Yes, I am enough of a loser to write an angsty, AU tragic alternate ending to my crack humour fic, even though the crack humour fic isn't done yet. So, this takes place in a slightly more serious version of 'The Most Unlikely Alliance Ever' wherein the Capitol turns the tables on them at last minute and changes the rules back so that only one person can win (which will not happen in the real fic—come on, this is crack, people) and Glimmer is the only one who makes it out.

Every Step I Take, Something Breaks Inside

She was empty. All of these people partying around her, and she was empty. Blonde hair shining—her stylist had made it so, after all. But no amount of makeup could quite hide the deadness in her eyes, the emptiness that overpowered that impossible green. She was wearing yet another see-through gold dress, sitting on a chair next to Caesar Flickerman.

It was as if something in her brain had disconnected. These people weren't her people. They weren't the people that she needed.

"So, Glimmer, what will you do now?"

"I have no family at home, Caesar," she answered breathily, choking back tears. "My parents died when I was very young. But as a victor, I have freedom of movement that most other people in the districts don't have. I was going to request a house in District Twelve instead of One."

"Glimmer, whyever would you do that?" Caesar looked bewildered, and Glimmer choked back a sob.

"I promised Katniss that I would take care of Prim," she answered. "That's all I have left now, see. Katniss told me that if I wanted to, I could share her sister. So I'm going to go to District Twelve to take care of her."

Glimmer knew that Primrose Everdeen wouldn't necessarily welcome the help—she had failed to save her sister, after all. But she also knew that she needed it. When Glimmer had gotten out of the arena, Cashmere, Gloss, her stylist and, surprisingly, Haymitch Abernathy had been waiting for her when she had woken up.

Haymitch had kept his head out of a flask long enough to tell her that Katniss' mother had lost it at her daughter's death and hung herself from the kitchen rafters. Glimmer felt a whole myriad of things—she knew that Katniss didn't have a spectacular relationship with her mother, courtesy of the way that she behaved when her husband died, but she also knew that Katniss had loved her. And that Prim had needed her.

Unsurprisingly, they all thought that she was insane. But nobody had any precedent to deny her request—theoretically, victors did have freedom of mobility, the right to live in whichever district that they wanted. But they never wanted to go anywhere but home. And she had a perfectly valid, if unusual reason to do so—victors usually honored their allies, after all. And there hadn't ever been an alliance as well-developed as theirs.

So nobody stopped her from getting on the train back to district twelve with Haymitch Abernathy and twelve's escort.

"Never had a return trip with a victor before," Haymitch said, offering her a tumbler full of whiskey. Glimmer took it, and let out a hysterical laugh. It was the first time since she had come out of the arena that anyone had given her what she truly wanted.

"Must be strange that the victor isn't yours, right?" she shot back, swallowing the amber liquid in one shot and choking the flames down her throat.

"Thing is, you kind of feel like mine. And they're acting like you're defective—One doesn't want you anymore, you know that, right?"

"Oh, I know," Glimmer answered heavily.

"They're letting me have you."

"What?" she gave him blank look.

"They're changing the records and everything. You are now officially the third victor that District Twelve has ever had. You're even mentoring for Twelve next year."

"They're punishing me for bucking the system." It wasn't a question—Glimmer had kicked up enough of a fuss that they had had to give her what she wanted, but not without the price of having to watch children under her guard die, year after year after year. At least One had several mentors, and they never mentored more than twice in a row. They also produced considerably more victors, with considerably higher chance of survival. But being a mentor for District Twelve—it would be torture, plain and simple.

"Of course. But this also makes them happy as can be."

"Why?"

"Leverage." Haymitch answered glibly. "You've handed them leverage over you with that little girl. Mark my words, you're a pretty thing, and if you don't play nice with whoever pays them enough, she'll end up tribute for the Games before you can say 'reaping'."

"I knew that already," Glimmer said with a sigh, leaning back against the chair.

"If you know what you're getting into," Haymitch muttered.

"I do. Prim still needs me."

Haymitch nodded and splashed another generous helping of liquor into each of their glasses. "Drink up, princess—it's going to be one fuck of a ride."

Glimmer snorted despite herself, and did as he instructed.

District Twelve was barren. There was no other word for it. As the district that manufactured luxury items for the Capitol, District One was nearly as shiny as the Capitol itself. But Twelve was colorless and barren, populated by groups of people so skinny that Glimmer could count the ribs on several children. Emaciated families stared in shock as she and Haymitch got off the train.

And there, at the front of the pack, was Primrose Everdeen, surrounded by other children from what Glimmer assumed was the community home. She hadn't been sure what kind of reception to expect from the little blonde girl, but she needn't have worried. Prim hurled herself at her—or tried to. A harsh, nasty looking woman clamped down on her arm and snapped something in her ear, but Glimmer stopped dead.

"Get your hands off her."

"Excuse me, high and mighty little victor from District One, but you do not get a say in how I corral the children under my care."

"That one I do," Glimmer snapped back. "She's mine."

"And where did you get that idea?"

"I'm adopting her," Glimmer snarled, wrenching Prim's arm out of the bitch's hand. "This one is mine, and anyone who lays so much as a finger on her has to deal with me. And I think that you all saw exactly what I am capable of on television two weeks ago."

"You cannot—"

"I am eighteen years old, and I have more than enough money to support a dependent minor under my care. I think that you'll find I can. And I have. The Capitol has it all cleared."

Then she turned to Prim.

Prim hurled herself at her, and Glimmer caught her. She listened to Primrose Everdeen's choking sobs, arms wrapped tight around her, and picked the twelve year old up in one swoop, trying not to think about how similar her weight was to Rue's.

"Shh, baby, shh," she soothed, not even sure what she was saying. "I'm here now, and I'll never leave you alone again."

"You really came here?" Prim asked frantically. "You really came here for me?"

"Of course," Glimmer answered. "I failed to give you Katniss back, but I figured that coming here to take care of you myself would be the next best thing."

Then Glimmer turned to the tall, very good looking guy that had been standing to the side—he looked very much like Katniss, but nothing like Prim.

"You must be Gale," she said wryly.

"You must be Glimmer."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I failed you." Gale nodded once in deference to this, and Glimmer walked away, following the trains of people that were here to get her house brushed up.

That first night, they didn't talk. She just rocked Prim to sleep among the choked sobbing and the pervading, crushing hopelessness. Tears wetted her own cheeks as well, but she had always been better at pushing her emotions aside, especially when there was something else to focus on.

Slowly, slowly, the tears came less, and less, and words came more and more. At first, bonding only happened over memories of Katniss, Prim talking about how Katniss had gotten her goat, and Glimmer telling stories of Katniss' happy moments, even in the arena.

Slowly, slowly, they started to heal.

It was just like the Capitol to fuck it all up. Of course, Glimmer remembered her Victory Tour. Of course she knew that it had to happen. Of course, she had objectively realized the date, and that it was coming up. It was still the shock of a lifetime to come home and find the president of Panem holed up in her den.

"Glimmer," he greeted with a threatening smile.

"President Snow," Glimmer said, trying to work out what he was doing here. "It's a—" what, pleasure? They both would know that that was lie "surprise," she settled on, "to find you here. What can I help you with?"

"I'm here with a couple of orders of business for you," he said. "First of all... you may have noticed that you are a very attractive woman."

Glimmer stared at him.

"Of course you have. Now, I'm sure that you know that you have quite the... fanbase in the Capitol. I am here to simply request that you realize your place in things—unappealing as some of these fans are, they are very influential people in the country. After all, we would hate for something to happen to the young Miss Everdeen because you failed to cooperate with your fans."

Glimmer's head cleared. He was just threatening her into selling her body for him—she had known what she was getting into. It certainly wouldn't be the first time that she had done such a thing, and unappealing as the prospect was, she had worried for a moment that he was here for something worse.

"Of course, President Snow," she answered. "I understand the situation perfectly. Don't worry; I have no intention of being difficult. Is that all that you needed to talk to me about?"

"No, there were a few other things. But now that that... most unpleasant business is concluded, I simply wanted to invite Miss Everdeen along with you on your Victory Tour."

"Invite her along? But that's—that's not done. Ever. It's only the victor on the Victory Tour, that's how it goes," Glimmer said, baffled.

"Oh, nonsense. The Capitol is dying to meet the girl that made the older Miss Everdeen volunteer to take her place in the Games, and who convinced the Victor of those Games to move Districts to take care of her. Besides, I am sure that little Primrose would love to see the Capitol. After all, she is your ward, and she doesn't have anywhere else to go when you're away, does she?"

Glimmer couldn't do anything but agree—the implication, of course, was that, if she didn't bring Prim to see the Capitol now, Prim would be coming along in six months as a tribute.

"I—of course, I'm sure that she will be honored, and excited." Glimmer didn't want this man anywhere near her de-facto little sister, but she had to do it. "Would you like to meet her now? She should be home from school in about half an hour."

"No, no, that won't be necessary. Just be sure that she's ready for the tour next week, will you?"

Somehow, the Victory Tour went so well, that Prim was invited back for every Hunger Games for the rest of her life. Glimmer didn't know how to feel about that—Haymitch said, and she agreed with him, that as long as she behaved herself, Prim was safe from the reaping. But then what the Capitol wanted from Prim—only time would tell.