Hi! I only have half a chapter today because it's so long, really tryna get to the games here, and I figured you guys had waited long enough. Today we have come shout outs- francesophia20, Desisut, 27, allison224. Jewel, SookieandSam, and Guest. Thanks to all of you for following/ favoriting/ commenting. Not much else to say here.

Okay! Update, I finished the Gale side, FINALLY, but I'm just going to delete and repost this chapter. Also: please give me ideas for Katniss's mothers name please. Nothing I can think of does her justice.

-toucantrebleclef

Chapter Six

Peeta

I wake up. It's still and silent, and I suppose that means that it's early, because the Capitol doesn't know how to be quiet. Or how to be get up early like a baker, apparently.

I don't think they'd allow me to frost a cake here, but maybe I can still use frosting.

I get out of bed and cross to the tiny storefront. There's a menu's in dim green lighting, but that's not what I'm looking for. There's no door to behind the counter. Well, I guess I'll have to do it the hard way,

I swing my leg over the counter and grunt as I slide face-first toward the ground on the other side. Well. At least there was no one here to witness my fail. The fall has placed my dangling face in front of the counter cabinets, and through the glass paneling I can see flour and some strange grainy yellow powder which doesn't seem to be sugar. Suddenly it's morphing, turning into my father. I stare, transfixed. The image wavers like a ghost. "You were my favorite son," he-it- says.

The word echoes in my head. Were..were.. Then my father turns into my mother. "She's a survivor, that one," Mother says. Then it's Jolian and Daymen. "We both know you don't have a sporting chance is these games," they say.

They never believed in me. They think I'm going to die. I can't! I'll prove them wrong! But if I prove them wrong, and live, Katniss will die. That can't happen.

Something in happening to my vision, though. It's wavering, my eyes giving way to a haze of light. The carpeted floor leaks away, and I fall, fall-

-into consciousness. I sit up, in my bed, sweating and panting. It was all a dream. Thank-

Before I can finish the thought, I have a revelation. There was truth to my dream, they don't believe in me. And they're right. I don't think I could ever end someone's life, put them in the dark forever. If I can't kill, I can't win. At the end of every Games, there's always a bloody battle, one which I wouldn't last through. So Katniss must win. She needs to. I will make sure of it, my dying promise: I need to bring Katniss home.

I'm so engrossed in my thoughts that I don't even realize how light it is. So I really shouldn't jump out of bed in fright when there's a loud knock at my door. From my position on the floor, I hear what only must be Effie Trinket's voice say, "It's going to be a big, big, big day! Get up, up, up!" She sounds like a broken record, and I hope she knows it.

I drag myself out of bed, and steering clear from the mini storefront, I rummage through the drawers. I've never been a one for fashion, so I keep it simple. Dark blue pants which are tough, made of a material I recognize but can't name, and an orange shirt. I'm very slightly colorblind, and yellows appear to me more reddish to me. So I guess the shirt is actually yellow. It doesn't matter. The prep team will strip me like a molting bird.

The dining hall was tasty yesterday, and I assume it will be just as good today.

I enter the dining hall. There's a long table on the edge of the wall, covered in food of strange, lucious colors. I look to the man who is standing by the table. "Can we serve ourselves?" He nods, silent.

Haymitch is already seated there. Judging by his expression, he remembers nothing from the previous night. Good. That would be a repeated nightmare.

I place my plate down next to cup of something I've never seen. "Hot chocolate," Haymitch says. I jump, and Haymitch chuckles. "It's good, you'll like it," I'm not sure whether or not to trust his judgement, since the only thing he drinks is alcohol, but I go out on a limb and sip carefully. He's right. It's delicious.

Haymitch stares at me, squinting. I shift in my seat, that stare is making me uncomfortable. Finally he stops analyzing me and goes back to his food. I relax. What was that about? But I can sense he has something to say, so I stay silent and take a roll.

"So, Katniss, is it?" he says. "She the one?"

I nearly drop the roll. What? How does he know? My heart starts pounding, have I really been that obvious? Haymitch isn't that observant, he never notices anything.

Haymitch laughs again at my expression. "Anyone could tell, the way you look at her, it's like she's an angel and you're stuck in the depths of hell," he says. My face heats up to match the color of Haymitch's wine, my fears are confirmed. She'll notice, and that would be the end of that for everything. She clearly has a thing for Gale, I'm just the sad bystander.

Haymitch is still chuckling when Katniss and Effie walk in. My face has faded somewhat, but I'm sure she notices. I try to act nonchalant when she sits down, and calm and not like I'm 'stuck in the depths of hell' as Haymitch so delicately put it.

I think I do pretty well, because throughout the meal I get no side eyes, except from Haymitch, which is to be expected. The meal is mostly silent, and toward the end Effie excuses herself to go "organize the day". Haymitch is progressively getting drunker, and Katniss's face keeps getting more disgusted. I know she's reached her limit when she says, "So, you're supposed to give us advice,"

Haymitch gurgles drunkenly. "Here's some advice: stay alive."

My temper rises like boiling water. He's already embarrassed me, and now he's mocking Katniss?

"That's very funny," I say. Then I sweep Haymitch's glass off the table. "Only not to us."

Haymitch does that funny squinting thing again. Then he punches me in the jaw, hard. I stagger back. He's supposed to be helping me! I can feel the wound pulsing in my jaw. Growing up in a bakery with my mother in District 12 makes me not feel much about this punch, but the message is clear. Katniss throws the knife into the table, barely missing his hand, which is much more impressive than my stupid remark. We both arrange ourselves into fighting stance but Haymitch stops, and squints.

"Well, what's this? Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?" he says, squinting harder. I try to put ice on my bruise, but he stops me, mentioning that the audience will think I'm rebellious for it. He turns to Katniss. "Can you hit anything else with that knife?" She throws the knife across the room, and it launches into the wall perfectly.

"Stand here. Both of you," Haymitch commands, examining us. He makes a comment about how we'll have a shot once the stylists get hold of us. True enough, I suppose. The better the stylist, the more attention the tribute gets. Attention that could be the difference from life and death.

Haymitch sits heavily. "Alright, I'll make you a deal. You don't interfere with my drinking, and I'll stay sober enough to help you- but you have to do exactly as I say."

I can tell Katniss doesn't like it, but without him we will certainly die.

"Fine," I say.

Katniss grasps at a straw. "So help us," she says. "When we get to the arena, whats, the best strategy-" Haymitch cuts her off. "One thing at a time. In a minute, you'll be whisked off to the stylists when the train arrives." Katniss starts to protest, but Haymitch remains firm. Gathering the bottles, he leaves the car, kicking the door shut behind him.

Katniss and I stand in the dark, waiting to arrive. Suddenly we are thrown out of whatever dark tunnel we were in and light floods the car. I rush to the window. The Capitol. It's beautiful in a horrible sort of way, shining like a fresh burn.

I know that this is the beginning of an era, and all I can do is look up and wave.

My prep team circles my naked body. I don't mind, never have. Everyone's body looks the same, limited to two types. They've seen this before

"I think we're ready to give you to Portia," Jalent squeaks. He's such an innocent soul, he doesn't realize how horrible the games are.

They soaked me in strange things, and treated my chest and jaw with something that made all the stubble fall off. Something about the sting of that acid makes me think I'm never getting it back.

"Go on, go on," Flanie squawks, flapping at me. Her blue limbs and yellow hair make her look like a strange doll.

I let myself be ushered into a white room where a woman- Portia, I assume - waits.

She's plain, but pretty, with pale skin and dark red hair which appears to natural. He most striking feature is a simple floral pattern in black on the left side of her face. She's slender as a bamboo pole.

Her gaze turns to meet mine. "Peeta," she says calmly. I try to smile. "I'm your stylist," she says. "After a quick meal, I'll introduce you to your getup, alright?"

"Of course, let's get to it." She smiles warmly. I like Portia's approach, simple, to the point, but not rude as Haymitch is.

Time seems to be moving in short bursts. After a meal at light speed, Portia shows and tells me about my fiery outfit, which involves me being set on fire with fake flames, and now suddenly I'm about to board my chariot with Katniss.

She leans in. "What do you think?" she says. "About the fire?" Her breath is tickling my cheek.

I've dealt with fire my whole life. If someone had come up with fire like that, it would already be in bakeries- displays, placeholder heating arrangements, and a number of marketplaces would sell it. There is no such thing as fake flames.

I meet Katniss's concerned glare with my own. "I'll rip off your cape if you rip off mine," I say through gritted teeth. Katniss's glare hardens. "Deal," she says. "I know we told Haymitch we'd do whatever they say, but I don't think he considered this angle." True, I think this counts as a valid disobeyal. Being reprimanded by a mentor is better than being barbecued. Speaking of which; "Where is Haymitch? Isn't he supposed to be protecting us from this sort of thing?" I say.

"With all that alcohol in him, it's probably not advisable to have him around an open flame," says Katniss.

I snort, and then we both begin to laugh. Maybe we really can be friends. Maybe-

But no, no, I have to concentrate, because the music is playing, and we have to get on our chariot and smile and wave. Cinna, Katniss's stylist, gets up on the horse pulling the chariot, and lights our outfits before I can brace myself.

I hear Katniss gasp. There's no heat! I guess they were right. Cinna touches Katniss's face and says something I can't hear, but she puts on a winning smile,so I do the same. Cinna jumps off, then turns around, hollering at us. It's really loud, but I think he wants us to hold hands. I grab her right hand, and a tingle goes through me. It's all I can do not to shiver.

Then we're coming into the crowd and it's all a blur, and I can't see anything I'm so nervous, and I can hear the crowd screaming with appreciation as they see our outfits. Then it's over, the great lump of time whirring by. Our chariot stops in front of President Snow's mansion. There's something not quite right about him, the way he moves, and talks. Like he's constantly plotting our demises, which I guess he is. It gives me goosebumps.

"Welcome to the Capitol!" the president booms. The crowd goes wild. Once they have calmed down, the president says, "And our tributes! From District One, Glimmer and Marvel!" The camera pans to them with their bejeweled clothing. "District Two…."

I can see that when the president gets to us, they give us more time in the spotlight because of our getups. At least we'll be memorable.

"These are your quarters," Effie says brightly.

The door swings open to reveal a vast room to out the one on the train to shame. It's more like the ancient cathedrals we learned about in school than a room. It'salmost too lavish to look at.

Effie gives me a gentle shove and pushes me in, closing the door behind me. I'm stilk in shock, but I know we'll be eating dinner soon, so I walk over to the shower.

There's a huge panel, the bathroom alone is the size of the bakery, and the shower- well, the shower is big enough for me to lie down and stretch out in. And I'm almost six feet.

I program the massive shower, and for ten minutes, I just have some fun. There's the purple goo that doused me head to foot, and left my skin a shade lighter. The fluff which seemingly avoided the water, which made me smell oddy like ducks. And my favorite, the bubbles that floated around me, going up my nose, and infecting my nasal cavities. I can now smell nothing but the faint scent of lime.

Eventually, though, I clean up my makeup off and dress in a red shirt and half length pants, and weave the miles of clothing in the closet together on the floor of it to make a massive mural of Katniss until Effie bangs on my door, telling me it's time to eat.

The meak is mostly uneventful. The food here is even more lavish than in the train, but there's a certain plasticity about it. Like it's been dipped in transparent paint and set to dry. Katniss and Effie sip their wine, and Haymitch gulps it. I even try a taste, but it tastes like old, resiny grape juice, so I put it down. Cinna and Portia eat with us.

Cinna rubs his hands together. "In honor of your fiery debut, I've ordered a special cake." A woman with red hair comes in with a cake with mediocre detail. It becomes spectacular when she lights it, and the designs come alive in the dancing flame.

Katniss frowns. "What makes it burn?" she asks. "Alcohol? Because that's the last thing I- oh! I know you!" She's talking to the red-haired girl who lit the cake. The girl backs up, shaking her head furiously, then turns and speeds away.

"Don't be ridiculous, how could you know an Avox? The very thought," Effie says sharply.

"What's an Avox?" she asks. I was wondering the same thing myself.

Haymitch speaks. "Someone who committed a crime of some sort. They cut her tongue so she can't speak. A traitor, not likely you'd know her." Cinna and Portia are glaring at her, too. She needs help, so of course I bail her out. What else can I do?

"Delly Cartwright," I fabricate. They all look at me. I'm a good liar, fortunately. You had to be, growing up with my mother. "I kept thinking she looked familiar as well, that's when I realized she's a dead ringer for Delly," I say. That girl looks nothing like Delly, mistaking one for the other would be like mistaking me for Haymitch.

Katniss knows I'm lying. But she takes it. "Yes, that must be who I'm thinking of," she says. "It must of been the hair." To take it all the way, I say, "Something about the eyes, too."

Everyone calms. "Oh well, if that's who you were thinking of," says Cinna. "And yes, the cake had spirits, but they burned away." Covered up, that error. Just like the Capitol.

We eat the cake and watch the recap of our stunning costumes and the parade. We look incredible, and no one else can even hold a candle to us.

Haymitch predictably squints. "Who's idea was the hand holding?" he asks.

"Cinna's," Portia says simply.

Haymitch raises an eyebrow. "Very nice. Just the perfect touch of rebellion." he says.

Is he drunk already? Maybe not all the spirits burned off the cake.

"Tomorrow is your first training session. Meet me for breakfast tomorrow and I'll tell you how to play it," he says. "Now go get some sleep while the grownups talk," he says with a shooing motion.

Gale

I have to go back to school. It's my last year before the coal mines. I want to savor it, and I need all the instruction I can, to stay alive when my father didn't.

So after the day with Prim, I'd dragged myself back to my home to clean up my life. Simple things, like making the bed, giving my mother meat to skin, arranging my school materials. Just to show people that steady, unfaltering Gale is still here. I just missed a step. But I'll be okay.

I get my shit together and start the walk to school. It's short, nothing to compare anything that we did-will do- in the woods. Well, walking, at least.

The leaves crunch under my feet. I walk with my head down, so I don't have to deal with more looks. I'm fine.

I make my way to the school and without looking, I can feel glares and looks.

Feet patter up to me. "Gale," it says. I look up. Madge is there, looking at me with giant deer eyes. "If you need me, I'm here for you." She scurries away before I can collect my wits to glare at her.

Of course. With Katniss gone, she thinks she has a shot with me. She never will. I kissed her once. Some might call it an accident, but I prefer to think of it as a moment of weakness. Just needing someone to lean on, and without Katniss, I unintentionally used Madge.

The school day passes in a blur of covert looks, not-so-concealed whisperes and side glances. I just give everyone a surly look, trying to be above it all. I'm not sure how well it worked, though. I wasn't paying to anything but having a rock hard façade, but I know for a fact there were a couple voice cracks. I just don't know if anyone heard them.

As soon as the final bell rings, I'm up and out of my seat, gone before anyone can stand up. I head straight to the Everdeen's. Prim was at school today, and she looked okay. But I looked okay, and I'm only partly okay.

I see Prim walking back home, alone, head down. "Prim!" I call. She turns, brightening. I speed over to her and walk beside her.

"All right?" I ask. Prim smiles feebly and nods. Her eye is twitching suspiciously

I raise my eyebrows. "Really, are you?" She nods more fiercely. "Your eye always twitches when you lie," I inform her.

She abandons her casual face, reverting to worried sadness. "Oh, where is she? Is she okay? What if she's dead, oh Gale," she wails. She doesn't need to mention who she's thinking of.

I grab Him by the shoulders. "Prim," I say sternly. "Katniss isn't even in the arena yet. We're going to see her tomorrow evening, when she shows for the costume. She's fine." Prim nods, but I can tell she doesn't completely believe me. I don't completely believe me either.

I tilt my face to the heavens. I know you can't hear me, Katniss, but please, please, I say in my head, please don't do anything rash. No trying to escape or- or snapping at the guards, please Katniss, do it for me.

Prim and I get to her house, where her mother is waiting. 'Hello, Gale," she says. I can tell she likes the idea of me coming over everyday to check on them. She steps forward to hug me, but there's the crunching of paper. I look down, and there's a pristine white package with half a footprint labled 'Everdeen' in script writing. I pick it up, walking inside with Prim and her mother, who shuts the door behind us.

I turn over the package, to see there's a message on the back. The kitchen stool creaks as I sit down on it. The message reads:

Dear Mrs. Everdeen- and Mr. Hawthorne, because I know your'e there;

I promised I would take care of Prim, she needs it, and so do you. So every day I will put this on your doorstep. She deserves it. You all do, for being strong when I couldn't.

The Baker

I open the package's white paper wrap and find inside two-still warm- loaves of bread, and almost as if it's an afterthought, a cookie. I examine the cookie. It's a frog. I recognize the bulging eyes of it from a swamp Katniss and I visited. It's done in the wavery strokes of someone buried in grief. For being strong when I couldn't… I suppose that's what he meant. Although none of us are very strong.

I gently lift the bread and the cookie and bring them to Prim. She grins up at me appreciatively. Prim's mother raises her eyebrows. I hand her the wrapping. "Courtesy of the baker," I say. She turns it over and begins to read the back, a strange expression gracing her face.

"I'll be in the woods," I say, then depart. We all need food.

The woods remain calm, waiting for me with open arms. "Good to see you," I whisper.

I can feel the abundance of meat, waiting to be made into a meal. I trek through the woods, waiting for meat to appear.

HONK! HONK! HOOOOOONK!

The subtle whisper of geese makes me fall over in surprise. I quickly get up to shoot them. Without Katniss, I don't have to systemize.I quickly take down four of the seven geese, and run after their falling bodies. Three of the geese were killed by the arrow, but one is fluttering around, squawking. I quickly decapitate it, ending its misery.

Four geese! I can't believe it, I hardly ever get such luck. Usually Katniss and I are collectively able to take down three, and that's at the end of a long haul. I gather strawberries in a daze of happiness. I can trade one, and the feathers of the other two. The feathers are valuable and fine, but I will keep one intact one.

The geese swing from my belt as I duck under the fence, whistling. One of the geese, the one dedicated for trade, gets caught on the fence. I turn around, reaching for it-

-and the fence turns on, frying the goose and its feathers, making it into a black smoldering chunk of flesh.

It's the most terrifying thing I've ever seen. If I had been a couple seconds earlier, if the goose hadn't needed decapitation- I would have been dead. Fried. Blood boiling, electrocuted.

I drop the carcass and run, haunted, to the Hob. I can see the dead goose waving in the breeze in my periphery. I run and run and run, away from death, away from the fence, away into the marketplace and into the Hob, into the farthest, deepest hole behind Greasy Sae's. A few dusty boxes inhabit it.

I collect my wits there, stop acting up. It's just goose, I tell myself. Just a goose. I want to be comforted, but Katniss isn't here. I can feel the vacuum of where she was. I hunker down into a ball, trying to squeeze my emotions out of me.

Greasy Sae rounds the corner, box in hand. There's a split second where she's shocked to find me there, weak, and I'm shocked at her. Then she puts down the box and helps me up. She presses something in my hand and departs. I look down. It's a wooden spoon, engraved with the words 'Good food, good mood, good life." It's cheesy, but I like it. I slip the spoon into my pocket, brush the ashy remains of the goose from my belt, and move on.

I trade the feathers of two of the geese at the merchant's. He gives me a pile of money for them. They'll go to District Ten, to One, then to the Capitol, so they're worth something. I trade one goose with Rooba, who gives me a deal, especially with the sausage she throws in. "Goose is high demand at the moment," she says when I comment on it. Trading the few squirrels I got from my snares results in a small pile of cash and two loaves of bread. I did well today, so I do something I've never done before again: I buy the smallest, cheapest pastry from the baker. It's still expensive, but I would give anything to see a smile on Prim's face, one the baker is lacking.

I trek back to Katniss's house with the pastry in hand. I can't wait to see the joy on her face. When I reach her house, I let myself in.

"Prim? Prim, LOOK!" I can hear footsteps padding on soft wooden floor, and Prim bursts in, frantic.

"What's wrong?" I smile and hold up the package. "I got us a treat."

Prim immediately sits down at the table, and her small hands go to open that package, ripping open the smooth white paper. The buttery, flaky, pastry is lying there, glistening with sugar.

Prim squeals joyously, squeezing me. "But how did you afford it?" she breathes. I smile. "I shot some geese, and got enough money from them for a treat," I say. Prim rips both sides into haphazard halves, giving me the larger one. "You shot the geese, you get the bigger one," she says sternly when I open my mouth to object.

I know Prim too well to argue with her.

We eat the beautifully buttery pastry, and Prim saves some of hers for her mother. I try to savor mine, but it's almost gone. I decide to save the last bite for Posy.

Patting Prim on the head, I say, "I'll be back tomorrow night, to watch the...yeah," I say, not wanting to ruin Prim's mood with seeing Katniss, but it's almost too late.

Prim waves, impervious, and I leave her house for my own, leaving one goose behind for their dinners.

When I reach the quiet house, I hear some calls of "Gale's home!" and I smile as I push open the door. "I've got some geese for you all," I call to the kids. Of course, they're not really my kids, as Katniss said, but they couldn't survive without me. I've assumed the head of household, and it's too late to turn back.

I hand the plucked goose to Mother. "I shot f- three geese today," I say, quickly covering up my mistake. "I traded one." I don't need to tell her where the other is, she knows. Mother smiles. "You must have got quite a bit of money for that," she says with a laugh. I pull a small pile of coins and paper from my pockets. "This will buy- let's see, we need soap…" I leave my mother calculating our needs versus the money, and walk to the kitchen to do my homework, and to fill out my coal application.

This is the way the coal application works. When you turn eighteen, they make you go into the mines for coal. They shouldn't call it an application, because everyone has to do it, unless you are missing at least two limbs or are on death's door, therefore unable to do work. Anyway, everyone has to join, filling out an application when they're 17. You have to list your skill sets, from a multiple choice checkbox. They say things like, strength, good eyesight, mine disabling practice (this is District Twelve, if someone did they'd be prosecuted immediately for handling bombs) and we also have to check our weaknesses, and I'm having trouble.

What weaknesses do I have that could affect mine work? Or really, any at all? I'm not that weak, I'm only human. I guess I can lose my temper at times, but honestly, I'm not trying to be bigheaded when I say I don't think I have that many. I don't want to ask anyone, because-

Wait. The goose, this afternoon. That was weakness. I…. what IS it though? Not gore, I skin animals. Not electricity, that part didn't freak me out. Maybe...death. The death of my father was unspeakably terrible, but it would be for anyone. And I kill animals. Maybe killers. I hate the mines, now the fence, I suppose.

I scratch down dangerous machines with a pencil that has been used too many times. I fold the paper three times and set it on the dresser, I'll take it two weeks before my eighteenth birthday.

I go downstairs and start water for boiling the goose. I don't know how to cook goose, but my mother usually cooks birds in water, unless it's a holiday. I think I'll take a rest between now and dinner. My mind is peacefully empty….

Hope you liked that one! Open for ideas anytime.