A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has been reviewing, you guys are beyond awesome! Hope you enjoy this :) Also at this stage I feel like pointing out P.O.V's is pretty redundant, so I've stopped. Let me know if the new format is at all confusing and I'll switch back!
.
Chapter 12: Thinking, That's All
.
I beam at Gale's back as Darius and Bristel congratulate him enthusiastically, revelling in the way he sneaks the occasional glance at the small bag of gold he won with an endearing expression of equal parts surprise and relief. His brilliance doesn't surprise me at all, but I'm glad I don't have to think of some way to persuade him to let me replace the loss of the pelts if he hadn't won. I can only imagine how much he would hate me after that particular conversation.
I can tell he's excited, but he smiles so cautiously. As though someone is going to appear at any moment to snatch away its cause by taking even more from his already fractured family. With a long sigh, I vow to make Gale Hawthorne smile for real someday. Even if the only way for the Mayor's stuck-up daughter to do that would be to bring home the girl he loves and disappear from his life for good. The thought bothers me more than it should, but I do my best to shrug it off and concentrate on the task in hand.
Mac is still in the tent, so I should hurry before I miss my chance to speak to him alone. I should, but I don't. I've been running around all week burning paintings and making plans but when it comes down to actually taking a risk, I'm afraid. I'm not in the Capitol anymore, learning snippets about a powerful resistance network. I'm here in 12, part of a ragtag trio of teenagers sick of their families starving and sending their friends to die. All of our plans suddenly seem juvenile, I mean, what do we really know about Mac anyway? He could - and probably should - cart me straight to the Capitol. I shiver a little, worrying the hem of my skirt and trying to gather up courage I'm not sure I possess when I feel Gale's eyes on me. I raise my head, trying to mentally prepare myself for his steely glare but as soon my eyes find his, I'm disarmed. They're soft, like they were when he opened his eyes after my unsolicited hand-through-the-hair incident. I feel my face flare at the thought...what was I thinking?
He gives me a lopsided grin that makes my stomach flip, his impossibly white teeth contrasting with his olive toned skin and the dark stubble peppering his jaw. Immediately my back straightens and I raise myself to my full (if rather unimpressive) height. That smile tells me something I'd never have guessed I wanted from my surly ally...that in his own way, he believes in me. Even from someone I know hates my guts, that smile is the push I need to raise the canvas of the dingy tent and step inside.
Mac is sitting in the exact same position we left him in, calmly surveying the spent table with his hands folded in his lap. He doesn't seem to hear me come in, so I cough slightly and choke out his name in a horribly high squeak that immediately makes my face colour.
"Mac?"
"Hello, Miss Undersee." His quick eyes dart to fix on mine, startling me slightly.
"Madge, please. Umm...sorry about your loss," I blurt out, cringing at my horrendous opener. Way to make friends Madge. He chuckles softly at my expression, and the sound is warm.
"It's no matter. Gale Hawthorne is a good man, he deserved the pot."
"He is." I swallow thickly.
"Why are you here, Madge?" he's certainly direct. I like that.
"The thing is, we haven't been entirely honest with you...Darius, Gale and I." His mouth splits into a grin that tells me he was well aware of that fact. "But you knew that, didn't you?" He merely continues to grin, raising a finger to push his thin-framed glasses further up the bridge of his nose.
"You weren't really convincing as Darius' girl, but you get bonus points for being ballsy about it." I pout while he laughs, "You have an honest face, Madge Undersee. That's not a bad thing."
"It is when you're trying to start a rebellion." I chance, hoping he appreciates honesty as brutal as the dose I'm serving him.
"I wondered when you'd get to that." He replies simply, suddenly sober. I take a shaky breath and continue.
"How did you know?"
"Darius has been prepping me for weeks." He smirks. "Ever since I let slip that my move here wasn't entirely optional."
"You don't seem like the kind of person to just 'let something slip'" I appraise him warily, folding my arms. He smirks a little, raising an eyebrow.
"I suppose I was hoping he took after his father. I heard a lot about General Buckley's work when I was employed by tech in D3, too much one might say. I'm almost certain that's why I was deported to 12, I witnessed more than the average squint should. I decided to send out feelers when he came to me for help with finding and editing the college transcripts of a certain Mayor's daughter at Capitol University."
My heart contracts at the thought of Darius risking his life to bring me home. Too often I let his jokes and easy smiles make me forget how seriously he takes his responsibilities, even his promises to frightened homesick girls he's never met.
"He cares for you, I think." He states, matter of fact.
"Of course he does, we're friends. Best friends." I reply cooly, arching my own brow.
"On your part, believe me I noticed." He grins as I roll my eyes. "So what exactly did you come here to propose, Madge?" he asks.
"Join us." I state, equally bluntly. "Darius, Gale and I want to kick start a rebellion right here in 12 where the Capitol will least expect it, but they have a huge advantage over us when it comes to technology. We need someone like you so that we know what they know, at least about us and our movements. What do you know about bugs?"
"I designed them back home."
"Could you make them?" I asked, excited beyond belief.
"If I had the right materials, sure. And remove them."
I beam at him, eliciting a genuine smile from the strange man. "So, will you help us?"
"As much as I detest lying, I can see why you had to. Revealing the true extent of your alliance would have been foolish in front of Alec, but if I agree to risk my neck for you guys I expect to be kept in the loop at all times. Without having to rely on my superior skills of analytical observation, that is." He adds cheekily.
"Of course, you have my word." I'm fighting a desperate urge to jump around and hug him, but he seems like a guy who likes his space so I dance internally.
"Meet me Saturday. I'll tell you what I need and where to find it. I could also do some debugging if necessary. My workshop is in the Victor's Village, No.14."
"That would be fantastic, thank you!" I lean over the table to shake his hand, catching sight of his intact hand of cards. I blanch, staring at them silently.
"That's a Royal Flush! Y-you won! Why did you say you didn't?" he shrugs, the picture of cavalier.
"It wasn't a fair game. Gale is usually an excellent player but he was...somewhat distracted." the way he looks at me pointedly makes my face burn, and I curse my damn hormones for deriving some enjoyment from his implication.
"Right," I say shortly as he chuckles lightly. "I should be getting back to my friends. Thank you again, you don't know what this means to us, truly."
He nods, his brown eyes warm. "You're welcome. I'll see you and your 'friends' on Saturday." he grins. I return his smile awkwardly, still tomato red. As I leave the tent I turn back, unable to help feeling as though I'm missing some important detail.
"One more thing...why are you doing this? Joining us, I mean. Our friend had to volunteer for her 12 year old sister at the Reaping this year, so I guess you could say she's our real reason...our driving force. What's yours Mac?"
He's staring softly at the table again, tossing the dice in the air and catching it. "That, Madge Undersee, is a very long story. Let's just say...I'm angry too." He meets my eyes, something in his telling me he's holding back. I don't know what to say so I nod and step out into the crisp air, pausing only for a second before grinning and running at breakneck speed towards the bar and the two men I know will be waiting there.
.
...
.
When we reach the meadow that serves as an unofficial border, Bristel heads back to the Seam with a cheery wave and numerous whispered promises to keep his trap shut. After some initial argument from Madge, Darius and I walk her home through town.
"We caught the interviews earlier." Apparently Darius is allergic to silence.
"Oh," she replies simply, before he launches into a blow-by-blow account of footage I'd prefer never to hear about again. When he finishes she remains quiet for a few minutes, much like Katniss would before giving an opinion. It's moments like these when their friendship makes sense, despite her composure being a little strange to see since I seem to bring out her fiery temper.
"I'm surprised he would admit to that on National television." She says evenly.
"But you aren't surprised he likes her?" Darius asks the question swimming in my own mind.
"No!" she snorts incredulously.
"What's that supposed to mean!" I snap.
"It means...he watches her." She murmurs. My eyes flit to hers, finding her steady blue eyes calm and wide. She's telling the truth.
"You make him sound like a stalker, Undersee." Darius laughs as I grit my teeth. How had I not noticed this kid watching my best friend? My heart stops when I realise that I was always too busy watching someone else, someone I never could keep my eyes off of.
"Not like that, idiot." She scolds. "He couldn't help it. He's an idiotic teenage boy who didn't know what to do about his feelings for her. I'm sure he tried to talk to her, but what do you expect? Katniss isn't exactly approachable." she smiles fondly. Her statement makes me uncomfortably warm and I tug at the collar of my shirt in an attempt to attract some air.
"Yeah well, not all of us show our feelings by ogling someone, Undersee. It tends to help when you actually open your mouth and talk to the girl you like."
"Oh and you're such an expert are you Romeo?" My temper flares at his pathetic attempt at flirting but she's oblivious as usual so I let it go, even managing a snort at the sight of her confused expression.
"All I'm saying is that he could have at least laid some groundwork..." he trails off, gruffly.
"He was shy." She mutters to the ground, absently fidgeting with the hem of her dress. This whole conversation is getting too much for me. Can't they see I don't want to talk about this anymore? Hell, seeing it was bad enough.
"He didn't even know her!" I growl, startling Madge enough for Darius to shoot me a glare. "Well...it's true! Katniss would never fall for all that bullshit he was spouting. How can he possibly have feelings for her when they've never said two words to one other? He's using her. They're from two different worlds, he must know that!"
"Gale..." Darius tries to interrupt me but he should know better, I'm on a roll.
"Wait...I get it, she's not good enough for him before the Reaping but fair game when the cameras are on?" I snarl, letting a bark of humourless laughter ring through the quiet street. "Typical townie."
"That's ENOUGH Gale!" Darius shouts, his face an impressive shade of red.
To be honest I'm completely taken aback, I've never even seen Darius so much as snap at someone never mind yell. I blink stupidly at his hostile stance while wondering what part of my usual speech ticked him off this time, when I note the warmth-snatching absence of a certain blonde. She's standing frozen a few paces behind us, arms wrapped around her waist as though she were holding herself together because no one else would. My stomach drops uncomfortably as I realise hadn't even noticed she'd stopped.
In that moment, with her azure eyes shining and her golden hair wild around her shoulders, she looks every bit as beautiful and lost as she did all those years ago when I made a similar speech in front of my disappointed Father. For a little while, she recedes in my imagination to that tiny elf of a girl reaching desperately for the key that would let her into the locked door of her own house, and like last time, I'm immediately ashamed of myself.
"Princess, I didn't mean to-" I begin awkwardly, reaching a hand out to stop her from breaking.
"Shut up Gale." She whispers, her steady eyes now ablaze with blue fire that makes me feel warm all over, as though I'm standing near to an open flame.
"But-"
"I said...SHUT, UP!" I raise both hands as a gesture of peace but she doesn't take it well. "It's always the same with you, isn't it? One step forward, three steps back." she mutters bitterly. I want desperately to ask her what the hell she's talking about, to tell her she's not just a townie to me anymore and that I obviously didn't mean her, but she's having none of it. Every time I open my mouth she raises a tired hand to ward off my explanations. Darius moves to touch her arm but she jerks herself away from him, missing the hurt look that flashes across his usually cheerful face. She walks forward and plants herself a foot in front of me. I would be lying at this point if I said her proximity didn't affect me - I can smell her light flowery scent, so incongruent with her incensed expression.
"You can badmouth me all you like, but how dare you talk about Peeta like that? If you would take your head out of your backside for two seconds Gale Hawthorne you would realise that he's trying to help her, not sabotage her!" she spits. "He's going to die Gale, and instead of coming up with some tactic to stop that from happening, he's doing everything he can to save her."
"She's right." Darius interjects. "He's made her desirable. Everyone will want to watch her to see why a fellow tribute would dare confess something like that on live television when they're about to start killing each other. Attention means sponsors, Gale." He finishes, seemingly back to the Darius I know.
I take a second to process what they're telling me, grudgingly admitting to myself that I hadn't thought of it like that. Maybe the idiot actually was trying to help? It doesn't mean I like it, but if it helps bring Katniss home, I'll tolerate it. Not that I have much of a choice in the matter anyway...
I open my mouth to tell them as much, but Madge is still on a roll.
"So Hawthorne, if you're done indirectly insulting me for tonight, I made chicken pie this morning." She huffs as I stare back at her dumbly, wondering if I've actually driven her to madness.
"You have to hunt tonight, and I know Darius has patrols. Neither of you have time to go home so you're going to come in and eat before you have to leave. No arguments." With that she flounces off in the direction of her house, only pausing to turn around and find we're still standing where she left us, gaping as usual. "NOW!"
We hurry after her, Darius throwing me a grin that tells me I'm forgiven.
"Women." he snorts.
...
So that's how I find myself seated uncomfortably at the Undersees' breakfast bar, talking strategy with my peacekeeper friend and the Mayor's daughter. Hell, if Catnip could see me now...
Madge interrupts by placing a glass of water in front of me with a bang, still scowling furiously. She looks adorable, but I don't think she'd appreciate hearing that observation right now so I settle for grabbing her wrist. She whips round to face me, her hair seeming to crackle with electricity as she fixes me with her best glare.
I shiver as the tips of her fingers graze the inside of my wrist, remembering how good it felt to have them slip through my hair. I'd been beyond shocked to hear my own voice groaning with pleasure at her gentle touch, horrified by the way my chest tightened at the sight of her delicately flushed face. Swallowing thickly, I do my best to remember why I can't afford to wish for impossible things. Things like pressing my lips to hers in the middle of the Hob in case we're turned in and I never get the chance to know what it would feel like. She cocks her head to the side questioningly as I shake my head to rid it of stupid, stupid ideas.
"Thank you." I say simply, nodding to the glass. She seems to read between the lines, because her face softens and turns slightly pink as she pulls her hand from my grip. "You're welcome." She mutters.
"So, we have two days until we meet Mac, where did you say that was Undersee?" Darius asks her.
"His workshop. It's in the Victor's Village, number 14."
"Right, two days 'til we meet with Mac. At least that gives us something positive to keep in mind at the mandatory viewing tomorrow." Tomorrow, the Games begin. Tomorrow, Katniss could die. The thought of my best friend being caught up in the yearly bloodbath at the Cornucopia jars with reality like a bad dream I can't wake up from. The thought sobers us all, so we sit in contemplative silence for a few minutes until interrupted by a shrill ring that tells Madge that the food is ready. She jumps up to take the pie out of the oven, and as she plates up large portions I find the guts to tell my allies about the crazy idea that's been bouncing round my head for weeks.
"I've been thinking," I begin, clearing my throat. "I've been offered an Advanced Placement Mining Internship...I want to take it." Two things happen simultaneously; Darius jumps up to shake my hand and princess drops the empty plate she was holding, her eyes impossibly wide and searching as it smashes on the ground. Darius chuckles and bends down to help her clean it up, ruffling her hair and teasing her for being clumsy as we have a silent conversation with our eyes.
"Wow! Congratulations mate, doesn't that pretty much lead to an overseer's job after a year or so? You'll soon be giving old Alec a run for his money." he eventually makes it over to shake my hand, and Madge busies herself with the food again. I stare at her back as I continue.
"Yeah, it's one day a week instead of school. I figure it's the perfect opportunity to gauge people's feelings towards the Capitol, and hopefully recruit some new support for a mass movement. Realistically, we're going to need hundreds of people willing to help if we're hoping to pull off anything big."
A crash from the stove draws our attention to where Madge is violently spooning potatoes onto the plates. "Won't that be dangerous?" her voice is unusually high pitched, which from having a sister and a Mom I know is a sign of imminent danger. What is it with this chick? I thought we had an understanding about earlier, but now she's slamming around the kitchen like I kicked her dog.
"I wouldn't take any unnecessary risks, Princess." I huff. "Do you think I'm stupid or something?"
"In a word, yes." She replies waspishly.
I open my mouth to ask her where she gets off, when she turns around carrying two steaming plates of delicious looking food. She sets them in front of us and moves back to the stove, grabbing another much smaller plate of food and exiting the room.
"Come on Princess. I'll be fine, get over it." I call brusquely, displeased at the prospect of cutting short our time together even if she is in a foul mood.
"Deflate the head, Hawthorne. I'm taking some dinner to my mother." She calls from the other room, earning a snicker from Darius and a scowl from me. How was I supposed to know she has to feed her mother, isn't it supposed to be the other way round? I turn my attention to the food, more than I've had at any one time in years. The thought makes me angry, and more than a little guilty at the thought of my family eating small bowls of thin stew containing whatever Ma can afford at the market and whatever meat I've caught the previous morning. Then I remember my winnings and vow to buy some fresh bread from the baker's tomorrow. Plus, they'll all have more if I eat here. It's that thought that makes me finally dig in to the veritable feast in front of me. The pie is burnt in places and very heavily seasoned, but it tastes of something that makes me nostalgic. It tastes of comfort, warmth, and some other good mojo I can't quite place. Darius must be pickier than I am because he spits out a particularly burnt piece, making a face.
"That girl can make a grown man weak in the knees with a single look...but she cannot cook for sh-"
He cuts off abruptly as Madge walks back into the room, her eyebrows drawn together in a distracted frown. She brightens when she notices us watching, giving a watery smile as she grabs her plate and joins us at the table. Her backside barely grazes her seat when she abruptly jumps up, exiting the room after nearly upsetting Darius' precariously placed glass of water.
"Jeez Undersee, who put ants in your pants? Sit still woman!" She returns minutes later, smacks him upside the head for his cheek and dumps a pile of papers and a small metal object on the table, beaming inexplicably.
"What are those?"
"I borrowed them from my Dad's office. The papers are copies of his mayoral letterheads, and this is his seal." She holds up the small metal object, showing us an embellished 'M.U' stamp on the bottom. "I swiped his stamp years ago, but these are the real deal. I'm going to write to some of my Dad's wealthier contacts in the District and the Capitol asking them to sponsor Katniss."
"Isn't that your Dad's job?" I wonder out loud.
"I asked him to, but he said it would draw even more attention to our family and put us in danger." She makes a face.
"Understandable." Darius comments through a mouth of vegetables.
"He's a coward." She states simply, her face cold and unreadable.
"That's a great idea!" I give her a rare smile, unable to contain my excitement at helping Katniss in such a tangible way. She returns it but lets her face drop after a few seconds, brow furrowed in thought.
"The only thing is, when they send their replies we can't have them sent to my dad's office - he's back tomorrow for the first viewing and would know immediately what I'd done. I've been trying to think of a return address I could use but I can't think of anywhere that wouldn't look suspicious to the post office officials."
"Send them to me." I say instantly, problem solved.
"No, Gale." Or not. "What happens if the Capitol intercepts them? The trail would be led straight to you and your family." Damn, she's good. She knows I can't argue now, not if it would be putting Ma and the kids in harm's way.
"I have an idea," Darius interjects. "Send them to me at the Peacekeeper base. We get mail from District officials and private mail from the Capitol all the time, usually requests to provide security for events...so the correspondence wouldn't look out of place. Plus, if someone opens them and finds they're addressed to your Father I can just say that I'm carrying out a private courier service, that isn't unusual for us PK's either." He finishes, shovelling another mouthful of pie into his mouth.
"That's brilliant Darius!" Madge exclaims, beaming. "I'll get started tonight. I have a list of around 50 officials and 10 Capitol contacts to get through before the Games begin in earnest." Her face is flushed with excitement, and the fire - though controlled - still blazes brightly in her eagerness and verve. As I catch myself staring once again, Darius chokes a little and spits out a particularly burnt piece of crust, spluttering and chugging his glass of water like a wimp. He grins sheepishly at Madge as she moves to slap his back, a concerned look on her face.
"Oh, I'm so sorry! I never did learn to cook properly at school..." she turns bright red. All three District 12 schools have mandatory cooking lessons for girls aged thirteen and over, sexism is alive and well this side of Panem. I grin as I remember the ribbing I gave Katniss for having to don an apron and learn to be a good little wife twice a week. The laughter dies in my throat as I realise that most people assumed she would be mine.
Much to my chagrin, Madge has switched to gently rubbing Darius' back, murmuring embarrassed apologies. If only she could see just how much he was enjoying her innocent little back rub I'm sure she would be less sympathetic. "Urgh, this is ridiculous! Whenever I make a pie or a cake I always get impatient and turn the heat too high. Then I forget to turn it, so everything I make is burnt to a crisp on one side. You'd think I would learn by seventeen how to cook a simple dish without giving my guests charcoal poisoning." She shakes her head, still slightly red. "Was yours ok Gale?"
I hear her question, but I'm miles away. My mind whirls ferociously as I begin to piece together why Madge's questionable cooking tasted so familiar...
A memory assaults my vision, of Vick and Rory fighting over the least burn piece of food from the daily hampers left on our doorstep after my Father died. I remember the way Ma burst into tears the first day it happened, sobbing into my shoulder and muttering incoherently. Neither of us had been able to find the words to explain why, in the poorest District in Panem, someone would leave a grieving pregnant woman and her family food without claiming at least a thank you. For the first few days Ma had forbidden us to touch any of it - scared that a town official would come to demand payment, but when the kids' stomachs began to growl and I offered to go out to hunt, she relented. I still remember how it felt to know we were officially charity, and how it felt not to care when I saw my brothers passed out early for once from full-bellied exhaustion. Ma and I tried to catch our mysterious benefactor more than once, but he...she...was sneaky. Eventually, we decided to leave the mystery person a note. The baby was born, and I was desperate to be in the woods again after that one time with a silent Madge in the pouring rain. When no one came to claim our thanks or payment, we had pushed it to the backs of our minds like a fond memory of an old friend.
Once the thought crosses my mind, I can't stop the flood of realisation. That day in the woods where she'd held me, that's how she'd known where I lived. The food was far too fancy to be from anyone in the Seam: a fact I'd conveniently overlooked in my assessment that all townies were heartless cowards. I feel sick as I even recall the strong peppery taste of even the vegetables that Ma had scolded the boys for complaining about. Unable to look at her now that I know, I stand abruptly and stride purposely to the huge red door, throwing myself into the darkness where the world isn't spinning and things make sense. I hear her calling my name from miles away but I refuse to look back at the one person I hoped never to be indebted to.
.
...
.
Returning from the front door I gape at Darius open mouthed, hoping he has some insight into what I could have possibly said to make Gale angry this time. He simply shrugs his shoulders as I move closer to him in order to gaze out the window after my surly ally. I turn my face from his line of view hoping he doesn't notice my hurt expression, before feeling his warm hand wrap around mine, a gesture I would have welcomed unthinkingly before Mac's casual observation earlier today.
"It's alright Madge, he probably just felt guilty about eating here." He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. I slip my hand from his and walk to the pantry, returning minutes later with the coffee canister to find him washing our plates.
"Stop, you don't have to do that." He just laughs.
"Maybe I wanted to Undersee." He turns to give me his signature grin, and I shake the canister while I have his attention.
"Do you have time for coffee?" he turns from his task to look at the ugly grandfather clock perched like a ground-level gargoyle in the corner of the room.
"Yeah, if I'm quick." I grab a dishcloth and dry what he's washed as he fills the kettle and flips the switch to heat it. I smile as I lead our well-worn routine, marvelling at our familiarity after only a few days since we first met in person. I remember vaguely how I'd wondered if his laugh was how I'd imagined, and if our easy conversation would carry past our lengthy letters. I needn't have worried at all. Turns out we work well as a team, Darius and I, each seamlessly anticipating the thoughts and actions of the other. I spoon the correct amount of sugar and pour just enough cream into each of our mugs, and the warmth of the liquid seeping into my hands makes me flush as I remember the tiny trail of fire Gale's thumb etched onto the back of my palm earlier today in the Gambler's tent. I've given up wondering why every slight touch of his olive skin feels like a painless brand when we can barely hold a civil conversation - tonight being a classic example. I sigh as I realise that on some unknown level, Gale and I understand each other perfectly. Our problems have always stemmed from words.
"He didn't mean it, you know...earlier, when he was running his mouth. He's just always been that way, he isn't used to curbing his temper around people he might hurt." His words are kind, but he's frowning into his cup.
"I don't want to talk about Gale anymore." I lie because I know him, and I know that's what he wants to hear. Sure enough, the corners of his mouth tug upwards and his eyes meet mine full of their usual mirth. "So what do you want to talk about?" he waggles his eyebrows suggestively and I roll my eyes.
"I still have your letters you know." I smile.
"And I yours."
"It took me so long to figure out whether or not you were for real. I couldn't believe you actually wanted to help me get out of there. You really were my last hope." I say honestly, just needing him to know. His eyes soften, meeting mine with something unreadable in their depths.
"What they did was wrong...people like you are stifled in the Capitol, Undersee. I didn't want to see them take the fight in you. I still remember that first letter, all the fancy words and logical reasons so carefully masking someone who was scared and trapped. I admired you, you and your strength." He smiles a little vacantly, as though lost in a memory.
"I'm lucky you saw through it." I swallow thickly, remembering how truly terrified I'd been at the thought of never seeing my home again. He takes my hand in his once more, and I'm relieved to feel no exquisite tension or breathtaking warmth, only friendly comfort.
"See, that's the thing Undersee. I'm the lucky one." Our eyes meet as I try to analyse that strange look he gets sometimes, so detached from my perpetual joker of a friend. The way his eyes soften makes me a little uncomfortable, so I drop his gaze and pull back my hand.
So...erm...how's work?" I'm reaching, but he takes the bait, smirking only slightly.
"Good, I guess. I've put in for a transfer to surveillance, the security system is too tight to truly infiltrate but at least we'd know what they know. Maybe I could figure out a way to stick a wrench in the works if I put in enough hours." He stretches tiredly, covering a loud yawn with an even larger hand.
"Just be careful in there, ok?" My eyes rake over his face, searching for non-existent signs of caution or fear. "Please?" He looks up in surprise, catching my worries tone.
"No worries, Undersee. Did no one ever tell you that Superman is invincible?" He stands and opens his arms, pointing to the clock. I walk into them, grateful to feel the life coursing through one best friend as another begins the countdown to her death.
"Except for kryptonite," I tease, releasing him to find his jacket. As he ambles out of the door into the biting night air, I allow myself a regretful glance towards the woods, hoping Gale isn't taking any stupid risks. I shiver as I remember the look in his eye when he grabbed my wrist. It had seemed to say so many things, things I could have worked out had his long fingers not been wrapped around my wrist creating the most delicious bursts of inexplicable heat. I'm only pulled out of my head when something touches my hair gently, so gently that I almost don't feel it. I startle instantly when I realise it's Darius' hand.
"Don't I know it." He murmurs, my body stiffening in shock as he steps impossibly lose to me, hand still on my hair only to turn on his heel and stride off into the night with a mock salute.
"Night Undersee." He calls, back turned.
"Night Buckley."
.
...
.
A/N: Apologies for the looooong filler chapter, hope you enjoyed it anyway. Please review! As always I'd love to hear your thoughts on how this is going :) Criticism and ideas are gladly received. Thanks so much for reading.
P.S: I'm thinking of changing what band's song titles I use when we get to Catching Fire, maybe even making it a new story. Any ideas which band I should use?
