Blaine has seen the faces before, shining with fear and disbelief. Hes watched the big screens as his classmates, vague acquaintances and random strangers from throughout the Districts take the stage. Never had he expected to see his own face gracing the screen. No, not gracing, simply showing. Nothing about this walk up to the stage is graceful, nothing about hearing his name being shouted across the square at the Justice Building is as glamorous as the images on his television make it seem. When he entered his name this year, he had somewhat expected to be safe. He is eighteen, his last year of putting his name in the bowl and there was no way this could be his fate.



He looks up to the stage, into his brothers eyes and thinks God, what did my parents do to deserve this fate? Its a silly thought, of course, but he cant help thinking it. Coopers eyes are wide with fear and bitterness, Blaine can see the way hes fighting back tears. He smiles, though, for the cameras. Always for the cameras. Blaine cant manage a smile, not like this where he knows hes walking towards his death. Theres no way a familys odds can be this much in their favor.



He knows its happened before, siblings being reaped. Even here, in District 9, it has happened before. Blaine knows its happened, but never have two siblings survived that werent Careers. Only trained people going into the Arena ever come out. And the occasional lucky one like Cooper Anderson. His brother, and from this point on out his Mentor. Next to Cooper stands his other Mentor, Quinn Fabray. She doesnt look as concerned, probably hasnt registered yet its Blaines name that has been called.



But it is, Blaines name has been called and he is now climbing the stairs onto the stage. Cooper holds out his hand, Blaine takes it gracefully and tries to ignore the obvious sound of sobbing from where his mother is in the crowd. Her second son sent off to fight in the Arena, her second son to say goodbye to. He thinks, again, the only siblings ever survived are those who volunteered to enter the Arena, those who trained and trained and took another persons place. No one here will take his place. The only person who would, who cares that much, stands behind him and is supposed to help him get out of there.



Quinn still stares blankly ahead as Blaine takes his place next to Isabelle Wright, who grabs his hand, raises it above his head. She shouts his name in excitement. No one in the crowd cheers, it almost feels like no one even breathes. They all know, Blaine realizes, they all know Cooper Andersons little brother is about to board the Death Express.



Blaine feels Coopers hand on his back, he is sure Cooper is supposed to stand back, next to a motionless Quinn Fabray. Blaine knows her, knows her well. She the only neighbor they have in victors Village, shes Coopers best friend. Shes a fierce woman, every year she is the one to give the new Tributes a bright smile. Cooper usually says she is the one to comfort them, tell them she and Cooper will do everything to get them out.



They never succeeded; currently Cooper Anderson and Quinn Fabray are District 9s only victors. All the other Tributes from 9 have either died long before Cooper and Quinn won their two consecutive years, or died in the Arena since. This year will be no different, Blaine knows, he is going to die. He tries not to look next to him, where a fifteen year old girls eyes are as wide as Blaines. Its then that Blaine realizes why Quinn hasnt greeted him the way she greeted her, the way she has greeted every single Tribute in the past twelve years. She has never sent anyone she knows into the Arena before, she has never really had to say goodbye.



After another short word from Isabelle Wright, she ushers Cooper away from Blaine, then turns him and the girl around. Tish, Blaine hears Cooper call her, and Isabelle ushers them both inside the Justice Building. Everything around him happens in a blur, he is ordered to stay in one room to wait for his family as Tish, Quinn and Cooper stay outside. He hears a door right next to his open and close, assumes thats where Tish is to wait for her family. He tries to drown out her sobs, tries to focus on what he can do. She is going to die, he knows that much. Hes heard Cooper talk about tribute strategies often enough it the past twelve years. For as long as he can remember, his brother was a victor. Off to The Capitol with two new Tributes every year. He knows he and Quinn, who had won the year before Cooper, pick one they think they can save the most each year. He knows this year it will be him. Sure, Tish is more delicate and people will want her saved, but there isnt any way she will get out of that Arena alive.



Blaine feels sick thinking about it, about knowing he is going to spend the next few days with her, being a team. Sharing a train, sharing Nine's quarters and sharing an Arena. Its not what he wants, he doesnt want this persons, or any persons, death on his conscious. He doesnt want to go into these ridiculous Games and he most certainly doesnt want to say goodbye to his parents.



His silence and thoughts are disturbed the moment the door opens and his mother and father walk through. Her eyes are red brimmed and her nose is dripping, shes breathing heavily and irregularly. Blaine can see shes trying to hide the sobs, but there really is no way to get around it; his mom is here assuming shell never see him again.



“Wheres Cooper?”



Its the first thing hes said since his name had been reaped. His voice is hoarse, distant and empty. Not real, none of it feels real.



“I need Cooper,” he says, “wheres Cooper?”



“Blaine, my boy,” his father starts, “youll see Cooper soon enough. On the train.”



Its weird, everything feels weird and off, his father feels weird and off. The hand his father drops on his shoulder is heavy, and he squeezes it a little too hard for it to be reassuringly. When Blaine looks his father in the eye, its almost as if he sees guilt there, rather than sorrow. It isnt like his mother, whos clutching his hand softly and tugging on his bow tie to get it straight. He wants to hug her and hold her, take her with him to spend every last minute he has with her. But he cant, he has to do with the three minutes hes been given. Three minutes to say goodbye to his family, to tell them everything he should have said every single day of his life.



“I love you,” he tells his mother, “I love you so much, take care of Quinn and Cooper for me. Theyll come out of this worse than they were before. Theyre losing their little brother.”



Because really, Quinn is as much a sister to him as Cooper is a brother. Theyll do everything in their power to save Blaine, and he wont stop them. He knows hes probably going to die and he knows theyll feel even more accountable for his death that they have felt over every single child they have lost over the past years. He needs to know theyll be okay, taken care of.



“Promise me?” He presses, “promise me youll take care of them when they come back more hurt than ever before.”



“I promise, son,” his father says, “Ill take care of all of them.”



Blaine nods curtly, trying to understand the distance in his fathers eyes and posture. He cant, though, he cant make sense of anything happening right now. All he can focus on is saying goodbye, getting on the train, getting through the ceremonies and training and then trying not to die. He keeps repeating it like a list in his head. Goodbye, train, ceremonies, training, trying not to die.

He holds his mother tight and whispers sweet nothings in her ear, tries to comfort her and tell her hell get out, Cooper knows how to, Cooper will help him. He feels in her posture, the way she clings to him, theres no way she believes him.



Eventually, maybe three seconds after his minutes with his family are over, a peacekeeper comes in and pries his mother off him. Its the first time she uses her voice in the too short three minutes they had, and it takes everything in Blaine not to break as she screams out his name. He feels it in his very core, the way the shrill tone of her voice rips through the echoing hall of the Justice Building, he is pretty sure that will be the last thing hell hear before he dies. Hell see his fathers distant eyes and hear his mothers shrill voice, his name on her lips.



Blinking back tears, he follows the Peacekeeper to where Cooper, Quinn, and Isabelle are waiting. Isabelles hair is styled in a spin so high, Blaine wonders how she will even fit in the doors of the train. He chuckles slightly, then glances over to Cooper and realizes theres nothing to chuckle about. His brother seems old; his eyes are sunken and sad looking. Blaine wants to run into his arms and bury himself there, hide the way he used to when he was younger and Cooper was everything. He doesnt, though, he has no idea if there are cameras here and what Isabelle would think of him hiding in his brothers arms. He fights his every instinct to do so, and instead takes his place next to Quinn. She throws him a small smile, the first indication of recognition she gives since his name was called across the crowd, and he feels somewhat safer. He stands probably a bit too close to her to be called comfortable, but right now he needs to feel a body next to his own. Needs to know everything he feels is real; everything that is happening isnt a nightmare. At least not one he can wake up from.



Together they watch down the hall, where two peacekeepers drag away his fifth grade teacher, who apparently is Tishs mother. Her screams are almost as piercing as Blaines mothers screams were. It takes everything inside him not to break. Tish walks towards them, wide eyed but standing tall. Blaine offers the girl an apologetic smile, but she passes him without acknowledging him and steps through the doors onto the platform of the Justice Buildings train station.



Taken aback, Blaine looks up to Quinn and then Cooper, who both shrug and then follow her. Isabelle takes Blaines hand and ushers him through the doors as well. The train awaits, and as he enters he cant believe this train is more luxurious than their house in District 9s Victors Village. He knows theyre privileged there, knows he is one of the only people in the District with a shower that has constant warm water. He knows hes one of the few kids in his class with his own bedroom, but that bedroom is nothing like what Isabelle shows him on the train.



Hes surprised really, at how friendly Isabelle is. Hes noticed before how her face isnt as painted as the rest of The Capitol people, and hes heard Cooper speak friendly of her, but hes never thought much about it until now.



“Heres your compartment,” she says after she made him wait outside Tishs compartment several minutes. Cooper and Quinn had disappeared, possibly to talk strategies, the moment the doors closed behind them. “Its a fifteen hour journey,” Isabelle explains, “its not that long. Well be there before you know it. You have some time to compose now. Dinner is served at five-thirty, well be expecting you in the dining area. Its quite easy to find, just walk past all the compartments to the front of the train and youll get there. After that well watch the other Districts reapings and then you can go to bed. Well wake you up tomorrow about an hour before we arrive in The Capitol. Do you have any questions?”



“No,” Blaine answers, as he desperately wants to be left alone in this place. He doesnt have anything with him, not even his pyjamas. He rummages through the drawers and finds some comfortable clothes to wear. He doesnt shower, though, he knows hell be scrubbed beyond clean tomorrow at arrival anyway. He plops himself on the bed and stares ahead, trying not to get lost in too many doom scenarios of how hell die.



He hopes it will be quick, in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia would be good. Maybe just a blow to his head, dead in instant. That would be good. Or he could run away, come back to the Cornucopia to retrieve some stuff. Maybe he can survive this, maybe he can get out alive. Cooper and Quinn have been doing this for a long time, they know what to do. Two years ago they got their female Tribute to the last four. They must be able to get him out alive.



“Youre getting out alive.”



Its the first thing Cooper says when he enters Blaines compartment. At home, Blaine would have yelled about Cooper coming in without knocking, but here all he can do is let out a cry he had been holding back and let his brother crawl in bed with him. Hes pretty sure Mentors arent allowed to talk to their Tributes privately before arriving in The Capitol, but he doesnt care. He needs his brother now, not his Mentor.



“Isabelle allowed me in,” Cooper says, as if sensing Blaines thoughts, “you wont see Quinn until tonight at dinner, but she said she wouldnt tell if I went in because you are my brother.”



“Shes nice,” Blaine says and Cooper nods.



“She is. Youre getting out of this Arena alive.”



“You know I wont.”



“You will.”



“Why?”



“Because Quinn and I will do everything we can to assure that. All the other years we each had one tribute and mentored them individually. Were combining forces this year, youll get out.”



“So youll just leave Tish to die?” Blaine asks. He doesnt even know the girl, hasnt seen her out and about in town, but shes his former teachers daughter and that has to count for something. Blaine hates that his own survival means 23 peoples death, and he wants them to remain nameless and faceless as much as he can. For Tish that is too late. Hes seen her be scared, he has heard her and her mother cry. Tonight he will have dinner with her and he will have to look her in the eye and know theyre not even going to try to help you.



“Well make sure she is as safe as possible, well teach her how to fight. The odds arent in our favor, Blaine, they arent in anyones favor. Well do everything we can to get you out, and her second. If you die, and thats an if, she will be our number one priority. Well teach you both everything we know, but when we find sponsors, it will be for you first.”



Blaine guesses thats something he needs to accept, people around him will die. He will see dead bodies and he might even be responsible for some.



“How do you do it?” Blaine has to ask Cooper. Hes never thought much about it before, the horrors his brother must be living with, but he does now. He cant even think about what it must feel like to actual live with the horrors. Hes never seen his brothers Games in their entirety, or Quinns for that matter. All hes ever seen was that last blow Cooper gave the last remaining tribute in his Games. To him it had been as natural as going to school and taking baths. My brother is Hunger Games victor Cooper Anderson, he goes to The Capitol to be a mentor once a year and he sleeps over at Quinn Fabrays house a lot.



Its almost like the list he has in his head of what he needs to do now. Goodbye and getting on the train already done, he keeps repeating ceremonies, training, interview, trying not to die.



“Just focus on getting out alive for now,” Cooper says and pulls Blaine close to him on the bed. The way he used to years ago after Blaine wouldve had a terrible nightmare, “well talk about the rest later.”



With a kiss to the top of his head, and a quiet whisper advising Blaine to get some rest before the circus starts, Cooper leaves Blaine to go find Quinn.



He doesn't get much rest. Instead, he ponders the numerous and gruesome deaths he might suffer or cause. He isn't freed of his terrible thoughts until a voice over announces dinner will be served in fifteen minutes. He knows he cant skip it, and so he finds the dinner compartment and sits down in the seat next to Cooper, across from Quinn.



She smiles politely at him, nothing like the smile she usually throws his way when they see each other. She continues to ignore him throughout the polite dinner chatter and even before dessert is served, she excuses herself to her compartment.



“I think this years tributes are making her a bit emotional,” Isabelle says as an explanation. Blaine half expects her to get up and go after Quinn to retrieve her, but she doesnt.



“You mean just one tribute,” Tish breaks the pregnant silence that follows Isabelles statement, to which Isabelle coughs out her food and Blaine and Cooper both stop their fork with chocolate souffl� as it is raised halfway towards their mouth.



“We all know you and Quinn are practically family, and Blaine is your actual brother. I know you guys arent going to do a thing to help me. So tell me how to help him and well get him out.”



“No,” Cooper says strictly as his eyes fall on Isabelle. Her purple lips are strained on her face, and Blaine sees shes older than she lets on. Maybe theres a little more make up on there than he suspected at first. “We will teach you all we know, we will do everything we can, for both of you equally. When it is about life or death, there is no preferential treatment. I will try to save you, Tish, please dont think otherwise.”



Blaine knows its probably because Isabelle cant know about their plan, because The Capitol obliges them to treat all their tributes equally, still it gives him mixed feelings over the subject. Pretty much everything that is happening right now is giving him mixed feelings. He tries to say goodbye to his life, tries to accept he is going to die and at the same time is thinking of everything he can do to survive this hell.



“If youll please excuse me,” he says before standing up and leaving the table, but his luck doesnt equal Quinns; Isabelle orders him to stay. “Well be watching the other Districts reaping in a few,” she says. The thought alone makes his stomach turn.



Sure enough, half an hour later a projection of the reapings shines from a small device that one of the waiters places on the table. Blaine doesnt register much about the tributes. He sees that its two fifteen year olds in Three and he hears “I volunteer” about six times, twice in every career driven District. Mostly he gets nauseous with every new face that shines down upon him. Youre going to die because I want to live, is all he thinks. Immediately after the last two tributes disappear into their Districts Justice Building, Blaine stands up and excuses himself. Isabelle motions to have him stay, she probably wants to discuss the other tributes, but he cant. So he leaves, practically runs to his compartment and curls up on the bed.



At some point in the night, long after he has given up on trying to sleep, he hears his door open and close. He half expects Cooper to crawl in bed with him, but welcomes it even more when it is Quinns scent that greets him when she drops down on the bed. She pulls him close, the way she used to when he was eight years old and their mom was out of town with Cooper and his father was locked in his study. She kisses the top of his head and hums the old familiar lullaby, one that her mom taught her and her grandmother taught her mom.



“Im so sorry, Blaine,” she once shes finished with the song. She doesnt leave, though, she only pulls him closer and starts humming the song again. It takes about four or five runs through the entire lullaby, before Blaine is finally back to his worry free eight year old self enough to let himself fall asleep.



Blaine is roused by a gentle hand the next morning. Isabelle stands over him with a bright smile, her lips and eyelashes a shining gold this morning. Her hair, again, is styled in a high mess, golden jewelry woven into it. She is obviously ready to present her tributes to the people of The Capitol.



The morning goes by in a rush, he and Tish get served breakfast in their compartments and even before he can completely finish it, Isabelles voice rings through the train announcing theyll arrive at the station in fifteen minutes.


He walks towards the small window next to the bed, where he can just see the enormous buildings starting to grace the skyline. Right across a large field, he can see where The Capitol starts. And, he realizes, these huge buildings that show no sign of poverty the way he knows the smallest cottages in District 9 do. Still, these are supposed to be the outskirts of The Capitol, the cheapest apartments one could possibly afford in the luxurious place that is The Capitol. It isnt fair, he thinks, that the cheapest places in The Capitol are most likely still bigger and better equipped than the most expensive houses in his District.



The closer they get to the center of it, the more life he sees on the side of the train tracks. People in bright colored clothes, with hair higher than their neighbors. He waves at them as they cheer at him, it seems only natural to do so, and only when the train starts to slow significantly to roll into the station, he notices Cooper behind him.



“That was good,” Cooper chuckles, “make people like you. They will like you already, but we need as many sponsors as we can get. Were going to play the brother card, but not yet. We dont want to be too obvious, only when Caesar Flickerman asks about it in your interview well play the brother card. For now, be your charming self.”



Blaine wants to ask what Cooper means, why he hadnt talked about this yesterday, but the train comes to a sudden stop and Isabelle announces through the voice over that they have arrived at The Capitols station. They are to gather at the door the entered the train through.



Cooper walks with him towards it, his hand on Blaines back encouragingly along the way. He keeps talking, about how hell get prepped now and his prep team will have instructions from his stylist. That hell be presented to President Snow and The Capitol after prep this afternoon, and that he wont see his quarters in which theyll be staying for the four days of training, until everything from today is over.



He gets hauled into preparation immediately after he disembarks the train, three people around him work on his body in ways he didnt even know it existed. Every single hair on his body is being trimmed, including his pubic hair and his armpits.



A girl named Sugar tells him to turn around and even his butt is being waxed. Blaine wishes he had something to say about it, but he doesnt and so he lets himself be trimmed and scrubbed and worked without complaint. Only when they rub a stinging lotion on his face he grunts a little, but its over soon enough and according to Sugar it means he doesnt have to shave for half a year. Somehow he thinks it wont be a good idea to tell her hell most likely be dead before then anyway.



It takes the prep team about an hour and a half until they look at his face, another closer look at his eyebrows, than make him twirl around naked several times, before they all nod approvingly and Sugar, obviously the leader of this little group of freaks, tells the other two to go get him.



Him, the stylist, the person whos supposed to make Blaine stand out in the crowd of 24 tributes, the person who is supposed to help Blaine get sponsors. For now, honestly, all he wants is to get dressed. Hes in a small, white gown that covers his front but not his back. Hes cold, hes scared and hes tired. He needs today to be over and the best way for today to be over is for it to move forward already. So when the door opens and his prep team walks in with a man in tow, he sighs in relief.



The man tells Sugar and the others, whose names he has lost, to get out and before Blaine can see his face, he turns toward a closet in the corner of the room. He types in a combination and then, when his team has left the room, turns towards Blaine.



The man has a pale skin, but it looks so natural that Blaine cant tell if its beauty modification, as is trendy in the Capitol, or just the mans natural skin. What is not natural is the silver streaks in the mans hair, amongst the chestnut brown that seems to be his own. Even the mans eyes are grayish silver, though that might have to do with the silver lining along the lid and bottom of it. The eyeliner is thick both above and under his eye, and on the right side they cross into musical clefs that form a heart together.



For some reason, the weird tattoo at the side of the mans eye sets Blaines mind slightly at ease. Maybe its because what this man has decided to brand into his skin forever, is something Blaine can relate to. If theyre both passionate about music, maybe he can strike up some kind of friendship with this man and really have him try his hardest to make an impression on the sponsors. He needs to find his luck, his odds, anywhere he can right now.


“Hello Blaine,” the man says with a soft, gentle voice and it makes Blaine want to find the first piano he can get his hands on, just to hear that clear tone sing a comforting lullaby. “My name is Kurt, and I am here to help you make an impression.”