AN: I did not create the wonderful trilogy that is The Hunger Games, but I am constantly in awe of how amazing the books are. This story in progress was previously posted under the same title, but once I had the chance to read it through again, I realized that I wasn't happy with it, so I took it down and I am reposting it, in a new edited version. I hope you enjoy it!

It will have a lot of similarities to the previous version, but obviously, tweaked and improved (I think), so please, let me know what you think!

Chapter 1

"There are a lot of names this year," Effie said conversationally, fluffing her pink wig as she sat comfortably, lounging on the red velvet sofa, "The bowls are almost full!"

Haymitch took a swig from his silver flask and then tucked it back inside his jacket's hidden pocket. "Shitty district," he supplied, clearing his throat.

"It's the tesserae," I said shortly even though it was obvious, drawing patterns in the red velvet of the couch I was seated on, "It's nothing new."

"Is it time yet?" Haymitch asked Effie.

I got to my feet to take a look at the square through the small window. I somehow spotted Prim, my younger sister, walking towards her section, blonde braids hanging neatly down her back. She was wearing what I had worn during my first reaping, but it was too big on her, the shirttail coming untucked in the back. I wish I could have helped her come here this morning. It was her first reaping and I knew that she had been terrified, up all night with bad dreams, crying until my mother or I consoled her. But luckily for her, her name was only in the bowl once. Only one slip of paper read her name in carefully handwritten scrawl amongst hundreds. She didn't need to sign up for tesserae. My winnings as the victor of the 72nd Hunger Games more than covered her needs, as well as my mothers and my own.

Gale Hawthorne's name however, was neatly printed on dozens of the boys' slips. He had been my friend for a year before my first Hunger Games, but when I came home as the victor, our relationship developed into a more romantic one. He continually refused to take a single coin from me, resulting in his receiving the tesserae at every possible opportunity since he became eligible. At least it was his last year to compete.

I shook my head.

"Up, up, up!" Effie sang, "It's time!"

Haymitch got to his feet, grumbling about Effie's seemingly unending perkiness. She pretended not to hear him and waited as the Peacekeepers opened the doors for us before leading the way out onto the stage, polished carefully for this event, her pink heels clattering loudly.

The usual reaping proceedings occurred.

Mayor Undersee shared the same story of the history of Panem, the Dark Days, the uprising, the Treaty of Treason, the Hunger Games. He read the short list of past victors from District Twelve, the first who died years previous, Haymitch Abernathy who sat on my left, leaning back casually in his seat and then my name, Katniss Everdeen. I gave a small smile to the cameras. Then he introduced Effie who got to her feet and trotted towards the microphone.

"Happy Hunger Games," she said with a cheerful smile, "And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

I bit my lip to hold back a smile. I imagined Gale, standing in his section of the square doing the same. It had always been somewhat of a joke to us. The odds were never truly in your favor on reaping day, standing in the square, waiting with bated breath, hoping that it was somebody else, anybody else, who got chosen for the Hunger Games, like a pig for slaughter.

With a smile, Effie announced it was "Ladies first," and if possible, the silence in the square grew more uncomfortable. I leaned back in my seat as I watched Effie walk towards the glass ball, containing all of the girls' names. She stuck one perfectly manicured hand in and fished around, adding to the suspense before her fingers snapped shut on one slip and pulled it out of the ball. She walked back towards the microphone and unfolded the slip, looking around the square.

Her gaze dropped to the slip and she let out a small squeak. I looked over at her expectantly. It must be somebody important enough for Effie to know by name.

She cast me a sideways glance as she grew pale beneath her pink glitter. She cleared her throat awkwardly before glancing back at the slip. "Primrose Everdeen," she read, her voice faltering slightly, echoing around the silent square.

My heart seemed to stop in my chest and I wrapped my fingers tightly around Haymitch's arm. I felt the blood drain from my face as I looked around the square, trying to locate my sister in the crowd, but I couldn't find her long blonde braids and her brilliant blue eyes. I glanced up at the screens to see if a camera man had found her, only to see my own face, eyes wide, face paler than winter snow.

I looked back down to see Prim walk out into the aisle between the boys and the girls sections. Her eyes were wide and terrified and I could see tears beginning to form. She was taking short, measured steps towards the stage, staring up at Effie with a mixture of shock and horror in her eyes. Whispers of disgust filled the square but I could only hear the blood rushing in my ears.

How? How did that happen? She literally had only one slip in the whole bowl of thousands.

She was only twelve years old.

I had to do something.

Anything.

But as Prim's carefully placed steps grew closer and closer to the stage, I knew that my time was running out.

Suddenly, she tripped and stumbled before falling onto her hands and knees in the dirt. She didn't make a move to get up and I could see the Peacekeepers shifting awkwardly, getting ready to forcefully put her on the stage if she didn't do so herself.

My heart ached in my chest as I saw her shoulders start to shake and as she began to sob loudly, her tears falling into the dirt.

I released Haymitch's arm and ran towards the stairs, my heels slamming loudly as I hurried down them. I ran down the aisle towards her, feeling hundreds of eyes on me. I fell to my knees in front of my little sister and grabbed her wrists, pulling her up. "Prim," I gasped out, my voice breathless, just above a whisper.

She looked up at me, face red, tears falling freely down her cheeks. "Katniss," she whimpered, "I can't-"

"You're okay," I told her, pulling her into a tight embrace. I kissed her hair and brushed off her knees. I wiped her hands on the mint green linen dress I wore. "You're going to be okay."

I glanced over her shoulder and saw Peacekeepers converging on us, desperate to keep the square under control. I glanced back at Haymitch and Effie. If I was going to do anything, I needed to do it quickly.

Haymitch, who was standing beside Effie now, met my eye uneasily. He knew what I was thinking. He nodded once.

I pushed myself to my feet abruptly smoothed down my dress and pulled Prim close to me, cradling her head against my chest soothingly. I sucked in a deep, calming breath.

"I volunteer," I said as strongly as I could, looking up at Effie and Haymitch, "I volunteer as tribute."

The hushed whisperings of disapproval at a twelve year old being chosen were immediately silenced. You could have heard a pin drop to the dirt ground of the square.

Effie's face paled even more, if possible, beneath her pink glitter, her jaw hanging open.

"Katniss," Prim cried, looking up at me, "No! You can't!" she wrapped her arms tightly around my body, "What abou-"

"Prim, be quiet," I said harshly, glancing down at her, "I'm sorry, so sorry," I shook my head, "You need to go find mom, okay? Go stand with mom." I gently pushed her to walk back down the aisle away from the stage, away from Effie and Haymitch and away from the Hunger Games.

She let out a gasping cry and hugged me from behind, her cries and pleading making my heart ache in my chest as I looked up at Haymitch, willing my own tears to stay put.

I felt her being lifted off of me and I whirled around to tell the Peacekeepers to let her go, but instead I saw Gale. His strong arms were wrapped forcefully around Prim's small torso, holding her tight against his chest.

She was struggling, trying hard to break free of his grasp, but he held her tight.

I looked into Gale's dark eyes. "Thank you," I said softly.

"Up you go, Catnip," he said gently, nodding only once.

I swallowed and then turned, walking towards the stage, my high heels sinking into the dirt. I set a foot on the first stair and looked back to Gale and Prim. She was still fighting, struggling to escape his grip, tears falling down her angry red cheeks.

I mounted the stairs, accepting Haymitch's hand that offered help and I walked across the stage towards Effie, standing still once I reached her right side.

I looked at her and cleared my throat.

Her jaw snapped shut and she took a deep breath before walking towards the glass ball full of boys' names.

She was so shaken that she didn't fish around for the slip of paper, opting instead for plucking the first one off the top of the pile. She walked back towards the microphone in silence before unfolding the slip and looking down at it. "Peeta Mellark," she read, speaking into the microphone.

Of course it was him. The Boy with the Bread. Back when my father had been killed in the mine explosion, my mother had fallen ill and was unable to work, meaning that we couldn't afford. We were slowly starving, wasting away. I had been digging around the garbage bins at the back of the bakery for some scraps of food to feed my family. Peeta had seen me and intentionally burnt a few loaves so that he could throw them out back to me. His mother had beaten him severely as a result, leaving him with a cut lip and a black eye, but ever since that rainy April day, I was indebted to him.

I clasped my hands together in front of myself as a pale Peeta Mellark walked towards the stage. He mounted the stairs easily and stood on Effie's other side as she clapped her hands, trying to gain back some of her enthusiasm, "May I introduce to you all, your District 12 tributes, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark!"

Applause began, scattered amongst the square and then it faded quickly.

"Shake hands!" Effie exclaimed.

Peeta and I stepped forward. I held out my right hand and he took it in his. He squeezed my hand gently and I looked up into his blue eyes.

The anthem was played and then the Peacekeepers ushered us off the stage, back into the Justice building.

The doors shut behind us and immediately I bent over at the waist, bracing my hands on my knees, gasping desperately for air.

"Katniss," Haymitch said, "Sweetheart, you need to keep that chin up. Just for another two hours," he said, "Your mother? Prim? Gale? They need to see you strong before you go."

I took another shaky breath and straightened up.

He was right.

Effie patted my shoulder encouragingly before leading us to our individual rooms to say our goodbyes. I sighed as I sat on the same red velvet couch as I did two years ago.

I couldn't believe this.

No, Effie, the odds were most certainly not in my favor.

AN: I've already been through posting this once and I've been through people questioning if it's possible for victors to volunteer. Honestly, I still don't know! But in this story, they can. =) Let me know your thoughts!

-JacquelineR