Author's Note: First one, and I need new ideas and stuff, so don't be afraid to be harsh in your reviews (which would be nice... please review) Also... How does this author's note thing work? I've also seen people do disclaimers, so, well, here we go.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games, the characters, or anything Suzanne Collins wrote. Please dont remove my stuff.

"Right, so this is the list of supplies. We have to make sure we have enough so that we don't… starve… Katniss?" Gale's voice trails off uncertainly. He throws down his clipboard and sighs. "Look, we're going to get Peeta back, ok? But right now, we have more important things to worry about. Like not starving on this stupid thing!"

I continue glaring at him. Like he cares what happens to Peeta. To him, Peeta is just another tool, another pawn being played by the capitol. To him, it's just him versus everything else. Black versus white. Good versus evil. But me—I'd been in the hunger games, something Gale can never hold over me. I'd been in the arena, seen the line between the black and white blurred so much neither side was recognizable anymore. I'd killed and not felt anything, seen my allies ruthlessly murdered, seen so many deaths, so much blood. But I couldn't let it get to me. No way would Gale let me rescue Peeta alone, and I couldn't betray how I felt. So I just ducked my head, feeling the blood bloom angrily in my cheeks.

"Hey! Back to work, you two," says a slurred voice behind us. Both Gale and I jump, not realizing that someone had been eavesdropping. Haymitch staggers in, holding a glass of something red that reeks of alcohol. He coughs, and drops the glass. It shatters on the floor. "Pick that… pick that… up?" He coughs, then lurches forward and falls. We wait for him to get up, but he doesn't move.

Gale nudges him with his foot, and Haymitch pushes it away, sighing something under his breath. I sighed. "I'll get him." Anything to get out of being here with you. I hook my hands under his armpits and drag him towards a couch. I pull him on, first his torso, then his legs. I wave a hand over his eyes, stick a finger in his gut. He's out cold. I set off to make something to ease the hangover he'll soon have, when he turns over and mumbles something incoherently. What did he just say?

Haymitch yawns. "District… trouble. Games? Peeta can…bait. Heavensbee said no." He reaches one hand out for a bottle of liquor that is not there, and falls off the couch. I squat down and tap him lightly on the shoulder. "Haymitch. Haymitch? Haymitch!"

"Hmmm?" he says, an almost serene expression on his face.

"You said something. Something about Peeta?"

He frowns. "Peeta… Peeta says I have to stop drinking."

"No, no. What did you say? Peeta? Bait?"

"Mhhhhh hmmmm. Gale said Peeta is bait. Says capitol thinks Peeta did it… to save Katniss. Johanna… hmmmmm. Johanna plays dumb. Yes, Johanna is…" his warbled speech is cut off by a loud snore. Haymitch turns over, the tranquil expression returning to his features.

I stand up, aghast. How could Gale keep this from me? But inside, I know. Gale was never one to play fair, and in his twisted mind, he may think that what he's doing is just. I look back at Haymitch. How many times has he kept such vital secrets from me? How can he do this to me and not feel anything? He knows what's about to happen. I know what's about to happen. I know Peeta will tell the Capitol it was his entire fault, to free Johanna. To free me from whatever he thinks binds me to him.

And I know that again, I'm in a twisted game, not made by the game makers, but by my best friends.

This time, though, I have no allies.