"Wallace West."

And Iris' world spins and spirals out of control. She can't breathe. She can't speak. She wants to vomit. She wants to cry. Wally. Not her Wally. How could it be Wally?

Wally's face pales but he starts making his way through the crowd. His movement forces her out of her stupor and the words come tumbling out of her mouth without her even realizing it.

"Wally!" she cries, running in his direction. Peacekeepers restrain her, keeping her from reaching the one person she loves more than anyone else in the world. "Wally!"

Wally turns and she sees tears well in his eyes and something inside her breaks.

"No! Wally! No! Take me instead! Please! Take me!"

Iris turns to Eddie, silently beseeching him to do something. She knows it's too much to ask. She knows she is not being fair, but all she can think about is Wally and how he is too young, too innocent to be a part of any of this.

Somewhere, in the midst of the crowd, a tall, lanky boy experiences the same whirl of emotions as Iris just had. The air in his lungs feel like it has been forced out of him, choking and suffocating.

Just as Eddie opens his mouth, this boy beats him to the punch. It might be the first and only time this boy is not late.

"I volunteer," the boy says with a strangled cry. All eyes turn to him. He gulps, feeling scared and small and a small, cowardly part of him wants to take back his words but he forces himself to continue. "I volunteer as tribute."

Iris stares at the boy–Barry Allen, the boy with the bread, the boy who saved her life, the boy who gave her hope–and her mouth dries. She wants to scream out again, but the words stop at her throat.

No. Not him. Why him? Iris watches in despair as Barry Allen takes Wally West's place as tribute.

Wally runs in her direction, burying a tear-streaked face in her chest. Again, the boy with the bread has saved her life, has saved Wally's life, and Iris doesn't know why but she's relieved and terrified all at once. Why him… Why did he have to volunteer?

Then it comes the girl's turn and Iris' world turns upside down again.

"Iris West."

The odds are not in her favor today. Not at all.

Wally starts to cry harder, squeezing her into a death grip. Eddie's hand clenches her shoulder, a sign of support and assurance.

Iris wants to cry herself, but she holds her head high and stiffly approaches the stage. She is strong. She is a survivor.

But she takes one look at the boy with the bread, Barry Allen, and her stomach churns. Only one of them can come out the Games alive. She wants it to be her, but how can she wish for the boy with the bread to die?

When they face the crowd, she feels his warm hand slip into hers, giving her a soft squeeze of reassurance. Her stomach churns again though it feels slightly different from before.

She pushes that thought away though and tries to steal herself for the inevitable. At least one of them will have to die and she's not sure which one she hopes it will be.

—

Barry doesn't know how it ends up like this. He doesn't know how both of them could have ended up in the Games together.

He thought he could just do this one thing for her, this one thing. He knew he had no hopes of winning the Games, but he thought just sparing Wally would be enough. But to have to face her, to know that she could die just as easily as him, this must be someone's sick, twisted idea of a joke.

The odds are clearly not in his favor.

He forms a plan. Help her so she won't die. She's already a survivor, good at self-defense and handy with a bow. Throw in his help and–well, he's pretty useless actually. Some self-defense but not that great especially considering how lanky he is. But he is good at science and at painting. That must count for something right? And one person not actively trying to kill her improves her chances slightly. It's not much, but it's something.

She won't die. He'll make sure of it.

—

The fire makes him nervous even if it's synthetic. He knows rationally, scientifically, that it shouldn't but he can't help the feelings it produces.

Iris looks just as nervous as he feels. She promises to rip off his cape if he rips off hers.

The music starts and the doors open and the chariots carrying the other tributes are off. Then Cisco sets them aflame.

Barry's throat dries as he takes in Iris' face. The flames of the headdress flicker and flare, lapping around her, the light striking her face in such a way that makes her brown eyes seem more vibrant and warm. She's smiling, awed and amazed by the brilliant costumes. The radiance of her smile far outstrips the radiance of the flames. She's so lovely that it makes his heart nearly burst from the multitude of feelings.

But then they move out the door and her smile drops, her expression as fierce as the flames. He tries to match the expression, tries to smolder with the flames. When she slips her warm, soft hand into his, it almost becomes impossible to keep the smolder and not beam from joy. It doesn't stop his heart from erratically beating against his chest.

Seeing the crowd and the other tributes and President Wells, however, reminds him where he is. This is the Hunger Games.

He squeezes her hand and promises, to himself, that he'll protect her from any danger.

—

Caesar Flickerman asks her how it felt watching her cousin be reaped without any hope of saving him. How it feels knowing that she's up against her beloved cousin's savior.

Iris doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how she feels. Her mentor told her to play up being the cheerful, sunny girl and she's trying, but these questions are too much and it makes her feel sick.

"Hearing your cries of anguish for your cousin broke my heart," Caesar says, putting a hand over his heart. "I don't think we've ever heard anyone break down like that in decades. You looked as if you would've volunteered if you could."

"I–Wally means everything to me. He's not just my cousin," Iris says quietly, thinking of his face. "He's my brother. My baby brother. If I had been a boy or he had been a girl, I would have volunteered in a heartbeat."

"What must you feel about your fellow tribute, Barry Allen, knowing that he volunteered for your dear cousin?"

"I–I don't know how I can ever repay him," Iris says quite honestly. "Barry Allen is–he's the best guy I know. He's a hero. He's my hero."

The audience coos and Iris feels sicker, though she tries to keep her wide smile plastered on her face. These words are the truth, taken from her inner turmoil, and the Capitol is using it as a cheap form of entertainment. It's sickening. So sickening.

"Did Wally have anything to say to you after the reaping? I can imagine his loyalties might be tied up."

"He asked me to try really hard to win."

"And what did you say?"

Iris swallows hard, trying not to peek at or think of Barry's face when she answers, the guilt swirling in her stomach and threatening to make her lunch reappear. But she tries to make herself sound steely and serious when she replies. "I swore I would."

Soon, it's Barry's turn and she watches him lay on the charm, his wide grin rivaling hers. He makes jokes and talks about science and the Capitol laughs and laughs but then the subject turns to a more serious matter–why did he volunteer for Wallace West?

Iris leans forward, curious to know herself. She keeps her eyes trained on his face, wanting to see every flicker of emotion that passes.

"Ah, that," Barry says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"It's a very strange circumstance, a boy volunteering for someone he's not related to," Caesar says, peering at the boy with curiosity. "Are you and young Wallace close?"

"No. But, uh, everyone loves Wally," Barry says, a look of discomfort on his face. "He's the type of kid that you can't help but like, even if he gets on your nerves a little. And Wally's so young… It just didn't seem fair."

"And that's it?" Caesar prods. "It just didn't seem fair? How truly noble is Barry Allen, folks? He really is a hero."

Barry's face turns red as the audience applauses. "No. No. I have to admit that there were some, uh, selfish reasons."

"Selfish reasons?" Caesar asks, curiosity piqued. "Do tell."

"There's this girl," he says embarrassedly, squirming in his seat. "I've kind of, uh, had a crush on her forever."

Iris blinks, astounded. A girl? He did it for a girl? Her stomach swirls violently. She had thought…

"Ah. A girl," Caesar says with a knowing grin. "You did it to impress her, then? Thought winning the Games would win her heart?"

"No. No," Barry says, shaking his head. "If that were the case then I royally screwed up. Winning wouldn't win me any favors."

Caesar blinks, mystified. "Why not?"

"Because, uh, because she came here with me," Barry admits, looking woefully sad and embarrassed at the same time.

And Iris' world turns upside down for the third time.

"Everyone knows Wally is the person Iris loves most," Barry explains, face red as he rubs the back of his neck. "I just–I didn't want her to lose him. Seeing her break down like that–it broke my heart…

"Iris is–Iris is someone that shouldn't ever be sad. You've seen her smile, right? I know everything can be explained by science, but her smile? That cannot be science."

The crowd melts and coos at his words. Iris feels as if she'd melt herself–her cheeks feel like a furnace. And all these feelings come bubbling up. She feels angry and sad and confused and suspicious.

Nothing is sacred anymore.

—

"I don't know how to say it exactly. Only… I want to die as myself. Does that make sense?"

Iris shakes her head, the lateness of the hour making it far too difficult for her to keep up with this practically philosophical discussion.

"I don't want them to change me in there," he says, voice hoarse. "To turn me into some kind of monster that I'm not."

He's too good, Iris thinks. Too noble. "Do you… do you mean you won't kill?"

Barry sighs, a strange weariness on his face. It ages him. Makes him more man, than boy. More handsome. "No. I think when the time comes, I'll kill just like everybody else. I can't–I won't go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to…to show the Capitol they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games."

Much, much too good.

—

Barry protects her from the Careers. She doesn't understand. She had thought…

Everything is confusing. She doesn't know what to think, how to feel.

He's just so exasperating, that Barry Allen. Doing things to help her one minute, then acting like he's against her the next, but later proving to be helping her all along.

Can't he just stay consistent? Or can't he just be an idiot like the rest of them? It had been easier to face the fact that he'd probably have to die when she thought he was a jerk helping the Careers.

Now she's back to square one. Or maybe square zero because he's been a good guy, always helping her, and she owes him yet again.

Yes, Barry Allen is much too good.

—

Barry is on the verge of death, hiding away with no hope of survival. His only solace is that he's tried his hardest to protect Iris and so far he's succeeded.

He's quite prepared to let himself die, but then Iris, like the sweet, beautiful angel she is, finds him and he has hope again.

—

She kisses him and it lights his soul on fire. His leg hurts like hell and he had only just resigned himself to die, but none of that matters because Iris is kissing him and telling him that she forbids him to die.

His heart swells. Maybe, just maybe, Iris is beginning to have feelings for him, too.

He can't die now.

—

Iris tricks him and risks her life and he's better but now she's the injured one and he feels sicker than ever.

How could he have let this happen?

He's supposed to be saving her, not the other way around. He had been right earlier–he had cost Iris too much trouble.

And maybe in a different circumstance, in a different world, he would be pleased that she seemed to care enough for him to want to save him, but in this circumstance, in this world, all it does is scare him. All he wants is for her to survive and her risking her neck to save him endangers that.

—

"Barry… You said at the interview you'd had a crush on me forever. When did forever start?"

Barry grins at her, causing her stomach to turn in a not-so-unpleasant way.

"Oh, let's see. I guess the first day of school. We were five…"

He proceeds to describe her dress, her hair, the way her voice sounded when she sang. His voice is full of adoration and it's almost good enough for her to fall for it. What the Capitol must be thinking is easy for her to predict. He's good. Very good.

"I loved you before I even knew what the word 'love' meant. And I tried–I tried working up the nerve to talk to you, to tell you how I feel."

"Without success," Iris says, a little teasing. His words, honestly, quicken her heart. But only just a tad. Flirty banter. She can do this. She can fake it just as well as he can.

"Without success," he agrees.

She's about to tease him some more, when she's hit by the memory. She remembers the ribbons and the dress and he had been correct down to the last detail. He isn't just making this up. But… how can he remember all of that? This is just an act, isn't it?

"You have a… remarkable memory," she says hesitantly, an unstated question in her tone.

"I remember everything about you," he says softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His hand lingers, brushing gently against her cheek. The touch sends shivers down her spine. "You're the one who wasn't paying attention."

"I am now," she says, a little breathless, almost forgetting about the cameras and the Games.

"Well, I don't have much competition here," he quips lightly.

She thinks of Eddie. She had forgotten about him. She feels guilty and ashamed, wondering what he must think of her right now. But then Barry smiles at her and all thoughts of Eddie go flying out the window.

"You don't have much competition anywhere."

And she brings her lips to his once again.

—

It's a lie. It's all a lie. They had never been planning on letting the two of them win.

He had hoped… But no. At least he's able to fulfill his promise. At least he gets to die knowing that she'll live. That's enough for him.

He begs her to live, he tells her he loves her for the last time, but then…

"Trust me."

And he does. He trusts her more than he's trusted anyone in his entire life.

"On the count of three…"

—

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Iris West and Bartholomew Allen! I give you—the tributes of District Twelve!"