She was his little girl.
His first born.
His baby.
When he and his wife were young and hopeful. Before they realized the full extent of the Capitol's evil.
And when she was Reaped it was like his world came crashing in. Maybe his heart stopped. When they read that little paper and his girl's name was on it.
When she stepped, trembling out of the ring with the other twelves and walked shakily to the stage.
When they called for volunteers and a cold wind cut through the square, whistling, mocking, because no one was willing to take her place.
He would have. If he could have, he would have taken her place in a second.
He had to say good-bye. He had to watch while strangers dressed her up like a little doll. While people bet on when she would die.
The odds were against her.
But she held on. Despite the odds.
And hope, the treacherous little light that some how found a way to shine into the darkest places returned.
He watched as his baby girl saved the girl from District 12. As they teamed up with a plan, a risky plan, but a plan.
And he prayed that night. Pleading that his little girl would live.
Knowing that his little girl coming home meant eleven other fathers who would never see their girls again.
But praying, because she was just twelve, God she was just twelve and they needed her, her mother, her sisters, her brothers, him.
She was his girl and he needed her.
And when it happened he felt like he was watching from some where outside his body. Because the screen couldn't show it true. It couldn't be happening. This must be happening to somebody else, not his girl.
And the girl from twelve sang and covered her with flowers, but it wasn't her anymore, it was just a body. A shell.
Because his girl was dead. Killed. Murdered.
And as he turned shoving his way out of the crowd he didn't know what he was going to do.
Someone was crying. Maybe it was him. He didn't know he could sound that agonized.
He slammed into the Peacekeeper, tearing the food away from him. Because it was the Hunger Games at home just as much as in that Godforsaken arena where his girl lay dead.
And all of District Eleven rose with him, screaming and crying and fighting. Throwing the food out, watching as the children ran to get it, knowing for one night they'd have food in their bellies and that the Captiol would feel this tomorrow when they saw the destruction in Eleven.
As one, Eleven rose up for one little girl. The salute. The uprising. The bread for twelve.
And when the Peacekeepers came, they pushed back.
And when the Girl on Fire won, when she started the spark, when she spoke for Rue, they were right there.
Their salute was for the girl who was setting Panem ablaze.
Their salute was for Rue.
After all. She was their girl.
A/N: This is my first attempt at publishing fanfiction so I hope you like it! If you did, reviews would be appreciated! The video The Hunger Games: This is War, by This0is0Brooke on Youtube was the inspiration for this fic, along with the uprising scene in D11 in the movie.
Suzanne Collins owns The Hunger Games and Rue. I'm just a lowly fan. :)