A/N: Thank you again to everyone who reviewed the last couple of chapters (and all the other ones of course)! :)

I just want to clarify something, because a few people have asked about it - it was the girl from District 4 that died from the tracker jacker attack. Gale told Katniss that in the chapter when she woke up from the venom.

Also, for DancingDP - Don't worry, Gale's fine :) He showed up in the clearing at the end of the last chapter, when Katniss was singing to Rue.

Disclaimer: 'The Hunger Games' belongs to Suzanne Collins. Chapter title and lyrics come from Bloc Party's "Signs."

Chapter 25 - I See Signs Now All the Time

~ At your funeral I was so upset, so upset

In your life you were larger than this, statuesque~

For a moment everything is eerily silent. Then the mockingjays take up my song, turning the sweet lullaby into a mournful dirge, as though even the birds can feel the tragedy of what's happened.

Gale's hands stroke my back gently. I release Rue's hand and lay her head down softly. Then I bend down to press my lips against her temple, tears still sliding down my face.

I lean back against Gale and he winds his arms tightly around me. After a minute he whispers quietly, "Catnip, we need to go."

Right. The Gamemakers will be wanting us to collect the body. Bodies, I realize, remembering belatedly about Marvel, lying dead a few feet from us.

Anger flares up in me at him, the source of all this destruction. But as I look at him, lying crumpled on the ground, all the bravado and cruelty stripped away from him death, it fades away, replaced with a hollow grief.

It's the Capitol that's truly responsible for all of this. It's the Capitol that should suffer.

It's the Capitol we will make suffer.

I look down at Rue, her still form appearing smaller than ever, the angry red blood pooled around her a stark contrast to the serene innocence that settled over her face as she died. She deserves better than to be left like this.

A few feet into the woods is a bank of wildflowers, violet and yellow and white. A sign that even in the worst Capitol hell, true beauty is still possible. I rise unsteadily to my feet and walk to where the flowers grow, gathering up as many as I can hold.

Gale realizes what I intend to do, and slips Rue's pack off her, then slides the knife gently from her body. He lays her flat on her back, and crosses her arms over her chest. After a moment of thought, he places the knife under her joined hands.

Slowly, one stem at a time, I decorate her body with the flowers, finishing with a halo of colour that rings her whole head.

When I finish, the image she makes is haunting. A message that the Capitol can take our lives but they cannot take us. The ugly blade in Rue's hands stands out like an accusation. The blood is on your hands, it says.

The cameras probably haven't been broadcasting us as we work, but they'll have to show it when they come back to collect her body. Everyone will see it. Everyone will know we did it. That her death was not meaningless, not to us. That we know who should be held accountable for this atrocity.

We gather our belongings in silence, and prepare to move on. I stop to look at Rue, whispering a soft goodbye. Then my gaze flicks to Marvel's prone figure. His eyes are still open, his expression frozen in a mixture of pain and fear and … relief.

I'm walking towards him without even thinking about it. I crouch down beside his body, considering him for a moment.

"Katniss …" Gale says nervously, wondering what I intend to do and probably thinking we've stayed here too long already. The Gamemakers are not above resorting to extreme measures to force tributes that linger near their kills to move on.

I pull both of my arrows out of his body, needing to keep as many as I can. If I don't take them, they'll be lost for good when they lift him from the Arena. I clean them quickly on the ground. After another moment of thought, I reach one hand out, and close his eyes, then stride quickly back to Gale.

"What did you do that for?" he asks when I reach him, taking my hand in his. "He doesn't deserve it."

I shake my head. Only because I'm fairly certain that we aren't being shown on camera right now do I dare to say, "He didn't deserve this either." I gesture at the whole scene, and Gale looks at me incredulously. "I mean, he earned this death. He was a monster. But he never had a chance to be anything else."

Marvel, Cato, all the Careers that have ever been, were, for all intents and purposes, reaped when they were just babies. They grew up learning only one thing - death. If Gale or I had been born into that, would we have turned out any different?

It doesn't make anything they've done okay. However, on some level, it is almost understandable.

I don't mourn Marvel for who he was. But some part of me does mourn for who he could have been, for who they all could have been, for who we all could have been, were it not for the Capitol.

Gale's features flood with understanding. I had said as much to him that night on the train. It was easy to forget, in the heat of battle and with the Careers so determined to end our lives, that flare of sympathy for their own particular brand of misfortune. Of course it doesn't change anything - sooner or later we'll likely have to kill Cato and Clove ourselves to save our own lives. And I will do it, without hesitation. I just don't see any point in holding on to a grudge against the dead. Not when there's a much worthier target for my hatred.

My eyes lock one last time on Rue, and I can't stop myself from pressing the three middle fingers of my left hand to my lips and raising them towards where she is lying. A sign of respect and honour. And love. Gale does the same, and then we turn away as one from the grisly scene.

We leave the small clearing and barely a minute passes before the birds fall silent, one calling out the single low note that signals the hovercraft's approach. I don't look back to see them lift Rue from the Arena. The bird song picks up again a couple minutes later, and I know that she is gone.

It's almost full dark out now. Gale leads us as we walk in solemn silence through the woods. I think we're heading back towards the stream, but we'll never make it before night falls, so I keep an eye out for a tree that we can spend the night in. We find one that'll do, a thick knotted willow with a wide depression at it's centre, about thirty feet up, where the branches fan out and shoot up to the sky.

I've just placed my hand on it to begin the climb up when the anthem begins playing. I stop and we turn to face the spot where the seal is floating in the sky.

The anthem ends and Marvel's face appears, hovering in the night for a few moments before his image is replaced by that of the boy from 3. With everything that happened, I had forgotten about the cannon blast I heard not long after leaving the Cornucopia. It must have been his.

I glance up at Gale, who's regarding the boy's image with regret. I'm not surprised when he performs the District 12 salute for the boy, just as I did for Rue. I raise my hand as well, and we both repeat the gesture a moment later when Rue's face appears above us.

The sky turns black again as Rue's image disappears. After a moment, we turn back to the tree. The climb is awkward with all of our gear - Gale's still carrying Rue's pack as well - and few good footholds on the tree; but we manage our way up. The flat part of the tree is wide enough for us to sit side-by-side and have room for all of our belongings. I realize I haven't eaten since breakfast and we have a quick meal of leftover rabbit and groosling.

When we're done eating, Gale sets his pack behind his head as a make-shift pillow and lies down as best he can in the tree. I curl into his right side, settling my head into the spot where his shoulder meets his chest. He pulls one of our sleeping bags over us then wraps his arms around me. There's no need to rope ourselves in to this tree.

"What happened at the Cornucopia, after I left?" I ask, finally breaking our long silence. I think they're the first words either of us has spoken since we left the site of Rue's death.

Gale sighs heavily. "I didn't want to expose myself by just strolling out onto the plain," he starts, the guilt evident in his voice, even though it's a perfectly reasonable thing. "The copse wasn't far from where the woods meet the side of the cliff, so I went that way, figuring I could cross to the other side out of Cato's line of sight and come up by the lake to grab the boy."

He sighs again, full of regret. "But by the time I made it around, it was too late. Cato was back on his feet, however unsteadily, and Clove had shown up at some point. It looked like she'd dragged the boy over to Cato. The boy … he didn't even fight. Cato just reached out and snapped his neck, like it was nothing."

There's a low bite of anger in his voice as says the last, and he's squeezing me tighter unconsciously. I snake a hand out from under the sleeping bag and lace my fingers through his, stroking my thumb gently along his palm. He relaxes a bit at the familiar motion.

"Cato and Clove took off for the woods as soon as the boy's body hit the ground," Gale says, disgust evident in his tone. "I couldn't follow them without going through the clearing and it didn't seem worth the risk. So I made my way back across the cliff and went to track you down instead."

"I'm glad," I murmur, "that you didn't go after them alone."

Gale chuckles. "Yeah, well I figured even if they didn't kill me, you would for doing that. And you're a hell of lot scarier than they are," he smirks down at me.

"Damn straight," I mutter, leaning up to press my lips against his.

I'd meant it to be a short, soft kiss. But I linger against him, unwilling to separate, and his mouth starts moving more insistently against mine. My lips part of their own volition and our tongues dance together.

Gale shifts to lie on his side, pulling me up the length of his body so that my head rests next to his on the backpack, kissing me more deeply. I slide my fingers into the soft hair just above the nape of his neck. His right leg slips between mine and I hook my left leg over his hips, pressing us even more tightly together. His free hand slides up along my thigh, grabbing my backside. He rolls his hips into me and I whimper with need, swallowing his answering groan.

We're playing with fire here. This really can't go any further than this, no matter how much we might want it to. But after everything that's happened today - everything that's happened since we entered the Arena, really - I can't bring myself to pull away just yet.

We indulge our need for each other as long as we dare, both breathing heavily when we finally have to break apart. I'm reminded of when our relationship first began, and the passionate kisses that were so new to us, as we explored the first steps of physical intimacy together. I can remember countless evenings, coming home from the woods flushed and giddy and unsatisfied in a way I couldn't quite explain. It's much harder to stop now, knowing what we're missing, all the more so since we may well never get to experience it again.

Then I remember poor little Rue, who will never get to experience anything at all ever again, and the overwhelming guilt hits me like a bucket of ice water.

I sigh, unhappy and frustrated, and snuggle more comfortably against Gale, burying my face in his neck. He brushes his lips against the top of my head, and winds his arms around me to hold me securely against him.

There's been too much trauma for one day and I finally notice how completely exhausted I am. Not much time passes before I fall asleep, dreaming of a meadow and mockingjays and Rue, free and weightless, flying safely among the birds.

It's already light out when I wake the next morning. Gale is still asleep beside me, and I make no move to rouse him. I'm in no rush to leave the relative safety of the tree or the comfort of his arms. After yesterday's bloodshed, I doubt the Gamemakers will feel the need to employ any of their little tricks to drive the remaining tributes together. Not yet, anyway. Tomorrow maybe. But for now, the Capitol's thirst for violence should be satisfied.

Besides, with only six of us left, the Capitol reporters will be out in full force in the Districts, interviewing our family and friends, giving them lots of material to fill today's broadcasts.

I wish I could see what they're saying about us; how our loved ones feel about what's gone on since the Games started. I can imagine Prim, calm and collected in front of the cameras, mature beyond her years and giving away absolutely nothing. The fire and tracker jacker incidents must have been incredibly hard for her to watch, but I know she'd never show anything but total confidence in my ability to come through.

The idea of Rory interacting with reporters from the Capitol is somehow both worrying and amusing. He's so much like Gale, the same fiery hatred of the Capitol ingrained deep inside him. But he's also even more impetuous, and I just hope he doesn't say anything that could get him in trouble.

Vick's so shy I imagine he'll try to avoid the cameras as much as possible. And then there's poor little Posy, who wants nothing more than for her big brother, who's also the closest thing to a father she's ever known, to come home. She'll break the hearts of everyone in Panem without even trying.

Probably they'll interview Madge, since the daughter of the mayor being friends with the tributes would be another novelty in a year when the Games are full of them. The thought of her on camera, so proper but with that rebellious glint in her eyes, makes me smile.

They might interview Peeta Mellark as well, since he came to see me after the reaping. I have no idea what he'll say to them. Somehow, though, I'm not worried about it. He's always had an easy charm about him and I don't doubt he'll have the reporters eating out of the palm of his hand. And I just know he'd never say anything that might hurt our chances.

But of course, the real focus will be on our mothers, after what we revealed in our interviews. I'm sure the Capitol reporters are getting an extremely detailed breakdown of our hypothetical, and tragically interrupted, wedding plans. Though our mothers will probably have to embellish a bit, to keep them interested.

The truth is that weddings in District 12 are usually a very basic affair. The bride will rent a white dress that's been worn by countless others before her. If he can afford it or if there's one in his family that fits, the groom will don a suit; otherwise he'll dress in the cleanest, least worn-out clothes he owns. The couple will go to the Justice Building to fill out some forms and receive a house assignment. Their friends and family will gather together for a meal or a bit of cake if it can be afforded. And there's a traditional song that's sung as the couple crosses the threshold to their new home.

But the heart of the wedding is really the toasting tradition - the couple makes their first fire together, toasts a bit of bread, and shares it. No one really feels married until after the toasting.

The sympathies of the Capitol audience will hardly be roused just by hearing about such a simple, old-fashioned ritual. Our mothers will have to dress up their plans to get their attention, to gain us the support we need to have a chance of making it home safely. If it were to have actually happened, though, our wedding would have been no fancier than that. And I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

"Penny for your thoughts," Gale says gently, startling me a bit. I'd been so lost in my own head, I hadn't noticed him stirring.

I look up at him, his grey eyes reflecting the same melancholy I feel right now. "Penny's not worth much here," I quip, trying to keep my tone light but failing pretty miserably at it.

He smiles sadly at me and brushes a stray tendril of hair from my face. "Well what can I offer you then?"

"You," I answer hoarsely, fisting my hands into the front of his shirt. "All I want is you."

"Oh Catnip," he whispers, looking at me tenderly. "That's always been yours."

I pull him down to me, our lips meeting in a lingering kiss.

We stay in the tree for several hours. There's no particular reason for us to leave in any hurry. We eat a breakfast of leftover meat and roots, even letting ourselves each indulge in a cracker and strip of dried beef after not eating much yesterday. We really need to hunt today, but there's plenty of time for that.

Then we tackle the unpleasant task of going through Rue's backpack. I feel like a scavenger, but I know she would want us to have anything that would help us. I wish belatedly that we had thought to take Marvel's pack - I'm sure he had quite the stash in there. There's not much in Rue's bag. She had some leftover rabbit and nuts and roots. Her smaller bottle of water is about half-full, and we split it between our containers, but hold on to the extra bottle. I put her spare pair of socks in my pack. We find her slingshot, and ultimately decide to keep it as well - neither of us has much use for it, but it feels wrong somehow to leave it. If we make it out of here alive and with our belongings, perhaps we can find a way to send it to her family as a token of remembrance.

At the very bottom of her bag we find a disc-like object, no larger than the size of my palm and about an inch thick. There's an indentation at the centre of it, and I try pressing my finger into it. The object gives off a faint light when activated. It's not as useful as a flashlight would be, but if you were foraging for food at night or trapped somewhere dark, it would provide some illumination with less risk than lighting a fire. We stick it in my pack as well since it could come in handy.

It's late morning when we finally decide to head out. Our only real reason for doing so is that our water bottles are starting to run low. We have enough to get through the day, but it'd be better to fill them sooner rather than later. The stream is the only sure source of water we know about at this point - besides the lake, of course, but that's out of the question for obvious reasons - so that's the direction we set out in. It's a couple hours' walk from here, so we should make it there by early afternoon, and we can hunt along the way.

We set an easy pace, seeing no reason to rush. Plus although it's not even midday yet, the Arena is already uncomfortably hot. I've noticed that the temperatures seem to have gotten more extreme each day that the Games go on - increasingly scorching heat during the day, and more bitterly cold every night. If so many tributes hadn't already died from the violence, I'm sure at least some would have frozen to death in the darkness by now.

The very last thing in the world that I want today is more violence. I hope for nothing more than for us to not run into any other tributes on our trek to the stream.

You'd think by now I'd have learned how pointless it is to hope for anything at all.

A/N: I know, I know, another cliffhanger. Next chapter will be up tomorrow to make up for it :)