A/N: Okay, as promised here's the next chapter! I hope you guys like it - it was one of my favourites to write.

As always, a big thank you to everyone for reading and for your fantastic feedback!

Disclaimer: 'The Hunger Games' belongs to Suzanne Collins and her publishers. Chapter title and lyrics come from Sam Cooke's "A Change is Gonna Come."


Chapter 11 - A Change is Gonna Come

~ It's been too hard living but I'm afraid to die~

We find the roof access quickly, via a flight of stairs at the end of the corridor leading to the hallway with our rooms, in the opposite direction of the dining room. The stairs lead to a small glass dome with a door that opens into the brisk night air. The surface of the roof is covered in large, smooth pebbles that shift gently under our feet as we walk across them.

Gale and I make our way to the edge, resting our arms on the low wall enclosing the roof. Cinna was right - the view is incredible. The Training Center is built on top of a hill in the heart of the Capitol. The entire city sprawls out before us, its electric lights twinkling brightly like earth-bound stars. Also as promised, the wind howls loudly up here, and we can just barely hear the sounds of revelry rising up from the streets below as the population celebrates the start of its biggest social event of the year. Celebrates our impending deaths, I think with disgust.

Something occurs to me and I break our silence. "I'm surprised they let us up here. You'd think somebody might try to jump off."

Gale thinks about this for a moment, then reaches down to pick up one of the pebbles. Before I can ask what he's doing, he whips his arm back and hurls it into the sky.

I have just enough time to wonder if the Capitol audience will get to see someone die sooner than they expected - first the unfortunate person below who ends up on the receiving end of the rock, and then us, executed publicly for murdering a citizen of the Capitol - when the stone suddenly reverses course and comes flying back towards us.

Gale and I instinctively hit the ground and I hear the pebble crash loudly into the surface just behind me. I glare at Gale as we get back to our feet, and he looks at me sheepishly. "Oops."

"Well at least you solved that mystery," I say dryly. Apparently the roof is surrounded by some sort of force-field to keep anyone that tries to jump from plummeting to their deaths. How thoughtful.

I roll my eyes and look around, noticing a large garden spread out beside the glass dome. I head in that direction, Gale keeping a safe distance behind me, lest I decide to start throwing any rocks of my own.

The garden is filled with all kinds of different flowers and shrubs, narrow stone paths criss-crossing throughout. There are wind chimes hang from decorative poles placed regularly along the paths, ringing steadily in the strong wind. I realize that between the two, anyone would have a nearly impossible time overhearing us talking here, especially if we keep our voices low.

Gale decides it's safe to approach me again and squeezes my arm, pointing out a flat cement bench set among the flowers. He sits down astride it, one leg on either side and I sit facing him, my legs wrapped loosely around his waist. He puts his arms around my shoulders, pulling me closer and I lean into his chest, content to just sit with him for a moment, my annoyance over the pebble incident forgotten.

A bed of poppies to my right catches my attention, their brilliant red colour nearly the same as the Avox girl's hair and I frown as I remember what it was about her that had distressed me so much.

"We could have helped her," I whisper into Gale's chest, my voice thick with remorse.

He doesn't have to ask who I am talking about. I feel him shake his head as he bends down, bringing his mouth closer to my ear. "No Katniss. There was nothing we could have done for her, not without suffering the same fate she did, or worse."

It was about a year and a half ago. Gale and I were hunting in the woods like usual, when suddenly all the birds fell silent, a sign that danger was near. We looked around us, trying to determine what had them so spooked, when suddenly we saw the girl, a boy about the same age with her, running - no, fleeing - through the forest. Their clothes were tattered and dirty, their bodies borderline emaciated and the look in their eyes was unmistakable to me, as it was one I had seen many times before in the animals we hunted - the look of prey that knows its predator is near.

Gale had grabbed me and yanked me to the ground, rolling us under a nearby rock shelf just before a hovercraft shimmered into view in the sky. Our movement had caught the girl's attention and she locked eyes with me, screaming for help. Then a net dropped down suddenly and pulled her up inside before I could even blink. A moment later a spear shot out of the hovercraft, impaling the boy through the chest, killing him no doubt, and then his body was hauled up too, and the hovercraft disappeared as swiftly as it had arrived. The bird calls resumed a few minutes later, indicating that the danger had passed. But the girl's screams rang in my ears for days afterwards.

I've never been able to shake the feeling that we should have, could have done something to help them. "We didn't even try…"

"They were too far away, Catnip," Gale says soothingly. "We never could have reached them in time. We'd have been caught too." I blink back the tears that are forming in my eyes. Deep down, I know he's right, but I can't help feeling terrible about it all. And seeing her here, tonight, is such a unsettlingly stark reminder of the Capitol's reach and endless cruelty. It feels like a personal warning to Gale and I: Nothing escapes our notice. This is the price of disobedience.

Now that I think about it, I can't help but wonder if that isn't exactly what it is - what are the odds, that of all the servants in the Capitol, of all the places she could have been stationed, that she would end up in our suite? Can it possibly be just a coincidence?

"Do you think they know? That she was assigned to us on purpose, to send us a message?" I lean back to look in Gale's eyes, deeply alarmed. If they know about her, what else might they know about?

"I don't know," he answers, but I can tell from his grim tone that he's at least considered the possibility. I heave a troubled sigh and Gale places his palm on my cheek, his eyes burning fiercely when they meet mine. "But I promise, they'll pay for this. And everything else they've done." I shiver at his words, their effect less than comforting. But they at least remind me of our real purpose here and the discussion we need to have. There is no more time to dwell on the past.

"We need to talk about what we're going to do in the Arena, if we make it to the end," I say briskly, changing the subject.

Gale blinks in surprise at the abrupt shift in my demeanour, but nods in agreement. He regards me seriously for a moment, considering something, then asks, "I don't suppose there's any chance that I could convince you to let me sacrifice myself so that you could survive?"

I raise an eyebrow at him, responding, "I don't suppose there's any chance that I could convince you to let me sacrifice myself so that you could survive?"

He doesn't look surprised by my response, though he doesn't look happy about it either. "So that's a no," he mutters and I hum lightly in agreement. I can tell he thinks about arguing, but ultimately decides not to press the issue. "Fine. So what do you propose?"

"If we make it to the end, we die together," I say resolutely.

Gale blinks again, taken aback by my candor, but his voice is strong when he agrees, "Okay. We die together."

"Promise me," I insist, disbelieving that it could be that easy. "Promise me you won't kill yourself and leave me to face the aftermath, to face the rest of my life, to face the Capitol by myself. I don't want that. I don't want to be their Victor."

He takes both of my hands in his and squeezes tightly. "I promise Catnip. I said whatever happens, we would be in it together. Always. I don't intend to go back on that."

"Good," I whisper, my voice hoarse with emotion. "Me neither."

He kisses me briefly, then smiles, "Besides it'll make a pretty fantastic 'fuck you' to the Capitol, robbing them of their Victor."

I frown as something occurs to me that I hadn't thought of before. "But what about the districts?"

Gale furrows his brow in confusion. "What about them? It's the ultimate act of defiance. If we've played it right until then our deaths should be the spark the ignites a rebellion."

"Not if it seems selfish," I argue. "Think about it - if we fight to survive to the end, either killing their tributes or at least abiding their deaths, only to kill ourselves? When one of their own could have had a chance to come home, only to be deprived of it so that we could make a point? It might undo everything."

"So what are you saying, that we should just let ourselves be killed early on? The longer we stay in this thing, the more good we can do," he counters.

The idea hits me then. "You're right," I agree, sitting up straighter. "We have to fight to stay in it, even though we can't win. But that doesn't mean nobody can. We could stay in long enough to help someone else, then kill ourselves when we're down to just the three of us."

He eyes me warily. "You mean the girl from 11."

I nod, excitedly. "I mean anybody really, but yes, she'd be my first choice. You know I wanted to help her the second I saw her. We can protect her, give her a real chance. And think about what a powerful message it would be, if we died to spare this innocent girl, this child, who's from another district no less!"

Gale shakes his head slightly and I frown, but he holds up a hand to stop me from arguing further. "I'm not saying no, Katniss, but we need to think this through. First of all, it can't be 'anybody' - we can't let a Career win. They're in the pocket of the Capitol, it would undermine everything we're trying to accomplish." I think about this for a second and realize he's right, much as I find the idea of weighing one person's life as more valuable than another's more than a little distasteful. But I suppose that's unavoidable in this setting, and another Career victory would only send the message that the Capitol can't be beaten; that no amount of resistance can change the status quo.

I nod, acknowledging the validity of the argument. Gale continues, "We can help the girl. But three people is harder to protect than two, and I won't lie - you're always going to be my first priority. I'll do whatever I can for her, but not at the cost of your life."

"I know," I answer. I hadn't expected anything else.

He looks at me solemnly as he goes on, "And you need to accept that even if we do our best, we might not be able to get her to the end. Things happen in the Arena that we can't control. It might still come down to you and I."

I know this too. There are any number of ways this could play out, and none of us can make any guarantees about the safety of anyone's life in the Games. But if Gale and I reach the end having tried to bring someone else along with us, even if we fail and are the last two standing, our mutual deaths should have the desired impact. And Gale is right, the Capitol will loathe being denied their Victor.

I leap off the bench as a new idea suddenly strikes me. Gale looks startled as I pace wildly for a minute, thinking it through. Then I whirl on him, my eyes bright with hope for the first time since Effie read Prim's name yesterday. "They might have to let us live!" I whisper excitedly.

Gale gapes at me. "Is this what a psychotic break looks like?" he asks, baffled.

I scowl briefly and smack him on the shoulder, gratified when he winces. "Think about it! The Capitol has to have it's Victor, to parade around the districts and uphold their mask of benevolence and generosity. You said it yourself - if we both die, if we deny them their Victor, it's the ultimate act of defiance. It shows their weakness. It shows that they can be undermined. And if we've played it right, we'll have the districts on our side - maybe not the Career districts, but most of them. If we die together in the Arena rather than let them force us to turn on each other, we won't just be two more dead tributes…"

"We'll be martyrs," he finishes for me as understanding lights his eyes, meeting my fiery gaze with equal intensity, his voice filled with awe. "They could never allow that." Then he shakes his head, adding hesitantly, "But it's not like we'd suddenly be all pro-Capitol if we did survive. We'd be more trouble to them alive than dead."

I think about all the things that have happened so far. The salute we were given at the reaping was started by someone in the crowd, not us. Our kiss in place of the handshake could be written off as the actions of two lovers, devastated by their circumstances - we've made no secret of our relationship and the scene at the train station in District 12 will only reinforce that image. And we were cooperative enough with the cameras there, waving and smiling, no indication of our dislike of the Capitol apparent. The mockingjay headpieces at the opening ceremonies are more blatantly defiant, but those could be attributed to an overly ambitious stylist - it's not as though tributes have any say over what they are put in. Hell, even if he was questioned about it, Cinna could claim he was inspired by the pin Madge gave me as my district token, an obvious parting gift from a loved one since I was wearing it at the train station but not at the reaping.

We know what effect all of this is having, but they don't know that we know, and that gives us an the Capitol may suspect about our motivations, we have not done anything so far that couldn't be dismissed as the simple product of our love for each other, not some deep-seated hatred of the Capitol. We will have to be careful to maintain that image, but that would be true no matter what, in order to keep our families from suffering for our actions.

So yes, Gale's right, we'd undoubtedly be more trouble to the Capitol alive than dead. "But they don't know that," I finally respond intensely. "And they won't, until it's too late, so long as we're careful to seem like we're just two kids in love, thinking only of each other."

Gale considers this for a moment, then nods determinedly, though his words are cautious when he speaks. "At the end, us choosing to die together - it would have to seem spontaneous … but I guess that's true no matter what, for our families' sake. And we'd have to be committed to going through with it, if they don't intervene to stop us. We might still die," he warns seriously, but he is grinning, beaming up at me with excitement and rebelliousness and pride.

"We might," I concede sincerely. "But we might not," I grin back, cocking my head slightly.

"Can't ask for much more than that," he laughs. "I don't think we should tell Haymitch what we're planning."

"Not specifics, at any rate," I agree quickly. "We just need to make sure he plays up the 'silly kids in love' angle. And that he makes sure that everyone thinks we don't know what we're doing, what effect we're having, if anyone starts to wonder. It all has to seem natural."

"Shouldn't be too hard," he smirks at me, the look in his eyes making me blush.

Even with our excitement, we have had this entire conversation in hushed tones, careful to keep our voices down so that the wind and chimes would prevent anyone from hearing us. But at the moment I can't resist letting out a loud, giddy laugh, spinning around like a little girl, actually daring to hope for the first time since this ordeal began that we might have a shot at both making it out alive. I know it won't be easy, and I know we will have to face unspeakable horrors, and I know that the odds are still not in our favour. But we have a plan and we will be in it together and maybe, just maybe, that will be enough to carry us safely through - it always has before.

Gale rises to stand in front of me, stopping me mid-spin with his hands on my hips and pulling me firmly against his body. I am already breathless as he growls against my lips, "Have I ever told you how incredible you are?"

I smile widely and fist my hands in his shirt, rolling my hips against his as I whisper seductively, "Yes. But please feel free to tell me again. Often. And loudly."

Our lips crash together in a passionate kiss, and I moan into his mouth. When we break apart we are both panting with desire.

"Come on," Gale says as he leads us back to the stairs. "Let's show those idiots on the streets what a real celebration sounds like." I laugh as I practically skip after him as we hurry to his room.

Yes, we might still die. But we might not. And we are most certainly not dead yet. For the moment, that is all the hope I need.