Author's Note: This story began as an entry for PiP: Round 2, for the prompt,"What If?" The story quickly became too long to complete in time, so the idea was shelved, and I've worked on it intermittently since then. I decided to submit it to Prompts in Panem's "The Final Tribute: The one that got away" event, because it's always been my first THG story idea, and the fic I always meant to write. I will be posting the five chapters I have written, and then I'm going to return to my other poor, languishing WIP, On The Threshold.

This is a Canon-Divergent AU that starts with the first chapter of THG. Rated M for canon-typical violence and eventual adult themes

Endless thanks to The RPGenius, for all the brilliant beta reading.

CINDERS

Chapter One: Fashion is Fickle

"Fashion condemns us to many follies; the greatest is to make oneself its slave"

- Napoleon Bonaparte

It was unseasonably cold the year of the 74th Hunger Games. The citizens of the Capitol cursed the weather that winter. Physical discomfort was only familiar to them when broadcast on a television screen. They did not like things that were beyond their control. Somehow, District Three still hadn't figured out a way to control the climate outside of an arena.

Fancying themselves resourceful, Capitol fashionistas declared the sartorial stylings of former Games stylist Tigris back in vogue. The flashy hues and frou frou that had been all the rage were happily abandoned for the "new" haute couture - layers upon layers of furs, which, coincidentally, happened to keep one quite warm. As trendsetters accessorized with cat-ear hairpieces and fangs, winter passed into spring.

Effie sighed as she waited for her stylist to finish the calico detailing on her 3-inch artificial claws. Softly rolling mountains drifted past the window as their train sped east, signalling District Twelve's approach . She had been so sure feathered eyelashes and bright pantsuits were going to be the new thing this spring, but Tigris still held the country in thrall with multicolored whisker implants, skin stripes and spots, and the newest - belts with fully articulated robotic tails attached.

And who was Effie to fight the newest fad? She refused to wear anything that wasn't in the first stare of fashion before a crowd of hundreds. Ignorant, unwashed miners or not, she had an image to maintain for her audience as the District Twelve escort. Especially if she wanted that transfer. So a claw-like manicure it was, then.

Katniss stared at the bread in her hands. The outer crust was a crispy golden-brown, baked to perfection. The inside was light and springy as goose down, but hearty all the same. It smelled heavenly.

She wondered idly how it would feel to treat today like any other. Clearly the baker and his family had woken before dawn to bake, just as they did every morning. Even Reaping Day couldn't change that fact that people needed bread. Did maintaining the same routine as ever, no matter what the Capitol held in store, lessen the fear and dread associated with the approaching afternoon? Was such a thing possible?

Gale pulled Katniss from her reverie as he took the half loaf she held and spread goat cheese on it, before adding a basil leaf to each portion. She tasted the treat, savoring the creamy tartness of the goat cheese with the cloudy lightness of the bread, and let her mind dart back to the bakery. Would cheese buns taste similar to this? She tried not to pay any mind to the novelties merchants cooked up in a futile attempt to drive in more business, but those always looked especially tempting. Katniss had always wanted to get some for Prim, but they were too pricey to justify. But maybe tomorrow, with the reaping behind them, she could pull a decent haul in the forest and surprise Prim with some.

Gale interrupted her musings once again, and Katniss's mouth, still full of bread, dropped open as he intimated his desire to run away with her. How could he think she'd do something so reckless and impulsive? Prim was counting on her. So was her mother. Katniss shot him down immediately like she would a squirrel, no hedging or reasoning to soften the blow. It would never happen, never work. Gale couldn't be thinking like that.

But Katniss could see that he still was. She hadn't quelled Gale's restlessness with her discouraging words. There was ambition and determination simmering in him, and the desire to take decisive action of some sort, any sort, burned through, filling his eyes to the brim.

Katniss grimaced. Gale was ruining a rare, lovely breakfast. They were supposed to be soaking in the beauty and freedom of the world outside the fence before this afternoon, just in case. Not hatching harebrained schemes of escape. She felt sure he was just itching to start in on a tirade against the Capitol too, but he seemed to sense that she didn't want to disturb the peace of the morning.

Katniss detested life in District Twelve like anyone, but she wasn't willing to endanger what was precious to her for change. She would rather monitor a situation unseen and determine the best method for survival. As long as there were people who'd notice they were gone, and punish those left behind, she wasn't going anywhere.

She regarded the rest of the food sadly. It was foolish to think they could escape the Capitol, even for just a meal. Gale wasn't dredging the topic up, it was already there. Ever present, weighing on their minds, settling heavily over their lives like a pall. Katniss stuffed the remains of the bread in her mouth before getting up. If she couldn't outrun the Capitol's oppressive reach by coming all the way out here, maybe some foraging would distract her from Gale's troubling dissidence. And the reaping still loomed on the horizon, hours away. She couldn't wait for this day to be over.

Effie desperately contorted her fingers as she tried to clasp any slip at all from the glass bowl on stage. This unfortunate and unforeseen effect of feline nails had turned into a rather embarrassing wardrobe malfunction. The little pieces of paper were simply too thin, and her nails too long. She also suspected her carefully coiffed mane had been knocked askew, leaving sections standing on end after Haymitch had accosted her in front of the cameras. Could this day get any worse?

Then she lost her grip on the dratted slip of paper she'd chosen again.

Finally, Effie just scooped up a pile of girls' lives in her palm and grasped the one on top with the sides of her fingers.

"Delly Cartwright" she trilled, relieved to be half done with this year's fiasco of a reaping.

By the time her new selection technique yielded a slip reading "Gale Hawthorne" from the second glass globe, Effie was close to asking for a swig of whatever vile substance Haymitch kept in his flask.

Inside the Justice Building, Katniss sat by Gale, head resting on his shoulder. She didn't speak, trying not to let her despair show through. What point was there in saying things they knew weren't true, wasting their last moments on empty bravado or false hope? The Games were a death sentence. It was too cruel to put on a brave face and pretend when they both knew better.

He'd told her to keep his hunting knife. The object had been ever present at Gale's side - it was his pride, his survival, an extension of him. They had to stow their bows and arrows in the forest each day, but the smallish blade was concealable and commonplace enough that it could be brought back into the district relatively safely. The thought that he didn't need it any more froze her heart with bitter denial. Holding it now, seeing it in her hands, where it didn't belong, drew the horrible reality of the situation down around Katniss more inexorably than the reaping itself.

How much longer did they have? For how many more minutes would they be able to sit in quiet solidarity before the Peacekeepers intruded, prodding Gale toward the train station and the grim prospect that awaited.

It wasn't that she thought Gale couldn't win. He was smart, skilled, strong and resourceful enough to be a serious contender. But Katniss knew he'd never get close. It would be impossible for him to hide his hatred for the Capitol from Caesar, the public, and the Gamemakers. The Games would cut him down at the first chance to set an example. Even if he could hide his disdain, Katniss doubted Gale would choose to.

He turned to her. Already, his eyes were filled with a vehement hostility that promised action. "I've got to do something, Catnip. Something to show them I'm not just going to play along like the rest. That they can't control us if we don't let them."

"Gale, no. Just - at least try to survive, okay? For your family. I'll keep my promise. I won't let them starve," she swore.

"Katniss," he responded, suddenly tender as he took her hand and turned it in his own. "How do you plan to do that? The promise…it was a little scrap of hope, the illusion of some control, maybe, but it was never something I expected you could deliver on.

"I fully intended to keep my end of the deal if you were Reaped," he rushed to assure her, seeing her look of shock. "I want you to know that. But you only have two extra mouths to feed. There'll be four new bellies for you to fill, two of them growing boys.

"How could you possibly accommodate that? You're going to work yourself into the ground trying and failing to keep everyone fed, then blame yourself when you can't do the impossible. And all the while, Prim and your mother will be suffering as everything is stretched too thin. It'll destroy you."

Katniss lurched away from him, enraged. "I can do it!" she spat, even as she wondered how she'd possibly manage. It was no secret to her that Gale's hauls were bigger than hers by necessity. She was the more skilled hunter, but he'd made up for that and surpassed her with the sheer number of snares he could set and reset in a day.

Snares eliminated the time spent tracking and could be left overnight to work in their absence. She was only familiar with about a dozen of the more simplistic types, and it took her far longer to set them. There wasn't enough time in the day to hunt and check the snare lines herself, never mind finding the time to forage and fish. Then there was the actual trading, which was a significant time expenditure in itself…

She shook her head, disregarding her worried calculations. Katniss wouldn't accept that. Better to funnel her panic into anger. "How dare you make a pact with me, not intending to hold me to my end of the bargain! I'm not some delicate flower, Gale!"

Gale chuckled humorlessly. "Believe me, Catnip, I know." He stared at her with sad intensity, and Katniss realized that he was memorizing her face. Her gut clenched with dread and denial. This couldn't be the last time she'd ever see her best friend.

"I can teach Rory and Vick to hunt, they can help," she continued desperately. She had to convince him this was possible before he left. He needed a reason to want to come home. And if he believed it, Katniss could too.

Gale shook his head. "Don't get me wrong, I'll be eternally grateful for whatever you can manage. But how are you going to teach two kids to snare and shoot enough to feed a family when they've never even been outside the fence?"

"We learned when we were kids. There was a first time we ventured into the forest too."

"It takes a long time to learn to be any good. That's time you don't have. Try all you can, but I have no illusions about how things will eventually end up. They'll take out tesserae 'til they're guaranteed a spot in the arena. Ma will do laundry from sunup to sundown, her hands raw and fingers cracked to the bone from lye, and it still won't be enough. Posy'll be lucky to end up in the community home if they don't starve outright," he said darkly.

She bit back a gasp at the bleak forecast, and the utter certainty in his voice. There was a rawness in his expression as he spoke his next words.

"Katniss...when they came to say goodbye, the way Ma looked at me...I think she knows." Gale was lost to the devastating memory for a moment. "All that work, all that struggle…I did everything I could think to do, and learned to do more besides. And still, I've failed them." His voice cracked and he sank in on himself, weary and defeated.

"You haven't," Katniss insisted fervently, grabbing him by the shoulders. "And neither will I!"

The corner of his mouth quirked in response to her passionate words. "It's good to see your fire." His eyes were bright and said too much. Katniss had to look away.

The room grew quiet as their thoughts consumed them.

"We were never meant to succeed, you know that, right? It was always hopeless. All these years, we just fooled ourselves into believing otherwise," Gale said, staring out the dingy window into the square where people stood, waiting to see him off to the Games. "The Capitol was always going to catch up to us. I almost feel foolish for trying."

Katniss clenched her hands into fists to still the trembling of her fingers. Everything was falling apart around her. Her breath was unsteady and her eyes were burning, and the only thing she could think to do was keep shaking her head in denial at every word he said. How could he feel foolish for trying? For all the days spent in their woods? For feeding his family for all these years?

"That's why I've got to do something. I could never be their Victor, some little puppet for their glory. So my only choice is whether to go quietly or not. And I won't go quietly," Gale said, voice low with conviction.

"Go ahead then," she bit out furiously. "I guess we can't stop you. Make some futile, empty statement and get killed for it." Katniss turned and angrily unfastened a few buttons on the front of her dress. She tucked the hunting knife between her waistband and undergarments, adequately concealing it, before turning back. "Why not? you've already given up on everyone here.

"But know this, Gale Hawthorne:" She stood tall and stared resolutely up at him. "I won't give up on them! To that I'll swear!"

And with that she stormed out of the room, just as the Peacekeeper was entering to collect her.

A little while later, Katniss scowled as she waited for Prim to finish saying her goodbyes to Gale. She considered trying to bully Darius into letting her back into Gale's room for a proper parting, but she doubted it would work. Friends and family had one opportunity to say goodbye to the loved ones that had been chosen as tributes. No more.

She was still seething over how that time had ended. It would have been better to just sit with him in silence the whole time, Katniss thought. Look where the conversation had left them.

There was an instinctual part of herself, an unforgiving part bent on survival, that had to acknowledge that the upcoming separation of her and Gale would be easier if their interactions ended on this unpleasant note. It wasn't right, and it didn't do him or their friendship justice, but there was no justice to be had in Panem.

Katniss didn't want to face the failure he'd consigned her to. Or the reckless energy that came off of him in waves. It made her nervous that he would do something to get himself killed all the sooner. Maybe it was wise to allow a rift between them, to ease the agony when he was ripped from their lives once and for all. They were all powerless to make this situation anything but tragic.

A tentative, somewhat tremulous, "Hi Katniss," came from behind her, and she turned, annoyed with the disruption to her dark thoughts.

This she did not expect. Peeta Mellark stood before her clutching two cookies from the package he'd brought to Delly. Though he easily dwarfed her frame, Peeta stood there nervously, almost abashed to be bothering her. Katniss suspected he had been crying, as his voice sounded rough and his eyelids were suffused with pink.

"I'm so sorry about Gale," he rasped before clearing his throat, trying to master his voice. His expression conveyed true grief. "But I'm happy you two are safe," he said, nodding to Prim as she exited Gale's room and sidled up to Katniss. His pained smile looked more like a grimace.

Katniss shifted uncomfortably and gave an awkward nod of acknowledgement. Any person with a basic understanding of social nicety would return his sentiment, but with Peeta Mellark, it seemed too much to divulge. She truly was relieved that Peeta's name had not been called, though she was no less devastated that Gale's had. Katniss felt, irrationally, that the unexpected truth in that admission would leave her vulnerable.

Thankfully, Prim graciously responded for her. Peeta cleared his throat again, and glanced briefly around the room before his eyes rose to meet hers again.

"I'm sorry it happened this way, that it was someone close to you that you cared for."

"He's my hunting partner," Katniss corrected dismissively, trying to block out the anguish his words engendered. She needed to get out of this building for so many reasons.

But Peeta saw through her instantly. "Delly and I are old friends too," he said. A moment later, a memory or the reality of the situation must have struck him, because his expression fell and two fat tears dropped onto his overheated cheeks. Despite that, the corner of his mouth inexplicably lifted into the barest hint of a smile. "She made me promise to talk to you today before I left," he said, glancing up at her almost shyly.

Katniss had no clue how to respond to that. Why would Delly, a girl she had rarely spoken to, single her out? She looked to Prim for help, but Prim just looked curiously at Peeta, speculation in her blue eyes.

Getting nowhere in a one-sided conversation, Peeta gently nudged a cookie into each of their palms. "Here." Katniss was too wrapped up in a haze of awkward confusion to decline before Prim beamed and thanked him.

Katniss bit her lip, the tear tracks that were still visible on his cheeks catching her eye. She couldn't bring herself to refuse his offering. Peeta smiled apologetically, as if he understood how thoroughly uncomfortable the whole encounter had been for her. Then he turned and walked away, running a hand across his face as he exited the room.

Looking away from the departure of the puzzling baker's son, Katniss turned to Prim. Sorrow had descended on her face again. Katniss reached out to stroke Prim's cheek softly in a gesture of comfort. She was thankful that their odd conversation with Peeta had distracted Prim, even for just a moment. It was her first reaping, and they would all stagger under the weight of Gale's absence in the coming months, not to mention the grief that would find them all too soon once the Games began.

Katniss could barely fathom what Gale's loss would do to her in the coming days, but she knew she could hang on as long as Prim stayed herself, brimming with the wonder and sweetness that Katniss cherished.

"Come on Little Duck. Let's go home."

Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think! :) I am ghtlovesthg on tumblr.