Note: Hey, everyone. I just wanted to say thank you for still reading and reviewing this, even though I'm possibly the slowest updater to ever live, in the history of the universe. Your thoughts and words of encouragement really do mean a lot to me, so thank you so much for letting me know what you think. You're all amazing. Incredibly so. :)

Oh, and for the record, I actually have most of the next chapter already written, so this time my update really will be a lot quicker. Hopefully in the next week or so. Anyway, enjoy, and let me know what you think!

Rory isn't handling the news very well.

He hasn't spoken a single word to anyone since we found Sam's body, and it's been almost a full day. A full day of mining on my part, and of my mother trying to handle the fallout from the death. There won't be a funeral- the peacekeepers already came for his body- and Sam didn't leave a will or anything, so I had the terrible job of going into his house last night and taking what I thought might be worth having. Unfortunately, though, there wasn't really much that was useful. Since the Hob was burned down, I can't sell any of it, and anyway, most of what Sam owned, we already have. Among the few things I did take, however, is the picture of Sam and his wife. That, I thought, deserved to be treated a little better than to be left in a frame to rot in a house that lingered with the scents and thought of death.

I know Rory isn't pleased that I took anything at all from Sam's house, though he hasn't said anything outright. I just know he isn't happy because he won't look at any of it, won't even leave our room. I don't think Rory has been this quiet ever, in his entire life, and if I'm being entirely honest, it scares me a little. Rory's supposed to be unfazed by everything- it's what makes him who he is.

Prim came over to our house as soon as she heard about Sam's death, although I've got no clue as to how she found out. She didn't even bother knocking on the door, just pushed her way inside and went to talk to Rory. I don't know what she said to him and I don't know how much it actually helped, because both she and Rory ended up skipping school today, under the plausible pretense that they're sick. I don't blame them. The two of them have spent a lot of time sitting together against the wall next to our front door, not saying anything. He's still upset about Sam, obviously, and she's still worrying about Katniss, and even though nothing that's wrong can be fixed, they've at least still got each other. Prim didn't go home until a while after I got back from the mines, and then Rory shut himself in our room and that was the last of him I've seen since then.

I wish there was something I could say to make it better, but the fact of the matter is that Rory's hero is dead. And that he most likely killed himself. Which is something I still can't explain away.

For a brief amount of time I seriously questioned whether or not someone might have killed him- Lucien or one of his cronies being at the top of the list, of course. But after seriously looking at the body, remembering how we found it, even I can't deny it was suicide. Which somehow makes everything worse.

Everyone in our house has had red-rimmed eyes today, except for Posy, who's spent a lot of the time since we found the body walking around the house, looking worried.

"Mommy's sad?" She asks me in a whisper, looking towards our mom with a frown etched on her small face. It's after work- I didn't even see Lucien today, so no worries there- and I'm sitting on the couch, waiting for Mandatory Viewing to start. I'm the only one in the living room, because my mom's been crying all day and trying to hide it, and Vick and Rory are shut up in our room. Posy looks so serious it's almost comical, but I'm not really in a laughing mood. I just grab my sister's hand and nod.

"Yeah, Posy, she's real sad," I say quietly.

Posy's eyes get a little bigger. "How come?"

I don't really know how to explain what happened to her but I know I can't just leave Posy hanging, confused. Finally I lift her up onto my lap and wrap my arms around her.

"We lost somebody, Posy," I begin, talking into her hair. "A really good friend."

"Who?"

I know she must have heard us saying his name all day, but I guess she hasn't really connected everything yet. "Sam, Posy. We lost Sam, Dad's friend."

"Can't we find him?" she asks. Her small, thin face is sincere and honest, like she's eager to help somehow. I know she doesn't like seeing everyone so upset.

But I just shake my head. "No, we can't. He's not really lost in a way that can be found," I say. There's a pause, and then I keep talking. "We lost him like we lost Dad."

Posy's mouth turns into a little 'oh' of understanding, and her frown deepens. "But Mommy says we didn't really lose Dad."

This time I'm the puzzled one, wondering what it is, exactly, that our mom has convinced Posy to believe. I know four years old is a little young to understand death, but it's not right for our mother to have convinced Posy that our dad can somehow magically come back from the dead. Before I get a chance to ask her to clarify, Posy keeps talking.

"'Cause we're carrying him here." She pokes the right side of my chest, and even though it's the wrong side, I know she means my heart. I little smile rises to my lips, the kind only Posy can ever coax out of me.

"That's exactly right," I say.

Posy murmurs something that I don't quite catch, and when I ask her what she said, she speaks a little louder, snuggling up against me and burrowing into my shirt.

"Daddy takes up lotsa room. But I think there's space for Sam, too."

After that, neither of us says anything for a while. Her because she's about to fall asleep against my chest, me because I'm dangerously- embarrassingly- close to choking on the tears that are threatening to come. Finally, though, her grey Seam eyes latch onto mine. In a quick moment, her hands have found my face and pushed up, forcing my mouth into a smile that I'm sure looks odd because I'm still frowning underneath it.

"Stop being sad," Posy demands, her face in a pout. "I don't like it."

And there's something about her serious tone and small hands that makes my smile become real. "All right, Posy. I'll stop being sad." My bleak smile suddenly turns into a real grin, and my hands find her sides, tickling her until she's shrieking with laughter, and I'm laughing a little, too.

And even though making Posy laugh can't make Sam come back to life or save Katniss from the Arena, it does make me feel a little better.

Only a little, though.

When Posy's laughed herself out, giggling to herself on the floor until her soft laughs subside into silence, I quietly get to my feet and make my way to the room I share with my brothers. Rory and Vick are in there, and no matter how much I'm dreading it, I do need to talk to them. Especially Rory.

And besides, now's as good a time as any.

I push open the door and step inside.

Both of my brothers are in the cramped space. Vick's laying on the bed, his eyes on the ceiling wordlessly. Rory's sitting against one of the walls in our room, his knees curled upwards to his chest, his head bent down to his knees. Neither one of them looks up even though they can clearly hear that I've entered the room.

I clear my throat, suddenly feeling like I'm not sure I can find the right words to help either one of them. Then I move to the bed and sit on the edge of it, trying to make my voice work. When it finally does, though, I say something so abysmally stupid I wish I hadn't said anything at all.

"Are you okay?"

Duh, of course they're not, and as soon as the question is out of my mouth I mentally hit myself in the forehead.

"Sorry, stupid question," I say before either one of my brothers gets the chance to speak. I let the silence last a little longer, while I actually think through what I'm going to say next. I nudge Vick with my elbow, suddenly realizing just how big he's gotten. "Do you remember when Sam brought home some fool's gold that he found for you? And even though you knew it wasn't actually worth anything, you carried it around with you everywhere you went?"

Vick turns his head a little to look at me, a reluctant smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

I keep talking. "And when Mom tried to make you let go of it, you refused. You kept it in your hand for a few days until you finally got sick of trying to tie your shoes with only one hand." Now, I'm smiling a little too, laughing. Vick finally joins me, sitting up, criss-crossing his legs on the bed.

"I thought it was magic," he says. "That as long as I held it, everything would be okay. That it gave me super powers." He's smiling at the memory.

"Well, you definitely made everyone who saw you laugh. I think Sam actually regretted giving it to you because you got so annoying about it." Vick's still smiling, which is a good thing. Now I've got to figure out how to cheer Rory up. I doubt I can, but it's worth trying.

I kick out with my foot, tapping Rory's side with the tip of my boot. "And what about you? How about the time when Sam and Dad convinced you that you'd laid eggs during the night?"

At this, Vick lets out a laugh even though Rory doesn't make any sign that he's heard. Rory was really young- he had to have been six years old- when Sam and our dad had placed some eggs they had found from a nest near our house on the bed Rory and I were sharing. When Rory woke up, there were three robin eggs on the bed beside him and somehow Sam and our dad had made Rory believe that he'd laid them. Rory, predictably, freaked out, wondering why he didn't remember what had happened and how, exactly, he'd managed to give birth to birds. Over the years, Rory found plenty of ways to pay Sam and Dad back, but I still I don't think anyone in our family had laughed harder than we did then for a long time.

"And then you ran around the house, shouting that you were turning into a robin and that you wanted it to stop." I'm laughing as I speak, remembering the image of a shrieking Rory, flapping his arms and going red in his face as he begged our mother to turn him back into a boy.

There's a weird sound coming from Rory, but it's muffled in his arms. I can't really tell if he's crying or laughing, and the shaking in his shoulders could indicate either situation.

Finally, he mumbles something. I can't really hear what he's saying, and I tell him so. In response, Rory lifts his head a little- his eyes are noticeably puffy- and he asks quietly the first thing I've heard him say all day.

"Why'd he do it?"

I'm stumped, a little, by this question. Not because I can't think of a reason- there are plenty of those- but because I can't think of a reason that Rory won't have already thought of.

"Rory-" I start, but he interrupts me.

"Now, I mean. Why'd he do it now. Didn't he realize-" Rory chokes on his words. "Now just- wasn't a good time." Then his cheeks flush red as he hears how horrible that sentence sounds.

But I understand what he means. Because I've been thinking it all day, too. How this week was a bad one anyway, what with the Games and Katniss and everything, and that Sam knowingly made it worse. Of all the times for Sam to commit suicide, now was really not the most opportune moment.

I instantly feel guilty for thinking that, but I try not to let it show.

"He talked about you, to me," is what I say, instead of answering his question. Rory doesn't even respond to this. "Told me to say hi, and that he was proud of you."

"Proud?" He whispers. His voice sounds hoarse, and it's hurting more than any twelve-year-old voice ever should. "What's there to be proud of?"

I shake my head. "Don't be an idiot, Rory. I could make a list of things for you to be proud of. The fact that you care so much about our family. How you've always been there for Prim. How you can make almost anyone laugh, when you want to. How you always know just what to say, even if you don't always say it. Do I really need to go on?" There's a brief moment of silence.

"Well, it wouldn't hurt," says Rory grudgingly, and I'm so pleased to hear the old him that I don't say anything teasing back, just ruffle his hair a little with my hand.

I'm about to say something about Dad when I hear the television flicker on in the living room, which means we should be getting the live recording of the interviews right around now.

I help Rory to his feet wordlessly, and then he, Vick, and I all join Posy and our mother in front of the television.

I can tell almost from the start that it's a set of interviews unlike any other one I've seen. Rather than really talk about themselves, the Tributes are all talking about the Capitol and how much they'll be missed there. The pretty girl from One- Cashmere- starts it off, and as the interviews progress, it's clear that the audience is a mess. They're crying and howling and some are even begging for change, and despite the fact that I know nothing's going to make these Games stop, I still can't help but grin a little. These Victors know what they're doing. And if there's any way to actually make the Capitol regret, even a little, what's going on here, they're accomplishing it.

As soon as Katniss is on the screen, though, I have eyes only for her. I can't believe it, but some idiot's dressed both her and Peeta in the wedding finery that the Capitol voted for all those ages ago. It's like they're trying to add insult to injury. I mean, sure, maybe someone thought it would be extra tragic to see what could have been, but all it really is is stupid.

They barely talk at all. Caesar asks her a question about her dress, and Katniss, once again displaying her amazing acting skills, pretends that she loves the dress and is glad the audience gets to see her in it.

And then she stands up and spins, her arms over her head. It seems like such an un-Katniss thing to do that for a moment I can just stare, but then I see the smoke and fire coming from her dress. Posy, who had been vocally admiring the dress, lets out a little whimper at all the fire, but my family and I can only stare. Not only do they dress her in a wedding gown, but they set her on fire, too? It seems like a bit much, even for the Capitol, until the fire disappears and we can all see Katniss in a black replica of the wedding dress. It's made out of feathers, with white patches on the floor-length sleeves.

"Feathers," says Caesar wonderingly. "You're like a bird."

Katniss, who clearly didn't know about this whole fiery transformation, flaps her arms a little. "A mockingjay, I think. It's the bird on the pin I wear as a token."

It's clear from the expression on Caesar's face and on several people in the audience that this means something more to them than what it sounds like, although I can't quite figure out what. Why does Caesar look so apprehensive about this odd dress?

He's quick to wipe his expression clear, though, and he keeps talking. "Well, hats off to your stylist. I don't think anyone can argue that that's not the most spectacular thing we've ever seen in an interview. Cinna, I think you better take a bow!"

A man stands up in the audience- obviously Cinna- and takes a small bow, his face serious. He doesn't look like a man who has just made an exciting fashion statement. Actually, what he looks like is a man who's just made a dangerous decision, and is still trying to convince himself that it was right.

But I don't have time to really give the matter anymore thought, because it's Peeta who's up next, and this is an interview that I'd like to hear.

They start the interview by joking around. I'm not really following the jokes about burnt poultry. They're certainly not funny, and it's clear in Peeta's eyes that he's not really trying to be clever anyway.

Caesar asks Peeta how he feels about the fact that there's not going to be a wedding, and then Peeta responds by asking the whole audience if they can keep a secret. Instantly I feel my stomach clench, although I can't quite decide why. Intuition, maybe, because I find out a few seconds later.

"We're already married," Peeta says.

Um.

What?

My mom and Vick turn and look at me, but Rory's still having a hard time concentrating on anything, really. He just stares at the screen while I try not to meet my family's eyes.

On screen, Katniss is burying her face in her skirt.

"But…" begins Caesar. "How can that be?"

Yes, Peeta, do tell. How can that be?

"Oh, it's not an official marriage. We didn't go to the Justice Building or anything. But we have this marriage ritual in District Twelve. I don't know what it's like in the other districts. But there's this thing we do. The couple who's getting married always builds their first fire in their new home together. They make the fire, toast a piece of bread, and share it. And after the couple's eaten their bread… well, that's really when the marriage becomes official."

I grow cold at this. That is the District Twelve tradition, and suddenly it hits me that maybe he's telling the truth.

"Were your families there?" asks Caesar.

"No, we didn't tell anyone. Not even Haymitch. And Katniss's mother would never have approved. But you see, we knew if we were married in the Capitol, there wouldn't be a toasting. And neither of us really wanted to wait any longer. So one day, we just did it. And to us, we're more married than any piece of paper or big party could make us."

Now, even Rory is glancing at me.

"Gale-" begins my mother, but I hush her so I don't have to think.

"So this was before the Quell?" asks Caesar.

Peeta looks upset. "Of course this was before the Quell. I'm sure we'd never have done it after we knew." I try to think about this, try to place when exactly this marriage of theirs could have happened. While I was still injured from the whipping? Somehow that doesn't seem right. But the honesty in Peeta's voice is so real that he can't be lying. No one is that good of a liar.

And knowing it's the truth kills me.

Absolutely kills me.

I discover that I've stopped listening to the conversation because I tune in on, "-glad you two had at least a few months of happiness together."

The audience applauds. I feel my hands clench into fists at my side.

Katniss looks up and smiles tragically, tears in her eyes. Even her reaction looks real. I'm half-dying to know my family's reactions to this, but I don't want to let them see my face. I'm sure I'm doing a terrible job of keeping my emotions off of it.

"I'm not glad," Peeta says. "I wish we had waited until the whole thing was done officially."

Yeah, so do I.

But Caesar looks noticeably surprised by this statement. "Surely even a brief time is better than no time!"

And then Peeta says something I'd never, ever expect to hear.

"Maybe I'd think that, too, Caesar," says Peeta darkly, and his tone is so bitter it almost stings, "if it weren't for the baby."

And just like that, the spell is broken. Despite everything that's happened these past few days, I can't keep a surprised laugh from bursting out of me. Katniss, pregnant? The whole idea is so ridiculous that for some unexplainable reason, I'm feeling lighter, ridiculously happy. The screen cuts to Katniss's face, which I supposed could be construed as sad, but I know better. She has no idea what Peeta's doing. And if this baby nonsense isn't real, neither is the crap about a wedding.

I suddenly see what Peeta's trying to do for Katniss. And all I really know is that I can breathe again.

"Gale?" asks Vick, sounding a little scared by my sudden fit of insanity.

"It's not true!" I reply, grinning. "None of it's true! AND it might work!

"What might work?" asks my mother.

I can't quite contain my exuberance. "Mom, Peeta's lying. He didn't marry Katniss, and she's not going to have a baby. He's just saying that, because-"

But my mom's eyes widen. She understands now, too. "He wants sponsors."

I nod in confirmation. "The Capitol hated throwing the star-struck capitol in the Arena once. Give Katniss and Peeta a baby and they'll be heartbroken."

At this Rory sits up a little taller, thinking about Prim, I'm sure. "It's smart," he says in a small voice.

"It's brilliant," my mom corrects, still a little wide-eyed.

"It probably won't change much of anything," I say warningly, and I'm trying to squash my hopes before they leap out of my chest.

"But it was worth a shot," Rory adds quietly. He's using one of my father's favorite expressions.

Anytime he saw a large prey he hadn't set a trap for, like a deer or a stag or even once a bear, he would take out his hand-made bow and shoot. Most of the time he missed, and after searching the forest floor for his precious arrow, he would always ruffle my hair and say, "Well, kiddo, it was worth a shot." Then, the sunlight beaming through the trees, he'd grin a little foolishly and say, "Next time, though, I'll just set a snare."

I come back to myself and nod at Rory. "Yeah, it was."

My mother speaks up, hesitantly. "And you're… okay with that?"

My expression hardens again. "If it keeps her alive? I don't care what she does."

And I realize as I say it- it's true. Yes, I'm absolutely burning with envy towards Peeta. But the more rational side of me can see that this is ridiculous. Peeta's in a death match, where he's determined to die to save Katniss. There's really no reason to envy him at all.

My family fades back into silence as the national anthem plays. Peeta and Katniss are holding hands, and there's just enough time to see a shot of Katniss reaching for the one-armed man next to her and holding onto his stump as though it's a hand. He, in turn, grabs the hand of the woman next to him.

And then the power goes out, and we're submerged in darkness.

My mom instantly gets to her feet and starts finding and lighting the candles in our house so we at least have a bit of light.

"What was that about?" asks Vick slowly.

I know what it looked like to me- an open act of rebellion among the Victors- but I don't say anything. I let my mom answer this time.

"Something the President didn't want us to see," she tells him.

There's another moment of silence.

Then Rory says, "I'm going to see Prim."

My mother doesn't tell him no. She just lets out a sigh, and knowing that he'll go to the Everdeen's house anyway, says, "Be back as soon as possible. And don't do anything stupid."

Rory nods, and then slips out the door so quietly it's hard to pinpoint the exact moment he disappears.

I want to go check on Prim and Mrs. Everdeen too, but I have to be at work early tomorrow morning, and I really do think Rory has the situation under control. After an announcement from the Capitol comes on, telling us the recap of the interviews has been cancelled, my mom tells Vick and me to go to bed, and we obediently go to our room.

But I don't get any sleep that night.

I have a nightmare. One of the worst dreams I've had in ages, actually.

In my dream, Thread is whipping me and whipping me, and all of my skin is peeling off, but underneath I'm not really me, I'm some painted up person from the Capitol who barely looks human. And then Katniss is being tortured, screaming as some white-clad man cuts at her skin, and Rory is holding Prim's dead body, and then bombs start falling from the sky and I'm burning, burning alive, and a cannon sounds and I know I'm dead.

When I wake up, I'm covered in a sheen of sweat.

I instantly know why. The Games will be starting in maybe an hour, and I'll have to be down in the mines to watch some of it, and if things go very badly, Katniss could be dead before the night.

Needless to say, I'm freaking out. I keep imagining all sorts of scenarios as to what the arena will be like, and who will Katniss ally herself with, and whether or not anyone of those Tributes are worth trusting for any time at all.

And when Thom and Bristel come and meet me today as we walk to work, I can hear the reluctance in their voice, despite how haywire my mind seems to have gone.

"I'm- um, sorry. About Sam. And Katniss," says Bristel quietly. Thom elbows him, hoping that I don't see.

"Not your fault," I say gruffly, and I hope that's the end of the conversation.

Thom and Bristel both seem to recognize this, because they don't talk about it anymore. And once we're down in the ear-popping depths of the mine, we separate without another word.

It's stupid to assume that I can't hear the other miners whispering behind my back. Some of them actually come up to me and tell me that they're sorry, others simply whisper their thoughts where they think I can't hear it. But I do and I can't help but wonder if there's anyone in this stupid District that doesn't know about the weird pseudo-romance that Katniss and I sometimes have.

I wish it was as secret as it's supposed to be.

After about an hour of mining, the giant television flicks on, and we get to see the Arena for the first time.

It's crazy. Completely horrific for anyone raised outside of District Four. Because what it is, is water. The announcer on the television calls it a jungle, points out that the Arena is completely circular. That there's the Cornucopia in the center of the water, and then on the outside, a ring of beach and dense foliage that stretches in a ring around it.

And all I can do is stare.

It is such a good thing that Katniss knows how to swim.

The announcer goes on to explain the clever trick of the arena this year- that the reason it's circular is because it's designed as a clock. Each 'hour' of the clock has a different way to die in it, programmed to go off at a certain time and to last for a different amount of time.

It's brilliant. It's cruel. And all I can do is hope that Katniss figures it out quickly.

As the Tributes rise on their small metal plates, I can feel my heart speeding up. It's roaring, pounding in my ears, and as the gong sounds, I'm filled with such a sudden surge of adrenaline that I almost feel dizzy. It's frustrating, to care so deeply about Katniss and what happens in these Games and to be unable to do anything about it. For the millionth time I wish I could kill whatever sadistic people came up with the Hunger Games in the first place. And everyone who's ever watched them with pleasure. Every one of them deserves to die.

Katniss goes straight for the Cornucopia, trying to grab weapons before anyone else can. When she gets there, the only other person to have reached it so far is Finnick Odair. I'm afraid, for a moment, thinking that this is going to be a bloody way to start off the Games, but am shocked when rather than attack, he grins at her.

"Lucky thing we're allies. Right?"

I'm pretty sure my jaw clenches at that. It's hard to believe this is the sort of person Katniss decided to take on as an ally. Typically she'd choose the one that seems most useless to the rest of the world- like Rue, last year. Honestly, if I made a guess at who Katniss would choose, this year I'd have said the old woman from District Four. Finnick Odair, sex symbol of all of Panem, would not have been on the list of people Katniss trusts. Nowhere near the list. As far from the list as it's possible to get.

Before I can really be sure of what's happening, Finnick's killed someone to save Katniss, and the two of them have gone off to bring Peeta to land while the fighting at the Cornucopia goes on. I can't quite count how many people are dying at the Cornucopia, but the announcer certainly can. The number keeps climbing, higher and higher, while Peeta, Katniss, Finnick, and Mags, the old lady from Four, team up and move out. Which is funny, because I was right, about who Katniss wanted as an ally.

And that's where the television turns off, and we're told to go back to work. We'll watch the recap of what we missed in a few hours. Because even though the Games are going on, we can't let the coal production stop at all.

I work harder than I usually do. It's odd, really, that doing something I hate so much is actually helping to get rid of some of the stress that I'm feeling, but I have to admit that slamming the pick into the bed of coal is actually kind of relaxing. It, at least, is giving me something to do. And even though Katniss is never far from my thoughts, the physical exertion required in mining is helping to keep my mind steadier than it would otherwise be.

For the first time in my life, I'm thankful for the coal.

When we take the next break for a recap, at least six people at the Cornucopia are dead.

So, for a little bit, is Peeta.

Somehow he's walked right into a force field, surrounding the Arena, and the electricity involved is so strong that his heart literally stops. I almost can't believe it, and I'm surprised at how empty I feel about the fact that Peeta Mellark has just died but the hysterical look on Katniss's face tells me exactly how real this is. I can't feel pleased. I can't feel sad. I just feel… well, empty. And furious, underneath, but the rage I have towards the Capitol is always there, no matter what's happening.

Peeta is lying on the ground, in a state of almost-death or actual death, and Katniss can't do anything about it. I don't think I've ever seen her more upset. She's shouting his name and fighting to reach him, and before she can do anything, Finnick's reached Peeta first and is pinching off his nose. I'm confused at first- this certainly isn't the most effective way to kill him- and Katniss has her bow notched with an arrow, ready to kill Finnick with a crazed look in her eyes. But the next thing I know, Finnick has brought his lips down to Peeta's and is breathing air into him, pumping life back into his lungs.

And from the way Katniss sobs when he finally revives Peeta, I can tell. Right there, I know that I've lost her. Because even though she may not know it, this is just like last year in the cave. She loves him. The whole world can see she loves him. I can see it. And that added knowledge, on top of the fact that we might both lose her anyway, makes me stagger backwards against the wall of the mine, trying not to let anyone see exactly how much this whole scene is affecting me. At least last year, I was at home for all of this. I didn't have to worry about other people seeing my reactions. Which meant I didn't have to hide any of them.

But this time I can feel people's eyes on me, gauging my expressions, watching everything I do, and for the first time, I think I understand what it's like to be in the Hunger Games. Televised every moment.

I don't let myself react. But in my head, I'm screaming.

And that's when I realize how idiotic it is that this matters to me at all, because it's not going to matter if she dies.

Before I know how he got there, Lucien's at my side. My hands tighten around the pick I'm holding, even though I know he won't actually do any physical harm to me here.

"So your little whore got herself knocked up, did she?" His voice is quiet but jeering. I turn pale at his words.

My first impulse is to punch him. My second impulse is a lot smarter than my first. I hear Sam's voice in my head, those last few words to me- to just stand here and take it. I think that I owe it to Sam, at least, to follow through on his last wish.

So instead of saying any of the eighty thousand snappy comebacks that are desperate to make their way out into the air, I grab my pick and head back to my tunnel wordlessly. Mandatory Viewing is over anyway.

But Lucien's chasing after me, calling out at me, his words echoing around the hollow arches of the mine.

"Hey, Hawthorne, don't just walk away! We weren't done talking about your girlfriend!"

I don't answer him this time, either. Just keep walking.

"You missed it, Hawthorne. Spruce and I were taking bets on how long your girl's gonna last. Spruce says she'll be dead in two days. I said she'll be dead before dark-"

I whirl around, furious, ready to let loose all of my anger on him and forget anything about Sam's request, but luckily, someone gets there before I do.

"Allsbright, lay off him," comes a voice, and I think that's the moment I first realize that the tunnel we're in isn't exactly empty. I look at where the sound is coming from- it's a woman, probably a little older than my mom.

"What?" Lucien all but hisses, his tone dangerous.

The woman just looks tired. "You heard me. Give the poor boy a rest."

I kind of resent being referred to as a boy, but I feel a little better when I realize that most of the other people in the tunnel who heard the whole little scene are nodding, murmuring their agreement with the woman.

"Hawthorne has never done anything to harm you, and you're only making the situation worse."

Lucien looms over her, threatening and tall. "Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?"

I'm not sure what response I'm expecting from her. All I know is, whatever I'm expecting, it isn't what I get.

"A mother, Lucien," says the woman quietly. "A mother who thinks we've all suffered enough. Him especially."

Lucien makes some disparaging noise and starts to say something rude back, but the other miners are speaking up now and it's wonderful, knowing that these people are standing up for me. And not just for me, for the woman, for Katniss, even.

And in the whispering and quiet protests, I can hear them calling Katniss something I've never heard her called before- "the Mockingjay."

Is this nickname something that's been created recently, because of the dress she was put in? Or is it something that's been around longer, that I've just been too busy to realize existed?

As I listen to the whispers around me, I can tell suddenly that this isn't a title that's just been made up on the spot. It sounds much more like something forbidden, something horrible and not allowed, and yet incredibly sweet because of its illegality. And I know, I know this title means something more than it sounds. And maybe the reason I've never heard it before is because I'm just too close to the subject matter for people to openly discuss it in front of me.

All I know is that the woman's words seem to be working, because Lucien stalks away with a sneer on his face and a look in his eyes that tells me this isn't the end of whatever it is he's trying to do. But I don't have time to worry about that right now, because all that really matters is Katniss. Katniss the Mockingjay.

I quietly thank the woman for her kind words, and then get back to work, only half-heartedly paying attention to what's going on. When my crew encounters a fallen beam, I'm the one who suggests the plan to move it, although I think everyone can tell my mind is elsewhere. With Katniss, in the Arena.

I wish I knew what was going on.

By the end of the day, I'm so full of pent up energy and anxiety that it's all I can do not to sprint home and turn on the television to see if Katniss is still alive. Something inside tells me she must be, that I'd know if she'd died. I mean, if you love someone that much, shouldn't you know when something bad's happened?

And to my surprise, when I get home, the television is already on, and my family as well as the Everdeens are all at my house. Prim is on the floor next to Rory, eyes wide as they stare at the screen. My mother is sitting next to Mrs. Everdeen, saying something quietly in her ear. Vick has Posy held in his lap.

None of them look up as I enter the house, sending coal dust from outside scattering inside the main room. I shrug off my bag and sit down, my eyes instantly drinking in everything in the Games, desperate to know what's going on.

It seems that the fighting at the Cornucopia is over, leaving eight dead. Peeta, Katniss, Finnick, and Mags are all still alive, although for a short time it seemed as though they would have no way to get water. Luckily, Haymitch sent them some sort of metal instrument which apparently Katniss recognized as a way to get water out of plants. They tested it out, it worked, and now the four of them are sitting sheltered in some sort of camp they built, waiting for daylight to go hunting for Tributes.

The cameras show where all the other Tributes are, too. Johanna Mason seems to have tracked down the weak-looking ones from Three and made some sort of alliance with them, which, given the knowledge I have of Johanna's personality, makes absolutely no sense. The siblings from one, Cashmere and Gloss, have found Brutus and Enobaria and teamed up, which is bad for Katniss.

Basically, as soon as the television flickers off, the first one to make any sound is Mrs. Everdeen, who lets out a small whimper as she buries her face in her hands.

The first one to move to comfort her is Prim. Instantly she's at her mother's side, her arm around her mom's shoulders, whispering something I can't quite hear.

That's the moment I first realize that Prim really isn't the scared little girl from last year, anymore. That she's grown up. That she's more like Katniss than I have ever given her credit for.

"You and Prim can stay here for the night, if you want to," my mother says quietly to Mrs. Everdeen. "We don't have much room, but if it'd be better for you to stay, feel free."

Mrs. Everdeen looks up with tears in her eyes and nods. "Thank you," she whispers.

As Posy and Vick head off to bed, the rest of us stay in front of the television, which flickers in the dark of the small living room.

We watch as one of the Tributes from Nine gets killed by a poisonous fog, which the announcer explains is some sort of neurotoxin. It deadens everything, makes the person lose control of their body, and causes them to bleed and blister literally everywhere.

"And look!" says the announcer gleefully. "It's headed right towards Finnick, Mags, Katniss and Peeta. This should be so much fun!"

I don't shout anything back at the television. I seem to have temporarily lost my ability to speak.

As the fog drifts towards Katniss, and she, unsuspecting, allows it to get closer, Prim suddenly reaches out and grabs onto Rory's arm, her nails digging into his skin as her face grows pale.

"Run, Katniss, run," she whispers.

But Katniss doesn't run, not until she realizes that it's making her blister all over. That's when she gets up, wakes up the rest of the group, and they gather their supplies, sprinting off, trying to outrun the fog that they'll never be able to escape.

Peeta, still suffering from when he basically died earlier in the day, can't run very quickly, so Finnick slings him over his shoulder and Katniss takes Mags. But it's clear that the fog is moving at least as fast as they are. They will never be able to outrun it. Ever.

And so we watch, watch as the four of them try to avoid the unavoidable. Eventually even they realize they're doomed, and Mags walks off into the fog, sacrificing herself to save Peeta and Katniss and Finnick, and for the life of me I can't figure out why, but I know I'm grateful to her. Forever, I'll be grateful. Because she's giving Katniss more of a chance.

Somehow the remaining three make their way to a beach, and the fog stops, the hour on the clock finished.

As Katniss starts cleaning out her wounds with the salt water from the beach, I can feel my heavy eyes drifting shut, and even though I have to stay awake, I fall asleep on the couch, my last view of a scheming Brutus, laughing with Enobaria over some macabre joke.

I have nightmares again. Mostly of Katniss, being killed in some horrifying way. Of an explosion in the mine, and Sam wrapping his hands around my neck and strangling me. Of Peeta, leaning in to kiss Katniss. At the last moment, he turns into President Snow, who leaks blood all over Katniss' face as he brings his lips to hers.

I really ought to be used to it by now: I never sleep well during the Games.

I'm too busy worrying about Katniss, and wishing I could do more for her.

Too bad I can't.