to toss the net off the boat, and had seen that your ankle was ensured by the rope.

His warning cry had been too late as the men threw the net off the boat, tossing you off with it.

You remember him scream as you plunged into the cool water, quickly becoming submerged in the clear blue depths as you were dragged under by the weights attached to the net.

You desperately try and pry the rope off your ankle but it's tied too tight and it's too thick for you to rip off, so you continue to thrash and try to hold your breath, just like Boomer had taught you.

Above you, you can hear your Grandfather screaming for someone to help you and the panicked shouts of the fisherman as they tried to pull the net back up.

Your lungs are begging for air and your vision begins to blacken as you lose strength. You're just at the point of losing conscience when there is a muffled splash and a torrent of white bubbles beside you. Weakly, you turn your head to see what it was, only to come face to face with a pair of deep blue eyes and a mop of golden blonde hair.

Boomer.

You watch with your darkening vison as he kicks down towards your trapped ankle and slashes though the thick rope with what you assume to be a knife he swiped off the boat. With your ankle free, you start to drift away though the water before he grabs you around the waist and kicks back up towards the surface.

You're two seconds away from completely losing conscience when he breaks through the surface – gasping and panting – but not daring to let go of you.

Your vison is hazy, but you remember being pulled back up onto the boat with Boomer – your Grandfather screaming hysterically at the sight of you. He lays you down gently as he starts to push on your chest frantically, trying to force the water you inhaled out of your lungs.

The sudden pressure on your chest causes your baby blue eyes to fly open as you turn to the side and begin to violently cough up the water you swallowed, earning sighs of relief from the rest of the crew.

You clutch onto Boomer as you shiver violently. He grabs a nearby towel and wraps in around you as he rubs your arms soothingly.

"You ok?" He whispers in your ear. You shake your head as tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes. After all that time you spent with him learning how to swim and master your fear, this happens – reminding you that the sea is stronger then you'll ever be.

As if sensing what you're thinking, Boomer whispers, "It's not your fault. It could have happened to anyone, even me. Don't let this hold you back."

You manage to nod at him, still slightly unconvinced. You open your mouth to thank him for saving you, when your Grandfather pulls him aside, and one of the crewmates picks you up and moves you off to the side.

You try to focus on what your Grandfather is saying to Boomer, but you're so tired and you barely have enough energy to raise your head. You're just about to doze off when Boomer suddenly appears next to you. He sits down and wraps you up in a hug, waking you up slightly.

You turn your head gently to look at him, but his face is buried in your neck. You can't see his face, but you can feel his smile against your neck and it makes you curious.

"What is it?" You ask him, as you lift one of your arms to drape the towel across his shoulders.

Boomer lifts his head to smile at you and you stop for a moment as you take in his expression.

It's the happiest that you've ever seen him.

The smile is so large it threatens to split his face in half and it lights up his dark cobalt eyes in ways that you didn't think were possible.

"Bubbles… I'm not going to live in the orphanage anymore." He says, the smile growing wider on his face.

"Where are you going to go then?" You ask curious.

He grins at you.

"Your Grandad offered to take me in." He says, squeezing you tightly. You're eyes widen at his words and a smile spreads across your face as you wrap your arms around him, returning his hug.

"I'm going to be staying with you from now on! I'll help you become a strong swimmer and you can teach me how to tie nets together!"

You nod eagerly as you pull him closer to you, unwilling to let him go in your happiness. He re-wraps the towel around the both of you as he whispers into your blonde locks:

"I won't let anything happen to you, I promise Bubbles."

You are now eleven years old and are sitting in front of the television in your Grandfather's house, watching the opening ceremonies for the annual Hunger Games.

You sigh gently as you watch as the female tributes flaunt their beautiful dresses on camera enviously. You wish that you had beautiful clothes like that; you've always admired the gorgeous eveningwear that your nation's Capital people always seem to sport. The one article of clothing that you own that even comes close to the fancy dresses they have is your Reaping dress…

You shake the grim thought away as you redirect your attention back to the glass screen.

Next year will be the first year that you put your name into the Reaping.

You cringe at the mere mention of the Reaping. You know that your district is technically considered a 'Career' district, however more often the not, people from 4 don't usually volunteer as tributes, unlike the ones from districts 1 and 2.

You honestly don't see why anyone would volunteer. You've been watching the Hunger Games for as long as you can remember, and you've seen the horrible things that the tributes have to do in the arena. You know for a fact that you wouldn't be able to handle the kind of instantly that goes on in that place – least you drive yourself insane first.

But you know that not everyone in your district sees it like you do. Some see fame and glory, while you see death and misery. It is because of that reason alone that you will never volunteer yourself as tribute. Even if you wanted to, you're Grandfather and Boomer would never allow you to do it.

Speaking of Boomer…

You glance towards the door. He should have been back by now. Usually the two of you would watch the opening ceremonies together but he's late getting back from the docks.

You sit in silence as you watch the tributes from 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5 finish their interviews with the show's host. The male tribute from 6 is just about to come on, when the door knob turns and Boomer steps into the house, shutting the door behind him.

He sends you a tired grin as you scooch over to make room for him to sit down. He falls heavily onto the couch beside you and drapes an arm over your shoulders as you move to lean on him.

"How was fishing?" You ask quietly. He snorts in response.

"Didn't get as much as we wanted. We're under the Capitols quota, but that's to be expected when they want a fish that's not in season right now."

You nod as you snuggle further into him. He smells like fish and sweat. Normally you'd have him go change but he sounds especially tired today and you've just gotten comfortable, so you let it slide.

Boomer nods at the television. "I would have rather been watching the ceremonies with you. What did I miss so far?"

"Nothing interesting." You tell him. "You missed the interviews from 4, but they didn't have much to say anyways. 6's just about to start."

He grunts as the male tribute from 6 shakily walks up onto the stage. You both sit in silence as the rest of the interviews come to a close. You feel slightly sick for some reason after the show ends. Maybe it's because the first day of the Games start tomorrow, you've never liked watching the bloodbath unfold.

As Boomer gets up to turn the television off, you tug him back down. He raises an eyebrow at you and you avert your eyes away from his cobalt blue ones.

"I don't want to put my name in Reaping next year." You admit softy. His eyes soften as he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

"You'll only have your name in once. Don't worry – the odds are in your favor." He reassures you as he moves to turn the television screen off.

You nod as you move off the couch – his words comforting you slightly.

It's only one time; the odds are in your favor.

You are now twelve years old and are floating on your back with Boomer – staring up at the night sky above you.

It's a few hours after your first Reaping and you are both relaxing in relief out on the bay near your house. You kick your feet lightly to move yourself along in the calm waves, and you silently thank Boomer for teaching you how to become a stronger swimmer.

Ever since your near drowning incident four years ago, he had been adamant on taking you out on the water every day for the past several years, and ultimately turned you into a powerful swimmer – one of the best in your age group.

You are mulling this thought over in your head when Boomer finally breaks the silence.

"I told you the odds were in your favor."

You turn onto your side and begin to tread water. "Yes, I suppose you were right." You agree. "Twelve year olds don't normally get picked."

"There were two this year though." Boomer points out. "One from 5 and the other from 12. I feel really bad about it, but there's nothing we can do. The odds just weren't in their favor I guess."

"It's really sad." You whisper into the water quietly, as Boomer floats toward you. "They shouldn't have gotten picked… their names were only in once…"

"Sometimes that's all it takes." He sighs. "It's rare, but it happens."

You tread water for another minute before you speak.

"They're going to die, aren't they?" you ask as you redirect your attention back towards the inky black sky.

"Maybe not. They'll definitely struggle more than the other tributes, but they have just as much of a chance as the rest of them…"

Boomer trails off, uncertain of his own words. You get tired of treading water and move to float on your back again, brushing shoulders with him.

"It could have been us."

He turns his head slightly to look at you. "What?"

"That could have been us – and that could be us still. We have five more Reaping years ahead of us, and each year our chances of getting Reaped grow… I'm scared." You admit quietly.

Boomer takes your hand after that and pulls you towards the shore. You let him, too tired and scared to protest. Before you leave the water, he wraps an arm around your shoulders and gives them a comforting rub.

"It'll be ok Bubbles. Next year your name will only be in twice – you won't have to put your name in any more than that. The odds are still in your favor. Trust me."

He starts to lead the way back to your Grandfather's house, where there is no doubt in your mind that the older man will still be up, waiting for you to come back in.

"Don't even think about it Bubs. For now, let's just watch the games and see what happens." He looks over his shoulder to give you a smile, which you return after a moment.

"Who knows? Maybe even one of the twelve year olds might actually win."

Two weeks later, you and Boomer watch in amazement as the red eyed twelve-year-old boy from district 5 is crowned the victor of the 53th annual Hunger Games.

You are now thirteen years old and you have just been Reaped.

The world around you spins dangerously as you slowly make your way towards the stage that is set up in the towns square.

You feel like you're on the verge of a panic attack and your lunch threatens to make a re-appearance as you slowly climb up the steps to where your Grandfather and your district's spokesperson is standing – beaming at you – unaware that she has just sentenced you to your death.

You make the mistake of looking over at your Grandfather, only to see him staring right back at you – tears silently streaming down his face, as he watches you make your way to stand beside the glass bowl that holds all the names of the female tributes in your district. He may be the mayor of district 4, but he has no power against the Reaping. There is absolutely nothing he can do except watch you, as you turn to face the crowd.

The murmurs and whispers from the rest of your district reach your ears as you lift your head up to look out at them. No one expected you – the mayor's granddaughter to get picked. Hell you didn't expect to get picked.

Your name was only in twice. Twice. Out of the hundreds of white paper slips in that glass bowl, you had the misfortune of getting picked as the female tribute for your district.

The odds should have been in your favor. Should have been.

But they weren't.

Casting your eyes around the crowd you spot Boomer standing near the front of the male tribute section – dark cobalt eyes open impossibly wide as he stares up at you, horrified.

You feel tears spring to your eyes as you take in just how petrified he looks. You miss the name of the male tribute being called out as you crack a small, pitiful smile at your best friend.

Sorry Boomer. You think as you lift your hand to wave at him once.

But the odds weren't in my favor this time.

XxX

.

You're standing inside of city hall, in one of the side rooms that are reserved for tributes.

You know this part of the building well enough, your Grandfather took you with him here often when you were a small child; you just never thought you would actually be locked in one of the said rooms.

Quite a few people have come to visit you since you were pulled off the stage by your spokesperson and dragged into the lavishly decorated room. You could honestly admit that you didn't realize how popular you were before this point.

A few of the girls from your class come to say goodbye to you before leaving tearfully, along with several adults that you know to work for your Grandfather and are quite close with. Several boys who are your age also come in, deciding that now is a good time to tell you how they apparently had crushes on you for quite some time before hastefully departing with red cheeks. You can't help but roll your eyes at the stammered statements. As if knowing that will make you feel any better about your situation. They could have asked to marry you for all you know and you could have cared less at the moment.

The hardest goodbyes have to be with your Grandfather and Boomer.

They both enter at the same time, but Boomer ends up leaving a moment after he walks in to give you and your Grandfather some privacy. You let all of your tears out with him, as she short, white haired man throws his arms around you and cries. Apologizing to you over and over again about how sorry he is, and how he wished he could take your place instead. You hold onto him until the guards actually have to physically rip him away from you, and that just makes you cry even harder.

Then Boomer is bought in.

He doesn't say anything; just takes one look at your tear-stricken face and pulls you in for a hug. Unlike your Grandfather he doesn't say anything for a long while and you're grateful for that, because you honestly don't think that you'd be able to hold back another wave of oncoming tears if he started to talk.

He pulls away after what feels like eternity, but doesn't let go of your shoulders. You meet his gaze and see that his ocean blue eyes are hard.

"Listen Bubbles." He begins; his voice low and steady. "You can make it through this, I know you can."

"Boomer how am I possibly going to make it in the arena? Some of the tributes in there spend their entire lives training for this… They'll kill me-"

"No they won't, that's the good thing about district 4 – we're Career's remember? Join a pack for the first few days; that's when most of the killing takes place, and the other Career's will keep you safe."

"Boomer look at me: I'm thirteen years old. Career packs are made up of older tributes that enjoy killing. They won't let me in…"

"Not always." Boomer counters. "If you have any special talents they'll make an exception. I'm not telling you to stay with them for the whole time; just the first few days. Career packs always turn on each other near the end, and I'd rather you not be there when that happens."

"What kind of talents do I have that could possible help me?" You almost wail. "I'm not a killer, the whole nation can see that much. The only thing that could help me is knowing how to swim for long distances thanks to you-"

"Good, then you're going to have to use that to your advantage." Boomer states firmly. "I doubt any of the other tributes know how to swim like we do, if at all."

"But Boomer, I don't know if there's going to be any water in arena." You protest, thinking back to one year in particular where the arena was located in the middle of a desert.

He must be thinking about the same year because he tells you, "There's always a source of water, ever since that one year where the arena was a desert and almost all of the tributes died or went insane from thirst. Now there's always a lake or a pond of some kind in the arena."

"But still, I don't know how to kill." You whisper against him. "I don't think I have the strength to do something like that."

Boomer is silent for a moment before he responds: "But you know how to hold your breath for long periods of time. I doubt that they do."

Your shudder at what he is implying.

There is a knock at the door before it swings open and two Peacekeeps barge in to take Boomer away and you really start to panic.

Boomer presses something into your hand, forcing you to look into his eyes and you see the raw panic in them as well. You look down to see what he gave you only to see a woven bracelet tied together expertly with blue string.

Tears pool into your eyes as you look back up at him. Boomer leans forward once more to wrap you in a hug. "Wear it as your districts token. I was going to give it to you after the Reaping, but I guess I won't be able to do that."

He hangs his head as the one of the peacekeepers places a hand on his shoulder to drag him out. "I spent a lot of time making that. Weaving nets together is harder than it looks so I'd thought I'd try making a bracelet. I think it turned out alright."

You slip it on your wrist as the peacekeepers start to take him out. "I'll wear it." You tell him urgently. "Please stay with my Grandpa, he'll need the support."

Boomer nods, relief flooding his eyes at your promise before they harden again and he stares directly into your soul.

"Promise me."

You meet his intense gaze as the peacekeepers begin to close the door – cutting him off from you.

"Promise me you'll try Bubbles, you've got to come home!" He tells you urgently as he thrashes against the white clad peacekeepers.

You nod your head quickly at him. "I'll try Boomer, I'll try. I promise!"

And then the door slams shut and you are all alone.

.

XxX

You stare out the window as the train takes you and the male tribute – a sixteen-year-old boy named Mike – away from district 4.

Away from everything you have ever known.

Away from your Grandfather and Boomer.

You're both silent as your districts spokesperson prattles on about everything that was going to happen once you reached the Capitol. You know you should be listening to her, but you've watched the Hunger Games enough to know what happens before the games begin.

You have met the former victors – or should you say, your mentors – that will be helping you and Mike train for the games. Both seemed to be impressed with him: he's a strong, well-built and decent looking boy with a high chance of surviving. Not a lot of work will have to be done on him to prepare him for the approaching games.

The same cannot be said about you.

Both look you over and sigh. They know who you are and both seem to be just as unhappy as you are that you were chosen. You are known around your district for your bright and cheerful personality, making people genuinely found of you. They are also well aware that you can't bring yourself to hurt a fly.

A lot of work is going to have to be done on you to help get you ready for the games.

"It's not fair." You hear the female victor whisper to her male companion. "She shouldn't have been chosen. She's practically a child-"

"The games aren't supposed to be fair. The Capitol isn't fair, the Reaping isn't fair; none of this is fair. You and I know that better than anyone. She still has just as much of a chance as anyone else. She'll just have to want it more." The male victor responds harshly before leaving the compartment.

His words stick in your mind. You'll just have to want it more.

You think back to Boomer, your Grandfather, your home, the beach, the sea, before going back to Boomer.

Promise me.

And suddenly something in you turns over and you realize: You do want this. You want to win.

And you'll do whatever it takes to get back home.

XxX

.

You're lying on your bed in your room in the Tribute Training Tower. You roll onto your back and stare up at the ceiling as you reflect back on the day events.

You had arrived at the Capitol a few hours earlier and had met with your stylist and her team. They had gushed over you, calling your blonde hair and clear blue eyes adorable and promised that they would make you look unforgettable for the opening ceremonies.

They had then scrubbed you down and dressed you up in a short dark white and blue dress that reminded you of crashing waves that crested on the beach near your house – your district partner Mike was dressed up roughly the same as you, only he was wearing a tunic instead of a dress. You couldn't help but think that you looked beautiful; if only you could have looked this nice back at home…

They had then placed you and him on a chariot pulled by four dapple gray horses as they sent the both of you out to be met with by the adoring Capitol crowds.

You attracted a lot of positive attention from the brightly dressed Capitol people as you passed them; waving slightly as they threw dozens of roses at you, cooing all the while.

The chariot passed through the City Circle and right up to your President's mansion, where he greeted you and the rest of the tributes himself. The white-haired man welcomed you all to the Capitol and wished you luck in the arena, saying that he hoped that "the odds would be ever in your favor."

You shudder as his cold blue eyes wash over you briefly. He may be old, but there was something about him that made you shudder. There was a dark and sinister aura about him that he concealed well. You were grateful when the chariot began to move again, taking you away from the president and his cruel gaze – not wanting to be in his presence any longer.

You sigh as you are brought back to the present. You trace the patterns in the ceiling for a while before you hear a knock at the door. You sit up, thinking that it's one of your trainers, only to be shocked to discover Mike standing in the doorway, looking uncomfortable.

You both stare in silence at each other for a while, and you are suddenly hit with the realization that you haven't said a single word to each other since you had gotten Reaped. Mike's been trying to avoid you at all costs if anything.

But it's him who breaks the silence first.

"Look Bubbles…" He starts awkwardly, and you cringe in your bed, gripping the silken sheets tightly – it's the first time that he's spoken to you since you were both Reaped. He sighs at your reaction and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I just wanted to ask if you wanted to form an alliance with me and some of the other tributes from 1 and 2." He shuffles his feet and you stare at him in surprise.

"Why?" You blurt out. "I'm not exactly a killer."

"I know, but if I somehow make it back to District 4, I'll be treated like a pariah if I don't help you in the arena. A lot of people care about you back at home. They weren't happy that you got Reaped." He explains with a sigh.

You nod gently at him.

"Alright. I'll stay with you for a while, but what about the other tributes from 1 and 2?"

"You'll have to impress them somehow. I'm already in pretty good with them but I can only say so much. You'll have to convince them to let you on the team."

"and how exactly do I do that?" You ask him.

"The next few days are training days. Show off your skills to them then, in the meantime, just stay by me." He tells you as he turns to leave.

"Mike!" You call out to him, causing him to pause in the doorway.

"Thank you." You whisper to him, feeling relieved that your district partner doesn't want you dead so soon.

He only nods tensely as he disappears from sight, and a tentative partnership is made in that moment.

.

XxX

"You gotta be joking 4. Why would we let her in the pack?"

"She's just a kid – a tiny one at that."

"I'm telling you guys there's more to her then meets the eye. She's got her own set of hidden skills: She's one of the strongest swimmers back at home, she's good with netting and trapping, and she's pretty handy with a knife-"

You sigh and do your best to block out the argument that Mike is having with the tributes from districts 1 and 2.

You find it sweet that he's trying to help you in the way that he is, but you're fairly certain that the tributes from 1 and 2 have made up their minds about you, and that they do not want you as part of their pack.

Quite honestly you don't want to be a part of their group either, but you know that it's your best chance of surviving the first few days in the arena. That and you promised Boomer that you would try and get in with them.

Boomer.

You absentmindedly toy with the woven bracelet that he made you. You haven't taken it off since he gave it to you in the Justice Building back in district 4. There's no way that you're taking it off. It's the only piece of home that you have left.

Home. Boomer.

Your eyes narrow as you think about them and you suddenly are reminded that you're fighting to get back to them alive.

You want to win, and you realize that in order for that to happen, you're going to have to do things that you never thought that you would do before.

Joining the Career pack is one of them.

Your eyes dart around the Training room that you and the rest of the tributes are in until you find what you are looking for.

Slowly you stand up and make your way over to one of the room's corners – still not paying attention to the argument unfolding between Mike and the Career tributes.

You grab what you need and make your way back over to the middle of the room where the practice dummies are, swiping a knife off a nearby table. At this point, the girl tribute from 2 has as noticed what you are up to and nudges her district partner, causing the argument to quiet down as they stare intently at you.

You expertly fling the net you found over one of the hanging dummies before quickly sliding the knife in-between the fake ribcage – right where the heart would be.

You're not much of a fisher back at home, but you're an expert at making nets and trapping fish, along with gutting them. In the back of your mind you realize that if you think about it: doing the same to a person isn't much different than doing it to a fish.

You cringe at the thought as you back away from the hanging mannequin, leave the knife stuck in the dummy

The tributes from 1 and 2 are quiet as you walk back over to them to stand beside Mike. He nods at you approvingly as he looks back at them with a smug grin

"See?" He asks them. "I told you appearances can be deceiving."

The boy from 2 looks at you with a raised eyebrow. "Can you do anything else?"

You shrug, unable to look the intimidating boy in the eye. "It's not that much different than catching fish if you don't think about it."

He cracks a cruel grin at you and you can't help but flinch as he pats you roughly on the head.

"There may be hope for you yet Blondie. You might just actually be of use to us."

You cast a concerned look over to Mike and he simply shakes his head, helpless.

XxX

.

You stare at the television in your quarters in shock as your name flashes across the screen, along with your training score.

7.

Not bad, considering your age and how you spent your time trying to impress the judges (who you were fairly certain weren't paying any attention to you at all.) by ensnaring and gutting the practice dummies.

You mentor claps you on the shoulder. "Well done." She praises you before she moves over to congratulate Mike on his 10. It's not a mystery how he got that score.

He looks over at you and nods approvingly. Over your mentors shoulders you see him mouth "You're in."

You shudder inwardly. Not knowing at all what was going to follow in the next few days.

.

XxX

You're on stage in front of the Capitol audience doing your interview the night before the games and you can't remember feeling more nervous in your life.

You're dressed in a short blue dress, much like the one that you were wearing during the opening ceremonies; only this time instead of the dress reminding you of crashing waves, the blue hues remind you of Boomer's eyes, making you feel all the more lonesome without him beside you.

The host is kind and actually wants to help you perform well during the interview. He welcomes you up onto the stage; complimenting your dress and helping you do a little twirl for the audience, before letting you sit down in the chair next to his.

He beams at you, and you relax slightly – you've always found it easier to talk to someone if they were smiling at you – and launches into his first question.

"So, Bubbles, I hear that you're thirteen. Is that correct?"

You nod, "Yes sir."

"Oh my, so young. How are you enjoying the Capitol so far love?"

"It's… very nice. It's got a lot of things back at home that we don't have. The city is pretty though, at least from what I've seen from my room in the Tower."

The host smiles gently. "Oh so modest, what a sweet girl you are! Enough about here though, I want to know more about you."

You swallow slightly. You don't necessarily want to talk about home in front of all these strange people. But your mentor's words echo in the back of your mind: "The interview is the best way to gain sponsors; you'll need their support in the arena. You're a sweet enough girl as it is, so just be yourself. You'll attract positive attention that way. Whatever questions he asks, just answer them honestly and try and have some fun."

You sigh to yourself. You do need the sponsors.

You force a smile onto your face and fold your hands in your lap as you respond with a simple "Of course, ask away."

The host smiles at you and you can tell that was the right answer. He leans closer to you as he asks his first question.

"I've been told that you are the Granddaughter of the Mayor from District 4, is that true?"

You freeze momentarily. Oh no. This is going to be a difficult set of questions for you to answer.

Instead you nod, still keeping the smile plastered on your face. "Yes, that's true. I live with him."

"That about your parents though? Where are they?"

Oh no. Straight into personal territory.

"They… died. When I was three. It was a really bad boating incident." You manage to get out.

The Capitol's audience sighs sadly at you, and you can swear that you hear someone trying to muffle sobs somewhere in the front.

The host clicks his tongue sadly at you. "I'm very sorry to hear that." He tells you sincerely. "Moving on to a happier topic then, who gave you the bracelet on your arm? Is it your district token?"

You cover the woven bracelet with your free hand as you rub it soothingly. You don't want to tell them about Boomer either, but maybe talking about him will calm you down. That and you are almost certain that he is watching the interview back at home with your Grandfather.

You take a deep breath and begin.

"It's my districts token yes. My friend made it for me. I was really proud of him, he took the net weaving techniques I taught him and made this." You show off the bracelet proudly.

The host grins at you. "So it's a boy then? What's his name?"

You hesitate. You don't really want them to know about Boomer, but you also know this might be the only opportunity that you get to gain sponsors.

It's another moment before you answer. "Boomer."

"Boomer? Well the two of you must be close if he made you that." The host beams at you, and you hear happy whispers come from the audience – no doubt entertained by the turn the interview had taken.

"Yes. He's my best friend." You respond quietly. "I miss him very much. This is the longest we've ever been apart."

"Well is there anything you'd like to say to him? The interview is almost done." The host informers you kindly.

You take a deep breath and look up at the camera closest to you, knowing that if Boomer hadn't been watching before, he definitely was now.

This is your time to say goodbye to him before you enter the arena, and you know in the back of your mind that it might be the last thing you ever say to him.

"Boomer…" You begin hesitantly, knowing that you have to choose your words carefully.

"I miss you…" You start quietly before your eyes harden and you feel yourself sit up straighter.

"I'm not going to say goodbye. Because I'm coming home. I'm coming back to you. I promised. I will come home Boomer. I promise." You say determinedly, feeling the most confident that you've been since you arrived at the Capitol.

The host gapes at you momentarily – surprised at the sudden change – before he breaks out into a wide smile.

"That's the kind of spirit that we're looking for!" He praises you.

A timer goes off and he frowns. "Well, we're out of time I'm afraid. Best of luck to you Bubbles, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

You carefully get up and move offstage past Mike, who is looking at you in wonderment. You hesitate slightly before meeting his gaze.

"I promised." You tell him quietly, but firmly.

He nods, but you know that for the first time since you were Reaped, he sees you as someone to watch out for.

XxX

.

You are standing on your metal platform, shifting between looking at the large clock that is slowly ticking down from one minute, to looking around the arena.

The sunlight is harsh and it blinds you for a moment. When your eyes adjust to the glare, you look around the area that will serve as your prison for the next week, and are relieved to see that it looks like a large meadow with tall grasses and rolling hills. All and all, it's an area that isn't completely uninhabitable unlike some of the years before this one.

You breath a small sigh. At least it's not in the middle of a barren tundra like one year three games before.

You spot Mike on his own platform a few feet away from you and he catches your eye briefly.

Stick close to me. His look conveys to you before he shifts to look at his surroundings. You look back at the timer that is slowly ticking down.

45.

44.

43…

Swallowing the anxiety that is steadily rising in your throat, you distract yourself by taking in your surroundings.

The first thing that you notice is the vast body of water off to the far left of the arena. The water, ripples and shimmers under the bright glare of the sun and it eases your nerves. Boomer was right – ever since that one awful year where the arena was in the middle of a desert, there's always a source of water.

You have a feeling that you're going to be using that to your advantage later on in the games.

26.

25.

24.

23.

22.

21…

You feel the nausea creep back up on you again and you struggle to stay upright, knowing that stepping off your platform before the countdown ends is suicide – the bombs planted around the metal plate you're standing on will blow you to bits before your feet even hit the ground.

10.

9.

8.

7…

You glance back over at Mike, but he's not looking at you – he's staring dead ahead at the massive cornucopia that's sitting in the center of the circle that the platforms have created – where all of the weapons and supplies are stashed.

You know from years of watching the Hunger Games that the first day is when the most deaths happen, usually during the first half and hour – when the majority of the tributes frantically try and get as much supplies from the cornucopia as they can. You also know that the Career tributes almost always have the advantage over the other tributes with their pack of trained killers, but that still doesn't make you safe.

You know that you'll need to stick close to Mike for the inevitable blood bath ahead – you know that he and the other career's will be heading straight to the cornucopia to get the best supplies, but there are still the other tributes that you and them will have to contend with, and you know that most – no matter how weak they seem to be – will not pass up the opportunity to take out a young, defenceless girl – meaning that you'll be relaying on Mike to help keep you safe.

You turn your attention to the cornucopia and your eyes narrow. You know you're fast, you need to get to the horn as quick as you can and pick up a set of knifes if there is any. At least it will provide you with some sort of protection.

5.

4…

You bend at the knees – getting ready to run, and you can't help but wonder if Boomer is watching.

3…

2…

You take a deep breath and close your eyes.

1.

"Ladies and gentleman, let the 54th annual Hunger Games begin!"

The gong sounds, and you're off and running before you even open your eyes.

Your feet barely touch the ground as you sprint towards the massive golden horn. You feel someone run at you and you almost instinctively make a sharp turn in the other direction only to realize that it's Mike who's running along side you, and you instantly feel grateful.

The pair of you bolt towards the cornucopia along with the rest of the Career's and Mike pushes you inside as he rummages around for a spear. You don't waste anytime looking around for a set of knifes.

A shriek of pain from just outside the mouth of the horn startles you and you drop the small box of knives you've found and whip around – only to see the male career from 2, snap the female tributes neck from 8.

You watch as the life fades from her eyes and she hits the ground with a loud thud. Your eyes widen in shock and horror as your knees give out and sink to the ground. Mike's beside you instant, holding a wicked looking spear.

"Don't look." You hear him mumble, but his words sound muffled and far away. "Bubbles don't look. Just stay in here and don't look."

But you can't help it. You want to look away, but you can't seem to take your eyes off of the nightmarish scene that begins to unfold before your very eyes.

You watch in stunned silence as the rest of your career pack grabs various weapons lying about the mouth of the cornucopia and make quick work of the approaching tributes. The male career from 1 slashes the male tribute from 9's throat with a sword, the female careers from 1 and 2 tag team both of the tributes from 6, and even Mike plunges his spear into the stomach of the female tribute from 3.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

You silently count off in your head how many times the cannons go off as you touch the spot on your neck where they injected your tracker. You count twelve shots in total.

Your mentors weren't kidding when they said it was a blood bath the first day – and this one was especially bloody. Normally only nine or ten tributes die the first day, but there was more this year the most others.

That means this will be a relatively short game year.

The other careers are slapping each other high-fives and whooping and laughing but you just feel sick. You can't bring yourself to look at the bodies that are scattered around the field, so you just pick yourself up on unsteady legs and shuffle over to Mike. He shoots you a sympathetic look and gently ruffles your hair.

"Just keep your head down and don't engage the other careers unless you have to." He mutters. As he helps you stuff your pack with supplies "Our alliance with them is only temporary. We'll stick with them for the next few days before taking off."

Of course, both of you know that the partnership that the two of you have together is only temporary as well, but nether of you mention that fact.

"Hey Blondie! Where were you for the blood bath? I didn't see you getting in on the action!" the boy from 2 jeers and you cringe, not knowing what to say back. Thankfully, you don't have to say anything as Mike quickly steps in.

"Leave her alone 2. She's never seen someone die up close, just give her a minute will ya?" Mike snaps back, going on the defensive. The boy from 2 rolls his eyes.

"Well she better get used to it fast, there's going to be a lot more where that came from. She can help us hunt down the ones that got away."

You shrink farther into Mike's shadow at that. You've seen in on T.V many times – how career packs will spend days flushing out the remainder of the tributes that got away before turning on themselves.

It's cruel and barbaric, and you want nothing to do with it – but you know that you don't have a choice.

The other careers are casting you odd looks at your refusal to participate in the initial blood bath, and you know that if you don't do something to help them soon, that they will turn on you, and Mike will only be able to do so much then.

So you simply nod at the brute of a teen and flash him a weak smile. "Sure… of course… I'll help you find them." And you pray that it was convincing enough.

The boy gives you one last look before nodding. "Alright. Everybody gear up. We're going hunting at nightfall – I don't want the rest of them getting too far."

You glance up at Mike, but he porously avoids your nervous look as he wipes the blood off of his spear head.

.

XxX

It's three days later and true to your word, you've been tracking down the remaining tributes with the career pack and Mike. While you still haven't had to kill anyone yet – you've proven yourself to be a decent tracker and have convinced the other careers to keep you around.

Over the past three days your group has tracked down three more tributes and have dispatched each one with little to no effort. From the nightly anthems in the sky, you've seen that two more tributes have died from other causes, bringing the count up to five.

Now it's just your group of six and one rouge tribute and that's it.

The nightly anthem has just ended and you've curled up into your sleeping bag that you managed to pull from the cornucopia, but you know that sleep will not come. Not tonight.

You've seen so much death in the past few days that you feel numb, but you're grateful that you're still drawing breath – after all, you promised Boomer that you would win and come home to him.

Boomer…

You shift your arm and the bracelet that he made for you dangles in front of you. You feel your eyes start to water as you hold your arm close to your chest – near your heart.

You miss him so much.

You'd give just about anything to see him again.

You slip the woven bracelet off your thin wrist and bring it to your lips. Inhaling the woven strands brings more tears to your eyes and you don't bother trying to wipe them away. The bracelet smells like District 4 – like home. What's more, it smells like him.

The familiar scents calm you slightly and make you relax. You close your eyes, hoping that you'll maybe be able to get a little bit of sleep… only for a hand to slap over your mouth suddenly – jolting you back to full conscientious.

You let out a muffled scream – thinking that its one of the careers and that they've decided to turn on each other earlier then she thought they would, but the person looms over her and you find yourself staring into a familiar pair of light gray eyes.

Mike.

"Shh Bubbles it's just me." He whispers removing his hand. "It's time to go."

You frown, not understanding what he's saying. "Go? Go where?"

"Away from the rest of the careers." He nods at the sleeping forms of the careers from 1 and 2 behind him. "There's only one tribute left and after that it's just us." I know the careers from 2 have been talking about leaving already. I think it's time for us to leave – put some distance between us and them."

"But... won't they come after us?" you whisper fearfully as you peer over his lanky form to glance at the people who want you dead.

"They're bound to come after us eventually. If we leave now, we'll put some distance between us and them. You'll be safer that way… if we stay any longer, they're going to turn on each other and I know they'll come after you first." Mike in forms you.

You shudder at his cold words, but you know that he's just being honest, and you know that it would play out like that too.

You also feel lightly relieved that he doesn't want to see you die… not just yet anyways.

You frown at that grim thought.

But you weren't going to die. You promised Boomer that. What's more, you promised yourself.

You are not going to die in this hell like the other tributes. You weren't.

Instead you give him a firm nod. You give your token a small kiss as you slip your bracelet back on your wrist a climb out of your sleeping bag silently. Both you and Mike pack up your gear and slip off into the night – leaving the careers behind.

XxX

.

It's two days later, and you and Mike have heard three more cannon blasts.

The anthems in the night sky inform you that the rouge tribute is dead, same with the female career from 2 and the male career from 1.

The two career's death's surprise you. You figure they must have got into an argument and simultaneously killed each other. You feel slightly guilty for admitting it – but you don't exactly care. That's two less people who want to kill you.

The female career from 1 isn't up there. Neither is the boy from 2.

That means that it's just them, you and Mike left.

The thought makes you freeze.

There's only four of you left now, and not knowing where the boy from 2 and the girl from 1 are is a frightening thought in itself. But what's even more frightening is the thought of it just becoming you and Mike.

Mike must be thinking the same thing because he looks over at you just as you look at him. He looks sad, and you know that his expression is mirrored on your own face as well.

"Well Bubbles… I think its time that we go our separate ways." He murmurs silently. "I'd hate for it to come down to just the two of us."

You nod. "Same here."

Mike gives you a sad smile and reaches out to shake your hand, but you surprise him by pulling him into a hug. You sincerely hope that the cameras are not on you right now because you are close to tears, and showing weakness this late in the game is not ideal.

You pull back after a minute and Mike stares at you sadly. "May the odds be ever in your fav-"

A twig snaps somewhere from behind you, making the two of you whirl around in the direction that it came from. You're surrounded by tall grass and bushes, obscuring your view of what it could be, but Mike's face turns white as he looks off behind you.

"Bubbles… hide." He muttered and you look up at him. "But-"

"Don't argue." He growls as he pulls out his spear and shoves you into some nearby bushes. "Whatever happens, don't scream."

You crouch down behind the bushes and remain silent like he asked. You watch as Mike slinks into a fighting position as the rustling gets closer to him, and you have to slap a hand over your mouth to muffle your gasp of horror, as a human figure emerges from the bushes.

The person who appears from the bushes makes you want to pass out. It's the boy from 2 and he's covered in blood.

"4…" The boy from 2 grins manically, spreading his arms like he wanted a hug. "Where did you go buddy? You ditched us… same with Blondie. Speaking of…" he trails off and the grin slides off his face. "Where is she?"

"None of your business. You leave her out of this – this is between you and me." Mike snarls, and you can see from your hiding spot that his knuckles are turning white from the death grip he has on his spear.

The beast from 2 snorts, shaking his head. "I don't know why you care about her so much. She's going to die one way or another. If I don't kill her, it's going to have to be you. Are you ready to do that?"

"Shut. Up." Mike spits. "Are we going to fight or dance?"

The boy from 2 smirks. Its unkind and cruel and you think it's the ugliest expression that you've ever seen on another human's face.

"Fine. Let's go." He grins sadistically. And then he charges.

Mike puts up a good fight, slashing and tearing at the other boy, and for a moment it looks like he's got him on the ropes before the boy pulls a knife and sinks it into Mike's bicep, and it's all downhill from there.

You fight back the screams that are steadily rising in your throat as Mike lets out a cry of pain and goes down as the boy from 2 overpowers him, and it's all you can do to keep from falling into hysteria as the career slips the knife in-between his ribs and rips it out savagely – casing a red spray to erupt from his chest.

The career looks down at him as he struggles to staunch the bleeding, but you know that it's hopeless – you know exactly where the other boy stabbed him – Mike will bleed out in mere moments.

The career smirks as he stands up, casually wiping off his knife. "I think I'll leave you like that - let you say goodbye to your sister or whatever. I know she's nearby…" he looks around the are with a smug grin on his face. "Hear that Blondie? I gotta go finish off that bitch from 1, but once that's done, I'll be coming back for you. Don't worry – I'll make it quick."

He stalks off into the night, but you don't dare move from your hiding spot until you're positive that he isn't lurking around nearby.

There's a groan of pain from the gray eyed boy who is laying on the ground, bleeding out, and you bolt over to him. One of his hands is covering the spot where his heart is, but you can see that the area around it is gradually becoming stained with red that shows no sigh of stopping.

"Mike…" you whisper as tears spill over your lashes. He just barely turns his head in your direction and moves his bloodied hand slightly. You clasp it in both of yours and hold onto it like a lifeline. The corners of his mouth twitch up into the briefest hint of a smile, before he closes his gray eyes and doesn't re-open them.

You hold his hand as he dies.

You hold his hand until you feel it go cold and limp in your grasp, and suddenly a heavy feeling spreads over your body.

Mike is gone.

His cannon sounds a second later.

You cry silently for a time after that. You don't want to, as you can feel that the cameras are on you – watching your every move, but you can't stop yourself. You've just lost the only person who gave a damn about you ever since you came to the Capitol.

The tears dry up a short while after that, leaving you feeling hollow and tired, but you still don't let go of Mikes hand. You know that you'll have to leave soon, so the Gamemakers can come and collect the body, and prep it for the flight back to District 4, but that thought only makes you feel worse.

You never knew Mike personally, but you've seen him and his family around the central plaza in your District from time to time. You wonder how his parents will react to seeing their son's corpse.

A sudden feeling of rage washes over you and you grit your teeth. Red floods your vision, and in the back of your mind, you know you've snapped.

The only coherent thought you can piece together in your hazy mind is a simple one, but effective in your madness.

The boy from 2 must die.

You know that you are far too young to be feeling this kind of murderous rage, but you don't care.

You want the other boy dead.

You want him dead. And it will be so.

You bend at the waist to press a small kiss to Mike's forehead and whisper a small thank you, before standing up and walking away from his limp form, light blue eyes cold and hard.

You hope the cameras are watching you now – you want them to see your rage. You want everyone to know that you are furious. You want them to know that you are a scared little girl no longer.

You want them to know that you plan on killing the boy from District 2.

He'll be your first kill in the area. He'll be your only kill.

But he will be dead by the day's end.

An unforgiving smile spreads across your lips as you stiffly move away from Mike's body and back in the direction of the lake you first saw when you entered the arena.

You had a plan. He said he was coming back for you, that was fine. You would wait. You would wait for him to come back for you.

And then you would take your revenge.

.

XxX

It's near dawn when you finally make it back to the lake you saw near the cornucopia. The sky is just starting to light up – the inky black tones starting to lighten into a pale lavender, but you pay it no mind, you're too focused on the task at hand.

You sit on the banks of the lake and patiently wait, thumbing your bracelet as you wait for the boy from 2 to make an appearance.

It's just the two of you left now. You know this because you heard a cannon fire about an hour earlier, and you instinctively know that it was the girl from 1. There's no way that she would be able to take on the boy from 2 alone. Normally you know that you wouldn't be able to either, but you've got a surprise waiting for him.

You had raided what little supplies remained in the cornucopia when you had first gotten back, and had found what you were looking for: a weighted net.

A grim smile paints your lips as you think back to the last time you came in contact with a net like that. The only difference being that you were a stronger swimmer now.

You wouldn't be able to say the same about the boy from 2.

I'm going home. You think to yourself as you look up into the heavens above. I'm going home and nobody is going to stop me. I promised after all.

It's another hour before the male career from 2 shows up.

He sees you sitting on the banks of the lake and makes his way over to you. You stand up but don't move, you wait until he comes closer to you before taking a step back into the water, dragging the net with you. He grins at you.

"Think you can swim away from me little fish? It won't help you."

You fight the urge to roll your eyes and struggle to keep your rage in check as he moves closer towards you. He must think that you'll be an easy kill. You're going to prove him wrong.

You're going to make him pay.

You feign a frightened look as you wade farther out into the calm water. "Oh no… Please don't hurt me!" you whimper. "You wouldn't kill me… would you?"

The boy grins. "Sorry Blondie… Nothing personal… but its either me or you, and I'm not about to let you walk away."

That's funny. Because you could say the same thing to him.

You flash him a tiny smile before diving into the water and began to swim out to the middle of the lake, where the water was deepest. You hear a splash behind you and you know that the boy is swimming out behind you.

You grin. Perfect. You think as you dive under, knowing that he will follow.

Boomer trained you to be able to hold your breath for up to four minutes. Most people can only hold theirs for less than two. You're going to see how long the career from 2 can hold his.

Sure enough the career dives under the water to keep up with you. You smirk at him as you suddenly dart towards him, net in hand. You can see the confused expression written across his face as you swim towards him at full speed. You dive slightly deeper so you're gripping both of his legs together, and begin to knot the weighted net around his legs before he can process what's going on.

The boy realizes that he's made a mistake too late. His eyes widen and he kicks and thrashes to no avail as you grip his legs tighter and force him to sink farther down under the water, all the while binding the net around his legs as he screams – a torrent of air bubbles bursting out of his mouth.

You finish wrapping the net around his legs and tie it in an expert fishing knot, before releasing his legs and float up gently to the boy's face as you watch him sink farther and farther into the dark water.

He's still screaming. You note silently, as he desperately tries to undo the knots around his ankles, but you know that its futile. Your Grandfather taught you how to tie those knots himself – they aren't coming undone.

The boy makes a desperate grab for you, but you kick just of reach, and watch as the life leaves his eyes. You hear a muffled boom echo above the water's surface and you know that the boy is dead, but you don't rise to the surface just yet – instead you watch the now dead boy sink into the depths of the pond until you can't see him anymore.

It strikes you then that you should make an appearance – after all, the cannon sounded, but no one knows who's dead, and you breify wonder how your Grandfather and Boomer are faring with the uncertainty.

Deciding not to make them worry and longer – you kick your legs and burst back above the water, taking in oxygen in big, greedy gulps as you swim back to the shore and collapse onto the wet bank, chest heaving as you struggle to control your pounding heart.

"Ladies and Gentleman I am pleased to present the victor of the 54th Hunger Games – Bubbles Sinclair! I give you the tribute from District 4!"

The voice of the announcer booms over the unseen speakers in the arena, and you hear the roar of the crowd from the Capitol a moment later, but you don't care about that. All you can think of is your Grandfather and Boomer back at home, who are no doubt watching this.

You let a weak smile pass over your face and raise the arm that your bracelet is on up into the air so that the cameras can see it. You see one materialize out of the air and hover over to you. You wait until it get's closer before you mouth the words I promised, knowing full well that Boomer is watching and will understand.

The camera vanishes after that, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a brief moment, and allowing you time to reflect on what you've done.

You wish you could say that you feel bad about killing the boy from District 2. But you don't.

You feel satisfied.

And that scares you.

You don't even notice the hovercraft that the Capitol sends in to collect the victor beam you up until you're in its spotless, white cargo hold, surrounded by Capitol staff dressed in hospital scrubs.

Doctors and nurses begin talking to you rapidly, but you can't hear them. All of the sudden you feel tired, so very tired and all you want to do is sleep. So you do.

You shut your eyes and collapse onto the cold white floor of the hovercraft and fall into sleepless dreams. Ones that a part of you hopes that you never wake up from.

XxX

.

You wake up a day and a half later to your mentor standing over you. The tiniest hint of a smile on her face.

"Well done." She praises you gently. "You were very clever in there. I'm proud of you."

You attempt to smile at her but you find that you can't. You sit up slightly in your bed, and find that you are in some sort of hospital wing. Your mentor helps you sit up and you turn to her. "Mike…" you trail off, but she seems to understand.

"Mike would be proud that you made it. He would be happy to know that District 4 has a victor. He wanted you to win."

"No… I wouldn't have made it without him. If anyone should have won its him." You mutter as you glance down at your hands only to see that your bracelet is missing. You start to panic, only for your mentor to press something into your hand. It's your bracelet.

"I made sure to grab it while you were out." She explains before you can thank her. "You seemed to be very attached to it in the arena. Is it your token?"

"Boomer made it for me." You mutter as you slip the bracelet back on your wrist where it belongs. "It reminded me of home." Speaking of home…

"Can we go back to District 4 now?" you ask, and your mentor shakes her head.

"Not just yet. You still have your victor's interview to do and then the president is going to throw a party in your honor. Then we can go home." she explains.

You freeze at the mention of meeting the president face to face. His cruelty is well broadcasted throughout your country, and he is known for inflicting harsh punishments on those who displease him. He is truly the last person that you want to meet.

Your mentor seems to pick up on your initial hesitation, because she shakes her head, and places a comforting hand on your trembling shoulder.

"Don't worry about him. You're too young for him to do anything to you. You're safe for now."

You don't know what she means by that, but you don't like the sounds of it.

.

XxX

"So Bubbles dear. Congratulations! you've won the 54th Hunger Games. Forgive me if I sound in shock, but I must admit that I think that you surprise everyone with that win! Regardless though, I think I can speak for everyone when I say that we are so glad that you won!"

You manage a weak smile at the host. You're currently in the middle of your victor's interview, back on the same stage you were on before you went into the games, and all you can think about is how you really don't want to be up on the stage. All you want to do is go home.

But you push that thought to the back of your mind as you manage to answer "I think I surprised myself as well. I'm still amazed that I'm this year's victor."

"Well you certainly played your cards right in there." The host praises. You shrug. "I had help."

"Yes you did. Your district partner was something else in there. Mike, was it? He cared about your well being very much. Tell me, were the two of you related by any chance?"

"No… I knew Mike but not personally." You respond truthfully. This is your one chance to honor him, to let his family know just how much you appreciate everything that their son did for you in the arena. "He didn't have to go to the lengths he did to help me… but I'm forever grateful to him for it."

You look up at the camera, hoping that Mike's parents are watching. "Thank you, Mr, and Mrs Believe… for your son."

You could hear a pin drop in the Capitol audience now.

It stays quiet for too long. The host finally clears his throat, breaking the hush that had fallen over the crowd and snapping you out of your reprieve. "I noticed that you kept playing with your distract token throughout the game." He nods to your bracelet as he leans forward to touch it lightly. "I'm going to go out on a limb and say that it acted as some sort of stress reliever."

You nod in confirmation. "It helped yes. It smelled like home. Also, Boomer worked really hard on making it for me, so I couldn't help but admire it whenever I got the chance."

"Yes and Boomer, the one who made you your district token, what do you think he's feeling right now, knowing that tomorrow you'll be returning home to him hrm?"

"I'm sure he's so happy." You smile gently and this time it's a real smile. "I promised him after all, and I always try to keep my promises."

"Well this one you kept." The host smiles at you kindly as he sits back. "Now I think it's time for the part of the interview that everyone's been waiting for – the moment when you won."

You freeze in your seat as a cold dread washes over you.

Oh no. Not that. Anything but that.

"I… I don't really want to talk about that-" But it's too late. The footage rolls on the big screen behind your spot on the stage, and suddenly you are brought back to the exact moment where you dragged the boy from 2 under the water and watched him drown.

Your eyes glaze over and you fall silent as you watch the footage. Your blank expression must alert the host that something is wrong because he makes a small cutting motion across his throat and the screen goes blank immediately.

"Bubbles?" you hear the host ask, but he sounds distorted. "Bubbles sweetheart, are you alright?"

"Fine." You mutter hollowly, knowing that you aren't convicting anyone. The host smiles at you sadly as he squeezes your arm.

"I think that we're done here folks. Ladies and gentleman – Bubbles Sinclair, District 4's tribute and winner of the 54th annual Hunger Games!'

The roar of the crowd falls on deaf ears as you walk off stage.

XxX

.

After all of the interviews are done, the President hosts a massive party at his mansion for all of the past victors and elite Capitol folk alike to attend in celebration of the newest victor, which in this case happens to be you.

It is there that you meet Brick Emerson, or as some now know him as "The Bludgeoner" – last year's victor, the youngest ever.

"Congratulations." He mutters, but it's empty and hollow.

You gaze into his unnatural red eyes and you see nothing but pain and misery reflected within. Normally, such raw emotions would unnerve you and make you turn away, but you find it oddly comforting now.

You've finally found someone who understands how you feel.

You nod silently to him and glance around the room. He seems to understand, because he jerks his head in the direction of a set of double doors that lead out onto an outdoor balcony.

"Come on." He mutters to you so quietly you almost don't hear it. "They won't miss us if we take off for a few minutes." You nod and allow him to pull you through the crowd and out onto the balcony. The cool night air brushes against your face and you sigh happily. The two of you stand in silence for a while – overlooking the brightly lit Capitol below you – before you break the silence.

"It can't get much worse now… Can it?" Brick shakes his head.

"Yes it can." He informs you with a small frown. "You're about to enter the most difficult part of the games. The part that no one tells you about. You're not free from them. Not now, not ever. You're just a plaything to them – a disposable one at that."

"How bad can it be?" you ask quietly, dreading the answer.

"Bad. The Capitol is one thing, but you have to learn to live with yourself first, and that's harder than it sounds."

Your confusion must be evident on your face, because he only shakes his head, and adjusts the red cap on his head – the same one that he wore in his Games – you realize with a start. "You'll understand what I mean soon enough." He sighs as he moves to go back inside.

"How do you deal with it then?" you ask. Brick only shakes his head with a rueful smile on his face.

"I don't."

You're on the train back to District 4 and you can't remember ever being so excited.

Your mentors are setting across from you and are quietly talking among themselves, casting quick glances your way every so often, but right now you can't bring yourself to care. You're going home and that's all that matters.

Your mentors informed you that you have a house with your name on it waiting for you in your districts Victor's Village, but you don't really want it. You just want to continue to live with your Grandfather and Boomer. For some odd reason, your mentors insist that you move into the new house. You find it odd, but maybe you'll consider it in a year or two – provided that the rest of your family can come with you.

You don't really understand why they're in such a rush to get you to move out, but you can't be bothered to focus on it now – all you want to do as soon as you get off the train is go see your family.

Soon enough, large, familiar bodies of water began to form outside your window and your heart starts to race as you realize that you're almost home. Sure enough, the train begins to down shortly after that, and you see District 4's train station pull into view.

You see a crowd gathered by the stations platform – no doubt to welcome you back home – and you get up from your spot by the window, to stand in front of the door.

The doors open a second later, and you burst out of the train and onto the platform, where you are greeted with a loud cheer from the crowd that has gathered to welcome you back home. The smile that crosses your face is real and you walk out into the crowds embrace and greet the familiar faces that you've known all your life.

A shrill whistle pieces though the air, and the crowd disperses slightly – clearing a path off to the side. You frown slightly, and turn in the direction of the whistle.

And then you see him.

The familiar flash of dirty blonde hair and deep blue eyes that put the sea to shame makes your heart pound and your running to him before you can stop yourself.

Boomer opens his arms just as you fling yourself into them. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into his shoulder as powerful sobs escape your mouth.

You had originally promised yourself back on the train that you wouldn't cry when you saw him, but that promise has all but flown out the window as more tears escape your eyes before you can stop them.

You feel his arms wrap around your waist and he holds you tightly to him, and all you can think about is how happy you are to be home. Alive and home. Back in the fishing district, back to the sea, back to your Grandfather, back to Boomer…

Boomer pulls you away slowly from his neck and cups your cheeks lightly, gazing into your tinted red eyes with a soft smile. "Welcome home." he tells you quietly, and you know it's only meant for you.

You feel more tears start to roll down your cheeks and you pull him back into another hug. Your home, the nightmare is over, you're free-

Brick's words suddenly come back to you and you stiffen in Boomer's embrace.

"You're not free from them. Not now, not ever. You're just a plaything to them – a disposable one at that."

You still have no idea what he meant when he said that, but you have a sinking feeling that you'll find out what he meant soon enough.

You just hope you'll be strong enough to handle it.

Boomer looks at you with a frown. "Bubbles? What's wrong? Are you okay?" You look at him fearfully and open your mouth to respond, when you hear your Grandfather calling out to you from just behind Boomer.

"I'll tell you later." You murmur quietly to him as you move to kneel down and hug your Grandfather tightly, listening to the tiny man blubber on about how much he's missed you. You don't say anything and simply hug him tighter – dreading the moment where you'll have to let go.

.

XxX

You wake up in a cold sweat, heart pounding irregularly and breathing hard as your eyes flick around the dark room you're in, only to close lightly as you finally register that you're in your room back in District 4.

You sink back into your pillows as you weakly look around your room to assure yourself that there is no one else in there with you and also to make sure that you really are awake and not in some awful nightmare.

One that more often then not involved dead tributes.

After confirming that you are the only one in your room, you breath a small sigh of relief and rub at your tired eyes. You had been having the same reoccurring dream for the last two weeks since you had come home and you hadn't been able to sleep though the night since.

Sometimes you would wake up screaming with the covers splayed all around you – prompting your Grandfather or Boomer to run in and calm you down – other times you would wake up silently, but covered in sweat with an overwhelming feeling of dread much like what you're feeling now.

You focus on easing your heart back into a slow and steady rhythm as you shift slightly in bed, hoping to try and get at least an hour or two more of sleep before starting your day early, just like you have been for the last couple of weeks. You know that it's pointless though. Recently you can never get back to sleep once you've woken up – the nightmares are still too fresh in your mind.

You've just closed your eyes, hoping that maybe you can fall into a light slumber for an hour, before a soft knock on your door makes you open them once more.

Boomer opens your door, and shuts it softly behind him as he shuffles over to you sleepily. You smile softly at the sight of him – the night terror slowly starting to ebb away into the back of your mind. Boomer's presence always seemed to calm you down after one of your episodes, but you can't help but frown upon seeing him. It's far too early for him to be up, and as far as you know, you weren't making any sounds to alert him that you were having a night terror.

"Boomer? What are you doing up?" you mumble as you sit up in bed. Boomer walks over to your bedside, and you immediately move over to give him some space to sit. He does and pops his neck sleepily before shooting you a concerned look.

"I hear you thrashing next door. You were having another nightmare." It wasn't a question.

You consider lying to him. You can see the dark purple bags under his eyes that tell you that he isn't sleeping much if at all – he's up every night, listening to you from his room next door, listening for the tell-tale signs that you're having a night terror.

"Oh Boomer I'm sorry, it's nothing, honest – I was just trying to find a comfortable sleeping position." You lie as you give him a timid smile. He raises a blonde eyebrow at you that conveys to you that he doesn't believe a word you say. You sigh.

"Alright, maybe I was, but I'm worried about you. You need to sleep too." You tell him firmly. Boomer just shakes his head. "What was this one about?" he asks. You give him a defeated look.

"You know what they're about… it's the same as all of the other ones." You tell him softly. "I see all of the other tributes that were in the arena with me… I know that I wasn't directly responsible for some of their deaths… but I saw them die… and I did nothing…"

"You couldn't do anything." Boomer tells you gently. "Only one person comes out of the arena alive and I'm just thankful that it was you."

"I know…" you trail off. "But they still shouldn't have had to die… I didn't want to kill that boy from District 2… well, I mean, yes I did – But I didn't want to! He killed Mike and I just got so angry… I had no other choice-"

"You can't blame yourself for that." Boomer says firmly. "You did what you had to do to get out. I'll always be grateful to Mike for what he did for you in there though."

"If anyone deserved to win it was him." You mumble as look down, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Boomer scoots closer to you and gently cups your cheeks, using his thumbs to gently wipe away your tears.

"Bubbles, you can't blame yourself for his death. He knew what he was doing when he told you to hide. He would have wanted you to win. You know that right?" you nod unconvincingly and Boomer pulls you in for a hug. "We'll talk about this in the morning. Try and get some more sleep alright?" and he stands up to leave.

"Can you stay with me? Just for a little bit longer?" you blurt out before you can stop yourself – reaching out for his hand and grabbing it before he can move away. His deep blue eyes widen and a small red flush spreads across his face before he nods, swallowing thickly.

"Alright." He says gently as he sits back down. You move over so he can lie down beside you, and you sigh gently as he slowly wraps his arms around you – the gesture comforting and natural.

"Thank you." You whisper to him as you snuggle into his embrace. He simply nods. "Try and get some sleep, okay Bubbly? You need it."

You nod as you shift gently in his arms so you're looking out your bedroom window, and try and fall back asleep.

But in the end, neither of you do. You simply lie there for the next couple of hours and watch as the sun slowly appears in the sky from beyond the horizon, turning the sky blood red.

XxX

.

It's six months later, and you're on the train again.

Only this time, you're not going to the Capitol. You're traveling to all of the other Districts before going back home to District 4 again. It is your Victory Tour after all – a trip you have been dreading ever since you came back home.

It means you have to go to the districts of the other tributes who didn't make it and make up some heartfelt speech to their families about their children and how it's so nice to be there, when in reality its anything but.

You will have to do this eleven times before returning back home to District 4, which is the last stop on the victory tour. You're honestly not sure if you can do it eleven times.

You suck in a deep breath and let yourself become numb for the rest of the trip. You let your prep team do what they like to you without complaint, before walking out onto the makeshift stages in each district and facing the crowds that gather there – their expression ranging from unhappy, to uncaring, and finally to rage.

The worst district to visit is by far 2, after all – out of all the other tributes who were tossed into the arena with you, you are directly responsible for the death of the boy from Districts 2 – whose name you've come to find out is Pablo.

Talking to his family is torture. You can barely get anything out overtop of them screaming threats at you, so you decide to cut the act short and mumble out a meek apology at them before signaling to the Peacekeepers who are guarding you that you are done, before they escort you off the stage – the screams of Pablo's family still echoing in your ears.

You barely remember the rest of the trip. You are too numb to care.

By the time you make it back to District 4, you are so tired you can't even think straight. But you put on a brave face once more before thanking Mike's family, who have turned up to congratulate your win.

His father nods at you and gently ruffles your hair, and his mother doesn't say anything, but she gives you a hug and a kiss on the cheek before shuffling away.

They are simple gestures, but they make your eyes water. They didn't say anything directly to you, but they don't have to.

All you know is that Mike's parents don't hate you like you thought they would. Having that knowledge takes a massive weight off your shoulders and gives you an overwhelming sense of relief, but also makes you feel worse at the same time.

It would have been easier to deal with them if they hated you, you think. Knowing that they don't blame you for their son's death makes you feel incredibly guilty for reasons that you can't quite explain.

You confide in Boomer again that night and he spends the night in your room like he has been for the past several months, holding your hand and doing his best to sooth you.

"It's over now." He tells you gently as he squeezes your hand tighter, pressing a small kiss to your temple. "You don't have to do that ever again. It's all over now."

You look away from him and smile ruefully, wishing that you could believe him, but you know that it's not over. Not by a long shot, because you know that in six short months the 55th annual Hunger Games will began…

You are now fourteen years old and you're back in the Capitol, watching the beginning of the 55th annual Hunger Games from a private viewing box for past victors.

And you're not alone. Brick is watching the games with you.

Despite having won his games two years ago, Brick is fourteen – the same age as you, and is still considered too young to mentor the new tributes that are reaped from his district. That job is left to his father, who you learn was a victor many years before you and him were born.

You've come back to the Capitol with your old mentors – not to train the new tributes – but to simply become accustomed to Capital life. After all, your mentors forewarned you that you would be coming here basically every year for the foreseeable future, so you might as well get used to the flashy Capitol lifestyle.

You're trying to relax for the time being, as you know that your mentors will be expecting you to help them train the new tributes when you turn sixteen – you can only assume that Brick will be in the same boat soon enough.

You wince as you watch a tribute slashes another across the throat with a knife, a torrent of red pouring from his throat. Brick hardly flinches.

"My games were far worse." He explains after he catches you staring at him. "Mine was apparently one of the bloodiest on record, and it didn't help that we got thrown in a desert like arena either. If I didn't hide for the first half of my games, I would have been killed off for sure."

He says it like it's no big deal, but you catch a flash of pain behind his eyes that tells you that he isn't quite over what happened during his games, and probably never will be.

"I'm sorry." You tell him quietly, as you reach for his hand to give it a small squeeze – just like what Boomer always does for you. He recoils almost instantly, his unnatural blood red eyes wide, but when he sees that you mean no harm, he sighs and lets you take his hand again.

"I'm sorry that you got reaped too." He tells you after a moment, and he gives your hand a tiny squeeze back.

It is in that moment, you know that you can trust Brick, and that you have at least one friend in the Capitol. You only hope that things will be better in the years to come.

You are now fifteen years old and are floating on your back, looking up at the starry sky above you, out on in the bay near the Victor's village with Boomer by your side.

You've just finished moving into your new house in the Victor's village with Boomer's help – as you've been finding it difficult to stay in the same house with him and your Grandfather with all of the night terrors you've been having lately - and are hoping that maybe some time away from them will help clear your mind a little. Now you and Boomer are both relaxing out on the like, letting the waves move the both of you gently in the water.

It feels like only yesterday that you and Boomer were doing the exact same thing at thirteen… the day before you got Reaped, and your whole life changed forever. You find it funny how you're doing the exact same thing again on the exact same date two years later.

Boomer must be thinking it too, because he turns his head slightly in the water to look at you sadly. You give him a small smile in return. "Funny that we're doing this the day before the Reaping." Boomer comments as he kicks his feet and moves himself closer to you.

You nod. "I was just thinking about that." You admit as you gaze up into the inky black heavens above, "We haven't done this in a while, and it doesn't help that I've barely had a minute to myself since… well… you know. …I've missed this."

"Yeah I know." Boomer confirms as he also looks up in the dark sky above. There is nothing but silence between the two of you for what seems like hours, before Boomer finally speaks up again.

"Why did you move out?"

You flinch at his question, but you know that it's an honest one. You never did tell him or your Grandfather the reason you decided to move out – knowing that both would worry, but you feel like you owe Boomer an explanation – after all, he helped you move all of your items into your new house without question, and you always try and be honest with him.

"The night terrors have been getting worse – but I don't think I need to tell you that – you've probably heard them," you start. Boomer grunts in agreement and you continue. "I don't know what to do anymore Boom, I think that a change of scenery might help calm me down a little… I don't know… but I just don't think I can be around people right now."

"Even me?" he asks almost timidly and you feel your heart lurch slightly.

"No, never you, you're one of the few people I trust." You assure him as you reach around in the water for his hand. You find it a second later and you grip it tightly. "You're one of the few people who really understand me, and you've done the most for me ever since I got back from the Games… even if a am a little… different from who I was before."

You pause. "But I value your opinions too, and I am curious… what do you think about… all this."

Boomer closes his eyes and takes slow deep breaths as he thinks about how to answer your question. He bobs in the water gently in the water After a moment he opens his deep blue eyes again, but keeps his gaze locked on the inky sky above.

"You need to do what you think is best." He murmurs quietly. "I don't necessary think that it's a good idea for you to be by yourself right now, but if you feel like that it might help, then you do what you need to do."

Your eyes water and you hold onto his hand tighter. This is why you love him so much – he's willing to give you the space that you need and treat you like a normal human being when no one else will-

You pause in the middle of your thought. Love…

You consider it for a moment. Yes… if there was anyone who you could envision yourself being with… it would be him. Your best friend. The person who understands you the most. The one who knows you better then you know yourself-

"Tomorrow's the Reaping."

Boomer's voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you feel yourself go stiff as a board in the waves as his words wash over you.

"It always comes around so fast." Boomer continues. "I hate it… I'm always wondering if it's going to be me who gets picked, but at least I don't have to worry about you anymore." He smiles weakly.

"You'll be fine." You reassure him softly. "You don't have to put your name in anymore then you have to each year. Your names only in four times… you'll be okay-"

"Yeah, but look what happened to you."

You can't say anything against that.

"Yes, but that's rare." You counter after a moment. "It's not so rare for a fifteen year old to get Reaped-"

"Let's not talk about that." You cut him off because this is upsetting you. You don't even want to consider the possibility of Boomer getting Reaped. You don't want to think about what would do without him… what the arena would turn him into…

Boomer looks over at you and see's your panic-stricken face. "I'm sorry." He murmurs after a moment, "It's just been a rough couple of days… you know how it is."

Yes. Yes you do. But you still want to try and reassure him the best you can – just like he did for you two years ago.

"You're still as safe as you can get." You tell him quietly. "There's still thousands of other names in there along with yours. No matter what happens, I'm here."

He smiles at you. "I know you are. Thank you Bubs." He skinks slightly and starts to tread water. "Come on, it's late, we'd better start heading in."

You both start swimming back to the shore line, but his words stick with you. Because there is that chance that he will get chosen as the male Tribute – it's a small chance compared to some of the other boys in your district, but it's still there. After all look what happened to you.

You both wade out of the water and Boomer hands you a towel, but you see the slight shake in his hand. The sight stirs something in you and before you know what you're saying, you blurt out: "Do you want to spend the night?"

Boomer raises an eyebrow at you and you flush. "In the new houses guest bedroom, I mean." You try to clarify and he lets out a laugh. "Sure Bubs – don't want to spend the night alone?"

"That and I think that you need a friend right now." You say firmly. And maybe something more. The traitorous part of your mind thinks, but you brush it away. Now's not the time to think about your fledgling feelings. After tomorrows Reaping, you and he will talk, but for now, you vow to be there for him, because you know that tomorrow is going to be awful for him.

He smiles. "Oh you're so much more then that Bubbly… I'll have to leave early, but… I'd like that… very much."

His words make you blush slightly as you link your arm though his, and make your way back towards the Victor's Village – trying not to think about the day that is to come.

"Bubbles?"

You look up at Boomer only to see that his mouth his set in a firm line.

"May the odds be ever in your favor."

It's the day of the Reaping and your whole world had just been flipped upside down and left you on your knees.

It is the Reaping for the 56th annual Hunger Games and Boomer has been chosen as the male tribute.

The horrified scream left your mouth before you can stop it and now hover in the silent air around you as Boomer stiffly walks up to the stage that you and the other victors are seated on, to stand beside the female tribute.

NO. You think to yourself as you watch him and the girl shake hands. This can't be happening. I told him last night that he would be safe… why is he not safe!?" you scream mentally.

You look at your Grandfather, who is sitting next to you – hoping that maybe that this is all some horrid night terror that you are so often plagued by, but he looks just as torn up about the whole situation as you do, which only confirms that you are not dreaming and that this is really happening.

You try and make your way towards him, only to be blocked by a few Peacekeepers who escort him and the female tribute into the Justice building – only permitting you to follow after him when he and the other girl are both securely inside.

You burst into his room to see him looking ashen, and don't hesitate to throw your arms around him. You feel the tears that are steadily building up in your eyes threatening to spill over your lashes, but Boomer only shakes his hand frantically.

"No tears." He tells you firmly. "If you cry it's only going to upset me."

You hiccup and wipe your eyes. "I'm sorry." you murmur. "This shouldn't have happened, you were so safe, I don't know how you got picked-"

"The odds just weren't in my favor, just like you." Boomer mutters as he sucks in a breath. "I just need to win now – don't I?"

You nod, feeling yourself harden at his words. Yes, he's going to have to win these games. There is no other alternative aside from death – besides, you can't imagine a life without him. You need him.

You love him.

You stiffen as you confront the feelings that had been bothering you for a while. Why were you only figuring this out now? If you could be honest then you could say that you've probably loved him since you were five.

And now here he was – about to enter the games and fight to the death to live. What a wonderful time to figure out that little detail.

But the thought only proves your original point: He's got to come back alive. And you are going to make sure that it happens.

After all you're a Victor, and as a victor it's your job to help the new tributes survive the arena – now even more so.

You step back and look him over. He's not the awaked little boy you once knew, and is now slowly turning into a man. He's tall and lean, and had nice golden brown skin from working out on the fishing boats since he was a child. That and his golden blonde hair and deep blue eyes are enough to make anyone fall in love with him. You know immediately that he will be popular among the Capitol woman once they see him.

The thought makes you cringe, but you also know that they could be the difference between life and death in the arena so you try not to think about it.

The two of you laps into silence for a moment, and desperately want to try and comfort him, but you also know that time is of the essence, and you want to let him know ahead of time what he should expect from the arena and the prep before it.

"I think you already know what you have to do inside the arena." You say quietly, watching as the muscles in his jaw tighten. "We've been watching the Games for long enough – you know how it works."

He nods stiffly. "Join a career pack if I can for the first few days, and get out before things start to head south." He closes his eyes. "Kill any stragglers that I see. It gives me a higher score and makes me look better to the Capitol crowds-"

"You have to get your hands on a spear or a trident at some point!" you add abruptly. "I've seen what you're able to do with them – they're your best chance of defence in the arena."

He looks at you wearily. "Spearing fish and people are two different things Bubs…"

"If you can forget that they're people for a little while – it's actually the same thing." You cut him off hollowly. Boomer stares at you shocked, but doesn't correct you. It's absolutely vile, but you know that he knows that you have a point.

It does nothing to help the brief silence that follows after your comment.

"I'll do whatever I can to help you from the outside." You promise him after a moment. "People will recognize your name – I spoke a lot about you during my games… maybe they'll be more inclined to help."

"Well they liked you well enough so hopefully they'll extend the same courtesy to me." Boomer mutters.

"They will – you've got a very likable personality, if you use that to your advantage during the tribute interviews, people will notice you and you'll get more sponsors that way." You inform him. "That's what my mentor told me when I did mine."

"I'll keep in it mind when I do mine." He sighs gently. You cup his cheek in your hand. "You'll do great, I know you can. I know you can win this, I believe in you, just like you believed in me."

He looks at you deeply and moves to touch your hair. "Bubbles I-"

"Times up!" two Peacekeepers barge into the room and grab you – separating you and Boomer. "Wait, hold on can I just have one more minute with him?" you beg but it falls on deaf ears as the Peacekeepers begin to drag you out. Boomer looks crestfallen and directs his attention on his feet. You panic, knowing that you need to say something to him. Something that he can hold on to. That will give him hope.

"Boomer!" you cry out, and he looks up at you as the Peacekeepers half escort you, half carry you out.

"You're going to win this." You tell him as you struggle slightly against the tight grip the Peacekeepers have on you. "I promise, you're going to make it though this! I promise! I lov-"

And the doors slam shut.

XxX

.

Your back on the train again, watching as the lands outside the train window wiz by in a blue and green blur, only this time Boomer is with you – watching in amazement as he see's what his district looks like for the first time.

You sit with him in silence, treasuring the fleeting moments of peace that the train provides, knowing that as soon as you enter the Capitol you won't see him until after the opening ceremonies.

This will be the last opportunity you have to actually spend time with him, and its not time that you want to waste by saying pointless things. Silence says everything sometimes.

You can here your old mentors talking about the two of you in hushed whispers, but you can't bring yourself to care – everyone in District 4 knows the bond that you two share. You are always together after all, and it's quite obvious that you have picked him over the female tribute, who's name you can't recall at the moment.

You know that it's not fair to the other girl – by you making it clear that you want him to win, and by doing so, already picking a favourite – but it was always going to be him that you would choose. It wasn't something you had to think about.

Besides, she will have your old mentor and the old male victor to walk her though the Games. Normally the male victors will train the new male tributes, by you've made it pretty clear that you will be looking after Boomer in the games and the older victor has respected that so far, but you will definitely need his help to get sponsors later on near the end of the games – when things start to get extremely difficult.

You were lucky and didn't have to rely on the help of sponsors because Mike was there to look after the both of you. You don't think that Boomer will be granted that same luxury. He's healthy and strong and that alone makes him a target. He will have a lot of other career's after him when they start to turn on each other. You've seen it happen countless times before.

You look over and Boomer and subtly take his hand in your own. He doesn't take his eyes off of the window, but he squeezes your hand in his own – letting you know without words that he doesn't plan to give up that easily.

You smile slightly. You were going to do everything in your power to make sure that he won this year's games, and no one and nothing was going to stand in your way.

.

XxX

You watch proudly as Boomer rolls up in District 4's chariot to the President's mansion looking very smart in a blue robe that looks like waves as it billows out behind him. The girl beside him is dressed similarly, but your eyes are drawn to Boomer.

Maybe that's you being biased, but you honestly think that he wears it better.

The President gives his speech and then the tributes return back to the training tower where you and the other mentors are waiting. Boomer finally makes it back to the fourth floor with his district partner, and all but collapse on the couch next to you.

"How was it?" you ask him gently as you comb a hand through his hair. "Terrible." Boomer mutters into the couch, not bothering to lift his head. "My prep team are total idiots and my stylist isn't much better. They take some sick satisfaction in dressing us up for slaughter."

He lifts his head. "You had to go though that too didn't you." It's not a question. You nod and continue stroking his hair. "Just grin and bare it for now, the more likeable you are, the better the outcome will be for you. Besides you won't see them again until the interview and then-"

You trail off. You don't want to think about what happens after that.

Boomer picks up on your hesitation and places his head in your lap. "I know. Have any advice for me for the training?"

"Make some friends." You tell him seriously. "The more allies you have the better. Make friends with the other careers, and stick with them – hardly anyone will bother you then – I almost didn't make it in, Mike had to pull some strings." You admit softly as you think about the gray eyed boy who risked everything for you. Boomer squeezes your knee, sensing your guilt.

"Alright." Boomer says gently. "Make friends, I can do that."

"Show them what you're made of." You tell him as you look him dead in the eye. "Make a lasting impression, but be careful."

Boomer nods. "Don't worry Bubbly. I always am."

XxX

.

You're watching the training scores for the tributes with Boomer, the female tribute – who's name as you've only recently found out is Julie – and your old mentors, only to let out a small cheer as Boomer's training score flashes across the screen.

10.

You can't say that you're all that surprised. From what Boomer has been telling you about the training, he's been getting along fine with the other Careers and is definitely in their pack – that and he said that the Gamemakers who had been overseeing his private sessions had been pretty impressed with his trident and spear wielding abilities, so you figured that he would end up with at least a 9 or a 10.

You pull him as the program ends. "Good job, you have a great place in the ratings – now all you have to do in the interview and gain some more sponsors and then all that's left is the Games…"

Your voice catches in your throat and you fall silent. Boomer "Any advice for the interview?"

You smile sadly, this is the easiest bit of information you can give him, you don't need to prep him for the interview – he's already ready.

"Just be yourself Boomie. People will love you." He nods but theirs's a hint of a smile across his lips.

"Okay, if you say so Bubs."

.

XxX

You're watching Boomer's interview with your mentors from your private viewing box. So far the interview is going very well. Boomer is playing up his likable personality to the max and had the audience in stitches as he cracks another joke. You smile, you'll have no problem finding sponsors for him.

You hear the door leading into the box slide open behind you and someone sits down next to you. It's Brick.

"Boomer… Boomer… tell me why that name sounds familiar?" he asks, turning his blood red eyes on you. You shift your baby blue eyes to meet his and nod down to the stage where Boomer is sitting with the host.

"Boomer is the one who made me my district token." You inform him softly. Brick nods. "Thought so, you and him are pretty close aren't you?" you nod stiffly. "Yes, I'm going to do everything that I can to get him out of there… and he can win, I know he can." You realize how that might sound to him, and quickly realize that Brick might have someone that he knows that are in the Games as well. You glance at him sheepishly out of the corner of your eye. "Sorry… do you know the tributes from your district?"

"I do, but I don't care." Brick muttered darkly. "I don't interact with them, nor do I have any wish to. You're not offending me."

His words make you feel slightly better but you still feel guilty at the same time. "I mean, I've known him since we were kids and I do care deeply about him and-

"You don't have to justify why you want him to win to me of all people." Brick interrupts, adjusting the red ball cap on his head. "It's not a crime to want someone you care about to win."

You both fall silent as the host asks Boomer one final question. "So Boomer… I have to ask: Are you the same Boomer that our beloved Bubbles talked about a few years ago?"

Boomer pauses and glances up to your box where he knows that you are watching, before answering, "Yes, I am."

The host smiles. "Oh, so you are! And you're the one who made her that lovely district token then?"

Boomer nods. "Yes I did."

"Well I have to wonder; how did she feel about you getting chosen to enter the games?"

A pained look crosses over Boomer's face and he's quiet for a moment before he speaks slowly. "She… she wasn't happy at all… I know that she's been worrying herself sick ever since I was Reaped, but…" he looks up at you again. "I'm going to win the Games… for her."

Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel like you can't breathe.

A hush has fallen over the crowd and you can hear some people in the audience cry out in what you can only assume is agony. They've always enjoyed drama like this.

Brick nudges your shoulder gently. "Judging from what I can see, he feels the same way about you." He stands up to leave, but not before giving you an unhappy look.

"For what it's worth Bubbles – I really hope that he does win."

Brick leaves just as the interview ends.

XxX

.

You and Boomer are watching the numerous Capitol parties that are happening below the Training Tower from one of the massive windows that stretch from wall to wall in Boomer's room.

You're leaning against him, unwilling to move any farther away from him as he holds you close, his thumb brushing your knuckles, when you think of something.

"Did you get a district token?" you ask him softly and Boomer shakes his head. "No… It all happened so fast that I didn't get the chance to get one – I wasn't really thinking about it."

You pause before you slip your bracelet – the same woven one that he made for you – off your wrist and press it into his hand. His eyes widen as he looks down at it. "You kept it…?"

"I've never taken it off." You inform him. "It was my lucky charm in the arena. It kept me sane… it'll do the same for you." Boomer hesitates for a moment but slips it on his wrist. "Thank you." He murmurs as he presses a small kiss to your cheek, only to look away with a bright red flush on his face. "Sorry, I don't know what came over me… I just really…" his face burns and he peeks at you from underneath his eyelashes bashfully.

The look on his face is more then you can stand, and before you know it, you've cupped his face in your hands and you are kissing him directly on the lips. He freezes for a moment, before he kisses you back just as fiercely – and its everything that you've ever dreamed of.

You pull away from his lips first, but keep your hands on the sides of his face – your breaths fanning across each other's lips.

"You come back." You tell him firmly. "You come home… come back to me."

"Yes." Boomer whispers breathlessly. "Of course, always… always… anything for you…"

He kisses you again and pulls you into a hug. It takes everything in you not to cry – because now, you have no idea what's going to happen. You don't know what arena he's going to be thrown into, or what horrid tricks the Gamemakers have in store for him.

All you can do is watch and wait.

You pull him in for one last kiss and murmur against his lips, "May the odds be ever in your favor."

.

XxX

You're sitting on the couch in the fourth floor of the Training Tower, watching as the games unfold before your very eyes.

Your other mentors have left you alone out of respect, and you're glad they you're alone in the tower because you don't want anyone to see you right now. You're pale and are shaking uncontrollably as you watch the Bloodbath, which is the opening, take place.

Thank god that Boomer made it in with the Career's. You think as the cameras pan out on the arena – which you can see is a snowy forest, with patches of dark, black water littered throughout. You watch his team make it to the Cornucopia and raid it of it's weapons and other supplies, killing some of the other tributes along the way.

Boomer's made it though them worst of the carnage, but you let out a fearful gasp as he takes a knife to the forearm from a rival tribute before one of the careers from 1 takes her out.

You're so preoccupied watching the T.V. you don't hear door to your floor open until Brick is once again seated next to you on the couch. You rip your eyes from the T.V. for a moment to give him a confused look. "What are you doing here?"

"Figured you'd be down here watching the games. Thought you might need a friend." He shrugs uncaringly, but you can see the flicker of worry behind his deep red orbs, and you feel touched that he's actually concerned about you.

You scoot over to give him more room and he sinks into the couch beside you. "How's he doing so far?" Brick asked, emotionless and guarded as usual. "Good, he's in with the Career pack right now, so he'll be safe for a little bit." You watch as Boomer disappears into the Cornucopia, only to return with a spear in hand and a wicked grin on his face a minute later.

You nod at the image on the T.V. "Now his going to be unstoppable."

Brick nods. "Fishing boy eh?"

"Worked on boats since we were little." You confirm. "He's amazing with a spear."

"Well then, let's hope that he can outlast the rest of them." Brick mutters quietly. You shoot Brick a withering look but say nothing. He's right after all. It's all up to Boomer now.

XxX

.

It's a few days later and you haven't slept at all.

Tributes have been dropping left and right due to the cold. Many aren't used to that kind of weather, you assume. Thankfully, you and Boomer are more accustomed to colder weather since you live off of the cost, and winters in District 4 are known to be harsh.

It also means that some of the tributes are becoming more and more desperate to survive… including some of the career's that Boomer is with. Julie has already passed from the cold and now Boomer is the only one left from District 4.

You've been gathering sponsors for Boomer with the previous male victor from 4, and thankfully because he is tied to you in some way – people are giving you the funds that you need in order to send him the necessary items that he needs in the arena.

When you're not gathering sponsors for him, you're glued to your spot on the couch with Brick by your side more often than not – watching Boomer's every move.

You watch as he kills off four other tributes that the pack stumbles across with the pack. His face remains emotionless as he uses his spear to impale them, and eventually the other career's in his group as they start to turn on each other.

You can barely breathe as Boomer makes it into the final three. You and Brick watch intently as the three of them circle off for a few moments before throwing themselves at each other. You clutch onto Brick's arm tightly and he rubs your hand as Boomer quickly dispatches one tribute with a well-aimed blow to the head, before advancing on the last one.

They struggle for a long time in the howling blizzard that's suddenly picked up. The boy from 9 puts up a good fight and manages to sink a blade into his thigh, before Boomer manages to throw him off. You watch as Boomer picks up the spear and hurls it into the boy's stomach as he stands over him as he twitches violently on the icy ground.

The cannon sounds a second later.

Boomer has won the 56th annual Hunger Games.

You stand up slowly and make your way towards the T.V., pressing your hand against the screen where Boomer's figure is standing. You can see that he's shivering violently, and you don't think that it's because of the cold, and that he's gripping his spear so tightly that his knuckles are turning white.

The hovercraft picks him up seconds later and the screen turns back to the announcers. You turn to Brick who is slowly nodding in approval. "Congratulations." He says calmly. "He won."

"I want you to meet him." You tell the red eyed boy quietly. "I-I need to get down to the hospital wing and see him… but once he's out, I want you to meet him… I think he'd like to meet you as well."

"Once he's out I'll come see the two of you." Brick promises as he stands up and places a hand on your shaking shoulder. You look up and see that there is a concerned look in his eyes as he looks down at you, and it's only then do you realize how much the boy has grown since you first met him. He's broad and takes up way more space then you originally remember, but there is something comforting about his towering presence.

You smile up at him weakly and pat the hand that is on your shoulder. "I'm fine – really I am… I'm just shocked and happy… you know?"

"I know." Brick confirms as he nudges you towards the door. "Go see your boyfriend. He wasn't unconscious when the hovercraft picked him up, and the doctors don't put new victors to sleep unless they absolutely have too to work on them. He's probably asking for you right now."

Boyfriend. The word makes you tingle slightly and warms your skin. Yes… now that Boomer has survived the arena… they'll be time to talk about that later… now you need to help him recover, and prep for what comes after winning the games.

A light dusting of pink coats your cheeks and you move towards the door and send Brick a small smile. "I'll be back in the next day or so. You'll be waiting, right?"

"I'll be right here." Brick confirms with a nod. You flash him another weak, but genuine smile as you race towards the elevator and head towards the medical bay, where you know that Boomer is being kept.

.

XxX

You're sitting by Boomer's hospital bed watching him sleep. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, reassuring you that he was safe and alive, as you hold one of his hands in both of your own.

It had taken a fair bit of convincing on your half to convince the doctors to let you see him, but in the end you won out.

He had been awake when you had finally gotten though to him, and you had thrown yourself into his arms – crying as you had planted small kisses all over his face. He had returned the gesture – abet weakly – and had held onto your hand as the Capitol doctors worked on him.

Aside from some suffering some minor frost-bite and a few deep cuts to his thigh and forearm, he's in good shape – better then how the majority of tributes leave the arena.

He had fallen asleep in the hospital bed an hour after the doctors had left – leaving the two of you alone. He had put up a strong front in front of them, smiling and cracking weak jokes as they patched him up – but one look in his eyes and you could tell immediately that he was all a farce.

After the doctors had left, he had fallen apart.

You had held him as he had cried into your chest. He was scared and traumatized of the things that he had done in the arena… of the kids that he had killed, and how he wasn't sure if he was the same person as he was before he went into the arena.

And you had let him cry. You had let him cling to you – just as you had done when you had returned from the Capitol. You whispered that you understood how he felt, and that you would never leave his side – that you would support him, and help him deal with the reminder of Capitol ceremonies, including the Victory Tour, and whatever night terrors that he would have to face afterwards.

He had fallen asleep soon after that. Too tired and drained to stay awake any longer, and now here you were – watching over him as he slept. Guarding him.

You smile sadly as you brush some of his messy golden blonde hair away from his eyes. You'll protect him from the Capitol and its horrors as best you can. You'll keep him sane for as long as long as possible.

It's the least you can do. God knows he'll need it.

XxX

.

You're watching Boomer's Victor Interview from off to the side of the stage with Brick by your side.

You watch as Boomer's face remains impassive all throughout the interview, but you've known him for long enough that you can see that he is completely uncomfortable up on the stage – how he cringes slightly whenever the host brings up his kills, and how he keeps sending you discreet sidelong glances out of the corner of his eye.

Finally, the interview draws to a close and Boomer all but sprints towards you. You pull him into a hug and whisper in his ear that he did great up there, before stepping back to reveal Brick.

"Boomer, I want you to meet Brick." You tell him gently as you let the two males shake hands. "Brick is a friend, you can trust him. I do."

Boomer manages a small smile at the flame haired boy. "If he's a friend of yours's then I'm sure he's an alright guy." Brick nods politely. "Congratulations on winning your games. It's surviving what comes afterwards that's the difficult part."

He says it coolly, with no emotion, just like always, and for a moment you see Boomer stiffen up – unable to determine whether the crimson eyed boy issued a threat or a warning to him. After a tense moment, he settles on the latter.

"I know what it does to people. I've see what it's done to Bubbles, and trust me – I'm already starting to feel the effects."

Brick shakes his head slowly. "If you're feeling it now, you're going to have a hell of a time on the Victory Tour." He looks at you sternly. "I like this guy Bubbles – take care of him alright?"

You nod. "Of course."

Brick shakes Boomer's hand once more. "May the odds be ever in your favor Poseidon."

Poseidon. The new name that the Capitol has given your darling. You figure that it's based on his abilities with a spear that earned him that title. It complements your own name to some degree – The Siren. It's funny how things worked out like that.

But judging from the slightly sick look written across Boomer's face, you know that the name will remain in the Capitol. There is no way you could ever call him that – knowing the backstory behind how he got the title.

The rest of your time in the Capitol flies by in a blur and soon enough, you and Boomer are back on the train again – on the way home to District 4. Neither of you talk the whole way home – you're too busy worrying about how you're going to prepare Boomer for his Victory Tour.

When you both arrive home, Boomer is treated like a champion, but he's not interested in celebrating and simply pushes his way through the crowd without so much as a word to anyone. You follow close behind him as he makes his way to his new house in the Victor's Village – which is conveniently right next to yours – and shuts the door behind him, locking himself in.

As night falls on District 4 you become increasingly worried, as Boomer has yet to emerge from the new house in hours – and decide to go check up on him. Somehow you don't think that he's going to answer the door, and instead opt to climb up the wall of creeping ivy that stops just below his new bedroom window.

You find it ironic that you are doing exactly what he used to do as a child, when he still lived in the District's orphanage – only this time you are a decade older, and it's you who is climbing in to see him instead of trying to get out.

You rap on the window as you sway gently in the breeze. A second later Boomer opens the window and pulls you into his bedroom. He stares at you "What are you doing?"

"I needed to make sure you were alright." You tell him truthfully. "I wanted to make sure you weren't hurting yourself."

Boomer is silent for a long time as he moves to sit on the bed. "I'm fine Bubbly. I just… I don't think that I'm going to be able to sleep for a long time after this… God, Brick was right, how the hell am I going to be able to handle the Victory Tour?"

You move to sit down next to him and rub his back comfortingly. "I know how you feel… I was like that for a long time… I still am if you want the honest truth… but… I'm going to be right with you the whole time, I'm not going to leave your side. I promised."

"We do make a lot of promises to each other, don't we?" Boomer asks with a hint of a smile. "We do, and we always keep them." You agree gently. "We'll get through this together – the night terrors, the Tour, the rest of the Games… we'll help each other though it."

Boomer looks at you gratefully and moves his face closer to yours. You kiss him sweetly as he runs his hands up and down your lean form before pulling back with a deep red flush on his face.

"Bubbles… there's something that I've been meaning to tell you for a while now… and I need to say it before-"

You cut him off with another kiss. "I already know." You tell him softly. "I love you too. I always have."

His eyes water and he pulls you in for another kiss, but this time it's different, there is a hunger behind it, and you find yourself wanting to drown in him. Things escalate quickly after that and soon enough articles of clothing are being tossed around the room, and you find yourself griping onto Boomer like a lifeline, as he holds you close like you're the most precious thing in the world.

After it ends, you still refuse to let go of each other and you realise that this is the most human that you've felt in a long time.

As you lay in each others' arms, you play with the bracelet that Boomer made for you, the one that happens to still be tied tightly around his wrist. His cobalt blue eyes widen in realization and he moves to take it off before you stop him.

"Keep it for now – you need it more than I do."

He nods, grateful. "You were right you know: it was my lucky charm in the arena." He tells you gently. You smile at him and press a kiss to his lips.

"We'll get through this together." You tell him softly but firmly as you move to pull the covers up around your nude forms. "I promise."

Six months fly by far too quickly for your liking and soon enough, you're standing beside Boomer as he goes on his Victory Tour, and just as you expected – it's brutal.

You're both so glad when it ends, because by the time you end up back in District 4, Boomer is more drained and stressed then you've seen him in months since he won his games.

You both have especially bad night terrors that night, and for the rest of the months leading up to the 57th Hunger Games. More often then not, you spend your nights together, wrapped up in each other arms, unable to sleep and face the dead tributes that haunt your nightmares.

You know that you should talk about it. Probably. Maybe. But you take one look at Boomer's bloodshot blue eyes and you can't bring yourself to do it. The night terrors are still too fresh, too real.

You keep telling yourself that you and him will sit down and talk about them one day – maybe after the approaching games, which are less then a month away. But every time you think about it, it makes you want to laugh bitterly, because even you know that you're never going to be able to talk about them, even with him. Not in the way that they need to be discussed.

You are now sixteen years old and are currently in the Capitol with Boomer and are watching the opening of the 57th Hunger Games unfold in your room in the Training Tower alone together. You haven't seen Brick all day which you find odd, as he would normally come up around this time and watch the Games with you. You shrug – maybe he's busy at the moment. He'll come up when he's free. You decide. No point in worrying about it now.

You and Boomer are so engrossed in the games, that you don't hear the door leading into your room open, until you hear a small cough from behind you. Startled, you and Boomer whip around, only to see a burly man, dressed in guard's clothes standing directly behind you.

"The President would like to see you." The guard informs you and you stiffen.

The President… the one man you'd hoped that you would never have to meet in person again. You nod and stand up on shaky legs and Boomer moves to stand with you, but the guard shakes his head at him.

"Alone." He clarifies.

You squeeze Boomer's shoulder hard. "I'll be ok." You somehow manage to croak out. "I'll see you back here soon alright?"

Boomer's eyes are wide and you can see the panic in them but all he can do is nod and sit back down slowly. "Right… I'll see you back here." He mumbles as the guard leads you away. You pass your old mentor in the hallway and she has the most wretched expression that you have ever seen on her face as she looks at you.

She bumps into you as she passes and harshly whispers in your ear "Whatever happens, don't fight him – he'll only make it worse for you."

It is then that you realize with a sinking feeling, that you know exactly why the President wants to see you.

You've heard rumors that some victors become actual playthings to powerful people in the Capitol on the President's request, but you hadn't believed it before… but now… now it was about to happen to you.

You'd be lying if you said that you didn't consider leap out of the massive glass windows that lined the walls.

The guard takes you to a private viewing lounge that you recognize as the President's own personal lounge and knocks once. A muffled voice comes from within and the guard opens the door for you, and shuts it firmly behind you.

You shuffle forward and suddenly you are face to face with the President of Panam once again.

His cold gray eyes bore into you for what feels like an eternity, but really could only be for a few seconds – before a tiny smile, that looks like it was carved into his face with a knife appears.

"Ah Miss. Sinclair, I've been expecting you. Please, have a seat."

You don't want to sit, you want to leave, but something tells you that it's best to listen to the man in front of you, after all, he could have you executed if he really wanted to, but something tells you he hasn't called you here to kill you, though god knows he could.

You sit down wearily and the President doesn't say anything for a moment, he simply looks you over with a small smile on his face. "My, you've gotten quite pretty haven't you? How old are you now dear? Sixteen?"

You nod, not liking where this is going.

"Well, one of my ambassadors has taken quite the liking to you, and since he's been a loyal little puppet, I promised I would grant him an audience with you-"

You feel dread wash over you at his words, and suddenly you are very thankful that you are sitting down, otherwise your knees would have given out. You've heard rumors of some of the better-looking victors being sold off to Capitol high-rollers for a pretty penny – you've heard whispers that it might have happened to Brick once or twice already, but you don't believe it, you don't want to believe it – but right now it's happening to you.

You think back to what your old mentor said years back when you had just won the games, "You're too young for them to do anything to you, you're safe for now." This is what she had meant. She had known the risks all along.

"Sir… I… I really am not comfortable with this… perhaps I can meet with him tomorrow during the day…?"

The President ignores you and waves a middle-aged man over with a twisted grin and you start to shake uncontrollably. He turns to look at you, but you see no kindness in his piercing blue eyes. He doesn't say anything to you concerning your lack of enthusiasm over the matter, but he doesn't have to – the look he's giving you says that you are going to entertain this advisor, you don't have a choice in the mater. You don't even want to think about what will happen to you if you don't.

"Bubbles this is Murdoc, one of my chief ambassadors – show him a good time please."

Because if you don't you'll more then likely be caught up in an "accident". You think to yourself. The President doesn't say that of course, but you know that that is exactly what he means. The underlying threat is very much there.

You don't say a word, you simply rise and follow the man out the door and back to his personal chambers. You force yourself to go numb as you enter and he shuts the door behind you.

You don't feel anything for the few horrible hours you spend with the man – you're so blissfully numb by the time he finishes that you feel like one of the morphlings victors that you see ambling about in the victor's boxes sometimes. You always thought that they were sad and wasting their lives away – always hooked up to morphine – but now you're starting to think that maybe they had the right idea all along.

You leave the first chance you get – hoping that the man doesn't see how you all but run to get away from him and that room – and you sprint down the hallways as fast as you can – back towards the Training Tower and the Victor's rooms, where you know that you'll be somewhat safe.

That is the first time you are called to appease one of the President's personal ambassadors, but even you know that it will not be your last.

.

XxX

You stiffly walk back from the ambassador's chambers feeling dirty and violated.

It's hours later and you know that Boomer is probably worried out of his mind. You pause just as you reach the floor that houses you and the other victors from 4 during your Capitol visits.

You don't want to face Boomer – your one true love. You don't want to tell him about the horrid awful thing that you just did. He'll look at you with repulsion once you tell him. He'll hate you for being weak, and you don't blame him in the slightest – you want to peel off your own skin and step into an acid bath.

You take a deep breath in and push open the doors leading to your living quarters. Just as you expected, Boomer is still up and waiting for you. He darts over to you and wraps you in a hug. "Oh thank god there you are! I was so worried! Where have you been?"

His concern only makes you feel worse about what's happened and you don't say anything, hoping that he won't ask anymore questions. Hoping that maybe he wont notice how you are now more broken then you were before.

Boomer notices immediately of course. Nothing ever gets by him when it comes to you. You've known each other far to long. "What happened?" he asks you urgently as the tears start to fall from your baby blue eyes.

"He- he…" you croak, only to break down a second later, as Boomer crushes you into his chest, his dark cobalt eyes widening as he slowly pieces together what happened without you telling him.

Rage passes over his face and his grip on you tightens to the point where he's almost suffocating you, but you don't care – it reassures you that you can still feel things that a normal human can.

"I'll kill him." Boomer whispers finally. "I mean it. I will. Him and whoever else has touched you. I'll kill them-"

"No don't." you croak. "don't say those things. They'll have you executed- make some sort of accident for you and then I'll really be all alone!"

He looks torn between a murderous look and a pained one, and its more then you can stand – so you reach up and press your lips firmly onto his. He doesn't hesitate to kiss you back, and it sends shockwaves of relief though you.

He doesn't hate you. He's not repulsed by you. He still loves you even though you've sold your innocence to the people you despise most in the world.

You press your lips harder onto his and he responds in kind, pulling you flush against him, and soon you wind up in his bedroom and you find yourself doing much more than just kissing.

You've had the worst day imaginable, but Boomer makes you feel better – makes you temporarily forget that you're simply a plaything for the Capitol to exploit. Makes you forget all your pain and fears, if only for a short time.

For the first time in a long time, you feel free.

XxX

.

It's a day later and you can tell that the games will be coming to a close soon.

It had been a particularly ruthless year so far, and it didn't help that basically all of the tributes this year where older than prior years – the majority of them being seventeen or eighteen, and the youngest being fifteen.

All of them are intimidating in their own way, but you noticed that there was one boy that stood out from the rest of them since the beginning – a sixteen-year-old from District 2 who looked to be well over six feet in height, with jet black hair and green eyes so dark they were almost black.

He had made it no secret that he was here to win since the moment that he arrived in the Capitol – quickly becoming a crowd favorite – and had made it clear that he had no qualms about doing what he needed to in the arena to become the champion.

He had not been bluffing.

You watch as the titan of a boy from District 2 literally carves a path to victory though the tributes in the arena, leaving a bloody trail of destruction in his wake.

The Baron of Berserk are what the Capitol people are calling him now. You can't help but think that he is appropriately named as you watch him tower over a dying tribute, covered head to toe in blood with a crazed look in his too-dark green eyes.

You aren't the least bit surprised when he is crowned the victor of the 57th Hunger Games a few days later.

You run into him by accident along with Boomer and Brick the day after he is taken out of the arena. He didn't have to spend too much time in the hospital unlike most tributes, but you've noticed that he's lost weight during his time in the arena. He's probably not used to not eating every day, you think to yourself.

He looks up with a crooked grin on his face as you approach, and he stands up to greet the three of you, and it is only then do you realize how massive he really is. He towers over you, and he's even taller then Boomer is, not to mention he occupies even more space than Brick does.

Its no wonder that he won. It's almost like he was genetically designed to win the games. You always knew that District 2 was called the warrior district for a reason, and this boy is the prime example.

"Hey…" he rumbles as he extends a massive hand. "Butch. I kinda already know who you three are… I watched your games a few years back." He states with a small shrug. You notice that the muscles in his legs, arms, torso and even neck jump and spasm every so often. It's probably some sort of tick. You think to yourself as you notice it.

You slowly extend your own hand with a careful smile. He seems like he's still got his sanity, but you've seen the way he acted in the arena… how he easily he dispatched his opponents, and god knows he could do the same to you in a heartbeat.

You feel Boomer and Brick tense behind you, but you decide to give the spiky haired boy the benefit of the doubt. You might be damaged, but you're still a good judge of character, or at least, you'd like to think so.

"Bubbles, it's nice to meet you." You say gently as you shake hands. He grips a little too tightly, but you almost expected it from him. You nod behind you. "That's Brick." You point to the cap wearing boy who grunts slightly, not taking his eyes off of Butch's hulking form, "and that's Boomer." You nod to Boomer who looks torn between wanting to greet the new boy, and wanting to remove you from his grip. You slowly shake your head at each of them in turn – silently letting them know that it's okay, before you redirect your attention back the obsidian haired man in front of you.

You look deep into his forest green eyes as you try to determine what he's thinking. You're trying to see if he feels the same way you and your friends- well, you can't exactly call just call Boomer a friend now can you – feel. You want to make sure that he really isn't just another career. Another lapdog for the Capitol to manipulate.

You have to look deep down – because he's hidden it well – but sure enough, you see the same pain that is reflected in your male companion's eyes and your own. He might be a warrior, and he might be one of the most vicious people you've ever met in your life, but he's dealing with the same pain that you are – only in a different way.

You cast a glance back to Boomer and Brick and nod at them, letting them know that he's alright, and both immediately relax.

You smile gently at Butch. What's one more broken and damaged person to befriend?

"Would you like to sit with us?" you ask him kindly. You see his deep green eyes widen in shock at your question, but it seems to clear something up in them and suddenly, you see him for who he is: A confused boy who is struggling to find himself, and who might be even more internally damaged then you, Boomer or even Brick combined.

The corners of his lips turn up into a half grin and he nods. "Sure, what the hell. You three are the most normal people I've met so far. I guess I could hang with you for a while."

He spends the remainder of his time in the Capitol with you and your boys, and you steadily grow to like him, and you quickly discover that he has a surprisingly good sense of humor – If not a little dark and twisted considering everything that he's been though.

And that is how the infamous Baron of Berserk was recruited into your little group of damaged victors, and you never once regretted your choice.

You are now seventeen years old, and back in your familiar private box, watching the 78th opening ceremonies take place with your thee boys, and for some reason, Butch has been unnaturally silent the whole time – staring down at the new batch of tributes intently – more specifically – the female tribute from his district.

You look down at the girl and take in her features, wondering what is it about her that has Butch so fixated on her.

She's very pretty. You think to yourself as the camera gives her a close up. Tall, with tan skin, long wild black hair, and what has to be the brightest pair of green eyes you've ever seen on another human being before – she looks almost exotic. You can tell just by looking at her that she's definently Butch's type.

But there's something about the way that he's looking at her that makes you think that he's not just paying attention to her for her looks. He confirms your suspicions a moment later.

"That's Buttercup." He murmurs silently, nodding at the green eye girl, and catching the attention of Brick and Boomer. "She's my- she's my best friend back at home." he catches himself, almost as if he wanted to say something else, but shakes his head. He nods to the boy from District 2 who is standing next to her. "That's Mitch. I don't really know him all that well, but I know that Buttercup is friendly with him… it's not going to be easy for her to end him."

You gape at him in suspires. "Why would she kill her own friend?" You ask. Butch snorts. "You don't know much about 2's mindset Blondie. In the arena, you have no friends, you just have yourself."

"But she doesn't have to-" Boomer starts, only for Butch to interrupt him. "Maybe she won't be the one to do it, and I'm hoping that it doesn't come to that, but Buttercup is in it to win. We both have similar mindsets when it comes to the Games, and I know that she's going to do whatever it takes to win – even if she had to sacrifice a friend."

A hush falls over the four of you with the implication of his words, and Butch redirects his attention back on the screen in front of him. It's another hour or so before he says anything else.

"It wasn't a coincidence."

You, Boomer and Brick turn to stare at Butch in confusion.

"What wasn't a coincidence? Boomer asks. "That they were Reaped together?"

He shakes his head. "No, I mean her being Reaped. It wasn't a coincidence that her name was picked the year after I won."

"What do you mean?" Boomer asks him confused, "The Reaping is all about the odds, and the odds just weren't in her favor this year-"

"Not in District 2." Butch interrupts. "In 2 it's different. We have ranking systems, we train our whole lives for the games. When I volunteered, I was ranked 1st in the entire Senior division – basically, I was cream of the crop." He informs you, as Brick and Boomer fall silent.

You listen to the onyx haired boy intently. This is the first time you've heard about District 2's training system. You knew it was there of course, everyone does, but you weren't sure how exactly it worked.

"Buttercup was always right behind me in our training scores. And when I become the Champion, that bumped her up into first place." He looks wretched as he curls his hands into fists – his ticks starting to become a little more prominent. "She was originally going to volunteer too… but after seeing what it's done to me… I told her not to… I made her promise that she wouldn't…"

He sucks in a sharp intake of air. "But our trainers really wanted her to compete, and well… they've been known to pull strings in the past…"

He doesn't say anything else, but you don't need him to.

"She was picked on purpose." You finish for him and he nods slowly.

"More then likely, yeah. And this time I can't save her."

The way he says it makes something click in your brain and suddenly you want nothing more then to throw your arms around him and try and console him.

It's in that moment that you realize that she is more then just a friend to him. She's something far more precious.

He loves her.

Butch sighs and stands up stiffly as the girl's interview ends. "I gotta go talk to her for a bit. Don't wait up."

You watch as he moves off to the side of the stage and waits as the dark-haired girl steps off the platform, before gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her out of sight.

You look back and Brick and Boomer and you can tell from the expressions that they wear on their faces that they've figured it out as well.

You sigh. The games are going to be rough this year.

XxX

.

You've just gotten back from another… "meeting" with one of the Presidents ambassadors, only to hear screaming coming from the lounge area wear you watch the games from with Boomer, Brick and now Butch.

You recognize that the screams are coming from the latter of your little group, and you temporary forget how disgusting you feel, and run towards the source – paying that Butch isn't having an episode provoked by mindless rage. No one can stop him once he gets like that.

You burst into the room only to see the titan of a boy arguing with Brick and Boomer. Boomer turns slightly and glances at you in concern – his cobalt eyes quickly washing over your frame to assure himself that you aren't hurt, and moves towards you.

"Hey, you might want to leave, Butch is having a bad day…"

"What's going on? Did something happen in the games to the girl he likes?" you ask over the yelling.

"Ah not quite… she's doing very well today. Butch has been asking were you keep disappearing to…" he swallows thickly and his eyes darken hatefully. "and well Brick being Brick told him, and then – being the ass that he is – said that it'll better if his girl, Buttercup I believe her name is, doesn't make it out of the arena, or there's a good chance that it'll happen to her as well. Butch lost it after that."

Your eyes widen in shock. You know Brick is very blunt by nature, but that was uncalled for. You push your way past Boomer and make your way over to Brick and Butch who are squaring off against each other. Brick has adopted a defensive stance, while Butch as an almost crazed look in his eyes.

They stop yelling at each other as you approach them. The massive television that is showing the games on the wall behind them is muted, but you catch a glimpse of the dark-haired girl known as Buttercup, chasing after an unfortunate tribute, throwing knifes at their retreating figure. You turn your attention away from the screen after reassuring yourself that she is not in any immediate danger, and look between the two angry boys.

It's Butch who speaks first. "Is it true?" he murmurs. "Do they make you… do that."

You want to lie. You want to deny it, say that it isn't true, but there's no point. He's bound to find out eventually and it's better that he hears it from you, so you nod. "Yes." You say quietly. "it's true, and I'm not proud of it."

He closes his eyes and tries to calm himself, his fists clenching and unclenching. "I… I always kinda though that they were making you do that… I had a feeling… I just thought that maybe I was wrong… I didn't want to believe it, you know?"

You do.

You nod gently, as you look over at Brick. "What did you tell him?" you ask gently.

Brick shrugged. "I told him the truth. It's happened to you, it's happened to me, it's more then likely going to happen to Boomer at some point, and you know as well as I do that the Capitol wont turn down the opportunity to add another pretty girl into the victor harem. In a way, its almost a mercy if she dies in the arena-"

"SHUT THE HELL UP! YOU DON'T KNOW THAT!" Butch roars and you quickly step in-between them, not wanting it to escalate into a full blown out fight.

Still though, you can't deny what Brick is saying, and it makes you feel even worse. You've heard rumors that Brick was being used much like you were, but you hadn't believed it when you heard it – this all but confirms that even he's not even safe from the President's iron grip. and the thought that it might happen to Boomer as well… the thought makes you want to puke.

Its deadly silent for a while after that, as the implication of Brick's words hang in the air. You want to say something to break the ice, but you know that nothing you say will make any difference what-so-ever. After all, you're just a plaything. Finally it's Butch who is the one to break the silence, snapping you out of your reprieve.

"Buttercup is going to win those games, and when she does she's going to be FINE. They won't touch her. She and I are going home, and then we're never going to speak of this nightmare again." Butch gets out in-between gritted teeth. You notice that a vein near his temple looks as if it's about to burst as he tries to hold back his rage.

Brick sighs. "IF she wins-"

"She will win. You don't know her like I do. We've trained our whole lives for this moment. If anyone's got the best chance of winning, its her." Butch snarls, looking ready to pummel him. You decide to intervene before that happens.

"Please boys don't fight, that's not going to help anything!" you beg them as Boomer moves to stand by you. "I'm already having a horrid enough day as it is and the last thing I want right now is for my friends to fight." You don't outright say what you mean by having a bad day, but Brick and Boomer already know. Butch on the other hand, looks furious, and slowly starts to shake his head.

"I'm sorry Bubs. I'm sorry for what they've done to you. Really, I am, but I'm not about to let the same thing happen to Buttercup." You look towards him, and see that his eye are cold as he looks at you, Boomer and Brick.

"I can see what they've done to you. I won't let them do the same thing to her. Not now, not ever. I won't let them touch her!" he growls out, he's dark green eyes looking almost feral. You shake your head slowly at him, wishing you could tell him that it's that easy.

"Butch, if the President wants her as a plaything he's going to make her one… and I hate to be the one to say it, but Brick's right. She's quite pretty, and that in itself makes her a target. I wish it was as simple as telling them no, but it doesn't work like that, trust me, Boomer has tried-"

Butch moves, and suddenly he'd towering over you, allowing you to see as his muscles spasm and twitch as he struggles to maintain what little self control he has left. When he speaks, his voice is low and quiet and very much refined.

"They are not going to touch her." He repeats softly. "They will never get their hands on her as long as I'm alive. She's mine, and I never learned how to share."

There is something ominous swirling around in his eyes and you shudder involuntarily. He's deadly serious you realize. You don't know what he plans to do, but you don't doubt that he's going to act somehow.

"What do you plan to do?" Boomer finally asks quietly. Butch's eyes flick up to meet Boomer's ocean blue ones and he sets he's mouth into a firm line.

"You'll see." Is the only thing he says, before he straightens up and backs away from you slowly. You watch him as he sits down in a chair by the T.V. and un-mutes it without another word – watching intently as the tall girl with jet black hair lets out an ear-piercing scream and sinks one of her knives into the back of another tributes neck…

.

XxX

It's three days later and you watch in utter horror as Buttercup rips out the final tributes throat with her teeth.

In her defence, you know that she didn't have much of a choice. The powerful male from 7 had her pinned down and was slowly strangling her, so she did what she had to do, but you still don't think that you've ever witnessed anything quite as violent and jarring as that in the games.

Butch had simply watches silently as she slowly stood up, covered in blood and is declared the victor of the 78th Hunger Games. He looked over at Brick, Boomer and your shocked faces and mutters a quiet, "Told you." Before standing up and leaving, obviously to go look after her as she is brought back to the Capitol.

You don't see him for the next couple of days and you can only assume that he is hovering near the dark-haired girl while she recovers in the Capitol hospital. The next time you see him, he is surprisingly on stage with Buttercup during her interview. You find it interesting that she isn't saying anything during it, and that Butch is doing all of the talking for her – making her seem like she is incapable of formulating a complete sentence on her own.

She hardly makes any eye contact with the cameras or the Capitol audience the whole time, and the few times she does look up, you see that her bright green eyes have a crazed look to them.

But her eyes also have an undeniable sharpness in them that makes you pause. Her eyes are too focused, too clear for her to be completely mad. No, she's not mad at all, you realize with a jolt – weary and jagged perhaps, but not crazy like Butch is making her out to be.

You see him take her hand in his own and squeeze it tightly, and suddenly you understand exactly what he's done. They're never going to touch this girl no matter how pretty she is, because he's made her out to be absolutely insane.

Or maybe she already is – you can't be completely sure. All you know is that Butch had played his cards well, and by doing so, he has ensured her safety.

You feel horrible for admitting it to yourself, but a twisted, gnarled part of you feels jealous of the wild-eyed girl in the T.V.

XxX

.

It's a day after the interviews and the Victor's party at the President's mansion, and everyone is getting ready to head home.

You and Boomer are saying your goodbyes to Brick as you wont see him for another year, when Butch bursts in the room.

You turn to face him with a smile – glad that you get to see him before you and Boomer head back home – only for him to speed-walk over to where the three of you are sitting and blurt out: "I want you three to meet Buttercup."

His request catch's you off guard. Even from the beginning this girl didn't seem like the most approachable person, and you had been under the impression that she didn't want anything to do with anyone. Not to mention that Butch

Butch picks up on your hesitation and shakes his head. "I trust you three. I want her to meet you – It might help her deal with the demons she's got right now. That and I need to socialize her with some normal people, not those Capitol peacocks."

You, Boomer and Brick look amongst the three of you for a moment, before finally shrugging. Since she's important to Butch, you feel as if you're going to be seeing her around a lot more in the following years anyways – might as well introduce yourselves now.

"Sure." Brick responds evenly. "Why not? I don't see the harm."

Butch grins. "Perfect, I'll go get her, wait here." And takes off without another word.

You're not going to lie – you are extremely nervous about meeting Buttercup. After all, you just watched her rip out another tribute's throat with her teeth, so no one can really blame you for feeling hesitant. But Butch assures you that she's very nice once you get to know her, if not slightly rough around the edges. Maybe moreso now than before.

You like Butch. You trust Butch, and you know that he cares deeply for this Buttercup girl, and that's what makes you decide to at least give the girl a chance.

After all, you know that you're not really one to talk – you drowned a boy to win your games, which is just as bad as having your throat ripped out. At least that's a slightly quicker death than drowning.

Butch leaves the room for a moment, presumably to go fetch Buttercup, and you flash Brick and Boomer a nervous look. "Do you think that she's going to be… you know… here?" you tap the side of your head.

Brick shrugs. "Who knows. Everyone's different after leaving the arena. Some people are more damaged than others, but if she's anything like Butch, then I think she'll be alright. She'll probably just be more temperamental than anything."

"Hopefully." Boomer agrees. "I mean, if we can get along with Butch, then she shouldn't be too bad-"

The door opens again and Butch reappears, this time bringing in a tall girl – who is still much smaller compared to him – with wild dark hair, and the brightest green eyes that you've ever seen before, in with him.

Buttercup Riley. Or as she's now more commonly know as The Bloody Baroness by the Capitol folk.

Its no surprise how she got that name.

You watch with interest as Butch leads her over to where you, Boomer and Brick are seated as he gently begins to introduce her. You notice that he remains very close to her the whole time, not moving more then an inch or two away from her.

"This is Brick and Boomer." Butch tells Buttercup gently as he introduces her to the boys first. "Brick won the 53rd and Boomer won the year before me. You remember seeing them on T.V. right?" he asks the dark-haired girl. She doesn't say anything in response, she only purses her lips and nods at both men in turn, and they offer her muffled greetings in exchange, trying to avoid eye contact as much as possible.

Butch sighs quietly at the building tension in the room. He turns his forest green orbs on you, and nods reassuringly as you stand from your seated position and move towards the green-eyed pair. Butch flashes you a grateful smile as he redirects his attention back to Buttercup.

"Buttercup." Butch smiles softly at her as he takes her hand in his massive one. "This is Bubbles – you remember her, we watched her games a couple of years ago. She's very nice, and I wanted you to meet her, say hello."

The girl doesn't say anything, she simply stares at you in silence for a while, and you see a tick in her jaw as she slowly clenches her fists.

That doesn't bother you though, she's just come fresh from the arena, everyone has some sort of nervous tick after they come out and she's no exception. You turn your attention to her eyes only to freeze as her piercing green gaze locks you in place.

You see rage and confusion swirling around her bright green eyes, and an almost wild madness hidden within that makes you want to flinch, but taking a closer look at her, you see the same pain reflected in her eyes that is the same as yours, Boomer's, Brick's and especially Butch's.

It is then that you realize that you and this girl are exactly the same.

This realization makes you smile warmly at her as you move towards her with your hand outstretched.

"Hi there, my name is Bubbles, it's very nice to meet you."

You know exactly how confused and scared she is at the moment – being around actual people who don't want to kill you for the first time in weeks – and you know that you would have given anything for someone to talk to you like a normal human being after you had gotten out of the arena, so the least you can do is offer that kind of treatment to her.

God knows that she needs to feel human now more than you ever did.

Some of the madness seems to dissipate from her eyes and she manages the tiniest of smiles at you as she extends her opposite hand and catches you in a firm handshake.

"Buttercup."

The tension in the room melts away immediately, and you catch Butch breath a sigh of relief out of the corner of your eye as you beam back at Buttercup. Judging from his reaction, things could have gone a lot worse.

You lead Buttercup back over to where you were sitting before and engage her in conversation with Boomer and Brick. You talk to her about everything and anything, purposely avoiding mentioning the games, and after a while she starts to relax, and starts responding to your questions with more then just one word answers.

You smile at the dark-haired girl. You and her were going to get along just fine.

You are now eighteen years old, and once again, just like every year, you find yourself back in the Capitol with Boomer in your privet lounge.

But it's not just you and him. You have a small group of Victors that you are proud to call your friends, even if some are a little more mentally damaged then others.

There's you, Boomer, Butch, Buttercup and Brick-

Your eyebrows furl together. Where was Brick? you hadn't seen him at all for the last few days, and the 59th annual games where just around the corner. It wasn't like him to not show up before the start of the games…

You shudder violently. After finding out about the… similar predicament that he was in that happened to be the exact same as yours – you hope to god that the President isn't using him for-

The doors slam open, and suddenly Brick is there.

Buttercup jerks her head up from her spot-on Butch's lap – eyes wide in alarm at the sudden noise – only to narrow upon seeing Brick. "Where the hell have you been the past couple of days? Butch said that you usually hang around here during the games… what changed?"

Brick doesn't even look her way and simply paces back and forth in front of you and the rest of the group. "I've run into a serious problem." He finally mutters as he takes his ball cap off to rake a hand through his – now surprisingly short – auburn locks.

"What's going on?" Boomer asks worriedly from beside you – his arm that is curled around your shoulders pulls you slightly closer to him and you don't fight the gesture.

Brick looks as if he's going to vomit at any given time, but he looks up at Boomer with tired eyes, and very quietly answers his question.

"Blossom got Reaped."

Blossom. That's a new name to you. In all of the years that you've known him, he's never mentioned a Blossom before. In fact, he's never talked about anyone from his distract before now that you think about it.

You know who he's talking about before he describes her. The girl with the extremely long red hair, and abnormal light brown – almost pink looking eyes – that had been chosen as District 5's female tribute, had caught your attention as you were watching the Reaping on television.

And to add insult to injury, you later found out that this girl is eighteen, the same age as you. It's almost criminal how close she was to escaping the age group of eligible victims that could get chosen for the Reaping, and that she has the misfortune of getting Reaped on her last year.

You see how pale Brick looks and your heart aches for him. Here you were thinking that Brick didn't care about anyone outside of your little circle. He's never mentioned being particularly close with anyone from back at home, aside from his father who is a former victor. You honestly thought that he was past the point of caring who got Reaped from his District.

Apparently, this girl is the expectation.

"Who is she?" Butch asks, stroking Buttercup's hair soothingly as she settles back down in her former spot on his lap.

Brick stiffens, probably unsure of how to answer the question, before letting out a defeated sigh. "She's my friend… no… she's more than that. She's my partner."

Oh. Oh no.

The four of you fall silent as you look at Brick sympathetically. You've all been there before, and he knows it. You with Boomer and Butch with Buttercup, and obviously vice versa.

You know exactly how he feels.

"She's not a fighter." Brick mumbles into his hands. "I tried to teach her once or twice and it was disastrous. She's a brilliant woman, but she's not a confrontational one."

He removes his hands from his face only to rub tiredly at his eyes. "I've been spending every minute with her trying to get her ready for the Games, but I don't know how much good it's going to do… she's going to get tossed into that ring tomorrow and there's only so much I can do from the outside…"

"So, what did you tell her?" Boomer asks. "The games are tomorrow."

Brick's gaze turns hard. "I told her to use her wits to her advantage. She's smart and pretty enough. I know that she can figure something out. I told her to do whatever she need to do to win. Whatever she decides to do, I'm not going to judge her."

"Do you think she's going to win?" Buttercup asked, almost carelessly. A crestfallen look passes over Brick's face for the briefest of seconds before it vanishes as quickly as it came.

"I'm not going to give myself false hope." He mutters. "I hope to god that she wins. But I never know what's going to happen in the arena. I just have to hope that the odd's will be in her favor."

He looks as if he wants to sit down with you for a moment, before deciding against it. "I'm going to spend the night with her – don't bother waiting up."

As he all but slams the door behind him, you look around at Boomer, Butch and Buttercup, and agree without words to leave Brick alone for these games.

.

XxX

You don't see Brick again until the second last day of the games and he looks as if he hasn't slept at all. In fact he reminds you of how you looked like when Boomer had gotten Reaped.

"She's doing really well." Butch says when he see's the exhausted crimson eyed boy. "For someone who doesn't know how to fight, she's playing it smart – chumming up with that boy from 1? Yeah he did a good job of keeping her safe in the beginning"

"Forget that, did you see her make use of that ice pick that she found in the Cornucopia? She sunk it into that one girl from 3's head like it was butter." Buttercup chimes in with a slight cackle.

Brick cringes. "Yes, I saw, and now all that's left is her and him…" he closes his eyes. "It won't be long now… the Gamemakers will force them together to fight soon… I just hope that she can finish it…"

"Have faith Brick." You tell him gently as you watch the girl called Blossom trudge through her arena – a frigid snowy tundra – almost like the one that Boomer had been thrown into several years ago – trying to make her way back to the Cornucopia where she first entered the games, to prepare for her final showdown against the boy from 1.

"It's like you said: there's nothing wrong about wishing for someone that you care about to win." You finished. Brick spares a glance at you from the corner of his eye, and nods stiffly.

"You're right… I just… don't want to give myself false hope…"

You gesture for him to sit next to you and Boomer without taking your eyes off of the screen. "Whatever happens Brick, we're hear for you." And like the many times before – you give his hand a resurging squeeze.

Brick doesn't say it, but you know that the gesture means a lot to him, as he gives your hand a tiny squeeze back.

The next day, you and the others cheer as Blossom is named the Victor of the 59th annual Hunger Games, and you swear that you see a single tear make its way down Brick's cheek.

XxX

.

Brick brings Blossom in to meet all of you the day before you are all set to go home.

She's beautiful. You think to yourself as you get a full look at the girl, and you can fully admit that Blossom Thatcher – or The Ice Queen, really is a vision to behold.

Long red hair cascades down her shoulders and stops at her lower back, and her pale milky skin looks smooth to the touch. Not to mention that her eyes seem to flash from light brown to pink in certain lights. Right now they look pink to you from your spot on the sofa.

She timidly enters the room behind Brick, never once letting go of his hand, and you can see in her eyes how nervous she is to be there.

He coughs, making everyone turn their attention on the new girl in the room. He gently pushes her in front of him. "Guys, this is Blossom. I've really been wanting to introduce you to her for quite some time now."

Brick introduces each of you to her, by pointing out all of you in turn. "The girl with bright blonde hair is Bubbles, the boy sitting next to her is Boomer. The big guy with the green eyes is Butch, and Butter-" he pauses, and you look towards where Butch is sitting in confusion, only to see that Buttercup is not sitting in her usual spot beside him.

Brick frowns as he looks around for the black-haired girl with a concerned expression on his face. "Where's Buttercup-"

He doesn't have to look for long as Buttercup suddenly slinks around from behind Blossom, and the auburn-haired girl visually freezes. Buttercup grins at the sight.

"What's wrong Pinky? Scared of me? No need, I don't bite… Much."

She's laughs at her own joke, and you flinch as you see the dark-haired girl's eyes become faintly – a telltale sign that she was about to enter a violent episode, as you have quickly found out in the past year of knowing her.

Thankfully Butch notices. "Butterfly…" he rumbles to her gently, and it seems to snap her out of it. "Calm down Butchie, it was a joke." She murmurs without taking her eyes off of Blossom. She brushes some of her long black hair out of her face and flashes Blossom a winning smile.

"Congratulations on winning your games, and welcome to hell – it's not as hot as you'd think it would be."

Blossom stares blankly at her, confused by her cryptic warning, and Butch takes the opportunity to stand up and takes Buttercup by the hand. "Sorry, she's not usually like this – she's just having an off day." Butch mumbles to her apologetically. "Her games messed around with her head a little bit. She's great once you get to know her."

He nods at the rest of you. "I think we'll take this as our cue to leave – see you all again next year." And without another word, he and Buttercup take their leave, shutting the door behind them firmly.

You smile at Blossom once they're gone. "He's right, she's really not so bad – actually she's very nice – she just has… episodes sometimes. Her games were a bit more brutal than most."

"Yes, I remember that… I watched her games last year…" Blossom finally admits. "I was a bit nervous to meet her… Brick has told me all about you and the others… he says I can trust you." She looks hopeful.

You nod spreading your arms wide. "We're all friends here." You confirm. "You're safe here. We'd love for you to join us if you'd like?"

Blossom says nothing for a few minutes. She stares deeply into your baby blue orbs as if trying to determine whether your offer is genuine or not. Finally, she smiles, and it lights up her whole face, even her odd, almost rosy eyes.

It's no wonder that Brick loves her. You think. He hasn't quite said it, but he doesn't have too. You already know.

"I would love that. Thank you."

And so, The Ice Queen was added to your little group of broken misfits – and yet, with her addition into the group – she seemed to complete it in some odd way.

It's one year later, and all six of you are together again in the Capitol. None of you are paying attention to the Games on the screen behind you, and Butch ends up shutting it off after a moment, plunging the room into a stiff silence.

You are broken, tired, depressed and most of all angry. Angry for what the Capitol has done to not only you, but your friends as well.

Judging from the looks on their faces, they feel the exact same way.

The Bludgeoner, The Siren, Poseidon, The Baron of Berserk, The Bloody Baroness, and the Ice Queen – all together in one room.

All broken and damaged in their own way.

The Capitol has broken you mentally and physically and you can't take it anymore. You can't stay silent any longer. You need to talk. And so do they.

Brick locked the door to the lounge that you and the rest of the group frequent so often, so no one is getting in unless they're a higher up Capitol official, meaning that they six of you can talk freely and undisturbed for a few minutes.

"I think we all need to vent." Blossom says quietly from her spot beside Brick. "I know that I do. I don't know how all of you have kept it together for so many years. I feel like I'm falling apart."

"Years of practice sweet-heart." Butch mutters dryly across from her, causing Buttercup to snicker unkindly.

You figure that someone needs to get the ball rolling here. Years of repressed emotions and memories have changed you in more ways then you would care to admit, and you need to release a few of them. You can't keep them bottled up any longer.

"I'm used as a puppet for the President and his top ambassadors… in more than one way." You admit softly. "I also have survivors guilt from my games, and I don't think that I should have won."

There. You're deepest, darkest secret is out in the open.

You don't dare look at Boomer. You don't want to see the heartbreak flash across his face, even though you know that it's there.

Everyone is silent as your words float around in the open air. No one wants to say anything, and yet they all want to say something. They just can't figure out what it is they want to say.

"I sometimes taste his blood in my mouth." Buttercup admits after a pause. "I can't seem to get rid of it, no matter how hard I try."

No one needs to ask who he is.

That seems to open up the floodgate for Butch because he lets out a heavy sigh and finally mutters. "I killed a good half of the tributes – possibly more – during my games, and I see every single one of their faces clearly at night. I haven't actually slept in three years."

"I keep having flashbacks to when I had to impale some of the tributes in my games." Boomer says mindlessly as his hand creeps towards yours. "Sometimes… when I'm out on the water skewering fish… I don't see the fish, I see people, and it scares me because I sometimes can't tell if I'm having a hallucination or not."

You feel the heavy weight of his words sink into your skin as he laces your fingers with his. You know that Boomer sometimes goes out on the lake and fishes when he gets stressed, but he would always come back in with a look of panic on his face and would never tell you why.

Now you understand.

Blossom goes next. "I only killed two people in my games – the one girl from 3 and the boy from 1 in my games, but… it was difficult. The act of taking a life in that fashion… their blood will always stain my hands, and I'll never be able to get rid of that stain. Granted mine isn't as bad as some of yours, but it weighs heavily on my conscious every day."

That's fair, besides, you only killed one person in your games too, so you understand where she's coming from.

The rose orbed girl turns away shamefully. "That and… I… am in the same situation as Bubbles… I'm so sorry…" she looks up at you and you see the unsheathed tears in her eyes. Thankfully she's sitting right next to you, so you hold one of her hands in your free one, telling her without words that you understand what she's going though. She grips your hand tightly, and you don't stop her.

Finally, it's Brick's turn.

He's quiet before he slowly begins to speak. "I got Reaped when I was twelve and thrown in the arena with twenty-three other tributes who had a much better shot at winning then I ever did. I had to get smart if I wanted to live, and in the end I ended up crushing their skulls in with a spiked club in order to escape the arena. That does things to a twelve-year-old you know."

He snorts. "and then a few year ago, our wonderful President decided that I was attractive enough to add to the Victor haram. I won't lie – a part of my does wish that I died in that arena. That way I wouldn't have to deal with this every year, because honestly, I'm not sure for how much longer I can take this."

Blossom looks absolutely horrified by his words, and gently tugs her hand away from yours so that she can wrap both arms around his neck, and bury her face in his shoulder.

He smiles, but there is no hint of humor in his eyes. "The worst part is that they can do these things to us, and there is nothing we can do about it. Not unless we want to get ourselves killed."

He's right. Of course he right. He's always right. He knows better then anyone after all.

It still doesn't stop the tears that pour down your cheeks a second later.

Its hopeless, it's completely hopeless. You can do nothing against the Capitol. You've always known this, but for some reason it's only really starting to sink in now.

"Bubbles… Bubbles please don't cry." Boomer croaks next to you, but you can't stop the flood of tears that pour down your face, and a second later, he's crying too.

Your tears seem to have an effect on everyone, because the next thing you know, everyone is crying – even Butch and Buttercup, only their tears are silent as they cling to each other.

Brick's eyes are even redder as tears slip out of the corners of his eyes. Suddenly, in a gesture so unlike Brick, he opens his arms up and you all throw yourselves into them – forming one massive group hug, and despite all of you knowing that you are in the Capitol – this is the safest you've felt in a long time.

You all cry for the first time in what has to be years – letting all of your pain and frustration out as you all hold onto each other for dear life, because at the end of the day – nobody will ever understand any of you like the six of you can – and how you're all going to suffer through this together.

You are all tied together by blood and unified by suffering.

That is the one thing that even the Capitol cannot change.

It's years later and the nightmares are still present. They haven't faded away – namely because you are still living in your nightmare.

The only thing that brings you comfort is knowing that you're not the only one going through it. You have friends – a group made up of the most unlikely people – people who you never saw yourself being friends with – people who care about you, and understand your suffering because they are going though the same thing that you are.

You are currently seated in your victor's box with Boomer by your side, watching the 73rd annual Hunger Games. It's only the third day but already both the male and female tributes from your district have been killed. It's been an especially violent year so far.

You've been watching the Games for years, and have sent your far share of tributes into the arena, but every time one of them dies, it cuts into your soul and you feel like a piece of you has died with them.

You're young. Only thirty-two, the same age as Boomer, but you feel ancient. Looking at Boomer, you know that he feels the same. It kills him sending children into the arena to die. But there is nothing that the two of you can do about it except hope that one makes it out.

You look down at your hands – unwilling to watch any of the blood being spilt on the screen in front of you – but all you can see are the invisible shackles that the Capitol has bound you in. Suddenly Brick's words from when you first met come back to you.

"You're not free from them. Not now, not ever. You're just a plaything to them – a disposable one at that."

You smile ruthfully. Brick had been right all along, you had just been to young to realize it.

You would have given anything for him to be wrong though.

You lean into Boomer and he wraps an arm around your shoulders without taking his eyes off of the T.V. You sigh miserably.

"Will it ever end?" you ask him in a whisper, knowing that Capitol officials are listening to every word you say, even if you can't see them. He barely shrugs. "I don't know Bubbles. I really don't know."

"Someone should do something." You whisper.

"Maybe someone will. But it's not going to be you or me… we're just their playthings… and we have to keep things steady in back in 4. The people need us. Now more the ever." He whispers back.

"I hate them." You whisper, hating the way your voice cracks, and hating the single, hot tear that rolls down your cheek.

Boomer seems to deflate at the sound and he presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head.

"So do I Bubs, so do I."

The games end, a new victor is chosen, and the cycle set's itself up to be repeated once again without any changes. But next year, both you and Boomer watch with wide eyes as a girl dressed in flames changes the rules of the game to her own, and ignites the spark of rebellion that the two of you had been hoping to awaken for so long.

And not too long after that – things do change.

May the odds be ever in your favor.

Authors note: I've recently been revisiting The Hunger Games trilogy and this idea popped into my mind and wouldn't leave.

And this is only chapter one of you can believe it. Bubbles and Brick's chapters will be the longest from what I can tell, after all – they see the most out of the six. The other four will be significantly shorter.

Can someone say Depressed Blues, Dark Greens and Angsty Reds? Because I can.

Next chapter: Boomer

Stay amazing my lovelies,

Mrs. RoseGold