A/N: Alright, stressed update now before I won't be able to connect to the precious Internet for a whole other week! So trust me, I'll write, but unfortunately you won't be getting a new chapter for a while... I hope this one is good enough to last you until then hehe ;) Now, there's an apparent lack of action where Gale and Katniss are concerned in this chapter, but i'll make up for that soon enough.

Thanks for reading and reviewing, and don't hesitate to let me know your thoughts :)

It's several hours later, and the school is reassembled to watch part two of "the District 12 showdown" as the commentators are calling it. Katniss has been home to leave off what little she was able to bring in from the woods – no meat today – and intended to avoid school for at least the rest of the day. Ideally, she would have just crept into bed and spent the rest of the afternoon there, fast asleep to forget about the mess that is her life. But as soon as she'd stepped over the threshold to their combined living room and kitchen, she had been met by her mother in a frantic state.

"What are you doing here? You have to be in school!"

Katniss had just stared at her, like yeah I know, and I don't really care right now, but that had gotten her nowhere.

"There's another mandatory viewing in fifteen minutes, they just announced it on TV. If you're not there for the counting, they'll arrest you!" Her mother's eyes were wide and wild; accusing of the careless daughter who would not be raised properly.

So, in the end, Katniss had had no choice but to unload her bags, hang her father's hunting jacket up on its hook, and reluctantly trudge back to the school building for further torture. On her way through the corridor leading to the lunchroom, her mood had soured further as she noticed a pair of all-too familiar eyes lingering on her. She had yet to eat anything today, her eyes and head was hurting from a combination of sleep deprivation and sun sting - and on top of it all, was that churning, unsettling, pitch-black fear of not knowing. What had they done to him? Was he dead already? Or was the point of this assembly to watch it happen?

And then in the middle of this, that boy with the meek, sky-blue eyes has the nerve to stare at her like… like what? She can't fathom if it's some form of pity she sees when she catches his eye, or if perhaps it's something about her appearance that bothers him enough to keep looking. The really confusing part is, there's no menace in the way he keeps following her with his eyes. She's not even really sure when it started; if he had kept this strange behaviour up long before Gale was taken away to the Capitol, and she had only just started noticing now? Either way, it makes her beyond uncomfortable.

Today, he had had the bad luck of being caught staring when she was in such an unlikely bad mood.

Peeta Mellark, she had thought to herself, darkly glaring at him without even really meaning to, my eternal bad consciousness. The last thing she needs right now is yet another thing to sorry about, and every time she sees him, she's reminded that she owes him her life, in a way, and she has never even said thanks. Today, he had seemed about to open his mouth, intended words visible on his face, but then she'd met his eyes, and the livid expression in her stony features must have made him think twice about it. She really hadn't meant to glare at him like that; it had just been a general reaction toward any kind of disturbance to her private sphere of gloominess. He'd have to be a very brave guy to attempt another word to her, now.

Katniss is a tense wreck when she sinks down on the bench beside her sister, and from what she can see in the half-dark of the curtained room, none of the other three are doing much better. Suddenly, she feels bad for storming off earlier.

"How was class?" she mutters, not exactly caring, but feeling it's her duty to ask.

Rory, Vick and Prim all turn their heads to the left, to stare at her with unfocused, frowning expressions. Rory just half-shrugs.

"Wouldn't know," he mumbles, turning his eyes back to the brightening screen.

"Don't remember," whispers his little brother, looking so frightened and small that Katniss wishes she was the kind of girl to pick him up and squeeze him tightly for consolation. As it is, she helplessly nudges Prim, who puts an arm around the boy's shoulders in her place.

Then the commentary is tuned down, and the picture on screen is once again that of greenish forest light and dense vegetation. There's a sound of multiple loud boots crunching on ground covered in pine needles and twigs, and of voices ringing out fearlessly. The group of Careers come into image as they walk the last part of the trail back to their basecamp. Slowly, painstakingly, they're moving forward, evidently having a hard time trailing Gale's unconscious body behind. He's bound by hands and feet, tied tightly to a sort of stretcher that they have manufactured from two long poles, roughly cut bare of branches. The two District 1-tributes and the knife-wielding girl, Clove, take turns dragging forward one pole each, and since he's by no means slight of frame, they are sweating a fair bit from the work.

Madge is in the lead of the group, scanning the trail ahead for disturbance as best she can. Katniss can't help but wonder spitefully if she'd even recognize danger if she saw it, and besides, she has no weapon to defend them. The other tributes must still not trust her enough to let her walk armed, even if she's proved thus far to be on their side. Last in line is the boy from Four, anxiously turning his head around over and over again to check behind his exposed back, and ever so often glancing down at the way Gale's head is lolling haphazardly towards the ground. It is obvious he's the least comfortable with the situation; the weakest link in the constellation.

Hatred, pain and barely supressed panic are fighting an even battle in Katniss' head, as she watches them reach the end of the trail. She continues to have a very hard time believing Madge would be as ruthless as she comes off in the Arena, would go to suck measures as to sell out her district partner for her own winning. Quite frankly, she doubts that the poor girl will make it even five minutes once they've finished off Gale, when she's served her purpose. Over the last couple of days, the cameras have focused quite a bit on her interaction with the Career pack, and especially on her and the leader, the boy called Cato. It would seem she had struck some kind of bargain with him before the beginning of the Games, but the commentators are still puzzling over when and how such a deal was possible, considering she spent every minute of training and other supervised events with Gale.

The hateful procession steps out of the treeline one by one, emerging into the large clearing where it all began, a couple of hundred feet from the golden Cornucopia where it sits in the very middle. A surprised but triumphant yell sounds from over there, and in the dimmed afternoon sunshine, they can see a sole figure break away from the camp and come jogging across the field to them.

Clove unceremoniously drops her end of the stretcher holding their captive, making the other girl, whose name is apparently something stupid like Glimmer, swear out loud and lose her hold too. Gale's limp figure falls to the ground in an awkward, strained heap, his head bumping against the coarse wood to form raw marks on his chin. Katniss can feel her heart constrict painfully when a low, moaning noise escapes him, and she sees his brow furrow, as apparently he's beginning to wake up. The group of tributes, however, pay him no mind - they're expectantly watching the boy approaching them.

"We got him!" exclaims Clove, her booming voice lined with ferocious pride. Katniss can really see why she's not the leader of the group, what with her lacking wits.

"Nice one," replies her district partner, coming to a stop before them and grinning in a way that makes her blood run cold. "See, I told you we'd have good use of Princess Twelve here, didn't I?" His voice is as calm and collected as is his still-grinning face, where emotion in anyform won't quite reach his pale blue eyes. He takes a step to stand right beside Madge, lays a brawny arm around her shoulders, and rattles her a little, as if to prove his point further. She has her arms crossed protectively in front of her, perhaps wanting to come off as confidently as possible, and keeps her little smirk firmly in place.

Clove seems unimpressed, raising a demonstrative eyebrow at their cosy display.

"Well, I'm the one who found him, either way. And I sure as hell am going to be the one to kill him, as well." She aims a swift kick in Gale's ribs, which elicits an anguished moan and a slow flutter of his eyes.

"Dream on, honey," drawls Cato. "I'll be the one to end this not-so-cocky-anymore fellow, that's the whole point of you dragging him here." He smiles, and it's not a pleasant one. "Might let you have some fun first though, for being such a good little partner." Cato swaggers over to her, raises an arm to ruffle her short black hair and the lets it drape across her shoulders, instead. She, in turn, turns her eyes to give Madge an undisguised, dirty look, full of all the previous jealousy she so obviously feels towards her. Not a very discreet game, but it seems to be working well for the District 2 boy.

Cato approaches Gale's still form, inspecting the knots tying him down and the amount of damage already done to him thus far today.

"Looks like Twelve hear got caught in the fire earlier. How very inexperienced of him," he leers, much to Katniss' flaring anger.

"You smug bastard," she mutters under her breath. "You wouldn't have seen a fire coming until it was burning up your ass." A few surprised heads turn her way from the kids closest by, but neither Vick nor Rory seem to have heard the comment.

And of course, they can't hear her through the screen either, so Cato only proceeds to lower himself down by Gale for a closer look.

"Do you hear that, huh? In a short while, you'll be dead, and it will be long, and slow, and painful, because oh man, you've been annoying the hell out of me from the start."

Painstakingly, slowly, Gale's eyes flutter open, revealing the misty grey colour of his eyes, which are still far away from full consciousness. Something slurred and unintelligible comes over his barely opened lips, and then his head lolls back again, as the poison – and potentially also the pain from his legs – are too much for his senses to cope with.

"What's that, Twelve? A beg for mercy, perhaps? Don't waste too much breath on that now," leers Cato, "you'll have plenty of opportunity to do it later on.

"Oh cut the empty words already," comes Madge's seemingly bored voice. "He can't even hear you, anyway." The camera zooms over to show her still standing in her spot, but with eyes focused solely on Cato's hunching figure, and not on the miserable form beside him.

"What's the matter, lover girl? Can't stand to see your boyfriend disgraced like this?"

Madge only rolls her eyes in response, stating the obvious fact in a steady, unfeeling voice.

"He wouldn't even be here, if I hadn't helped you find him."

"That you did, true," muses Cato, righting himself up from the crouch and pursing his lips in mock contemplation. "And are you so eager to see you partner here dead? You know I am too…" He looks from her, to the other three tributes in the little circle, to their captive on the ground. "But you're right in one thing, however. Where's the fun in killing him if he's not even awake for the occasion?"

His malicious grin is back in place, and the two Career girls burst out in laughter to join it, but apparently, not all of his allies feel the same. The boy from One, who so far has been mostly quiet, sights audibly.

"Why don't we just kill him now and get it over with? Who knows what he'll be like once he wakes up?"

Cato throws his head back in a rather insane laughter, bringing out louder ones from the girls too. "Are we scared of this piece of trash here now, Marvel?" he mocks the other boy, taunting him with a jeering grin and scornful eyes. "What do you think he'll do, make you fall desperately in love with his handsome jawline, perhaps?"

The one called Marvel snorts a short laugh, not very amused.

"Whatever. You're the boss, after all. I just don't trust that girl, is all," he mutters, glaring frostily over at Madge.

More laughter. "So now you're scared of unarmed girls, too?" teases the girl in question, smiling sardonically across the assembled circle.

Marvel throws her a withering look, and bends down to take a hold of the pole to Gale's left side, while Cato grabs the right hand side one. Between them, they drag him feet first the rest of the way to the Cornucopia, letting his head bump against the ground carelessly. The only other person there is the small boy from Three, whose job it is to keep their supplies safe by reactivating and controlling the landmines buried all around them. Everyone watching was surprised by that innovative move, and also by the fact that Cato seems to have struck not just one, but two practical deals in his mere week in the Capitol before the Games.

They discard the stretcher as soon as they reach the camp, which consists of two transparent rain shelters extended on either side of a circular fireplace. Cato takes help from the guy from Four, who originally tied the very complex knots holding Gale in place, to loosen them, instead binding his hands behind his back and his feet tightly together. They roll him over to a sitting position at the opening of the golden horn, and then tie his hands to a loop on the thing itself.

"Nice and steady, there," beams Cato, shoving his prisoner's head back to slam against the hard surface of the metal, just for good measure.

In the meantime, Madge has busied herself with getting food out for all of them. She announces that they'll need more cans of ready-made stew from the pile of supplies, and as usual, Marvel accompanies her, hand ready on his short sword and with suspicious eyes surveying her very move.

"Oh jeez, relax already," she tells him exasperatedly when she sees him following. "I'm not going to steal anything, if that's what you're worried about."

He only grumbles something about weapons and safety in returns, frowning deeply in a haughty manner.

"Look, if it makes you feel better, I can go put the poison capsules back with the medical supplies, for now? I mean, what am I going to do with the stupid launch tube, then?"

She gets another suspicious glare, and her armed escort seems to think it through for a minute, before finally nodding curtly.

"Fine by me," he mutters.

Madge loads up three large cans of stew, which she hands over to Marvel before going a half lap around the smallish mountain of food, clothes and useful gear, reaching a large white box with a distinctive red cross on it. She bends down to pry the lid open, and sticks a hand down her jacket pocket, coming up with the small device she had used earlier to pull her district partner under.

"I think he ought to wake up pretty soon," she says in the passing, while fidgeting with the launch tube to get the used poison capsule out. "Should be any minute now, actually…" Her eyebrows furrow slightly, and her head turns back towards the camp for a second, as if checking to see for herself.

Marvel visibly flinches, and snaps his head around to look, too. Indeed, over their shoulders they can see Gale struggling to raise his head, shaking it groggily to try and clear out the confusion.

With her face still trained on the events in the camp, Madge sneaks her eyes back towards the medical supplies box, and with nimble fingers, takes out two small objects – another poison capsule and a tiny round jar – and slip them quickly into her pocket. Marvel doesn't notice a thing.

"We'll go back now," he says, trying to make his rather high-pitched voice sound deep and commanding.

"Sure," quips Madge, retracting her hand from the pocket and zipping it up tightly. She starts to walk, completely disregarding the potential threat of a sword in the back, and as soon as she's facing away from him, the audience can see her smile, pleased with herself. As it would seem, the Mayor's daughter has yet another trick up her sleeve.

In the lunchroom back in her home district, a low murmur runs through the crowd. Is it possible that what they just witnessed was an act of deception towards her chosen allies? Whose side is she really on, this girl who nobody thought would have a chance, but who has so far kept beating the best players at their own games? Something's about to happen, and it's about to happen big time. Katniss can feel her heart beating faster in anticipation, can feel the slightest sliver of hope begin to spiral in her chest. Her gaze flickers between the blond girl and Gale, who is blinking woozily in his spot by the Cornucopia, his hands pulling against the tight ropes binding him down. A look of pure anger and frustration flashes on his face, and he grimaces with pain as the full force of his leg injury comes back.

"Oh, looks who's finally awake! Done with napping yet, Twelve?" Cato strides back from the fireplace to hoover over Gale, a huge shadow falling across his crumpled form. He only glares up at his captor, clenching his teeth as the other boy pokes the toe of his boot into the stark red gash where fire burned his skin earlier.

The rest of the group comes to stand in a ring around him, all leering and sniggering at how feeble he looks, dirty and blood-smeared and barely able to hold his head upright. What he can do, however, is fix his penetrating stare at Madge, and hold it in place. She meets it for a mere second, and then squirms and has to look away - not even her ice-cold demeanour of lately can withstand that glare.

Marvel, who has been watching her closely still, snorts a derisive laugh.

"Feel bad for your boyfriend now, do you?" he scorns her, in that same too-obvious arrogant tone that all the Careers seem to favour.

"Oh shut up, wonder boy," interrupts Cato, clearly annoyed as soon as any of the others even open their mouths. "You're almost as pathetic as that name of yours implies." Then he straightens up to his full height, and crosses his arms with a pleased smirk, still looking down on Gale. He continues: "You do have a point in all your whining, however."

Throughout the semi-circle of tributes, everyone is silent, eyes trained wearily on the boy who is evidently directing the fallout of this little show. Safe to say, he loves the undivided attention, holds a wide grin in place for another moment, before it melts away into a mask of stone-cold intention.

"I believe a healthy dose of trust issues is what will get both you and me far in this competition," he says to Marvel, and then his eyes snap aside to fixate on the girl next to him. "And right now, I know exactly who I distrust the most here."

Madge's eyes widen, and she instinctively takes a step back as Cato takes one forward. However, she stand her ground there, swallowing down whatever fear might be otherwise showing.

"I've given you no reason not to trust me, Cato," she says steadily, while barely noticeably slipping one hand down her jacket pocket. "We had a deal, and now I've held up my side of the bargain." She wisely keeps her gaze firmly trained on his, not acknowledging the other boy drawing closer from her other side. The circle is suddenly tense, edging together with readied hands, and by now, it's five on one without hesitation.

Cato laughs mirthlessly. "Yes, my princess, you certainly have paid your weight in gold. But well, now you've served your purpose, so…" He shrugs.

Madge's eyes flicker from side to side, her body tense and ready to spring, if only there had been anywhere to run. One flick of Cato's hand, and Marvel closes the last few inches, and descends on her like a flash, grinning wolfishly. She doesn't even have time to take her hand out of her pocket, before it is ripped out and twisted behind her back in a firm grip. The one poor excuse for a weapon in her possession falls ineffectively to the ground beside her, open for everyone to see.

"You little bitch," seethes Marvel right by her ear, rattling her in his grip and moving one arm to squeeze around her throat. "You told me you'd disposed of that!"

She's helpless in the clasp of her former allies, twisting her arms in vain a few times before realising it will get her nowhere.

"It seems I made the right call not trusting you." Cato smirks, and walks up to stand in front of her, knife in hand. "And now, here comes the best part."

Slowly, agonising, he strokes the tip of his knife from the top of the partition in her loose hair, along the side of her forehead to her temple, pushing aside a few strands to rest behind her ear. Madge is visibly trembling, clenching her jaw to keep it from showing on her lips but breathing shakily through her nose. Her eyes close tight; as she is well aware they can do anything they want with her now.

Game over, Madge, thinks Katniss, since this is clearly not going according to any of her plans. The tension in the room is now almost tangible, seeing as how both their district's tributes could be dead within minutes.

Cato lays the cold steel of the blade flat against her cheek, only just pressing the tip of the knife into the tender skin under her eye.

"Now," he drones, "now you will die, and you will do it while your alleged lover here gets to watch. Double the fun." His face is a mere inch from hers when he mumbles the last part. "Shame to waste such a pretty face, but I hope he'll enjoy the show."

When he takes a step back, Madge is breathing in short, panicked gasps, but her eyes are shining with defiance, rather than fear.

"You said you'd let me live if I brought you Gale! I'd be a much better ally to you than these meatheads you choose to hang around with," she tries to reason with him, her voice surprisingly steady from anger.

He only barks his empty laugh in return, and draws a thin line of blood along her cheek before stepping away. "Don't you know, no decent person ever won the Games. Tie her up next to our other guest, will you, Marve?" Turning his back on her, he assumes his subordinate to just follow order, without question, and he's right.

Gale is alert now, but has stayed silent all through the interaction that has lead to him getting company in the makeshift prison by the Cornucopia. His stern eyes follow Madge as she is lead over and pushed down into a sitting position by a swift kick to her knees. The cold fire in his eyes seems to say what the fuck was the point of all that now? Meanwhile at home, Katniss is considering frenetically if there's any way out of this at all. Her gaze is dancing back and forth on the huge screen in front of her, desperately searching for a way out. Every time her thoughts hit a dead end, it flickers back to Gale, trying as best she can to read his face, hoping to find any inclination that he's thought of something that she hasn't. She knows that he's obviously thinking hard, but also that if he had found an out already, he wouldn't be stupid enough to let it show on the outside.

Madge is fighting with futile desperation against the fetters being tied around her wrists, words still spilling out of her mouth in a fight for her life even as she's shoved around, her back against the golden horn, a good feet or two away from Gale.

"But I promise, I'm still on your side! I don't care if you kill him, I just want to live another day, and –"

"This is the Hunger Games, honey," interrupts Cato from his position by the fire, carefully inspecting as Marvel and the guy from Four binds her in place. "What's the use in surviving another day, if you won't make it to the end anyway?"

Madge's eyes narrow, and she splutters out another kind of self- protection:

"Then why do you let the rest of these idiots stay alive? And the rest of you," she looks around, blood trickling slowly down her cheek, "why do you let him live? He'll kill the lot of you eventually!"

Clove and the other Career girl, who have been busy rekindling the fire and heating up stew this whole time, snap their heads up, glancing at each other and then over to Cato and Marvel, who are already eyeing each other.

"I'm getting really tired of your big mouth, you know," growls the District 1 boy, twisting her arm a little extra forcefully to make her cry out in pain instead.

Poor Madge, who has probably never felt any physical pain beyond a simple splinter in her entire life.

Cato just quirks an eyebrow, unbothered by the question. After all, it's not like he has never thought about it before – it is a rather obvious dilemma. "That's a later problem," he says. "Nothing you'll ever live to witness."

Madge lifts an eyebrow of her own at that, defiant. "Oh yeah? I don't see you doing anything to end me, yet."

"Yet is the word, princess. What's the fun in making it quick, after all?"

"But I'm – "

"Knock her out, will you?" Says Cato, throwing a look at the white-blond boy still hovering over by where she is sitting.

And Marvel smiles, unsheathes his sword, and swings its hilt with full force towards the side of her face. The knock sends her head twisting to the side, her hair a golden cascade in the air for a split second, before it connects with a dull thump with the wall on the other side. A light shower of blood rains across the short distance, landing in a macabre sprinkle over half of Gale's stricken, wide-eyed face. He blinks, staring for several moments at the slumped, unconscious mess of a girl to his right, as she's facing his way with only a curtain of blood-matted hair between them.

His jaw is impossible strained, but he wisely clenches his teeth around the tirade of words that he would apparently like to spill right now. Wisely, since he has rightly guessed that the less attention he draws to himself, the less they'll bother with him, for the moment. So far, in only a few days time, he has been close to dying first from dehydration, then from fire, and now the Careers. Things are not exactly looking bright for District 12's first volunteer ever, as now his only potential ally is even worse off than he is. Gale lets his head fall back against the sun-heated surface of the Cornucopia, and in his skyward eyes are despair, clear as a day for anyone to see. The usual stony mask is nowhere to be seen, as if he's baring his soul in a plea for help. As if there's anyone to help him now.

As soon as the producers of the Games realises that nothing of interest is going to be happening anytime soon, the seal of the Capitol takes over the screen, marking the end of this session of required viewing. The curtains lining the large room roll automatically to the sides, flooding the perplexed audience with bright sunshine. Katniss has to cover her face with both hands for a minute, partly to shelter her eyes from the gleaming intrusion, and partly to give herself time to rearrange her face back into its normal unfeeling state, where no emotions can betray her storming insides.

Several deep breaths, several pinches to the skin underneath her eyes, and a mental effort worthy of a gold medal, and she thinks she's as good as there. Jumping up on two feet, and looking over at the three kids for which she may soon have to be as well a big brother as a big sister, she sees they are all in a similar position as the one she just escaped.

"Vick. Rory. Prim. Come on, we're going home."

The two boys lower their hands, but she almost wishes they hadn't, because the completely lost grey ocean she sees in their double pairs of eyes is beyond what she knows how to handle.

"I just really want to beat someone up," growls the elder of the two brothers, his fists clenching so tightly that the knuckles are whitening.

Katniss stares at him, and she can feel her face scrunch up in frustration. To her great relief, her little sister chooses that moment to interfere. She really can't believe how good Prim is with setting her own horror aside for the sake of other people, already at the age of twelve.

"Let's go demolish that old shack some more, yeah?" she asks him, forcing his hand open to make him clutch her own instead.

As for Vick, that one is a harder nut to crack. The kid is only eight years of age, and a small, sprightly boy with a happy, careless mind, who should never have to be faced with terrible situations like this one. No one should, really, but some just handle it better than others. When he won't pry his hands away from his eyes, no matter how much Katniss demands he pulls himself together, or pleads with him, she just sighs, and puts aside her own despair for a moment.

"It may still be okay, Vick," she murmurs in his ear, when it's almost just the two of them left in the room many minutes later. The only response she gets is a muffled little sob.

She ends up carrying his small, thin frame all the way back to the Seam, while never ending tears slowly soak the shoulder of her worn shirt since he refuses to show his face to the world. His mother opens the door with worry lines etched almost as deep as her own ones. They share no more than a look, and a minimum of quick words.

"We'll be over later. With food."

Hazelle takes over her youngest son from her aching arms, nods once, and disappears back into the house, like she wants the door to close as quickly as possible. No point in putting their misery at display for the neighbours, any more than necessary. The way home is slow, agonisingly long despite the short distance. The sunlight takes on a strange, dreamlike quality in her drained state, and the air seems to be shimmering when she tries to focus her gaze. Every few minutes, she imagines she can sense Gale's presence by her side, just about hear the softest thud of his boots on the grovel beneath her feet. Each time, she snaps her eyes open, shakes the fogginess of almost-sleep out of her head - because that thought only scares her further. If he were indeed able to walk beside her in spirit, it could only mean one thing, and that possibility is all too real to be imaginable.