Hunger Games 1. Chapter 1

A/N: I don't own anything.

Chapter One

The broadcasts started a few weeks ago, and really it wasn't a surprise to anyone in the District. Yes, finding out that there were people outside Panem was slightly unsettling, but the fact that these people were causing rebellions was not.

First, the Peacekeepers left. They had packed their personal belongings and they left the District on a train in the middle of the night. I know this because I've never heard a train stop in our District in the middle of the night. Then, another train rolled in at daybreak. And with the Peacekeepers, the Merchants left. The Seam watched in confusion as they loaded up on the train with suitcases and their belongings. We went from 8,000 to 3,000 overnight.

Next, the supply train tracks had been blown to bits, cutting off District 12 from the rest of the Districts. That hadn't been too bad for the first week. Now, going on month five, the District was starting to feel the effects.

District 12 wasn't known for having the strictest Peacekeepers, for being stiff with rules. Yet, the people were unsure on how to proceed. Spontaneous people or not, the Capital was known for playing games with its Districts to prove a point.

This year the Hunger Games had been canceled, further entangling the confusing web. At first the Reaping was delayed. Then came the message that the railway structure was unsound and had to be repaired. Then that the Hunger Games would be canceled until further notice. There was no explanation.

The people began to get nervous, hoarding their supplies.

The District became quiet; everyone huddled in their homes, starving in silence. Except me.

See, I've starved my whole life in silence. And now, there is no one here to keep me from feeding my family. I've taken my father's bow from the woods and I've hunted big game.

With the help of Gale, we've managed to keep the Seam fed. We can take down bigger game like deer without any worries of Peacekeepers. Gale and I clean and butcher the animals with the help of the local butcher. Then we portion the animals and pass them along with Seam families. We've brought anyone from the Seam willing to listen to two teens into the woods with us to forge and fish in designated areas.

And for a while, we were fine. Many wondered why we even needed the Capital at all, self-sufficient as we had become. Oh, but I knew better. Spring and summer are always easy to live off the woods. But with so many people to feed, Gale and I can't bring in enough game to save for winter. And now we're in the fall.

We've used up the stores of tesserae that was in the Justice building. That was one of Gale's plans, to separate the stores of tesserae among the families left. Still, not everyone got a tesserae package to take home to their family. They were the first in line for my game, the only way I knew how to make it up to them.

Some merchants stayed, and they had no idea why the others had left. Now they wander down to the Seam to get in line for our supplies from the woods. I don't mind so much, but it infuriates Gale. But there aren't many of us left in District 12. So many have died already that I feel partially responsible.

I know I can't feed the entire District. There are still over a thousand of us. Many died from starvation, some from eating inedible things, and others from eating poisonous things they forged from the woods.

Anyone who enters the woods has to leave word with a designated Keeper, so we know they are gone. Then, anything they bring in has to be brought to a Sorter to be checked and found edible.

Some people thought that Gale and I couldn't tell them what they had to do. They resented us trying to help them and the rest of the residents. They did what they wanted. I was ok with that, and I never did anything to stop them. We all have choices.

However, many were lost in the woods without others know when they left or when they said they were coming back. They never checked in with a Keeper. Gale and I hate this the most. We wonder the woods and try to find the person who resented our methods in the first place. Sometimes we find them, sometimes we find pieces of them, and sometimes there are no signs. Choices.

Then there are those who didn't want to share their find. They would hide berries in their pockets for their family. And that's fine. I make sure my family is fed everyday with whatever I bring in before I separate for the District survivors. I get want to feed your family. But that wiped out so many because they didn't know what was edible and what wasn't.

Prim felt terrible about the poisoned patients she treated. When she wasn't helping mom treat the sick, she gave lessons with plants explaining what was edible and what not to eat. I've brought her as much as I can find, but every once in a while we still get a poisoned person. I'll find what they ate and make sure I keep bringing it to Prim to show what NOT to eat.

Then there were the people who thought they were going to be looters, thugs, and bullies since the Peacekeepers were gone. And I guess they could have, with the Merchants maybe. But we Seam are tough. We've survived starving for years. So a couple of miners got together and took them out the worst criminals. One Seam man raped a mother of three. The Miners snapped his neck and left his body in the road with a note saying, "This is what happens to rapists." So far, we've not any more serious crime. Thieves are not allowed to get in the food line for two weeks.

And as Gale even though I hunt all day, the line doesn't get fed every day. We're still hungry, but it feels good fighting back.

And then the announcements started coming through on the broadcast. At first, when mom turned on the news, I was angry. I didn't want to hear about the Capital. But, mom in her wisdom, has left it playing 24 hours a day. The volume is low, and the shows are mainly annoying nonsense about fashion.

Then we started to see the shows get cut out, and a face appear. Then it would go back to the Capital's nonsense. It was so fast that we didn't know what we were seeing at first. But then the sound came in with the face.

"Rebel. Fight." It said before getting cut off. Then the President started to get on the broadcast urging citizens to follow a curfew as there were protestors.

The rebellious broadcaster started coming in more, saying more. "We're coming," he said.

And that is what made me dig the hole. I pulled up the floor boards in our shack and just started digging. Mom and Prim watched me from the bed, digging and sweating in the middle of the night. I couldn't sleep. His words kept replaying in my head. _We're coming. We're coming. We're coming._

So, I dug. And I dug. And I dug. Finally I had a nice sized hole beneath our floor boards. I swept up the mess and carefully laid the boards over the hole. The next day I hunted with blistered hands, but I felt like I was at least doing something._ Then come,_ I thought.

The Capital dropped bombs on District 11's homes the next day. They wiped out half the population. The broadcast was twisted, all about how District 11 was a danger, how they were coming for the Capital and had to be killed.

Gale goes on and on in circles talking about the Capital, the rebels, and our survivors. He has grand plans on how to move our District out, how to get us to 11 to fight. And I guess that's his way of surviving. He needs to plan. I just need to eat.

And the game is small now. I can't bring enough in. I can't forge enough foods. None of us can. Because we're at the edge of winter with no supplies, with no foods in our cabinet, no promises of grain, and no meat saved. We're all going to starve.

_Then come, _I think. Because maybe, just maybe, they will feed us.

Then there are the other concerns. I've shot a few men with my bow who thought to come and take it from me. Mainly in a foot or their hand. Mom refused to treat them, and they had to heal on their own. I've protected my family the best I could.

I stand no chance against real weapons. I can't fight a Peacekeeper face to face, short distance, with a bow. I barely was able to shoot our intruders. We huddle in the room up the stairs, me on the floor in the corner. Mom and Prim cuddle in the bed next to me. I sleep with my bow in my hands. In the spring and summer it wasn't so bad sleeping here. It's more of a platform on the roof's support beams. There is barely enough room for the small mattress and my blankets, but it's the safest place for three women in a house alone.

After that night, the first intruder, Gale offered one of his brothers to live with us. But I can't. I don't want another man living with us. I don't need a man in my home telling me how to keep it. And I know Gale's family isn't like that. I know his brothers would be respectful. But I still can't. So I dug the hole.

A part of me knows the hints Gale has been dropping. A part of me understand what he's been asking me. I know he wants to join our households into one big family. Another part of me doesn't want to understand. I don't want to hear him.

It started a couple weeks ago. Causally Gale said, "Wouldn't it be great if we all lived together? Your family and mine?" I had laughed and made a joke about Prim doing men's laundry. But Gale didn't laugh. "My mom will do the laundry then." He had said with a straight face. I brushed it off and tried not to think about it.

Then a few days later he said, "Catnip, what do you think about your family sleeping at our house, or getting a bigger house together? We can protect each other." And it's a fine idea, but it didn't feel right to me. I realized I was missing some bigger part of the picture.

And that's Gale. He's always seeing a bigger picture than me. He's always five steps ahead thinking about eight months from now. Sure, he'll do what I want on most things. But he's way ahead of me on so many other things.

He started fixing up my dad's cabin. It's stocked with nuts and game. Enough for his family for three months. They will be able to live off game, broth, and nuts for three months if he can't take down a single kill in that time. Just like I did with the residents who wanted to do their own thing, I didn't interrupt. He asked if it was ok, and I said yes.

Then the questions came. "Catnip, have you ever thought about getting married?"

"Have you ever thought about having kids?"

"What do you think about starting a family?"

"How long are you going to keep trying to save the District?"

I managed to stay vague enough. I thought he would understand that I had to focus on eating every day first. That I had to hold out hope for my family. But Gale, he's always thinking of the future. Of better things.

"Catnip, how do you feel about me?" He asked me three days ago. I stared at him. Gale knows I'm not good with words. He knows I'm uncomfortable discussing my feelings. Yet, Gale needs this answer. I can see it on his face.

"You're my best friend," I told him. He reached over and took my hand in his. He held it to his heart. And I know this is where his questions had been leading. Mainly, because I know Gale so well.

"Do you think you could love me? Do you think you could build a life with me?" He asked me.

I know I could. I knew it then, and it's still true now. Instead I just stared at him. He nodded, and held my hand. I didn't answer and he seemed like he understood. Maybe he didn't. I thought he knew me like I knew him. He's the dreamer. I'm the survivalist.

He came today. I knew he would.

"Katniss. Listen to me. They're in the woods. I've seen them. We've got to get to the cabin and secure our family," he told me.

"I'm going to wait it out Gale. If they are in the woods, it won't be long until they find the cabin too. We won't last the winter in the cabin, in the District, or anywhere without supplies. We're low on everything," I answered.

"Catnip. What if they want more than land? What if what they are looking for is something more?" He took my hand. "Marry me. Let me offer you my protection Katniss. I'm tired of running in circles trying to guess how you feel. Just tell me you could grow love me, I'll take that little."

And I knew it was coming. This moment when our relationship would change. Choices. We all have them.

I remember my dad telling me about how much he loved mom. He had followed her around, watching her with the baker for weeks. He had a trading relationship with the baker and didn't want to jeopardize it by chasing the baker's girlfriend. Finally, after weeks of watching her laugh with the baker, he knew he couldn't live his life not knowing. Would she have loved him too if he had only asked? Could he watch her be the baker's wife and be content with his life knowing she was happy?

Mom had beautiful long blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and the sweetest smile he said. He said that couldn't approach her. He couldn't steal her. He wanted it to be her choice. He began to sing of love whenever he passed her parents shop in the merchant's street. He sang every song he knew of a fair maiden. He said at first mom ignored him. He was dirty to the merchants because he worked in the mines. He wasn't worthy because he was a poacher.

Then the District went through a hard time. They were being punished for Haymitch Abernathy winning the Hunger Games. Apparently, he had cheated in the Capitol's eyes for using the arena to kill a Tribute and win the games. The arena is only to be used for the Capital to torture and kill Tributes. It's only meant to be the Capital's weapon. So the Capital decided, because they are so smart, that somehow this was also the fault of the entire District.

Now dad, he was clever. He had managed to keep himself and grandma alive by himself for years. Grandpa had been killed in the mines when dad was 11, just like I lost dad when I was 11. And Grandma, she was a very thoughtful and caring mother. She was the one that suggested dad wasn't wooing mom. That he needed to show her that he cared for her my more than pretty songs. He needed to show her that he would care for her, and her family, the best he could.

Dad started taking half of his game, half his forging bag, to mom. He said at first her parents snubbed his offerings. But even the merchants began to suffer. Tesserae packages had mold on the grain. Flour delivered had bugs. Food that was supplied was rotten and half eaten by vermin. The entire District began to suffer. And then the merchants couldn't afford to turn down dad.

So dad began to shower mom with half of whatever he had. When I ask dad how he managed, he told me the biggest surprise of off. It wasn't Grandpa that taught him to hunt, it was Grandma. Before day break, while the District slept unaware, Dad left hunting. When he got back he would leave the game with Grandma. While dad worked, Grandma skinned and portioned the meat. Then, dad would take half the portion to mom.

At first mom was begrudging. It took her weeks to open up to dad. She told him she felt like he was trying to buy her. Dad always laughed at this idea, a miner buying a merchant's affections. Slowly they talked and became friends. And that winter, when Grandma passed on, it was mom who held his hand for at the burial. It was mom who hugged him and comforted him.

And around this time, I ask about the poor baker and what happened to him. The baker who was in love with mom, but lost her. Dad always smiles and shrugs. This, he said, was never his problem. Getting mom to love him, to see him as a man was his problem. At first he had worried about the baker, but in the end the baker couldn't afford to not trade either.

"There's a circle, little cat. Just like in the wild. The deer eats the grass, I eat the deer, and the earth will turn me to grass once again," he told me.

And dad achieved getting mom to see him as a man. He sung his way into her heart and married her. Mom and dad loved each other so much, that when he died mom couldn't speak for months without sobbing. The older I get, the easier it is for me to look past her neglect of us when we were kids.

And there was the moment. My moment to make the choice that would shape my life. I could get my family, trek with them through the woods, and hide in the cabin by the lake for as long as we could. We might make it a week or until spring. We might be found by the rebels or by the Capital. We might fall in love. We might end up hating each other. We might. We might. We might.

The thing is, we'll never know.

Because I want to eat. And maybe I'm crazy. Maybe these rebels are worse than the Capital, which is a very likely possibility. But then again- maybe they aren't.

And it's not like I couldn't love Gale. It's not like he wouldn't be a fair and good husband, he would. A part of me already loves him. It's just, I feel us tugging. A part of me will always live here, in 12. And Gale, he will always wonder and dream. A part of him will always be a dreaming of more. I'm content with what I have, Gale will always dream of more. He's already planning a life for when he's old, and I'm worried about eating for the week. And in that, I feel, we are just too different.

I tried not to hurt him. I did. I've just never been good with words. I've never had to be gentle with other's feelings because no one has had these feelings towards me. "Gale, it's not that I don't think you're a good friend," I had started. I guess Gale knew what was coming. He took my face in his hands and he kissed me. It wasn't a kiss of friends, but a kiss of his lips to mine. A gentle pressure of his warm lips to mine. He pulled back and rested his head on mine.

"Don't do it Catnip. Don't break me into pieces to the point I can't be mended," He whispered.

I wish I could say I didn't. I wish I could say that for sure we are still friends. But doors sometimes have to be closed. Sometimes you can open them again, and sometimes you can't. "I don't think I could ever be with you the way you want," I told him.

Gale withdrew from me, staring at me in shock and anger. He knows there isn't anyone else. Hell, I don't even have other friends. I'm abrasive, single minded, and rude on most days. Food. It dominates my mind. Food is life. Food is survival.

And food will keep Prim alive. And mom. And food will keep me strong enough to hunt. And food, food food, it dominates my mind. Now Gale, he is always thinking ahead. Family. Kids. Love. These things, I don't have time for now. Not even to think about.

He slowly backed out to my door, his eyes betrayed. "Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow. But you could. I'll come back for you Catnip," He said.

I'm sure he would have. I'm positive he would have tried. But the rebel forces came a few hours after his family left for the cabin. There are so many. They will be in every house and still need to settle troops outdoors. And I'm hoping they have food. I'm hoping they are different from the Capital.

And if they aren't, I'll try my hardest to survive and find food. I'll do what needs to be done. That's why I dug that hole. I will do what I must. I will protect my mom and Prim. So I dug and dug.

And when I dug it, mom knew. She cried for the next day. And Prim, she tried to fill it with our preserved foods. I had to dig and make it a little bigger for the food. I thought she understood what the hole was for.

But I'm pulling up the floor boards, and I'm shoving them in the hole. I can see on Prim's face, she never thought about it. She never wondered why I laid in the hole for measuring. Why I dug it out under the house instead of in the back yard where the snow would keep our foods cold.

And just like Gale, her eyes are betrayed. I get that. I really do. But I've put her in and that's that. My little duck, the only person I know that I truly love.

"Katniss," She whispers in agony.

I don't have time to explain. I don't have time to be gentle with her. I can hear the men coming around the house. They slipped easily enough through the fence, which we don't live to far from. I'm thankful Gale came today; otherwise I wouldn't know they were in the forest. I wonder how far they made it, Gale and his family.

"Keep her quiet. Don't come out, no matter what you hear," I tell mom. She nods but she can't meet my eyes. I know she's ashamed to lay in the hole next to Prim, but the truth is we both know I'm the best option. I'm the person that will be able to protect us best.

And while I've protected us before, I've never killed a man. I'll do it to keep Prim safe, but I'm hoping it won't come to that.

I gently put the boards back over the hole that's under our kitchen table. I look out the window, careful to keep out of sight, and I see them scattering in different directions; moving about trying to evaluate our strengths and weaknesses. The Keeper that sits by my exit in the fence is laid on the ground, his arms behind his head. He's not dead, and I'll take that as a good sign.

Grabbing my bow, I head to the corner of the room. I get an arrow ready and focus on the entrance.

Not long after I dug the hole, closed our back door up with a pile of firewood. I chopped wood until I had the wood piled as high as the door and around two feet from it. The blisters from digging and the blisters from chopping were unbearable. I couldn't string my bow, I couldn't hunt. Mom released the fluids in the large bubbles and applied an ointment. And even though it had hurt my hands, it was worth the pain to sit back and see the door blocked.

The door knob lifts, and I know this is the moment I've been dreading. The moment of truth.

"Citizen, lay down your weapons," the voice calls. "We are armed."

_I bet you are_, I think.

"Rebel, you enter my home at your own risk. I am armed as well," I call back.

There isn't any point to lying to them. They will know soon enough I'm armed. I'm not going to lie and say I'm not. I don't want them to come in and shoot me. I know we're in a tight spot.

"Citizen, I repeat: Lay down your weapon. We are armed," He calls again. He's beginning to push the door slowly open.

"Rebel, I repeat: This is _my_ home. I am armed _peacefully_ inside it. Close my door," I say.

I see the door has stopped moving, and then slowly close. I scurry up to the platform so I have an advantage of height. Also, there isn't a window up here, making it feel much more secure. I wish there could have been a way to hid mom and Prim up here. I just couldn't figure it out. Maybe I could have built a moving wall or something, but we don't have nails or smooth boards. It was pointless to try.

I hear an argument outside and see my door crack open.

"Citizen, I am not armed. I am coming in to negotiate the surrender of your weapon," a voice calls. It's a different voice than the first.

My heart is racing and I can't seem to catch my breath. This is it. They will either come in and kill us, or come in and offer us shelter. I'm scared for Prim. I've read what happens to the spoils of war. What happens to the women. To the children.

I'm waiting for the door to open all the way, my arm shaking from holding a loaded arrow ready. Still, the door doesn't open any more.

"You may enter, hands first. And only you," I call out.

I see a pair of thick hands push through the crack, followed by a pair of steady thick arms covered in a black t-shirt. And then comes the rest of him. The man has thick blonde curls that fall over his forehead. It makes him look more like an innocent child than anything. I can't help but grin. They sent a curly headed boy to subdue me?

And I see him looking around my house. Judging the shack no doubt. Maybe looking for me. But he turns and closes the door, then slowly sinks and sits to block the only exit besides the windows. Finally, his eyes meet mine. And his eyes, they are the bluest I've ever seen. Like the lake in the summer, with the sun glinting off the waves.

They widen at the sight of me, my bow readied to shoot him through. He lets out a breath and places his palms on his knees, rubbing the sweat off them I think. And he should be sweating, I know I am. I'm terrified.

He may look innocent, but I don't truly believe he is. Why else would he be here? He has to be a killer. A survivor like me.

"My name is Peeta. What's yours?" He asks.

"What do you want?" My arm is still quivering. My muscles hurt from holding the bow still.

"Can you at least rest your arrow?" He asks. "We're going to be talking for a few minutes; I'd hate to be shot."

I feel myself trying not to grin. And I must look insane, but he doesn't seem to care. He's patiently waiting for me to make up my mind.

"I'd hate to shoot you," I tell him as I relax my arm. "But I will if I have to."

I'm waiting for him to try to convince me to drop my weapon. I'm waiting for him to state his purpose. But he's not saying anything. He's just looking at me with those big blue eyes.

Dad used to tell me a story about when he ran into a bear while hunting. He was on the ground, removing a rabbit from a snare. A bear, presumably smelling the rabbit in the snare, started towards him. Dad said it sounded like a giant walking through the woods, twigs and branches snapping. He quickly climbed the nearest tree and looked for the source of the noise. Now the bear, he saw dad too. And dad likes to say they had an understanding. The bear stared dad in the eyes, then went and took the rabbit. Dad likes to joke that the bear waved and said thanks as he gobbled it up. When I asked why dad didn't kill the bear, he always laughed and said, "Now Katniss, what kind of man would I be to break an agreement?!"

Now I know the truth. He didn't think he could kill the bear. And if he did, bringing a bear back inside the fence would be obvious. There would be no hiding a dead bear. So the bear lived, and so did dad. In an understanding that the bear meant death.

I'd like to say that I had an understanding with this boy, but I don't have a rabbit. I don't know his purpose. All I can understand is he's here, and he wants something.

"Are you a betting woman?" he asks.

I think where ever he came from must be grand if they have things to bet with. Here, I've never be fortunate enough to bet. Sure, people from the Seam bet their lives away, but I've got two mouths to feed. I can't gamble. I need everything I have to survive. To trade for food.

"No." There's no point trying to make friends. He smiles at me anyways, seeming undeterred.

"I'm willing to bet a girl like you, a skilled hunter would only stay around for one reason. And it'd have to be a good reason. So let's just be honest. Where are you hiding them?"

More of a snake in tall grass. I decide. Or a snake in the meadow. You're walking along and all the sudden your leg feels like it's on fire. And the meadow is full of flowers. It looks innocent enough. Then you're down. Your leg swells. Next thing you know, you're dead.

I've got my arrow ready to go, but he's not moving. He's just staring at me. Waiting.

"You're a fierce little thing aren't you?" He asks in a tone of admiration.

Admire away. I'd still shoot him down in a second to protect Prim.

"What do you want? I don't have much food, if that's what you're looking for," I use the bow to point towards the kitchen.

"I'm a member of District 13. I'm leading the attack on District 12," He tells me. "I'm here to look for surviving citizens to bring back to 13. Haymitch tells us that the Capital has abandoned you, that the supply trains stopped coming. We've brought food."

Haymitch, or surviving victor, was thought to have left with the merchants. Since the only time we see him is when he's out of liquor, no one thought much about him. His house was searched for food, and when we didn't find traces of him, we didn't think much about it.

I did however think he would have been an asset when sober. He's survived the games, surely he would have had some tips for surviving now. But, it appears he was determined to save us another way. Haymitch, the District's drunk and victor, has contacted a District that was said to have been blown up. There isn't supposed to be anything left of District 13. Just rubble.

"What kind of food?" I ask. Food. The only thing that matters. Food is life. And this boy has brought it with him.

"Bread, grains, vegetables, fruits, and a few other things. Would you like to come out and get some?" He looks honest enough, but I know there is more to this.

"So you'll feed us and we'll fight for you. That's the deal you're pushing here?" I sound harsh. I can hear that sharp edge to my voice that grates on people's nerves.

"Well, sort of. I'm part of the last generation born in District 13 of all males. It's been that way for a while. The youngest woman at District 13 is close to 30. Can you imagine…You're the first woman my age I've ever met," He tells me. "Just how old are you?"

I can't help it. I've pulled the arrow back. I'm ready to strike this boy down. Snake. Snake. Snake. Slither on up. Bite my ankle. Snake.

"Whoa whoa! Let's settle down. I'm not going to hurt you or your family!" He has his hands up.

"It's just me. There isn't anyone else. Everyone is dead." I'm standing now, my arrow poised to be shot.

"So the muddy little girl shoes outside are yours?" He's looking at me in disappointment.

I guess I'd be disappointed too if I was him and I was the first girl I'd ever met my age. These men, they are looking for breeders. A new stock of women to have children with. I'm not getting Prim into this mess. I should have left with Gale. I should have just ran. Food, food, food.

"Just tell me what I said. We can talk about this." His arms are still raised. He's not armed. I keep reminding myself that I have an advantage on him. I can shoot him from here. Snake.

"You're here to breed your stock with ours. You're looking for women," I can't help the quiver in my voice. I'm frightened.

"Well, yes. But it's not like you're thinking," He's hands are in the air, making downward strokes. I suppose he thinks this is soothing.

"Right. So you 're just going to take the woman back to a camp full of men looking for women. Sounds cozy." I let out a laugh. "I'd rather kill myself now."

"Harming a woman is a crime punishable by death. They would rather you kill me than for me to hurt you," His voice sounds honest enough. But this- these truths are burning me. I want them to be lies.

He puts a hand to his ear and seems to be listening to something. He pulls out a small wire from behind his ear, one that his thick blonde curls hid from me. I watch as he pushes a button on the wire and speaks into it.

"Mellark. Two possible three. One armed. Situation under control. Hanley bring three loaves of bread and three cheese wedges," He tells the wire. Then he's looking back at me, "Just two or three of you?"

"One. Just me," I repeat. Rolling his eyes he pulls his wire out.

"Hanley this is Mellark. Bring me a native as well."

So this is the game we play. I sit watching him. He sits watching me. I wish I had taken a bath last night. I feel like he's staring down every speck of dirt on my nails. Yet, I hold my bow and arrow relaxed and waiting. He's in no hurry.

There's a knock on the door and he stands, holding a hand out to me to not shoot him. He opens the door and I've pulled my bow back. With a sigh he takes a basket shoved through the crack of the door.

"Who are you?" He asks the person on the other side of the door.

"My name is Sae," She answers. Sae, who has been an invaluable cook for us all. Making all sorts of concoctions to keep us alive. Sae who I've known for as long as I can remember. They have her.

"Sae, who lives here?" He asks her.

Now I know Sae. She's not going to give me up. But she doesn't know I'm here. Maybe she thinks I've gone off with Gale in the woods. Maybe she thinks he's got me pinned. I'm not risking what she may think. I've got to make sure she knows how it stands.

"Sae. I've got my arrow on him," I call out. I hear her chuckle.

"I never thought you didn't. That there is our leader boy," she tells him.

Leader. I've never thought of myself as the leader. And surely I'm not. All I've done is try to feed the starving. Mainly because I can't stand to see people starve when I've got extra game. And it's not that I've had extra, I could always save it for later… It's that there wasn't any food to be had. If I didn't feed them, who would? Leader. It startles me that is how I'm thought of.

"My name is Peeta. It's nice to meet you Sae. Thank you for answering my question. Can you answer another?"

"Perhaps," she's like me. Naturally suspicious of all people. And really, that's not a bad quality. Any one asking questions has a motive. Snake. Snake. Snake.

_Ah, but that snake does have food. Food. Food._ My mind whispers.

"Who else lives here? And what's her name?" He gestures to me. I hear Sae chuckle again.

"Peeta, she's just as likely to shoot me, as she is to shoot you," I hear her say before I hear her walking back down the old worn stairs.

He closes the door quietly and frowns. He slides back down to the floor and pulls out a small loaf of bread. He stares at it before smiling slowly.

"Loyalty. It's not bought, not when there isn't anything here. You're fierce. You're a leader and you inspire loyalty. That's quite a few good attributes." His smile disappears. "I'm really sorry for how things are going to progress from here. I've tried really hard to help you trust me. But you're taking a difficult path when there is an easy way."

He throws the loaf up to me, and it lands a few feet from me. I could put the bow down and get it. But that's his plan. For me to weaken myself. But he's not paying any attention to me; he's fiddling with that wire again.

"Mellark here. Yeah. I know. No, I- Look, I want her name. I know. Yeah. Ok, thanks." He leans back against the door and looks up at me. "You're not eating?"

"And put down this bow? No."

Time is dragging by. And still he sits, waiting. Then he's smiling at me. A big smile. I'm struck with how handsome he is. My stomach knots and I breathe in deeply. He grabs the wire again.

"Mellark here. I hear you. Thank you," He waits for a minute. Wire fiddling again, "Yeah, hold on."

"Well Katniss, now or never to start off with honesty and truth. Are you going to tell me where they are or do we find them on our own?" The sound of my name from his lips makes my stomach flip.

"It's just me," I repeat weakly. He smiles at me, not looking disappointed.

"Brave girl," He says standing. I've pulled an arrow back at him. "Mrs. Everdeen and Primrose, would you please come out?"

I've told them not to move. They've heard everything that this snake has had to say. Surely they will listen. Surely. He looks back up to me.

"Where are they Katniss? Under the floors?" he taps his foot twice on the floor in front of him, and I let the arrow fly. I've missed on purpose. He laughs. He laughs! I can't help but be angry. He laughs. And then Prim is flying out of the hole, the boards are hitting the table. She startles back when she sees the boy. I see the tears running down her face and her labored breaths. I suppose she thought he shot me.

"Oh, hello Primrose!" He says joyfully at her. He bends and sticks his hand in the basket. Looking at me, he slowly lifts a loaf of bread. "Do you know, you're the youngest girl I've ever met?"

Prim, all too trusting, leans forward and takes the bread. My mom at this point has dragged herself out of the hole. She's crying, telling me she's sorry. Well good. You should be. Strike three mom. The boy leans over and hands mom the third loaf. She holds it in her hands sobbing.

Prim smiles tentatively at him. She's only 12 and doesn't understand what's truly going on. We should have ran.

"Are you going to take us away?" She asks him.

"That depends, do you want me to?" He's crouched down, speaking softly to Prim. I don't know if this is because I've got my arrow trained on him or not. Either way, he's moving cautiously. Prim looks up at me and smiles through her tears.

"He doesn't seem like a bad man Katniss," She whispers. Of course not little duck. They never do. But Prim is young. She believes in the inner goodness of everyone.

"I'm not. My name is Peeta. I'm going to be your brother," he tells her.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: A few notes. I edited the first chapter and took out some dialoged between Katniss and Peeta regarding District 13. You may need to go back and read that one portion. It didn't sit right with me, the dynamics of their relationship, and I couldn't move forward. I'm sorry; I hope you'll still be interested in my story.

I'd like to tell you all thank you for reading my story. I'm incredibly humbled by the comments, favorites, follows, and silent stalkers who show in my stats. It's crazy to me- I was worried I wouldn't even have one reader….yet here I am. Correction, here we are…A bunch of people in love with Katniss and Peeta; a bunch of addicts for their love story and watching them fall in love…. Over…. And over… and over…..

XOXO Thanks again for reading.

PS You can follow me on Tumblr (secretpenwriter) for sneak previews.

* * *

Chapter Two

I'm not sure if I meant to, or if it's the lack of sleep and food.

I've been unable to sleep with all my worries. I've chewed all my nails off worrying where the District will get enough food. Then I pulled off chunks of cuticle worrying about the rebels coming. I'll have no fingers by the time everything is done.

I realize I've missed breakfast. I've missed lunch. And here is this loaf of bread just sitting next to me.

And maybe that's part of it. Maybe the smell of bread has gotten to me.

All I know for sure is my arm gave out when this boy claimed he would be a brother to Prim. And that arrow just went straight into the meaty flesh of the boy's arm.

To his credit, he fell but didn't holler. Prim screams, mom drops the bread and lifts her hands to her mouth before looking at me, and the boy just sits against the wall bleeding.

I don't reload my bow. Though I know I should be ready, I don't reload. Instead I pick up the bread and I start to eat. My mom's eyes narrow at me. Gone are her tears. Here is the woman that is constantly silently disapproving of my actions. _Well that's just fine_, I think. _I don't like your actions either. _

My mom seems to always be on my bad side. I wish I could stop being so angry with her all the time, but everything she does sets me off. And just like her, I keep my anger to myself. I cap it off inside, never letting it escape. She knows. She sees it in my eyes just as I see it in hers.

I stuff more bread in my mouth. I wonder how long it will take them to send in another man. Mom bends to the boy and looks at his wound before telling Prim to get her kit. Prim scurries over to the small cabinet that holds a few dishes, a few outfits, and mom's medical kit.

"Katniss Everdeen, you come down here and get this arrow out right now," She tells me.

And I can't help it. I begin to laugh. I rock back a little I'm laughing so hard, slightly choking on bread. My mother, who hasn't been a parent to me in years, has finally stepped up. What a time to choose.

"Sae wasn't kidding," Peeta says.

And this sets me off again. I've managed to swallow my bread, and I can't seem to stop the insane laughs coming from my mouth. I walk down the stairs with my bow thrown over my shoulder and take another mouth full of bread. Food. Food. Food.

"Eat while you can, Prim," I tell her as I approach the boy.

I squat to look at his wound while munching on bread. His arm's not bleeding too badly, he'll live. The arrow is all the way through his arm, the head of the arrow has exited out the back of his muscle. I set the loaf in the basket that's next to him. As I do, I see a small wedge of cheese. I can't stop myself. I've not seen cheese since someone stole Lady. I pull it out and give it a nice sniff.

"Katniss," My mom reprimands me.

I look back at her frowning face, then at the boy's. He's watching me, in pain but clearly amused. I hand the wedge to Prim, reach back in for the other two. I give one to mom, who snatches it with her spare hand, and shove the other in my mouth. The boy laughs at this. I don't know what he thinks is so funny; he's got an arrow in his arm. I chew as I reach the arrow. He flinches and pulls back a little from my grip. I swallow my cheese.

"Don't move, boy," I tell him.

"Peeta," He admonishes me. "Everyone who shoots me with an arrow calls me by my first name."

Prim laughs a little as she munches on her bread and cheese. Oh Prim. So sweet. So trusting. Peeta is smiling at her and he gives her a wink. Peeta. Boy. Boy, not Peeta. Boy.

"Primrose, would you do me the honor of holding my hand?" Peeta asks her with big sincere blue eyes. Prim looks to me, her brows furrowed. "My arm hurts really bad."

Bull's eye. Prim's racing to hold his hand. Never mind he could kill us. Never mind that he's threatening our way of life. Nurse Prim to the rescue.

_He's injured, Katniss!_ She would say. _He needs help!_

Once Prim's hand is in his, I snap off the arrow head and pull the arrow out. I'm as gentle as I can be, but there's no gentle way to snap an arrow head off. He groans and jerks his arm, causing himself more pain, but I'm ok with that. Once it's out, moms pushed her way in, cleaning and stitching him closed. I sit back and take my bow off. I set it beside me as I eat.

"So, what set you off?" He asks me through gritted teeth. Mom's numbed it the best she could, but it won't stop the pain he's feeling.

"Brother," I say. I watch him. He looks at me, then Prim, and back to me.

"And that's a bad thing?" He asks. "Being someone's brother?"

My dad was mainly the story teller in our family, but mom's shared a few. Mom said one time dad had left really early to go hunt in the woods. Prim woke her up crying and after settling Prim back down, she looked over to my cot and I was gone. She knew I must have gone after my father, into the woods.

As dad tells it, he was alone in the woods one second, and the next I was there. He likes to tell it in a way that makes me seem like I was a phantom ghost. It was always fun and lighthearted. Mom's version is not.

She said she sat rocking little Prim, thinking of all the terrible things that could have happened to me. Mom thought I would get eaten by a savage animal or caught by Peacekeepers going under the fence. An hour or two later when I came home, she was so upset she shook me. She was crying hysterically and yelling. I was only five at the time, and I didn't really understand why she was so upset. She would tell this story to me anytime she thought I was going to go wandering. Mom would remind me of how terrified she was, and how Prim cried for hours. It was always a story I scoffed at. But now, I get it. I truly understand what she meant. And that's the funny thing. Mom said one day I would understand.

There is a wrenching, twisting feeling in my gut that has nothing to do with the food. I wonder if he's playing coy. If he thinks I'm a simple girl from the Seam who doesn't catch on quickly

"I know what it means. I'm not going to be forced into marriage with anyone," I tell him.

If I was going to be with anyone today, it would be Gale. And I turned down his marriage proposal this morning.

"I didn't realize I proposed," He turns to Prim, "Primrose, did I propose to your sister?"

Prim looks at my face and I can tell she's trying to be serious. "Prim, and no."

Oh, so this is just a big joke! Ha ha. What a great misunderstanding. I'm sure we'll laugh in tomorrow over a large dinner. You force your way into my District. You tell me you're looking for women- Oh. Oh no. I stop eating and feel my stomach turn. Oh no. I have to stop myself. I can't go there. He didn't ask, and maybe he won't. Maybe marriage isn't on his- I stop myself._ No. Not now. _

"What are your plans for 12?" I ask him,

"We came in to liberate you from any leftover Capital Loyalist," Peeta's breathing deeply, probably trying to keep from crying out in pain as mom works on his arm. "Tell me that was a clean arrow."

"What are you plans for 12?" I repeat. I clean all my arrows, but for all I know that arrow was through a squirrel yesterday…

"I told you-"

"No. You told me what you are doing here today. Right now. What's going to happen to the people of 12?" I hear that tone of voice that mom hates. The one that makes her eyes squint at me as if she can't hear me. Surprisingly, she's not looking at me with those disapproving squinty eyes. She's looking at Peeta's face. She pulls the thread through his skin slowly, and his breathing gets choppy.

"They will be transferred to 13 or 11, if they manage to take 11 today," He says.

"They can't stay here?" I can't fathom living anywhere but 12. It's not much, but 12 is my home.

"Well, I guess they could. We won't be able to support them though. They could starve out here," He's looking at the front wound as mom begins on the back of his arm. I'm kind of impressed he didn't pass out.

"What-" My questions are interrupted by the door slamming into mom.

I watch as her needle sticks into Peeta's, no, the boy's arm. He sucks in his breath deeply and closes his eyes. I wonder if now he will pass out.

"You barricade the door, sweetheart?" A male voice calls out.

"Not yet," I call back.

Mom and Prim move Peeta to the side, and I load my bow. The door swings open and I've got my arrow poised. Haymitch's eyes widen and he lets out a laugh.

"Well, isn't this grand. What are you gonna do, sweetheart? Shoot them all down with one quiver of arrows?" He turns and looks at Peeta. "And you shot him. That was smart. Good plan. I can see you're a great negotiator."

"What do you want Haymitch?"

He's just standing, glaring at me. My door is open. There are troops that were casually walking around, now staring into my home. I'm exposed and this idiot drunk is going to get us killed.

"I'm trying to get everyone to load up. But _surprise_! They won't listen to me. They are waiting on you to get your scrawny butt out there and tell them what to do. Wake up, sweetheart. Those people need you out there. How's it going to look when they see you shot him?" Haymitch gestures towards the boy.

"I can't tell them what to do," I say. I know I sound whiney, but I'm overwhelmed. Nothing seems to have gone like I thought it would. All my planning has accomplished nothing.

Haymitch approaches me, slaps my hand until I unload my arrow from the bow, and grabs me by the back of my jacket. He jerks me up right, and slams me on my feet.

"Stop it!" I hear the boy yell. He's glaring at Haymitch.

"You idiot, she shot you!" He says. He grabs the front of my shirt and jerks me forward to him so that we are nose to nose. His breath, smelling like liquor, hits my face as he says, "I didn't drag my ass through the wilderness for days, go through the hell of getting sober, just for you to get them all killed."

I press the tip of the arrow to his neck under his chin and watch his face become even more hostile.

"Let me go," I push the arrow a little harder. "Now."

Haymitch lets my shirt go and slowly grabs the arrow pulling it away from him. I note a little blood and I can't help but feel a little pleasure at it. But then I look out the door. I can see some of 12 huddled in a group outside my door, waiting. They've probably been watching the entire exchange.

I grab my bow and walk to my porch. The soldiers from 13 grab their weapons, but none are aiming at me. I wonder if the boy is talking into his wire.

"Everyone ok?" I ask the group. Sae shoves her way forward.

"Couple of the miners were fight'en. That's about it. No one saw these boys coming up," She tells me.

I sit on my steps and look at the small group, they are waiting on me. I'm not a leader. I've never wanted to tell anyone what to do or be responsible for other's lives. The thought of these people trusting me to know what's best for their lives is insane.

"Peeta, you think you can make it out here?" I ask him. I hear him shuffle out, as he takes a seat next to me. I'm ready to shoot him again. He's wearing my dad's Reaping day buttoned shirt, the one I wear to bed.

I look back at my mom, who won't meet my eyes. I remember my dad wearing the shirt. On Reaping day, everyone is required to show up at the square outside the Justice Building. We all dress in our best clothes to watch the Tributes are chosen. This was my dad's best shirt. After he died I sold everything I could, but I never could part with his shirt. All his other clothes I gave to Gale's family, for his brothers. That shirt, the one Peeta has left causally unbuttoned, means a lot to us. If I wasn't wearing it, mom or Prim cuddled up in it.

"This is Peeta. He tells me that these men are from 13 and that they have come to liberate us from the Capital. We can go with them back to 13, to 11, or stay here without assistance. Peeta is here to answer your questions."

And they take turns, voicing concerns. Peeta patiently answers them in a kind voice. 13 was never destroyed, they live in bunkers under the earth. Their President is called Coin, and is surprisingly a woman. If we go with them we will all be assigned a duty, and those that can, will fight if they want to. No one will be forced to fight. The questions and answers slowly die down until all eyes are on me again.

"Tell us what to do," Someone in the crowd says.

They look to me. It's so quiet. Peeta's eyes are burning a hole into the side of my face, but I refuse to look at him. I don't know what to tell them. I can't lead them. I can't even feed them.

"I can't. You have to choose. Each choice has complications, and I can't tell you what's best," I say.

The crowd begins to mutter in disapproval. Haymitch is swearing behind me, leaning against my house. Peeta sighs. _What?! _I think.

"We will follow you, Katniss." Sae says.

The crowd agrees, shouting that they are with me. _I can't feed you,_ I want to shout. _I don't know what to do!_

"I need you to get word out. I need you to tell the people to make their choice. If I tell you what to do, I'm no better than Snow," I'm staring at Sae. I can't begin to fathom this level of trust.

"If you stay here, you'll starve." Peeta's mad.

I can tell he's frustrated at me for not telling them all that they need to go to 13.

"It's not your choice to make. We've been told what to do our entire lives. We've had our children stolen from us, making payments to the Capital with their lives in a game for their amusement. We've been forced to mine coal in unsafe conditions, and we've paid for it with the blood of our men. They've paid for the right to make their own choices. Now, you want me to tell these people that I know what's best? They've earned the right to think for themselves," I stand but Haymitch blocks the door to my house. I look back at the crowd of survivors. "Spread the word; tell them what you've heard. Let the people make their own choice."

And with that I shove Haymitch out of the door way and go back inside my house. I hear Prim and mom follow and the door close. Finally, I lose the control I've been trying to maintain. I let out a deep shaking breath.

* * *

It doesn't take long for mom and Prim to start in on me. I barely seat myself at the table and they are asking me questions. I try to block them out, to have a moment to not think, but it's not working.

"Katniss!" Prim raises her voice, "What are we going to do? Tell me!"

I know what I want. I know what I need. I know what I should do. Yet, the possibilities are overwhelming me. I'm thinking of running to the woods to the cabin to talk this through with Gale, but I don't want to lead 13 to him. Gale has always had a way of understanding my concerns without me listing them all. He's been my best friend as long as I can remember.

And as if I summoned him, he slams through my door, his two younger brothers trailing after him. His hair is wild, his eyes crazed. All three are gasping for air, as if they have been running for a long time.

"It's a trap Catnip!" He whispers heated to me.

"I know that, Gale. He told me," I start, but Gale interrupts me.

"No, not the rebels. Listen to me, where are all the people? Tell me they aren't in one spot?" He's slowly catching his breath. "Nevermind. Rory, take Prim and Mrs. Everdeen into the woods." Gale turns to me and silences me with a look. "There are six Capital crafts hovering over the other side of the lake. It's a trap Katniss. They are waiting until all of 12 and all of the rebels get in one place, then they are going to bomb us. There aren't any Peacekeepers and any merchants who had a specialized trade have been moved. They are going to bomb us all to prove their point to the rebels. Hell, they probably are going to broadcast it. Maybe they are just waiting on the perfect shot."

I jumped from the table and threw everything we had that was important into a bag. By the time he's done talking I've shoved the bag in Prim's hands and I've pushed her out the door. Mom takes Prim by the hand and clutches tightly. They follow Rory to the makeshift gate in the fence. Mom turns at the gate and waves at me. Prim holds up our Districts three finger salute. I return it and watch as they clear the line of trees.

"Peeta, come here." I call out. He rolls his eyes at me and starts over. I don't miss the heated look between him and Gale. I realize I'm clutching Gales arm tightly.

"Someone you want me to meet?" Peeta asks.

"Shut up. Gale, tell him."

While glaring at each other, Gale transfers the information. I see Peeta straighten his back and grab his wire. He begins furiously speaking into it in low tones. I see a shift in his men as they abandon whatever they were doing and start into the woods.

"You're not going to warn my people?!" I shriek at him. I see Haymitch jogging over, a bag full of bottles.

"Where's everyone going?" He asks.

I don't wait for the exchange. I start running. I'm banging on doors that I pass and people come out quick.

"Get to the woods. Stay low. They're coming. Tell who you can and run for cover," I yell. And as fast as I am, I know I don't have long. It's a matter of time. No one stops to ask me who is coming; they just move quickly doing what I've instructed.

"If we wait until night fall-" Peeta says, jogging up to me as I run to another door. I cut him off with a wave of my hand.

"Don't be stupid. They'll be here in a matter of hours if not minutes. That's why you already evacuated your men."

"I didn't evacuate them; I sent them to the lake to take down the hover crafts," He says.

I turn and punch him as hard as I can in his jaw. He falls back onto the ground, holding his face. I see this bandaged arm start to bleed through the bandage and onto my Dad's shirt. I wonder if he didn't rip open the stitches catching himself.

"I don't have time for you. You've sentenced us to death," I tell him before running to the next door. I repeat myself over and over, slamming on doors. When I look back to where Peeta was, I see he's gone. I'm not surprised.

I've been beating on doors for over thirty minutes when I hear the loud bombs begin. It sounds like they are bombing the lake, or Peeta's men are bombing the ships by the lake. I begin yelling as loud as I can.

"GET TO THE WOODS! RUN FOR THE WOODS! SPREAD OUT! LET'S GO!" I turn and start running for the fence line.

I hear a ship approaching, and I see my people running with all that they are towards the fence, thankfully ignoring the gates. I see Gale carrying a kid on his back, one on his arm, and helping a pregnant woman into the fence. Sae is hobbling a few feet in front of me. I grab her arm as I run up and start pulling her, rushing her towards the fence and the safety of the woods. The hover craft is closer now; I can hear the whine of the engine as it picks up speed. I see the faces in the woods, yelling and urging us on.

I make it to the fence and help Sae under. Some of the miner men come forward and start pulling people through. I turn back and look at the people still running towards the fence. I'm waving them forward, yelling at them to hurry. The wind above my head picks up, about blowing me over. The sand kicks up into my eyes, and I'm squinting trying to see. I feel myself being pushed downwards with the force of the hover craft's engines. I hold my place. As it passes over me, I begin yelling again, shouting for people to hurry. Tears stream down my face as three more crafts pass over. I feel my voice scratch as I continue to yell. There are so many still running towards the fence.

And then hell falls down from the sky.

They hit the Justice Building first, and I watch in a fascinated horror as my District begins to burn. Maybe it's the coal that lives in our pours, coating everything like paint, which makes the fire grow so rapidly. The people are running for the fence as hard as they can, but the crafts are already on to them.

And I think to myself, this is why they hit the Justice Building first. They were going to scare out all survivors and shoot them down. I feel Gale pulling me through the fence as I stare in horror at the survivors.

They are on fire. Bombs rained down, coating them in fire. They scream, still running towards us. Many fall where they are hit, others crawl. I'm still yelling, as I'm pulled into the woods. I'm screaming with every ounce of energy I have.

"COMMON! YOU CAN MAKE IT! COMMON! OVER HERE!" I keep repeating it. I'm screaming it at them with every ounce of adrenaline pumping through my veins.

And some do make it. They run through the fence and into the arms of our people. Most don't. We watch them burn like our District. And we scream with them.

After the hover crafts fly away I turn to Gale, only it's not Gale. It's Peeta that's been holding me.

"Let me go," I say. My voice is hoarse, a squeak to how it usually sounds.

"They will come back if you go in there," He tells me.

"Either you let me go, or I'll make you," I rasp back. I feel his arms loosen on my waist and I start for the fence. Just as I'm about to touch it I hear Gale.

"CATNIP! It's on!" He yells. Gale's running up to me, as I drop my hand before I touch the fence.

I turn to the side and vomit right beside me. Once the cheese and bread Peeta gave me is gone, I take a deep breath and wipe my mouth on the back of my hand. The Capital has finally turned our gate back on, probably after they realized we could escape. _Too late_, I think. _Some of us already made it out._

I start towards the section of the fence that we cut open. I'm jogging as quick as I can, not stopping to see if Gale follows. But I know he'll be there. Just as I knew he'd be helping me alert our District before the bombs came.

I run through the fence opening and into the district. I feel my stomach seize at the smell of burning flesh and hair. The people that are burning bodies I know are gone, dead.

"Is there anyone there?!" I yell.

I'm running, screaming as loud as I can manage. Gale yells with me, searching for any survivors. Everything is on fire. The smoke causes me to choke, but still I yell.

I see Buttercup dash out from between two burning buildings and run towards me. There is no way I'm carrying him back towards the woods. Not even for Prim. I push him towards the woods. When he doesn't go, I clap my hands and wave them. He runs, hopefully towards the survivors in the woods.

There aren't many places that I'm able to see through. The flames are swallowing everything. I hear the mines explode as the ground shakes below our feet. After running around, trying to find a way in, I have to admit defeat. Any survivors that were in the buildings are gone. Everything is on fire. I swallow bile and turn towards the bodies that were running towards the fence. I begin a slow walk towards the fence.

Gale tries to grab my hand but I pull it away. I need to feel this pain. I need to feel the responsibility of the deaths around me, the ones I couldn't save. I walk through the burning corpses, tears streaming down my face.

And then I hear a small cough. I stop and begin searching around me.

"Where are you?" I yell. I don't recognize my own voice, it's so hoarse. But I keep yelling. Repeating myself. I don't see anyone. I hear the cough again, and stop yelling.

Gale and I are frantic, searching for the owner. And then I see him. A little seam boy curled up into a ball in the tall grass. My eyes widen as I run and snatch him out of the grass, thankful that it hadn't caught fire yet. He's light, maybe a four year old. Another Seam survivor. Gale starts yelling again, checking the grass looking for more. But we hear nothing more, and see no movements beyond the burning fire.

Clutching my tiny bundle, I head back towards my fence, and through the makeshift gate. I feel my heart being swallowed by grief. My throat is burning with pain, not from yelling but with loss. I know, as I turn back and look, this image of my District will haunt me for the rest of my life. I kiss three fingers on my left hand, and hold them towards my burning home.

And I let it go. I walk into the woods, into the trees of people saluting our District. We all stand together, gripped in agony, watching hell consume everything. No one speaks.

_This_, I think_, is the Capital's way. They wait until you have hope before they squash you down._

What seems like hours later, while the buildings still burn, I feel someone take the child from my arms. I look into my mother's eyes as she nods to me.

"I've got him, let me look him over," She says. I nod and let him go.

"Prim?" I'm almost startled by my own voice.

"She found buttercup. They are fine," She answers. I watch as mom puts a salve on the boys burned hands and kisses his forehead. "I saw your brother down that way; let's go get you to him. He's so worried."

She doesn't mention the boy's parents, and I don't have to wonder where they are. "I'll come back Katniss, don't go anywhere."

Where would I go? Where will we all go? As dusk begins, I can't make out how far, how deep my people are in the woods, but we're sitting ducks as it is.

And like that, I feel my survivor instincts kick back in.

"Gale?" I try to holler. But my voice is raw. I don't manage more than a breathy groan. The woman next to me grabs my hand and squeezes it.

"Gale?" She calls for me. I see the people turn and begin to mummer to each other until I hear Gale call back out, "Katniss?"

He walks out of the tree line, jogging down it to find me. I step out as well and wait for his approach. When he sees me, he grabs my shoulders and pulls me to him in a tight hug. I feel the eyes of District 12, watching. I push back and nod.

"What are we going to do?" I try. But my voice is truly gone, too full of air to make a sound. I place a hand to my throat and shake my head.

The same woman who called for Gale, who held my hand, is beside me with a jug of water. I nod to her and mouth my thanks. I lean the jug back guzzling it down. My throat feels a little better, but still burns from all my yelling. I go to hand the jug back to her, but she's disappeared into the tree line.

My eyes sweep the tree line; our people stare out at me. All waiting on what I will say. I feel myself shiver. I've gotten an unknown amount of them killed, yet they still look to me. Then again, maybe it's Gale they are looking to. Strong, brave Gale who is standing next to me.

"Tell me what to do." I squeak out. Gale shakes his head, rubbing a hand through his hair.

"Where's the guy from 13?" He asks.

The boy I shot. The boy I punched and knocked down. The boy I blamed. But I realize this isn't his fault, he was trying to save us. It was my stubborn will that got these people killed. I should have told them to load up the moment Peeta offered.

"Peeta, that's his name." I tell Gale. Peeta, who pulled me through the fence and held me as I watched my world burn to the ground.

"Peeta!" Gale yells into the woods. I hear the murmuring go through the trees and Peeta is shoved out of the woods and falls to the ground about 50 feet from us. I see him stand and brush himself off before heading our way.

"When are your people coming to pick us up?" Gale asks.

"I don't know. I've been demoted," Peeta looks me over with his eyes. "I'm glad you're ok Katniss."

I hear Gale grind his teeth for a moment and I can feel the frustration rolling off of him in waves.

"Because you let our District burn to death," Gale says angrily through his clenched teeth.

"That's my fault," I breathe out, my voice barely a whisper. Both heads turn to look at me, both shaking their heads no.

"I was demoted for not taking proper authority over the District and for not having our scanners on. I allowed my men to search the District instead of monitor the air ways. I was a fool. I thought that the Capital would be so focused on 11 and the rebellion in 8 that they wouldn't think about you. That's why I was assigned here in the first place. All the junior fighters were. This was our test and we've failed our District and ourselves. I'll never command again," Peeta tells us. "And most importantly, I'm sorry. For your loss."

Gale glares at him then turns back to me, dismissing Peeta. I see Gale clenching his fists and struggling with his temper. Peeta holds my eyes as he reaches a hand out to me. I take his hand and I shake it. I know he feels guilty, and it must be eating him like it is me.

"Wire?" I ask. Peeta shakes his head no. "Who?"

"They've cut off all transitions, in case the Capital is listening. We can head out on foot towards District 13, but I think the hover crafts are expecting that. It would be better to stay hidden in the woods," Peeta tells us.

"You're the reason-" Gale starts to point an accusing finger at Peeta, but I reach out and push his hand down.

"We need to prepare for a night in the woods. We need to take them to the lake before it's too dark. We'll at least have water there." I croak.

Gale and Peeta stand, glaring at each other for a moment before Gale turns back towards the people waiting in the woods. The woods are silent as they watch us.

"We're going to head to the lake that's deeper in. You need to stay together and follow us. There are some traps, so make sure you follow closely," Gale calls out.

"Is that what Katniss thinks?" Someone calls out.

I feel a weight settle on my chest. I heavy burden on my shoulders threatening to crush me. Since I was eleven years old, I've been looking after Prim. Being responsible for another person's life changes you. It ages you.

When mom fell into herself, mourning our father, Prim and I were left to fend for ourselves. Prim, being only seven, couldn't understand what was wrong with our mom. No amount of begging and crying on our part changed her. Mom sat frozen staring at a wall, muttering into dad's leather hunting jacket; the same jacket that rests under the heavy weight that has settled on my shoulders. The grief, the pain, of losing our home and those who lived here chokes me.

Yet, just like before, these people are looking to me for answers.

_I'm only sixteen!_ I want to shout. Lucky for them, I don't have a voice. Instead I walk to the fence, facing our District. I kiss my fingers and raise them to the fires that still burn. I turn again and walk into the crowd, and start towards the lake.

I feel her before she speaks. Mom slides up to my side, Prim following behind her. Prim hugs me tightly, squishing the stupid cat between us. Mom takes my hand and I lead my family towards the lake, once again the leader of our small family. Only now, all the survivors are behind us.

* * *

When we get to the lake, Gale is beside me again. I know what he's telling me must be important by his tone, but I can't focus. I smell burning flesh on me. I hear the people's screams as they burned to death.

I watch as people wade in shallow water, washing the ashes of our dead off.

Gale shoves me down on the wet soil of the bank and begins taking my shoes off. He sits down and removes his shoes and socks as well. I allow him to slip my shoes and socks off and lift me from the ground. He wades in the water and places me on my feet about three feet deep.

"Wash your face," He says. I nod and lean down.

The cold water sinks into my feet, my bones. The water is refreshing as I scrub my face. It's then that I see my hands, blackened in all the creases. My hands look like my father's did when he got home from the mines. With a choked sob I grab soil from to bottom of the lake and use it to scrub my hands. I'm frantic to get the memory off my hands. No amount of scrubbing releases the guilt of death.

"Catnip, stop." Gale reaches over and takes my hands in his. "I need you to hang on. We've got to sort this out."

Hang on. Hang on. I can't make my mind catch up to him. What is there left to hang on to? Everything is ashes. Hang on. To what?

"I've got a rough count; about five hundred have made it out. We've got to feed them Katniss," He tells me. "I emptied out everything from the cabin, but it isn't enough. We need to move."

He's staring at me.

I turn from him and look at everyone in sight. Most are at the bank of the lake, sipping water from their hands and rinsing; probably too scared to enter the lake. I don't think many would know how to swim, if any at all. There are quite a few in the woods as well, sitting around small fires. I turn away from them all, even Gale, and wade deeper. I dive under the water and swim out until the water is just below my chest.

I hear someone splashing behind me, but I don't have answers for him. Gale, I know, doesn't mean to pressure me. I know he needs help, but I need to come back to myself and focus.

"Just, give me a few minutes," I say, my voice still sounding rough and hoarse.

"Go ahead. I've never seen a more beautiful sunset. We don't get to see many in 13," Peeta says. I turn and stare him down. "Not who you were expecting?"

"No."

I expect him to keep asking me questions, but he just stands beside me in silence. We stare at out over the water as the sunsets, taking in the beauty of the colors in the sky.

"Times up," I tell him, gesturing to the shore. Peeta offers me a small smile and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"I know it hurts to talk right now, both physically and emotionally. I want you to know I'm here if you want to talk about it later. I really am sorry Katniss," He says.

I put a hand to my aching throat and he seems to understand. We walk in silence back to the shore where Gale is waiting with his arms crossed over his chest.

"How's the arm?" Gale asks Peeta with a smirk.

Peeta shrugs at Gale and looks over to me, "I'll get your dad's shirt back to you as soon as possible."

"Why not right now?" Gale's got a tone to his voice I've never heard and he's staring Peeta down hard. Peeta doesn't flinch, just smiles at Gale like he's just told a joke.

"I wanted to wash the blood off first, but if Katniss wants to wear a shirt that smells like my sweat," He begins to pull it off, "then who am I to stop her?"

My overtired brain dismisses them both as I walk into the woods and begin to check on everyone. I see a mixture of 13 with 12, both socializing and eating small portions of game. I walk for a while, past the survivors and deeper into the woods. When I can't see anyone else from the makeshift camp, I find Haymitch leaned against a tree, drinking from a bottle.

I hold out an arm and with a raised eyebrow he passes the liquor. I take a big gulp and begin coughing almost as soon as it hits my throat. But it's a good burn, and I take another big gulp.

"Don't let them see you with me," He gestures to the make shift camp of people. "I'll ruin your reputation."

"What should we do?"

Haymitch frowns at me before snatching his liquor bottle back. He takes a few large sips from it, and I watch in disgust as a trail of drool and liquor runs down his chin.

"Why don't we sit tight? We've got food, drink, and fine company to last a while. They'll get here when they get here," He says.

And if I was Haymitch I guess that would be my main concern as well, my liquor. Because there is no doubt in my mind that Haymitch is most concerned about his precious liquor he managed to hold on to. District 12's only living victor Haymitch, somehow made it all the way to 13 without starving or dying. And this is how I know he's more than just a drunk, even if it consumes him as much as he consumes it.

"They're not done," I point towards 12. "They'll come back."

Haymitch sighs, like I'm the biggest disappointment there is. He takes a few more long pulls from his bottle.

"What do you want me to do about it?" He says with a sarcastic smile. "I brought you 13, tried to get everyone out in time, and look. Here we are. Burned alive."

I'm tempted to smack the bottle from his hand and demand he sober up, but I know it won't help us. I feel the anger that causes me to make rash decisions, like shooting Peeta, is about to boil over.

"Oh, I don't know. Help us maybe?" I rasp out in anger.

"Sweetheart, does it look like I can help anyone?" He waves his arms around, the liquor in the bottle splashing. "I tried that, and no one listened to old drunk Haymitch."

I don't know what I was thinking, asking for help. I glare at him as he glares at me. And suddenly, both our heads turn in the same direction in the woods.

I squat down next to him and pull my bow off my back. Haymitch pulls out an old long knife from inside his coat.

"It's probably an animal or survivor." He whispers quietly to me.

We watch the woods, waiting for some sign of life. Nothing comes, but more branches begin to snap in the distance.

"It's time to move out," Haymitch says standing and eyeing the woods. He looks down at the liquor and shakes his head. "Such a shame."

Slowly, we move back into the camp, snuffing out fires and moving the people forward. My heart races, because the survivors don't move quietly. I can't tell the noise from the woods from the camp noises.

Gale catches up to me with his bow in hand. A few armed women and men from 12 with makeshift weapons, and armed men from 13 are behind him. I take a steadying breath.

"Someone from 13 needs to lead the people," I whisper.

"Already done," Peeta whispers back from the group. "They also have some of my men protecting them."

"Don't fire your weapons, it will be too loud and will give away our position." Gale instructs the armed men of 13.

In less than twenty minutes, the camp has cleared out and shuffle along away from danger.

Twigs snapping echo in the woods. We take up the tail end of the heard, walking backwards, searching the woods. I see a lone Peacekeeper and I release my arrow into his heart. I see Gale take down another. I expect the Peacekeepers to swarm in, but they are spread out, searching for survivors. It's agonizing moving so slow. I see Haymitch darting through trees, and cut a Peacekeepers throat. I wouldn't have expected him to be so quick on his feet, but Haymitch is almost silent as he moves.

We move through the night, the woods dark and frightening. After hours of not releasing anymore arrows, I'm starting to think we lost the Peacekeepers. The dawn begins to break through the woods, illuminating an empty forest. The birds begin to chirp, singing songs of a new day. And still we march on.

I'm almost dead on my feet when Peeta comes over to me and says, "Our communication signal is back up. They're on their way."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I do not own anything.

I am sincerely sorry for the delay. Life stormed in and stole me away. For now, I am back.

* * *

Chapter Three

I can't imagine how the elderly and children of District 12 feel when the hover crafts arrive. My own legs were burning and aching, and I'm used to long days in the woods. It has been the longest 48 hours of my life.

And I think the worst part is that it feels like one giant day because we walked through the night. This time yesterday, I had mom and Prim in the hole and I was preparing to fight for their lives. This time yesterday I was watching the blonde boy, trying to gage if I could trust him or not.

When District 13's hover crafts land, Peeta orders the women, children, and elderly to board first. I can see the exhaustion on the citizens of 12, especially the elderly. My mom even mentioned that some of us will need medical care from breathing in too much smoke. From my burning lungs, I may be one of them.

Yet, I interject that every woman and child will have a male to ride with them for protection. As I anticipated, Peeta isn't on board with this. But, a man named Boggs orders Peeta on board so there isn't much he can say. I watch as Boggs approaches Haymitch, and they begin pointing my way. After the look of surprise, Boggs begins to walk over to me.

"You're the leader of 12?" He asks, looking me up and down. Boggs is about a foot taller than me, broad shouldered, and has a stern face.

"I'm Katniss," I answer. "I don't lead, I just protect them. We're not getting on those crafts unless every female and child has a male along with them."

He stares at me for a moment before he looks over my exhausted people.

"Just what do you think we are going to do?" Boggs asks.

"I know that 13 doesn't have many women and children. I know that your district is mostly male. I don't care to think what you may or may not do. I'll not put my people in a position that may be dangerous without protection. I want to load them up how I see fit," I tell him. Boggs waves his arm and gestures to the hover crafts.

"By all means, hop aboard and see for yourself. You can be on the first wave."

"No, I'll stay until everyone is loaded up. I'll have my partner go with you, and my enforcement crew. Gale will ride back and tell me that it's safe."

Boggs nods and gets back on the closest ship. After bickering with Gale for a moment, I watch as he gets some of the miners who protected 12 on board. When Gale asks for volunteers, Sae and the miner's wives hop on board. The rest just stare at me, waiting. I'm pleased to see that my mother isn't among the first volunteers. And that she's managed to keep Prim from jumping on the ship. I almost feel sorry for Prim, surely my mom has chewed her ear off about jumping out of the hole.

"Perhaps one ship could go and come back?" I ask Boggs.

About an hour later Gale returns, grinning and waving people forward. I watch as they are loaded as efficiently as possible. I'm trying not to fall to the ground when the last ship is ready. We all squeeze in for our first ride in a hover craft. It's so much different than I thought it would be. I thought it would be smooth and relaxing. But it jerks me with the slightest movement, making my stomach feel like I'm falling.

When we finally land, I have to fight the impulse to push through the crowd to get off. I've decided that I don't like riding in the closed in space, and I'd prefer to never set foot in a hover craft again.

The loud cranking of the door makes my temples throb, and my head feels fuzzy from exhaustion. I've never been drunk like Haymitch, but I imagine this is what he feels like after a long night in his bottles. My eyes are burning, and my head keeps pounding when the door is finally open.

We're greeted by the sight of a long wide room filled with military equipment. While I know I should be analyzing and trying to figure out the sums and quantity of ships and various gear, all I can do is rub my eyes and focus on moving my aching thighs forward to follow my feet.

As we unload we're directed forward by uniformed men to be placed into rooms. The men all wear a dark washed uniform, but thankfully are not armed. I can't help but to think of the Peacekeepers. My arrow sailed true, and I killed a man today.

"I'll have to take your weapon. There are no weapons past this point," Boggs says as he stops me.

I feel my fingers tightening on the bow, my initial reaction to string it and shoot him down. But I'm exhausted. I'm hungry. I've lead these people here in the hopes of getting aid. We've come too far to back out because he wants my dad's bow.

"This bow was my fathers, where will it be placed?" I ask, taking off my quiver.

"It will be placed in holding, a secure storage unit of weapons," He tells me.

"He died in the mines; he can't make me another bow. What's to stop you from breaking it?" I'm clutching it, determined to keep it and knowing I have to let it go.

"I promise you, you'll get it upon your release. I'll put it in my personal weapons locker in the holding unit. No one will touch it. You have my word," Boggs gently reaches for the bow.

I feel my heart racing as I place my bow in his hand. I can't seem to let it go. My hand is shaking from lack of sleep and food. My bones are heavy from walking all night. I need food and sleep. Yet, I can't let go of the bow.

"Look at me," Boggs says. I look into his eyes. "I will protect it."

I feel him gently remove the bow from my hands. I let out a choked sob and hand him the quiver. As soon as I see it in his large hands, I want to rip it back and run. I'm doing figures in my head, trying to guess how many deer it would take me to last the winter in the cabin. The cabin overrun with Peacekeepers. I make myself turn for the entrance, but I can't help but take one long look back at the bow.

Through the door is a group of medics that begin to check us over in a long tunnel. I'm told the warning signs for smoke inhalation, and that my breathing is consistent with them. The medic tells me to report to the medical wing. I see a few people being carted off for other medical treatments.

The next set of people hand me a bag and point me towards a hallway. I hear someone calling out for refugees, and I begin to walk that way when I'm stopped by a solider that's armed.

"Excuse me, you're to go to Command," He says, leading me towards another hall. I don't have the energy to fight him.

I'm amazed by the labyrinth as we twist and turn until we enter an elevator. I feel us begin to slowly lower into the earth, a gust of air coming through the grated floor beneath my feet. I try not to look down, but I can't seem to stop myself. Below my feet is a black abyss. I decide I don't like elevators any more than I like the hover craft.

We exit and head down a tunnel, making looping circles until we reach a nondescript door. He knocks twice and opens it up. I was expecting a grand room filled with people, instead there is a small grey headed woman sitting at a large table, watching a screen of monitors filled with my people. I don't think she is older than my mom, as her face still looks young. Yet, her hair hangs straight and grey.

She stands and walks over to me, sizing me up. I don't speak; my mind is in a thick fog. The silence in the room is sharp in my ears. And it's strange to hear the silence. In 12 there is always some kind of noise. Even in my beloved forest there is always a lullaby of nature whispering it is song into my soul. Here there is a piercing high pitched silence that steals my breath.

I hear a noise behind me, and turn to see Haymitch and Gale entering.

"Haymitch, it's good to see you're still with us. I'm sorry about your loss," She says, her voice startling me. Then turning towards me, "I'm Alma Coin."

I don't take the hand she's offered, but instead hold up my dirty set.

"I'm filthy," I tell her. She narrows her eyes and gives me a tight smile.

"I'm the Leader of District 13. We welcome you. I understand that you both fought hard today to save your District. I admire your bravery and fortuity." She's smiling at us, nodding.

I zone out their conversation, looking around the room. I stare at Haymitch's hair, which is greasy and limp. I imagine that my hair must look as fantastic as his does. His shirt, I realize, has blood splatters on it. Little red droplets make a map of death all the way to his hands. His hands are pink and look raw, like he just scrubbed them with something coarse. I look at my hands, still dark with soot and coal.

I feel the exhaustion wearing me down, and I'm tempted to go to the table and sit down. I imagine I could fall asleep where I stand. A yawn is creeping up my chest, but my throat is tight with smoke. I can't seem to get a full breath in my lungs. I feel like my chest is rattling.

"Ms. Everdeen?" Coin says in a tilted voice. I think she may have called me a few times, by the look Haymitch and Gale are giving me.

"Yes?" My voice rasps out. I need water. A large glass of water and a bed.

"I was explaining your living quarters and the repercussions for shooting one of our soldiers. Did you hear me?" She's talking to me like I'm a child. I know that I can't be making the best first impression, but neither is she.

"That doesn't matter. We need to discuss the terms for hosting my District of refugees. What will be expected of us and what will you give in return?" My legs are starting to shake, but I refuse to be the first to admit it.

"Haymitch and I will work that all out. Forgive me, you must be exhausted. Why don't I have you escorted to your rooms? We can talk later," Coin pats my arm and turns dismissing me.

I want to push her, to yell at her, but I don't have the strength. Tomorrow, we will talk and discuss what has to be done. Right now, I have to let my body repair itself.

Gale and I are lead out of the room by a guard, but Gale grabs my arm and pulls me close. He whispers in my ear, his breath fanning my hair.

"She said she's going to have a guard at your door. You're restricted to your room until there is an official report," Gale tells me. "Don't worry Catnip; I won't let them hurt you."

I just nod at him. He throws his arm around my waist as we are lead to the elevator. It opens before us and Peeta walks out. I can't read his facial expression, but I can tell he isn't happy to see me. I raise my eyebrows at him.

"Hold on Mathew," Peeta tells the man walking with him. He turns to me, looks me up and down and then inspects Gale. "You ok?"

I can't catch my breath. I cough, but I'm so dizzy I can't stand. Gale catches me as I collapse.

* * *

When I wake up, the first thing I notice is that my hands are restrained and I am unable to speak due to plastic in my mouth. I start choking, but I can't seem to cough.

"Katniss! It's ok," my mom says. She's sitting in a chair next to the bed, watching me intently. "You had to be intubated. Your throat closed and you weren't breathing."

I pull at my arms and open and close my hands. She releases a hand and I quickly release the other.

"You kept trying to pull the tube out in your sleep. They had to restrain you," she tells me. "Leave it alone, the nurses will come remove it in a minute."

There are tubes running into my arms, bags hanging from a pole dripping into my body. I feel uneasy, secluded in sterile hospital room, lying on scratchy sheets. My clothes are gone, and I'm lying in a plain white hospital gown. I meet my mother's eyes again.

"They put you under and did a scope into your lungs, which are fine. You just needed oxygen and hydration," She reaches over and takes my hand. "We were so worried."

I lean back onto the bed and try to let my body relax. The sensation of the tube pumping oxygen into my body frightens me. My legs ache and my right knee feels as though someone is stabbing me in the bone. My back and shoulders are tight, a dull pain throbbing in between them. I've worked my body hard the past few days, and now in the calm I will pay the price.

After waiting for what seemed like an hour, but was realistically under half an hour, a strong man in scrubs approaches my bed. He smiles and chats with my mom about my vitals and tells her that the hospital is always looking for healers and nurses. My mom nods but doesn't make any commitments.

Slowly, the tube in my throat is removed. The nurse continues to chat jovially with my mom, which does nothing to put me at ease. Does he think that my mom would be a good wife? I narrow my eyes at them both. He's young, but I don't think that would stop him from trying to date an older woman.

The chatter grates on my nerves. I interrupt them with, "What about these tubes in my arm?"

He turns back to me and gives me a considering look. Then his gaze meets a group of monitors over my head that give a constant feedback on my vitals. He clicks his tongue, making a tune before looking back at me.

"We'll keep you overnight. You're doing better, but I don't trust that you won't overdo it," He starts to tell me, but I refuse to let him continue this train of thought.

"Get the tubes out of my arms," I say as calmly as possible. "Or I will."

He gives me a patronizing smile and widens his eyes like he's talking to a baby or something. "Now, now! I don't want to have to restrain your arms again little lady!"

"You'd better take the tubes out, or I will," my mom tells him.

She stands up and crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him. I feel my heart ache for a moment, wondering where this protective side of my mother has been. Has it been there all along?

I move my hand over the tube that is on top of my hand and start removing the tape. The nurse, unsure of us, keeps looking back and forth between us while trying to form words on his mouth.

"Listen," He begins.

"Forget it, little lady," I tell him.

My mom takes a step towards him and I slowly pull a small tube from the top of my hand. I see his hand fidgeting in his pocket, and I can hear something clicking. I remove the second tube, and the monitors. I reach over to my mom's chair, where she's hung my dad's leather jacket. I slip it on over my hospital gown and take a step out of the bed. My legs feel weak and unsteady beneath me.

The man makes for the door, walking quickly away. I assume he's gone to tattle on me. I wonder what their next step is. Will they drug me to put me back to sleep? Will they _accidentally _give me too much and indefinitely put me to sleep?

"How long was I out?" I ask my mom, as we walk out of the small room. My feet are chilled from walking barefoot, but I know this is the least of our problems.

She takes my arm and leads me around the rooms. After a few turns, we're out of the hospital. It seems she's learned the labyrinth as she quickly navigates to an elevator to pull me on. Just as the gates close, we see the nurse coming around the hall, looking frantic. We get off two floors up, and my mom begins to lead me through the monotonous grey halls.

"At first I didn't realize what was going on. After the third day, I realized they were keeping you under. Your vitals were steady, and you were rehydrated with fluids but still you slept. I refused to leave the room after that. My questions put them on edge. After all the other people were dismissed from the hospital, I demanded that you be taken off the medication. They tried to pretend that they didn't know what I was talking about. It seems they weren't ready for you to leave," she pauses and looks at me. "You've been there for five days."

Five days. These people have stolen five days of my life. More importantly, what have they stolen from other people if they can so easily steal my time.

"I don't know if it was necessary to your healing or not. But I've never seen a miner take longer than a few days to heal from smoke," she turns and faces me. "Usually they either live or they don't."

"What did I miss?" I hear my voice, strong like it was before the attack.

"We were assigned rooms; you're on a different floor than us. The leader here, they call her Coin, she's made a few speeches," mom pauses and opens a door to our right and pushes me inside.

Gale stops talking mid-sentence and rushes over to take me into his strong arms. I smell the woods on his collar, the warm smell of man that is simply Gale. My arms move around his waist and I hold myself tighter to him; Gale, my home.

"What did I miss?" I ask into Gale's chest, trying to pull away.

His arms tighten to me for a moment before letting me go. I blush, realizing I'm in a very thin hospital gown and Gale's body was just wrapped tight against mine. I pull my leather jacket around my chest and zip it closed.

"And get me some clothes," I tell Gale

* * *

Coin has made speeches promises retribution against the Capital for the loss of our homes. She's offered citizenship to District 13 to all refugees. Some have accepted her offer, and are now considered members of District 13.

I don't blame them. Here, everyone is given a job and are respected for their work. Here, they have three meals a day and a constant supply of fresh drinking water. Here, they have climate control housing that is safe. And to most, that would be enough.

However, I learn that most refuse to make any decisions until they find out what has happened to me. Apparently, they are concerned that Coin has killed me, their chosen leader, to assert authority over them. Gale has kept them calm enough; reassuring them I'm receiving medical care. Yet, they are uneasy and distrustful.

I don't blame them. For far too long the Capital controlled us. With a taste of independence, it's hard to go back to depending on a leader to keep promises. Coin hasn't shown me any signs that she's not the same manipulative leader that Snow is.

Which is why I'm not surprised when a group of guards come to the room to escort me to my assigned dwelling. They don't listen to our protests, and even Prim's tears don't seem phase them. I'm taken roughly by the arms and lead away.

I'm assigned a room, surprisingly by myself. There is a set of bunk beds, and a small dresser. The room is especially small, leaving barely any room to walk. A small recessed door holds a sink, toilet, and shower. I cup my hands under the water from the sink, and take gulps down.

The lake was always beautiful, no matter the season. In the summer, it was my favorite place to swim. I remember dad taking me there for the first time. It had been such a long hike for me at the time. The sun was sweltering, and my shirt stuck to my back with the sweat. Dad's jacket, even in the heat, rested on his broad shoulders. He always wore the leather jacket, even in the summer, to hunt. Yet, we hadn't checked our traps and he hadn't shot a single animal.

When we came to the lake, my mouth felt like cotton. I had already emptied my water bottle and I was too ashamed to ask for any of dad's water. When I saw the sparkling water, I took off running. Just as my feet would have made contact, I was swooped off my feet and spun around by dad. He set me on the bank, laughing as he helped me take my boots off. I ran in after that, taking large gulps of water from my hands. The water here is just as clear as the lake. The taste of it however, cannot compare to the fresh crisp lake water. Here, it has a metal stale taste that makes my nose crinkle.

My hands have changed so much since that first day at the lake. Before they were so small and soft. Now they are tough, and stained with death.

* * *

I'm surprised when Haymitch opens my door.

For hours I've been left alone, feeling like a prisoner in my room. The shower cut off just after I washed my hair, around five minutes. I wish there was a tub so I could have had time to scrub until I felt clean. I ended up filling the sink to scrub.

Then I began to relive yesterday, which was actually five days ago. The thought of days of my life being wiped away, hasn't fully processed. I don't understand the purpose, if it wasn't necessary. I do feel much better, my thoughts are much clearer. Maybe my body _did _need time to recover. And yet, there could be a reason I was kept asleep. And that reason might not be for my health. The time is gone, and either way I'll never be able to take it back from the doctors.

Haymitch closes the door behind him, and stands in the door with his arms crossed. It reminds me of when he stormed into my home in 12, and I feel the acid from my stomach rising and falling. I instantly feel sick.

"You just going to lay there, sweetheart?" he asks me.

My arms are behind my head, my legs crossed at the ankle, and I'm wearing Rory's jumpsuit. My body is flooded in material, as Rory is built like Gale, but it is better than the hospital gown. Haymitch is dressed in the exact same jumpsuit, with a white undershirt peeking out. I get up and pull on my dad's hunting jacket over the jumpsuit and lift my hands at Haymitch.

"You've got something better to do?"

"I thought you'd like to be at the boy's trial. The fighting in 11 is at a standstill, so Coin is going to crucify the boy to make a point. I've been asked to speak, but my memory of the attack is probably a little fuzzy," Haymitch frowns and balls his hands. "My memory would still be fuzzy if these stiffs would lighten up."

He walks out the door, and I follow. The guards that have been standing outside are no longer beside my door. Either Haymitch has dismissed them, or they finally have realized I'm not much of a threat without my bow and arrows.

My rested brain tracks our turns, memorizing the path to my room. While the halls are all identical, there are small signs posted at intersections to help navigate.

"Are you on this floor too?" I ask.

Haymitch smirks for a moment and lets out a chuckle.

"I am. This floor is monitored more than others, as we are considered hostile and prone to violence," he shrugs his shoulders. "Your boyfriend and his brother are also on this floor."

"Gale? He's not my boyfriend."

Haymitch is smirking when he says, "That's not what he thinks. He's made it clear to everyone that you're his. Preening around crowing about it."

I close my eyes on the elevator, not wanting to see Haymitch's smirk. A fury is building, begging to be released. Gale's arms wrapped around me had felt like home. Gale is home to me. Just not in the way that he wants.

When we step off the elevator, Haymitch leads me to a huge room where I see the relieved faces of District 12, and a lot of faces I don't know. As I walk past, people I know touch my arm and tell me how happy they are to see me.

Haymitch stands at my side, looking uncomfortable as he is greeted with warm welcomes. I can't remember seeing him with anyone, talking like friends. All my memories of Haymitch are him alone, carrying large bags or boxes in the direction of Victors Village.

A hush falls across the room as I hear the doors opening can closing. When I reach the front, Haymitch by my side, I see Peeta on a platform next to Coin and a group of taut looking people. Their backs look like they have rods down them, they are so straight. Coin looks down as Haymitch gives her a wave, and narrows her eyes at me.

_Ah, I guess you heard I broke out,_ I think.

The room slowly fills, becoming crowded and cramped. When no one else seems to be able to stuff in, Coin raises her arms. She starts off introducing herself, and her council. Six men and woman sit at a long table on the platform. A single chair is centered in front of the table, a chair that Peeta is seated in. His chin is bowed down, and he's not making any effort to make eye contact with anyone. His posture looks defeated.

While Coin is going over a long speech about Peeta's faults and errors, Haymitch is distracting me with whispers.

"Your trial was canceled," He says.

"What are you talking about?" I whisper back.

"For shooting the boy. They were going to make you stand trial for it, but it was canceled when the people of 12 went a little crazy about it. You'll have to watch out, Coin has her eyes on you," He says. He's not looking at me when he's talking, and his mouth barely moves. I wonder if anyone else even realizes we're not paying any attention. I hope not.

"Why?" I try not to move my lips, like Haymitch.

"Don't be stupid. You're a threat. She'll eliminate you if you're not careful. Probably was trying to keep you in that hospital until this was taken care of. Watch your back sweetheart; she'll stick a dagger in it," He says. "Your boyfriend has been talking to everyone from 12. They don't agree with me being the leader. They won't follow me, and I don't want to lead them. She's going to call for comments. You get your scrawny butt up there and fix this."

"He's not my boyfriend…" I mutter.

He moves a little ways away from me, towards the stairs to the platform.

I'm trying to focus on Coin's words, she's been droning on about details for a while now, but my head is beginning to throb. Coin thinks I'm a threat to her. It's not hard to realize why. 12 will follow me. And if they will follow me, then she can't control them.

"And now we will hear from Mr. Abernathy, leader and representative of District 12," She says.

I watch as Haymitch walks to the platform and faces Peeta. He gives the boy a nod and turns back to Coin.

"He did the best he could," Haymitch says into a microphone he was handed. "He saved a lot of lives."

Then to my amazement Haymitch walks back down the stage. He raises his eyebrows at me as he passes. I don't understand how Haymitch became the representative of District 12, besides the fact that President Coin elected him herself. She nods and writes in the book in front of her. I see the six other representatives whispering among themselves while Peeta just sits with his head down.

"We now open the floor for comments," Coin gestures for to us.

I make my way to the stage, pausing to glare at Haymitch. I stand at the edge, unsure on how to proceed.

"Please state your name," Coin tells me. I'm handed a microphone. I've never used one, but I mimic Haymitch's movements earlier.

"My name is Katniss Everdeen," I say. My voice sounds weak to my ears, and I know I shouldn't have looked over the crowd.

"Continue Ms. Everdeen," She says.

"Before I start with my comments on Peeta Mellark's actions, the people of District 12 and I have compiled a series of questions. The answers will effect of judgment of the accused." I'm bluffing, and I hope she can't tell. I see her eyes harden as she looks at me. To deny me in front of all of 12 and in front of 13 will reflect on her leadership. She's got to earn our trust and she knows it. I've backed her into a corner. She waves me on.

"We would like to know who elected Haymitch Abernathy as the representative of District 12?" I ask.

Coin smiles, and says "Mr. Abernathy became the representative of 12 when he risked his life to find District 13 in an attempt to save the lives of his District."

"We respectfully decline Mr. Haymitch Abernathy as our leader and representative. While his actions were courageous and noble, he was not elected by our people-"

"This is not the time for this conversation," Coin interrupts me.

"Actually, it is. You've declared Haymitch our representative without any election process. You claim to be different from the Capital and say that you wish to have a democracy. Yet, we were not asked who we want to represent us, we were told. Will you follow through with your promise or continue to tell us what we will do, just like President Snow?" I can feel my heart racing. And this is what always gets me in trouble. My mouth listens to the fire in my heart, not my brain which has been screaming at me to shut up. Coin glares at me and folds her hands in front of her.

"District 12 will be allowed to vote on their own leader at a later day. We will schedule," She looks down at her note book and I interrupt before she can continue.

"We are prepared to vote now, so that we may continue," I tell her. "We are all here."

"Ms. Everdeen, it will take time to prepare," She begins, but I cut her off again, speaking loudly into the microphone I was handed.

"District 12," I say. "Any volunteers?" No one moves or says a word. Coin begins to say my name again, but I won't have it.

"Any nominations?" I ask.

"All for Katniss?" I hear someone call. I watch in horror as the hands rise in our three finger salute. Even Haymitch, the drunk fool, has his hand raised. _Great_. _Just great_.

"Any other nominations?" I ask. No one says a word. _Great_. I make myself stare down Coin. Her jaw is clenched along with her fists on top of the table. _I've made a new friend_, I think.

"District 13 recognizes Katniss Everdeen as the temporary co-leader and co-representative of District 12 until the arrangements can be made to hold an official election for the position. This is hardly the entirety of District 12, the time, or place for this discussion. Ms. Everdeen and Mr. Abernathy will be acting leaders and representative with shared duties until further notice. We would like your official statement about the attack on District 12, and the performance of Solider Peeta Mellark," She says.

"President Coin, we would like to know why communication lines were cut after the bombing of District 12," I say instead.

Her left eye slightly twitches, and I see her clench her jaw for a moment. She smiles as she leans forward to speak into her microphone.

"Representative Everdeen, I remind you, we are here for the trial for Soldier Peeta Mellark and his actions during the attack of District 12," She answers.

"President Coin, this question is detrimental to our official statement," I respond. Cat and mouse. Round and round we go.

"Communication lines were cut because the Capital was running interference. We cut communication because the Capital was listening. It was for the protection of both of our Districts," A representative to her left says.

"District 12 would like to know how the selection for lead soldiers is made, and how Solider Mellark was selected to lead for the _liberation_, I mean attack, of District 12." I can see that Coin knows where I'm headed before her council does.

"I believe you have a point to this Ms. Everdeen?" She says.

"I do. All of the soldiers that were sent to District 12 were fresh graduates from your soldier program. You sent them to cut their teeth on the resistance of my District. By not taking the threat of the Capital to my District seriously, you did them and us an injustice.

"Mr. Abernathy came here seeking help for the people of 12, weeks before you came. The train lines coming to and from 12 were destroyed, cutting off our District from much needed supplies, as stated by Mr. Abernathy. We had no food, only what could be found in the woods. My District was starving and abandoned.

"Peacekeepers had already fled my District, also stated by Mr. Abernathy upon his arrival at 13. Instead of sending help as soon as possible, District 13 placed your former elected representative of 12, Mr. Abernathy, in a rehabilitation program.

"Still, weeks passed without aid from you. We watched as our numbers dwindle while you gathered surveillance. When you finally sent aid, it was conditional help that was dependent upon our submission to District 13. We were abandoned by the Capital to die. Your own District took months before deeming us worthy enough for assistance.

"When Solider Mellark did arrive at 12, it was with the intentions to help our people. He was ordered to bomb the hover crafts instead of evacuate the District, by a member of your council. Solider Mellark stayed behind, helping to evacuate and alert the citizens of 12. After the failure of destroying Capital hover crafts, from soldiers who have never seen combat or had real combat experience, my District was bombed and set afire by the Capital.

"Communication lines were kept open long enough to demote Soldier Mellark and strip him from power. With no way to contact your leaders, with no newly appointed lead solider, Solider Mellark still protected the lives of both our people. He helped with evacuation through the woods to the lake. When Peacekeepers followed, he also offered protection not only to his soldiers, but to my people as well.

"District 12 does not hold Solider Mellark responsible for the deaths of its citizens in the bombing of 12.

"For weeks we have starved to death, many barely surviving. By your own orders we were left to die until we were seen as a valuable commodity to your cause. Instead of trying to hold Solider Mellark accountable for actions of one day, District 12 moves to hold District 13 accountable for the weeks it did not send aid," I feel my spine shaking, but try to remain firm.

Coin folds her hand's over her notebook and stares me down. There's a slow mummer behind me, but I refuse to take my eyes from hers.

"Denied. Thank you for your prospective Ms. Everdeen," She looks down at her note book.

I glance over at the boy. He's staring at me, his gaze making me shift my feet. My lungs feel weak again as he rubs his hands over his thighs. He gives me a small nod, and I look away unable to meet his gaze.

"Will that be all Ms. Everdeen?" Coin asks, her eyebrows raised at me. I feel like she's trying to dismiss me, to make me feel inferior to her.

I don't answer her, but I turn and walk down the stage to stand next to Haymitch. It's then that I realize the Haymitch is furious with me. His eyes are narrowed and he grabs my arm and jerks me next to him.

"We'll talk about this later," He hisses.

The boy is running his hands over his pants again, clenching and unclenching his fist. Coin leans over, talking with her council. They whisper amongst each other, glancing from the boy to the crowd below.

"Mr. Mellark," Coin says, "You are now assigned to culinary aid. Your new schedule will be effective immediately. Along with your new duties you will be assigned manual labor in place of free time. You will submit to a strict curfew and be under a probationary period of two years. After two years we will readdress your infractions and assess your usefulness. That will be all. Dismissed." Coin stands, grabs her notebook and leaves through the back door. Following her, the council also files out.

The boy remains seated, looking around. His eyes meet mine, and he starts down the stairs. I don't want to talk to him. I feel my throat tighten as I realize, a small part of me does believe that he deserves his punishment. A very small portion thinks he should have to suffer more. He deserves to feel the pain I do, the pain of losing my home.

And I'm back. I've tried to push the images away. I've managed so far, thinking of everything but their deaths. But I'm there. The people are running towards me on fire. I'm watching my neighbors, undistinguishable from one another running with fire consuming them. Bile eases up my throat as I begin to sweat. I can smell the smoke. I can smell the burning bodies. It's all around me, pushing me down. My throat is closing and my ears ring with their screams. I want to tell them I'm sorry. I'm sorry because I know their fate. I've seen their end, and I didn't save them. I couldn't help.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"

I'm snapped back to the future when Haymitch jerks me upright from my squat on the floor. I fill my lungs with a choking breath of air, and realize I'm in a crowded room. I know where I am again. The boy's pushed his way through the crowd and is almost in front of me. I turn to walk away, but Haymitch has grown roots to the spot and holds my arm tightly. He's still glaring at me, his face pinched in anger.

"No, sweetheart. You'll hear him out," Haymitch tells me.

"I didn't save them. They burned to death," I whisper to him. His gaze softens, and while he still wears a hard look, the heat is gone from his anger. His grip loosens some.

"Let them go," He whispers back. "They will be with you every time you close your eyes, every vulnerable moment. But you've got to let them go. Right now, you're here. And you've got to keep it together. Everyone is watching you sweetheart. They are looking to you for guidance."

I want to run from this spot. I want to lose myself in the crowd and take time to remember every face I've lost, every voice that will never be heard again. But the voices are all around me. And the boy's now here. I push the horrifying images to my heart the best I can, and try to pull myself back together. The pieces of me are like a puzzle soaked and saturated. They don't quite fit back together, the edges warped.

I've thought about the boy's involvement. He didn't order the Capital to kill us. He didn't try to force us to do anything. This boy came to my home and had tried to ease my fears. He tried to feed us.

The sunset in the lake comes back to me. This boy, he stood by my side, quietly watching the sun set across the lake. He watched me scrub the death from my hands. I try not to imagine the bodies on fire, their soot on my hands. I push my nails into my skin and look at Haymitch.

"I don't know how you've done it," I quietly tell Haymitch before facing the boy.

The boy's eyes are heavy and dark like he's missed sleep. His curly hair is slightly frizzed, the curls not as defined as the first time I saw him. I imagine him running his thick hands through his hair as he sat worrying over his fate.

"Katniss," His voice is breathy and soft. His hand runs through the mused hair, and he bites his lip before taking a deep breath. "I don't know what to say."

His name sighs through my mind. Peeta. It feels like a betrayal to my people, to my District to have helped him. Every single body suffocated in flames. Peeta.

I can't bear to speak to him. I can't stand the sight of his deep blue eyes, the look of hope in them.

All I hoped for was food. And this boy, Peeta, he brought me death and fire.


End file.

Hunger Games, Romance