Endgame

Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins and I do not own the Hunger Games, or any of the quoted lyrics.

Chapter 3

"I thought you said he was cooperating."

"My apologies, sir, I-"

"Forget it, forget it. We'll just have to show him just how powerful we are, won't we?"

"I don't quite understand-"

"Bring him to me."

"Pardon?"

"I'll have to show him what we can do myself."

I start to go off to the hiding spot I've visited for the past few days, the school supplies closet. It's a new favorite because no one seems to have any use for it. District 13 lacks any children that would need to be educated. The district's birthrate was flattened by a pox epidemic a while ago, making them desperate for a new gene pool. According to a breeder from District 10, that's why they've helped the refugees for so long, in hopes that they'll have kids and live here, making the population slowly grow.

District 13 has to be given credit, though, for staying alive against all odds. No connections with the outside world, a Capitol that hopes that they'll die out, and everyone else thinking they've already vanished. A life of isolation, but everyone in 13 is used to it, and they've taken advantage of it as best as they can, training a whole army of soldiers ready to fight. The rebellion has been their plan all along.

Once I nestle myself between two boxes of paper and notebooks, I hear footsteps coming towards the closet. I bury myself deeper into the boxes, heart pounding and nails ready if I need to claw at anyone. When the person opens the door, though, I see that it's Peeta. I exhale slowly as he takes a seat in front of me, sitting with his knees pulled up in front of him.

"Are you okay?" he asks. He uses that tone of voice that's special to him, and can make you think everything will be alright.

"I'm fine," I say, although it's a lie. Peeta picks up on it immediately.

"I can tell you're not fine, Katniss," Peeta replies, and I can almost see his sad smile, even though the closet is pitch black save for the thin light coming through the bottom of the door.

"I'm as fine as someone like me can expected to be," I say finally, which is the truth.

"Yeah. That makes two of us," Peeta says, leaning back.

I feel a pang of selfishness. Peeta's been looking out for me ever since we came to 13, and I've not even bothered to check in with him.

"So, how've you been? We haven't had a real conversation in ages," I say, closing my eyes briefly. I try to forget Gale for a moment, just long enough so I can catch up with Peeta. But thoughts of him linger in the back of my mind no matter how hard I try.

"I'm fine," he says with a sigh.

A new thought suddenly hits me and I almost slap myself for being so ignorant and selfish. Guilt fills me from head to toe as I open my mouth to speak.

"H-how, um, how's your family?" I ask, wincing inwardly.

Peeta's eyes fill with sadness for a moment, but the emotion quickly disappears. "I know it's wrong of me to say, but I don't really care about her. That makes me a bad son, doesn't it? But I just can't bring myself to care that much."

The baker and his two oldest sons survived the bombing with Gale's guidance, but the baker's wife did not make it.

"You're one of the kindest people I've ever met, Peeta," I say softly, looking at him through the darkness. I reach over and squeeze his hand to make sure he knows I'm being serious. "You can't possibly blame yourself for not caring so much about her."

If Peeta died, I doubt his mother would've cared much. She probably would've made a snide comment about it being one less brat to look after. That's harsh of me, but I know that it's at least partially true.

After a few minutes, our hands are still clasped together. I ask softly, "What do you think they're doing to Gale? Didn't you see the way he kept looking at something over Caesar's head?"

"I honestly don't know, Katniss," he replies, his grip on my hand getting tighter.

"After the connection cut off, what might've happened to him?" I ask, my voice dropping to barely a whisper. "What could they do to him?"

"They might torture him for information," Peeta says, visibly flinching as if it pains him to say the words. "I wouldn't put it above the Capitol."

"And that last question about the rebellion," I say, "that obviously wasn't the answer they wanted. They're probably torturing him."

"We just have to hope for the best," Peeta replies. Like we always have, I add silently.

I tremble slightly at the thought of Gale being tortured a second time. I doubt his back has fully healed in the first place, and just the thought of another whip coming down on him makes a small sob escape my lips. I scoot closer to Peeta, needing someone human to anchor me. I feel like I might go crazy with all of the possibilities.

I brought this onto Gale. Right now, the Capitol could be slowly killing him, all because he's my 'cousin' and they want information he doesn't have. I think of Posy's false hope and the dullness in Hazelle's eyes and my guilt only deepens, eating away at me. I'm guilty of being selfish all of the time and inflicting pain on people. Could you find a worse person?

I gently remove my hand from Peeta's and fiddle with the ring on my right thumb, running my hand over the dented surface and trying to draw energy from it. Trying to connect with Gale through it, willing myself not to forgot a single detail of his face, his expressions, his voice. The last time I saw Gale was the day when they took me away for the Quarter Quell. That could've been a hundred years ago for all I know.

"What's that?" Peeta asks gently, looking curiously at the ring.

"A ring of his. Of Gale's," I say, casting my eyes down. "I found it during the trip to 12."

"Oh," Peeta says, nodding in understanding. I slip the ring on and off my finger, turning it in my hands.

"What are we going to do?" I ask.

"We'll look out for each like we always do, won't we? And we'll try to catch up with life and the rebellion... and I don't know what else. What do you have in mind?" Peeta asks me.

I think of Gale and the bombing and Rue and the citizens who've already lost their lives and the berries and Cinna. I think of the black and white wings he gave me, and I raise my arms slightly, as if remembering them.

"I'm going to be the Mockingjay," I decide suddenly. "I'll do what they want me to do, as long as it'll save Gale and the rest of Panem along with it."

At night I toss and turn in bed, desperately trying to sleep. I soon realize, though, that my attempts are futile and that I'll never be able to sleep this way. With Buttercup's unnerving gaze on me, I make my way across the room, past my sleeping mother and Prim, and towards our chest of drawers. I open the second drawer, where a few things that managed to survive the arena lay.

I sift through my gray district-issued uniforms and grope the bottom of the drawer for the items. My fingers finally come in contact with my Mockingjay pin, a spile that Haymitch sent me in the Arena, the pearl that Peeta found and gave me, and Peeta's district token, the gold locket. My bow and arrows are in weaponry, because only guards are allowed to be armed. The only reason Hazelle was able to keep Gale's bow and arrows set was because it's falling apart, and not of much use as a weapon. I make a mental to somehow fix it up for if, when, Gale returns.

I open the locket and inside I find the pictures of my mother, Prim, and a smiling Gale. I wonder how Peeta managed to get a recent picture of Gale smiling, since he barely ever did so, except in the woods. Carefully placing the rest of items back into the drawer, I sit back down on my bed with the locket and Gale's ring. In the moonlight, I inspect the photo of Gale, and after I'm done taking it in, I put it back into the locket and slip the chain over my head. The ring remains in my hands.

After a few quiet minutes, Prim wakes up and I hear the mattress creak as she gets off of it and pads over to where I'm sitting. She settles herself beside, her legs crossed. "What's wrong, Katniss?" she asks. I turn my head and smile at her, briefly, forgetting my troubles. Everything I've ever done is for the little blonde girl in front of me.

I plant a kiss on her head. "Nothing, Little Duck," I say automatically, unconsciously putting the ring back onto my thumb. Prim notices the movement.

"What's that?" she asks, pointing at my thumb.

"A ring," I say, stating the obvious. Prim gives me a small smile.

"I know that, Katniss. But where'd it come from?" she asks, curious.

"When we went to District 12, I found it by Gale's house," I say, telling her the truth.

"Oh," she says, and nods. Peeta's exact reaction. "You miss him a lot, don't you?" she asks, looking up to my face.

"I do," I admit, hugging Prim close to me. I cling to her for a few minutes, stroking her hair and letting my guard down.

"I can tell that's not the only thing on your mind, Katniss. What else is going on?" she asks after a while. I'm both bewildered and amazed at her perceptiveness.

"How would you know that, Little Duck?" I ask.

"I've lived with you for my whole life, Katniss. I know you almost as well as Gale does," she says, rolling her eyes playfully. I wince a little at the mention of Gale, but quickly recover. I laugh and swat at her with a pillow.

Suddenly all serious, Prim adds, "I can keep secrets. Even from mother. I know that there's only so much she can take."

My brows furrow together. Where did this wise little thirteen year old girl come from?

I finally relent and say, "I'm going to tell them I'll be the Mockingjay tomorrow. But I still need a way to make sure that they save Gale. Any advice?" I ask, not expecting a serious answer. District 13 is hesitant to send off supplies and hovercrafts and soldiers on a wild good chase to bust out Gale.

"You can make President Coin announce it in front of a lot of people. That could put some pressure on her," Prim says thoughtfully, and I wonder how my little sister thought of that and I didn't.

"How did you-"

"I've learned a lot," Prim says, her tone the slightest bit bitter. I sling an arm around her again.

"Anything else? You're proving to be a lot more useful than I thought you would be," I say, my tone light and teasing.

"You could ask them for anything else you want. They really need their Mockingjay, so I guess they'll agree to whatever you say. I'm too tired to think up of anything else," Prim says, yawning.

I kiss the top of her forehead. "You've helped plenty, Little Duck. Thank you." Prim gives me a drowsy nod and climbs back into bed with my mother, because the tiny bed that I sleep on is not nearly large enough for both of us now. Prim has gotten taller in the past year and a half, due to all of the food we received in the Victor's Village.

A sense of pure relief fills me, the kind that only comes with a definite solution to a problem. Prim's strategy is logical, and it'll probably work. And if it doesn't, I can just pull the whole I'll-never-be-your-Mockingjay thing again, and they'll have to agree. They'll have to.

I fall asleep with Gale's picture looped around my neck and his ring on my thumb. That along with my new-found confidence helps me a get a decent night's sleep.

(A/N)

I know Peeta's family didn't make it through the bombing, but I just felt so bad killing them all off, so I let them live. Comments are always welcome :D