A/N: Thank you to everyone for all the birthday wishes and awesome feedback! I had no idea that lavender-smelling, lingerie-sporting Gale would be so popular lol. But alas, things cannot stay so light-hearted for our heroes. So brace yourselves, cuz things are about to get real. Everyone ready? Then let's get to it.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.


Chapter 6 - The Kiss Heard 'Round the World

When we arrive in the dining car, we find Haymitch already sitting at the table. I'm surprised he even bothered to show up, especially since he doesn't seem to actually be eating any of the food set out in front of him. Gale takes the seat across the table from Haymitch and I sit down beside him, leaving Effie to sit beside Haymitch. She subtly tries to shift her chair to put as much distance between them as possible, and I can't really blame her - even from where I'm sitting the alcohol fumes that seem to be seeping directly out of his pores are nearly overwhelming.

As soon as we are seated, servants arrive to place bowls of a thick carrot soup in front of each of us. It smells incredible - much better than the watery soups we are able to make in the Seam.

The thought immediately turns my stomach - enjoying any of the luxuries that the Capitol will shower us with until we enter the Arena feels like a betrayal of my family, of everyone in District 12, of everyone in all the districts who have struggled to keep enough food on their tables or starved to death trying.

I am no longer hungry, but I definitely need to eat as much as I can between now and the start of the Games. Not knowing what or how much we'll have to eat in the Arena means I should try to put on a few pounds before going in. So I reluctantly pick up my spoon and begin eating. It tastes delicious. I hate it even more on principle. Gale has been eyeing his bowl with the same distaste that I feel, but follows my lead.

Effie, having started before we did, finishes her bowl when we are only halfway through ours. She watches us for a moment, then remarks, "At least you two have decent manners. The pair last year ate everything with their hands. Can you imagine that? It was all I could do to finish my meals with them around." Her voice is dripping with disdain.

Gale and I pause, spoons halfway to our mouths, and look at each other. The tributes last year were both from the community house, just 14 and 15 years old. The community house provides only the barest minimum of food to its residents, and it's well-known that the stronger kids there frequently steal the rations of the weaker ones. Last year's tributes were not among the stronger kids. Most days they were probably lucky if they got to eat even a single meal. Table manners were not something they would ever have had need of. But of course it's too much too expect that Effie Trinket, with all of her Capitol largesse, would have any sympathy for that kind of life.

Simultaneously we place our spoons on the table and lift our bowls to our mouths. We drink the rest of the soup straight from the bowl, slurping loudly. Gale even licks his bowl clean when we finish. Effie once again looks appalled by us, but at least she no longer appears surprised. I catch Haymitch watching us, an appraising look in his eyes, which are far more clear than I would have expected. I have a sneaking suspicion that at least some of his drunkenness today has been an act - a cover from under which he could observe and assess the events unfolding without being expected to actually participate in them.

We make a point to eat the rest of the meal with our hands, as sloppily as possible, no matter what comes out - things get particularly messy with the salad and the mashed potatoes. When we finish, we make a big show of wiping our hands and mouths on the table cloth. Effie is unable to suppress a noise of disgust, and I notice Haymitch smiling into the flask he's been drinking from steadily throughout dinner. If he had been exaggerating his level drunkenness before, he certainly isn't anymore. He lurches up unsteadily from the table, nearly knocking it over, before stumbling slowly towards the hallway leading to the sleeping cabins.

"Where are you going?" Effie demands.

"To take a nap," he slurs back, not stopping to look at her.

"Now?" she hisses, and I am somewhat gratified to see that she definitely looks more frustrated with him that she ever has with us. So far, anyways. "The Reaping Day recap will be starting soon. You need to watch it." All the reapings are broadcast live, with their timing staggered throughout the day so that hypothetically you could watch them all as they happen. But only people in the Capitol are actually able to do that, since everyone else is required to attend their district's reaping. So they air a recap a few hours after District 12's, to let people see what happened in the other districts.

Haymitch shrugs, tossing us a sarcastic thumbs up, says "I'm sure you guys got it covered," and wanders off.

Now Gale and I look just as angry as Effie does. Haymitch is our mentor, the only one we have. He's supposed to advise us, use his experience to teach us what to expect in the Arena. He is the only one that can get us sponsors when we're in the Arena and get their gifts to us. And he is supposed to come up with the strategy that we will use to help stay alive during the Games and to help win those sponsors. And while I don't exactly have any personal experience here, I think it's pretty safe to assume that he should know who we will be up against when developing that strategy. Assuming he even plans to do something to help us, which from what we've seen so far, is less than certain.

"I'll deal with him tomorrow," Effie tells us in what she must think is a reassuring voice.

"Thanks," I mutter, but Gale remains steely-eyed. I'm pretty sure he has an even lower opinion of Haymitch than I do, and will likely resist receiving any help from him, even if Haymitch does decide to offer it. I take his hand in mine, stroking his palm gently and some of the tension leaves his shoulders.

"Well, let's go watch the recap," Effie says, rising from the table.

We follow her to an adjoining room with a large television and two couches set in front of it, perpendicular to each other. Gale leads me by our joined hands to the couch further from the entrance, settling against the armrest nearest the wall. I sit beside him, leaving no space between us. He places our clasped hands in his lap and I wrap my other hand around his arm, laying my head on his shoulder. I pull my legs up, resting my knees lightly against his left thigh, and he begins tracing soft circles on them with his free hand. He turns his head to press a gentle kiss to my hairline.

I glance over at Effie, sitting on the other couch. She is regarding us carefully, no longer with disapproval, but instead an odd mixture of fascination, cunning, and, to my immense surprise, just a hint of pity. She snaps her eyes over to the television as soon as she notices my gaze on her. I wonder for the first time what she really thinks of everything that has happened today, and whether it's possible that some of her apparent displeasure with us stems from understanding how much harder our romantic relationship, absolutely unheard of among tributes, will make the Games for us. If maybe some part of her actually finds this situation unfair. I realize that if others in the Capitol feel that way, it should make us popular with the sponsors. But I can't help but worry what trouble might be stirred up in the districts by witnessing our plight, if it is indeed capable of rousing the sympathies of even the Capitol population.

I don't have time to think about the subject any further because the television suddenly flares to life, the seal of the Capitol filling the screen while anthem of Panem plays. Then the recap begins, narrated by Caesar Flickerman, the long-time official commentator of the Hunger Games. Gale and I both sit up a little straighter to pay attention. We watch carefully as each name is called, and a few occasions when a volunteer steps forward to take their place, sizing up each tribute to identify those that will give us the most trouble.

Up first are two volunteers from District 1, a girl who appears to be about 16 and boy who I guess is around our age, both with platinum blonde hair. They do not volunteer out of love for the reaped tributes as I did, but because they are Careers. Some of the richer districts select children to train from a young age in combat and survival skills, in preparation for the Games. When they are the right age, they volunteer as tribute. Technically this is against the rules, but the Capitol does nothing to stop it, as it tends to make for a more interesting show. Their advantage means that Victors are almost always Career tributes. These two don't appear to be any particular threat, but because they are Careers I know they can't be discounted. We'll have to keep an eye on them during the pre-game training to see if they have any special skills we need to be wary of.

The volunteers from 2, also a Career district, are another matter entirely. They both appear to be 18. The girl has easily 50 pounds on me, and the boy is built like an ox. Both have a vicious glint in their eyes that makes me shiver. They will enjoy killing. Gale squeezes my hand reassuringly, but when I look at him I see that his face is grim. Those two are definitely going to be a problem.

I dismiss both tributes from District 3. District 4 is the other Career district, which warrants further examination, but as with 1, nothing makes me especially concerned about either of them. Something about the girl from District 5 tells me she will be tough to beat. She isn't very large, but her face has a sly, fox-like quality and there is a calculating gleam in her eye. She probably isn't very strong, but she is clearly intelligent and I am immediately wary of her. Nothing stands out about the tributes from Districts 6, 7, 8 or 9. The boy from 10 walks to the stage with an obvious limp, his foot apparently crippled, and I feel a rush of pity for him. He won't last long.

When the girl tribute from District 11 is called, I gasp. She is tiny, clearly only 12 years old. She has dark brown skin and eyes, but otherwise her resemblance to Prim is striking. She has the same innocence, the same delicate features, the same gentle air about her. She reaches the stage and when their escort asks for a volunteer, the crowd is silent. Gale senses my distress and releases my hand to wrap his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. I feel tears prick my eyes at the horror and unfairness of it all. It's foolish, but I resolve to do whatever I can protect this little girl in the Arena. I look up at Gale and he nods sadly in agreement, having read my intent from my eyes.

The boy from 11 is being called now. He will be another one to watch out for. He's at least as big as the boy from 2, if not larger. His eyes burn with a fierce hostility. While I don't think he will take pleasure in the violence the same way that the District 2 Careers will, I can tell he won't shy away from it either.

Up last is District 12, and I huddle closer to Gale, turning my face into his shoulder. I have no desire to see this. It was awful enough living through it. But I force myself to keep one eye on the television, so that I know how it all appeared to everyone else watching. Prim's name is called and I see myself rushing forward to volunteer. I discover that the commotion I had caught on the boys' side out of the corner of my eye before I spoke up was Gale rushing towards the aisle. Trying to intercept me before I could speak up, I realize.

I turn to him in shock, momentarily livid that he would have stopped me, that he would have let Prim be reaped if he could have. But it's clear as soon as I look at him that he feels horribly ashamed and my anger fades as quickly as it flared up. "I'm sorry," he blurts out before I can speak, voice full of remorse. "I just … as soon as I heard Prim's name, I knew what you would do, and I just couldn't stand the thought of losing you. I was moving before I even knew what I was doing. You know that I would never want…," he pauses, flicking his gaze nervously to Effie, who is doing a truly terrible job of pretending not to be listening to us. He tries again, "You know that I understand that you could never do anything other than what you did." But what he clearly means is, 'You know I would never want Prim to be put through this nightmare.'

I do know that. And I can't say that I don't understand how he felt - it was exactly how I felt when his name was called. Only there was never anything I could have done to stop him from being reaped. If it had been Rory's name that was called and Gale had stepped forward to volunteer for him, I don't doubt that I would have flown off the stage, to tackle him to the ground and hold his mouth shut using any means necessary, to keep him safe. I can't be mad at him for something I would have done myself, and I don't want to be.

"It's okay. I understand," I whisper softly, pulling him down for quick kiss. He studies me for a long moment before accepting that I am truly not mad at him. He leans back down to me, kissing me softly.

"I love you," he murmurs against my mouth and I hum my agreement.

The sound of Haymitch toppling off the stage pulls our attention back to the TV screen. I glance briefly at Effie to see that, although she is still pretending to be paying no attention to us, her face has turned as pink as her hair. With her bright pink suit, she looks like a flamingo and I snicker quietly.

Gale's name is called and I can plainly see the sheer devastation my face when it is. It hurts so much just watching it that once again I can barely breathe. I feel a rush of gratitude when I see how he tried to protect me from the cameras when he made it on stage, angling us away from them while I pulled myself together. The people of District 12 raise their hands in salute, and I am filled again with pride and trepidation. I can see now how truly rebellious the gesture will appear to the Capitol, a clear signal of the deep resentment that lies beneath our obedient veneer. It is also impossible to miss the spark of defiance that lights up the crowd when we kiss. I'm surprised they actually showed it, but I suppose it would have been in the live broadcast and it would look suspicious if they edited it out for this. The recap does not show what happened after we were dragged inside, but I feel absolutely certain that we have started something big, something much larger than ourselves, with that action. Something dangerous.

The thought makes me uneasy. Looking at Gale, I can see that he senses it too. He is wearing the same look he gets in the woods when he's railing against the Capitol and wishing for an uprising, only now there is something else in his expression - anticipation. I feel queasy, the large meal sitting unpleasantly in my stomach as I grow increasingly unsettled by what I've witnessed.

Whatever we have ignited will only grow as the Games play out. And I'm sure that the Games have just become that much more dangerous for us because of it.

I find myself actually wishing that Haymitch had been here to see this. If we are not careful with how we present ourselves, if we appear too treasonous, we risk bringing the wrath of the Capitol down on our families as punishment for our actions. Our lives are already forfeit, but our families should not suffer because we started something we never meant to. As much as I dislike Haymitch, he is the only one that can help us navigate the perilous waters we have entered.

My father once told me an old saying, from long before the days of Panem, when religion was not yet forbidden: "Speak of the devil and he appears." When Haymitch suddenly stumbles into the room, asks what he missed, vomits all over the floor and falls face-first into the puddle, I finally understand just what that phrase means.