EVERY YEAR, WITHOUT FAIL, SAGE FOUND HIMSELF DISGUSTED WITH THE OUNCE OF JOY HE FOUND IN CALLING THE PENTHOUSE HIS HOME AWAY FROM HOME. He remembered clearly how much he had enjoyed the abundance of warm meals, the endless supply of sweets, whiskey that was ten times better than what he usually got his hands on in Twelve, even the comfort of his bed was something he was happy to have. Despite how he got there, what it had cost him— which he still couldn't pin-point. All he knew is that he wasn't the same as he had been the morning before his reaping. Hell, he wasn't even the same as he had been after he won. He could still see Watts face, or hear Deedee screaming. At times his arms felt like he was drawing his bow just before he killed Marena. But even with those things in his head, he always was happy when he could finally lay down and go to sleep. Regardless if he had a dreamless night or a vivid nightmare that woke him up far too early in the morning.

       However this year he couldn't even fall asleep. He caught himself worried about what training would bring. He hoped Peeta at least would listen to him and not make friends. Allies were different from friends, and he hated himself for even considering people like Boyde and Marena a friend in the arena. If for some reason Peeta won, if he won knowing friends were dead he'd probably be no better than Sage. He didn't worry about Katniss making friends, she wasn't a people person. He hoped that despite her current feelings towards him, she'd keep that attitude for everyone she met. Until she had to make people like her during her interview on the eve of the games. Sage rolled his eyes even thinking about that, there was still a few more days before he'd have to drain his energy even more when it came to that.

        It was clear that Sage wouldn't be falling asleep; his mind racing and replaying the reaping. The sinking feeling that engulfed him when he thought Prim would be there with him, the actual horror when Katniss took her place. The boiling of anxiety that filled him knowing that Katniss was about to discover his secret he had kept from everyone in Twelve; the sickening feeling he gave himself because of how he even thought of Ella in his own head. He hated that she was there, he hated that he didn't see her the same. He owed Ella more than possibly anyone else. When he had been gone for his games, she had hunted with Katniss and if he hadn't come home she would have done everything she could to take care of his family. And now, years later Sage could barely bring himself to look at her. Not that she seemed to care all that much, whatever had gone into becoming an avox had turned her into an entirely different person.

The more Sage let his mind swarm him and keep him awake, the bed that normally felt like clouds felt like stone and he couldn't even lie there comfortably.

      So after trying to sleep for what seemed like hours, Sage got out of bed and made his way over to his dresser where he kept his morphling at night. Hoping to only get up to grab it if he really needed it. He shook two tablets into his palm before turning to get a small glass of water from the bathroom to help them all the way down his throat before climbing back under his covers. Waiting for them to hopefully turn his own mind off enough to fall asleep.

      Sage wasn't sure how long it had taken for him to finally fall asleep. But his wakeup call from Effie came quickly. He felt like he had barely gotten a couple minutes of sleep before she was rapidly knocking on his door to get him to join the others for breakfast. So reluctantly Sage rolled out of his bed and readied himself for the first day of training and first day of mingling with the other mentors while the tributes were in the training center. Easily the worst day in Haymitchs' opinion. Everyone was playing nice, none of the small talk or even in depth chats about the last year were because anyone wanted to develop a deep friendship. It was all a part of the games, trying to plant seeds for alliances for tributes that had a good chance of dying in the next week or two.

"Thanks for joining us, Sage." Haymitch greeted as Sage emerged from the hall of rooms. At the long table which was already lined with different foods for everyone to pick from, Effie sat at one end and Katniss sat to the left of her, across from Haymitch. And beside Haymitch sat Peeta, leaving the open chair beside Katniss for Sage.

"My pleasure," Sage sighed heavily as he made his way to the empty seat beside his sister who was already pushing food around on her plate. "Did you sleep okay?" he questioned, looking at Katniss first and then Peeta.

Peeta nodded, "Surprisingly."

"Alright, I guess." Katniss stated, barely moving her eyes up from her meal.

           The rest of the short lived meal was near silent. It wasn't until Haymitch and Sage escorted the two teens down the hall and to the elevator that would take them to the lowest level of the building. Leaving Sage and Haymitch to wait for another first day of training to come to an end. Over the years, Sage had tried giving his tribute various pieces of advice. Anything to try and get his tribute through the games. From making early alliances, to relying solely on their district partner. Every year it amounted to nothing. He just hoped that somehow this year would be different, which was probably a delusional fantasy. Every year Sage felt himself physically lose more and more hope that it would be different— whether it was his tribute or Haymitch's, he hoped that one of them would be able to bring a tribute back to Twelve. But every year after every single one died, he lost any hope of that ever happening. But this year, he wanted to think it would be different. But the odds weren't in their favor. They never were.

"Well, what are our odds this year, you think?" Haymitch asked as the two of them stepped back into the safety of their penthouse.

Sage gave his a disgusted look, "I don't really want to think of our odds this year." he stated, "If Katniss wins, Peeta's dead. If Peeta wins, Katniss is dead."

Haymitch was silent, just the sound of him looting the both of them a drink filled the living room.

"What am I supposed to say to my mom if she dies, Haymitch?" Sage questioned, "She could barely keep it together after our dad died. If Katniss dies, she'll...and then having to worry about Prim until she's eighteen..."

        Sage just hoped Prim would be safe in that case. If it was just Prim and Sage left with their mother. As long as nothing else happened, perhaps Snow would think the lesson was learned. That his lesson about following the rules was heard crystal clear. And that he'd at least make sure Prim wasn't touched by the games.

Haymitch didn't say anything as he handed Sage a glass and took a seat in the white chair across from Sage.

"And if Katniss does, by some miracle win..." he paused, "she knows about...the avox that's here."

"So she is from Twelve." Haymitch starter, "I thought she looked familiar."

"Katniss is best friends with her brother, how am I supposed to keep her from saying anything? If her family finds out that she's been here, this whole time. And that I've known all these years..." Sage ranted before he quickly emptied the glass that Haymitch had given him. "Her brother will probably kill me if I'm being one-hundred percent honest."

"Sage, you've been through hell and back. Every Victor here has been. And whoever wins this year, whether it's Katniss or Peeta. They'll understand." Haymitch tried to assure Sage. Every time Sage began to spiral, Haymitch tried his best. But usually it never worked, the last time he successfully was able to talk Sage down was when he lost his first tribute. And had to go back to District Twelve for the first time. It was essentially just being told that as a mentor, he was going to lose a lot more than one tribute.

       But this year, if Sage lost his tribute it would mean a lifetime of guilt for even momentarily hoping he would lose his if it meant Katniss won. And if Katniss did manage to win— it meant he would always feel guilty for not caring that Peeta had died. If both of them died, well then that would mean a lifetime of wishing he had been as lucky as them and had never been given the title of Victor in the first place.

notes;
surprise surprise I had motivation to write this story.

stay classy :)

*unedited*