A/N: Welcome back to Panem! My thanks to everyone reading! An extra cup of your favorite morning wake-up to all who review. :-)

Chapter Three: The Train

When he'd been Reaped for the 73rd Hunger Games, Gale was sequestered in an anteroom off the main receiving area of the Justice Building. He thought it might have served as an interrogation room under regular circumstances, but it served well enough for all of his family to crowd into for three minutes to say their farewells.

He had thought it was going to be the final time he saw them, and it had been hard to sound confident and able and ready. So hard.

But then Katniss had burst into the room, breathless and shaking, but tearless. She hadn't cried since the day both of their fathers were killed in the mine. She'd worn a red-checked dress, her hair was hanging down her back in one braid, and she'd lunged toward him, gripping one of his arms with both of her strong, work-hardened hands.

"We should have run," she said on a breath, so that no prying ears could possibly have heard. It was the voice they used when deep in the woods hunting deer.

He had only nodded and stared into her eyes. They narrowed a bit, then, and she'd gone on to say, "You can win, you know. You're smarter than any Tribute we've ever had."

He'd shaken his head in immediate denial. "Impossible."

She shook his arm. "You're smart in the forest, you're a survivor." She leaned even closer, and he could feel the press of the curve of one breast on his arm. "And you hate the Capitol. You can win this, Gale Hawthorne."

He swallowed, overwhelmed by the fierce faith he saw burning in her eyes. He didn't let himself think, he merely pulled her in tight against his body and pressed his lips to her hair. "Watch out for them, Catnip. Please."

"Of course. Every day."

A Peacekeeper knocked on the door and Gale let Katniss go with a wrenching feeling in his chest. "Promise?"

"Promise. Come home, Gale."

He tried to smile. "Just for you, Catnip."

He'd been ushered out of the room before she could answer.

This year, Katniss had been Reaped, and Gale stood in the receiving area as her mother and sister walked under the stern eyes of the Peacekeepers to wish her luck. He had wondered, once or twice during the last Games, what he and Katniss might have said to each other had their positions been reversed.

Well, I can talk to her on the train, he decided. But still, he was an official and—

Again, Haymitch was reading his mind. "No. Not here." The other Mentor clapped him on the shoulder, no evidence of intoxication in his touch or eye. "Cameras are everywhere and you're the young, handsome, recent Victor, remember. You can't afford to be seen to be friends with a Tribute."

Here, though, Gale had to disagree. He turned, nodding at Effie Trinket and the Mayor as well as the Peacekeepers from the Capitol who were visibly playing guard dog just then. It was an oppressive building, designed to be so, and it still worked to oppress his speech, thoughts, and wish to express himself as he organized what he wanted to say. He turned to meet Haymitch's hard, blue eyes. "I know what they did to your family. I'm not going to try to pull any stunts. I didn't in the games."

"No, you played it square." Haymitch's lip twitched. "The snare/brick combo was genius."

Gale grimaced but nodded. He'd set up the end of District 2's Tribute with precision. Still, he persevered. "I'm friends with Katniss Everdeen, yes. Have been for four years."

"You look like cousins."

Gale snorted. "In the Seam, we all look like cousins. Anyway. Thing is, I'll fight for her, Haymitch."

"And they'll take her from you. You know that. They'll manipulate the Arena and—" Haymitch blew out a breath. "You're lucky they like you, so far, in the Capitol."

A sharp stab of terror went through Gale, but he did his best to ignore it. "I know it. I'm keeping my nose clean, boss," he said with a drawl that he hoped would ease the man a little. "But really, if they find out? Think of the drama. It'll be a spectacle. They like a show. And they got her when I came back to Twelve, last year, on all the broadcasts." He remembered the blush it had earned him then; it worried him, now. "All of Panem must have seen…"

Haymitch shook his head abruptly. "They saw her, yes. But also your mother and sister and, hell, you two look like you could be family." He blew out a breath. "Just be careful, Hawthorne, not to give them too much of what they want."

Wise words, indeed. "I'll talk to her on the train," he said, turning as steps came back down the hall.

He saw another couple, Mellark's parents, coming out of the other anteroom. They took steps as if to approach the Mentors, but the Peacekeepers stepped between them in nearly mechanical synchronicity. "No conversations with the Mentors. It's not allowed until after the Games," the one on the left intoned.

"But—"

The other repeated the warning, adding, "Any contact might be considered as interfering, Mrs. Mellark."

The couple went white and backed off immediately. Gale nodded shortly to them; they were the bakers, for pity's sake, and he didn't want to be seen as an absolute jerk by the people he'd grown up with. It would make things harder for his family.

One of the Peacekeepers escorted the Mellarks from the building. The other stayed with them. Effie Trinket hurried over, hands fluttering once again as if she were unsure of where to put them, now that the business of the day was, in effect, complete.

"Haymitch, you advised our Mr. Hawthorne, here, to bring his luggage with him, right?" Her smile was brittle. "I haven't been able to find it anywhere, and it is your job to guide him in his new role!" She blinked in such a way that Gale thought might have been an effort at being blithe and flirtatious, but it just made her appear nervous.

Which was entirely possible. There was a nasty, ugly underbelly to the world in the Capitol and Effie's position might be precarious on Reaping days. Everyone's position was precarious, save the Tributes'. Theirs…was positively untenable.

Haymitch waved his hand drunkenly in the space between the three of them. Gale suspected, though, that it was entirely an act and even the fumes of alcohol had been poured on his clothes instead of in his body. "Yeah, I told 'im. Where's your gear, kid?" he asked with a nudge.

"In one of the anterooms," Gale responded with a respectful nod. "I'll go get it now, I guess?"

"Right away!" Effie insisted, all but shoving him away. "Immediately. We have to do our orientation on the train as soon as we pull away from the station!"

Each District had their own car on the train to the Capitol, just as they had their own floor in the Tributes' Tower. The Tributes stayed in their car and the Mentors were free to move about the train itself during the time they were on it. District 12 had an all-night ride, but they also had more time to prep with their Mentors, he'd found, than the Districts they'd pass through during the night to pick up Tributes.

"I'll be there, Effie," Gale promised over his shoulder as he hurried to the anteroom where he'd left his luggage. Just as he reached it, Violet Everdeen and Primrose emerged from that same room, and he nodded to them.

Prim, though, grabbed his hand. "I'm scared!"

"I know. But she's strong. I—I can't talk right now," he went on to say, shifting his focus to Mrs. Everdeen. "It's against the rules." Prim gasped and he shrugged. "It's the truth. You take care of yourselves and go say hello to my mom, okay?" He figured that was not a bad thing to say; no reflection on the Games or anything other than sending worried family members to his own family for comfort.

It was the only thing he could do at that moment. They moved past him, to be flanked by Peacekeepers, and Gale slipped into the anteroom.

Katniss was right at the door, but she lunged back, eyes wide with what could only be construed as fear for a brief moment. He had to hold her, to reassure her, though she was never one who had seemed to need it.

She did then. "Gale, oh Gale."

"You're amazing, you know that?"

She was shivering in his arms and he tugged her in even closer, relishing the way she clung to him as well. "I'm no such thing! But I couldn't let Prim go. She'd—"

She'd never make it, was what Katniss didn't have to say aloud.

Gale understood. He allowed himself to nuzzle her hair for a moment, sighing a little. "You're still amazing to me." She laughed a little and he counted that as a victory for the moment. "I have to get my bags. I hid them in here."

She blinked and drew away from him, looking about the small room with its high, inaccessible windows that let in only the thinnest streams of light. "I remember. This was your room, right? Last year."

"Yeah. So, I've gotta get on the train. I'll meet you there real soon, all right?" He cupped her face in one hand and brushed his thumb over her cheek. "Most amazing girl ever," he said.

That she actually blushed, he counted as another victory.

"I've never done this part," Gale muttered as he and Haymitch paused before entering the lounge for their car. Employed as a dining room, conference area, and even a wet bar, this car served quite well for the Tributes and Mentors who had the farthest to travel. "Last year, you were such a…"

"Drunk. I know." Haymitch let out a long, ragged breath and glared at the door that led to the lounge. "Not much better, today, but some." He offered Gale a slight shrug. "Got one right, yeah? So, let's see if we can help out your girlfriend."

Gale felt his ears catch fire. "She's not my girlfriend," he hissed under his breath. "She's just my friend. A good friend."

"Uh huh." The door opened then and Gale shifted his focus to Katniss and Peeta, who were standing about the pastry-laden table as if they didn't know if they were allowed to look, let alone eat any of the treats.

Effie was already into her spiel. "And I know it's only for a little while, but so many others don't even get this, right? Anything you like, here. Have as much as you like!"

Katniss, Gale could see, was not intrigued. She was wary, her body language—so familiar to him—shouted her wish to fight and run at the same time. He completely understood. He held out his hand, ready to cross the car to her, but Haymitch stopped him.

Again, damn it.

"Well, did you people get settled? I'm sure Effie, here, told you it's an all-nighter into the Capitol."

Katniss stared at Haymitch as if he'd grown another head before quickly shifting her focus to Gale. Is he serious? her gray eyes demanded.

He nodded minutely, indicating with the barest angle of his chin that she should be listening to the Senior Mentor just then.

"So!" Haymitch continued, moving to the drink cart, "Lucky me, we've got two. Whole. Mentors for District Twelve, this year. Well, yahoo for that."

Gale couldn't help but smirk. "That's twice as many as I had, and I'll tell you both," he said, meeting Peeta's pale blue eyes as well as Katniss's, "that Haymitch is a pro. He won his Games because he's smart and strong and sneaky."

Haymitch waved the decanter of bourbon in his direction. "And Gale, here, won his Games because he's strong and smart and ruthless when he has to be."

Their gazes clashed, memories surged for each of them, and Gale jerked his focus back to the Tributes. Katniss. Peeta Mellark.

Effie cleared her throat. "Well! If you're going to be getting to business, then, I'll just be on my way. Peeta? Katniss? You listen, now. And eat up! Enjoy the ride."

Finally, finally, Gale paced to Katniss's side. "Hey, Katniss," he murmured. "Have you had anything to eat, yet?"

"Not you, too," she retorted, her nostrils flaring.

Peeta laughed a little. "Effie Trinket kept talking about food, but she never stopped talking enough for us to eat anything."

Gale smiled and tried to put them at their ease; tension was obvious despite their words. "She's like that," he said while Haymitch poured himself a bourbon. "It's all right. She's got a lot on her mind."

Katniss picked up a muffin after asking him silently if it was really all right to do so. Peeta, though, spoke. "I get it. So," he went on, pursing his lips before choosing a shiny, red apple, "you're our Mentors."

That reminded Gale a bit of himself, the year before. "You're our Mentor," he'd said to Haymitch Abernathy, as Fern had trembled herself into near insensibility. "So, what do we need to know?"

He managed not to laugh when Haymitch clinked his tumbler against the crystal decanter. "I've heard that before," the older man said. "We are your Mentors, yes." He leaned against the wall of the car. "And we'll do our best for you. But for the rest of today, let it hit you. Feel it. Accept that, in all likelihood, you're going to die."

Gale closed his eyes and held his words behind his teeth. Not Catnip. Not if I can help it. He nodded, though. Because it was true. Even if one of their Tributes did win—as Haymitch had, as Gale himself had—one of them would die. Twenty-four Tributes entered the Arena and only one came out alive.

Peeta nodded and turned abruptly to look out a window on the opposite side of the speeding train car. Katniss clenched her jaw. "I told Prim I'd try to win for her," she whispered. Gale didn't know if she was speaking to him or to herself. "I'll try."

"I know you will," Gale answered, equally quiet.

"But the odds suck," Haymitch asserted, pushing off the wall and waving his bourbon around as if he were already half-sauced. He wasn't. Gale knew his sheer capacity for alcohol. "So put it in your heads, kids, that you're going to die. Accept your imminent demise. Be willing to walk into that with clear heads. And then, we'll talk tomorrow." He caught Gale's eye. "Don't be too long, Hawthorne." Without another word, he left the car.

Gale stiffened his spine and turned to the other two passengers in the lounge. "Peeta," he began, not knowing how to act with the younger man but wanting to try his best to be a good Mentor. "I know you have a lot of questions. I will tell you one thing that helped me when I was in the Arena last year."

Pale blue eyes opened wide as Peeta Mellark nodded eagerly. Gale cleared his throat. "The odds are not ever in your favor, going in, no matter what they say, but if you have something—or someone—to fight for, it helps. If you don't want to dwell on dying," he said, trying to be helpful as well as maybe a bit sarcastic, "think about who you wanna live for."

Peeta glanced at Katniss just then, his cheeks darkening with an obvious blush. Startled, Gale swallowed back a question and met Katniss's eye. She was nodding, but didn't look away.

"Thanks, Gale," she murmured before sitting at the table and proceeding to pick her muffin into bite-size pieces. He watched her eat every bite, even the crumbs, while he listened to Peeta crunch on a different apple.

Then, as neither of them had anything else to say, he left them alone.

Effie Trinket pulled him aside after they had eaten a strangely silent meal. Normally, the woman was overly talkative, but she hadn't been that evening. The train had picked up the Tributes and Mentors from Districts 8, 11, and 6 by the time coffee and dessert were brought to them by the staff on board the train. Truly the technology was remarkable, considering so much in District 12 was entirely backward, from all he'd been able to read about the history of what used to be the United States of America. But he was relieved the trip was comparatively brief for them. No use having days to agonize without any relief in action.

"Gale," the too-pink woman whispered, "there's been a concern."

Cold sweat sprang from his pores as he leaned in to hear her words. "What kind of concern."

"About you and the volunteer from your District. She's not your sister, is she? You look, well, remarkably alike."

In spite of the gravity of the situation, he had to chuckle. "No. You've been to Twelve often enough, Miss Trinket, to know that those of us born and raised in the Seam often look, well, like I do. Like Katniss Everdeen does. I don't know why."

She sniffed, but her eyes shifted with obvious tension. "Well, it's not common here, I know, but in One? In the 67th Games, before I started, well, doing what I do? There was an obvious friendship between a Mentor and one of the Tributes." Nearly inaudibly, she warned, "They sabotaged the girl. Sent her poison instead of the medicine her Mentor had planned to send to her."

Dread draped him like a cloak, even darkening his vision for a moment while he got his breath back. "Oh."

"Oh. Be careful."

How could he manage this? Gale dragged one hand down his face as he paced back to his private quarters to change his shirt. He felt…dirty…even having been warned. He had to talk to Katniss. Privately.

Well, where was private? Her quarters. They had one night, he figured. He didn't trust that anything would be private once they arrived in the Capitol, but on the train…

He thought he had a pretty good chance, there. She had a bathroom. They could go there.

Freshly showered, brushed, and in a new shirt and trousers, he left his quarters to look for Haymitch. The older man was in the bar car; it was where he made connections, met new Mentors, and got his feet under him before the assault of the Capitol. Schmoozing, basically, but it had worked for Gale and he wasn't going to denigrate the process.

Haymitch smiled broadly, seeming to be the epitome of a drunken, down-at-his-heels Mentor. Gale knew it was a façade, this year. His senior counterpart was razor-sharp in his focus. He wanted to foment another Rebellion. A successful one. Gale was entirely on board with that, but…

He wanted—needed—Katniss Everdeen at his side to fight with him. He needed her to win.

As soon as the car door closed behind him, every pair of eyes focused on him and Gale could feel them measuring him. He didn't know how Haymitch had put up with it for so many years; he was ready to jump right off the train, come what may, already. But he had a mission, a goal, and that was far more important.

Besides, he had to protect his family.

"Hawthorne, c'mere!" Haymitch called, waving him over with a hand that held what looked like a lobster tail. Gale put on a smile and complied, knowing after a year of Capitoline socializing what would be required of him. "You remember Gale Hawthorne, right, Prisca?" he asked the Mentor from Six.

Prisca Whitaker was a woman of middle age. She'd won the 49th Games, Gale had learned while preparing for his first stint as a Mentor himself. Her hair was an improbable red, and her eyes were dark brown, hard as any oak. She stood tall, alert, and as if she'd take anyone down who dared to glance at her sideways. She nodded once.

"Hawthorne. Welcome," she went on with a sneer, "to the Mentor's Happy Hour. I saw Twelve had a volunteer, this year?" One brow arched as if daring him to contradict her.

He, of course, did not. "We did. Katniss Everdeen."

"You'll forgive me for saying I hope she doesn't live to regret it."

It was a stab, but not entirely unexpected. Prisca wanted one of her Tributes to win, as well. Six hadn't won the Games for at least ten years, he thought. "Forgiven, but you know I won't be mourning if she does live to regret it." He didn't think anything would make Katniss regret volunteering to go to the Games in place of Prim. Even if she were to die in some awful manner—Gale was sure he'd have nightmares for the rest of his life if that happened—Katniss would be proud to have been able to take her little sister's place. Just as Gale would have been proud to do the same for his siblings.

He just wasn't going to say so to the other Mentors, as he was introduced to them all in the capacity of his new role from District Twelve. From Tribute to Victor to Entertainer to Mentor, Gale wondered how any of them kept track of all the roles they had to play on the Capitol's stage.

There were four Mentors from District 3, and they shook hands and gave him a look that managed to convey their own confidence as well as pity for him and his District. Three men and one woman, they seemed content to huddle in their clique around a small round table.

"Remember to coach your Tributes for the Interview," the oldest of the men told him in a confidential manner. He took a sip from what looked like a martini. "Can't rely on Abernathy, over there. He's been on his own too long."

"Thank you," Gale said politely, meeting each pair of jaded eyes and nodding. It was a routine he'd use until Haymitch called it a night.

He met the three Mentors from Eight. "Remember, you'll probably have to choose one over the other, lad," the eldest of them said with a sad smile. "It's never easy."

"So Haymitch has advised me," Gale allowed, grimly nodding. "Tell me, do we all meet back here after the Games on the trip home? Is this how we are taken back, on the train?"

The youngest Mentor from the District threw up a hand. "Hell, yes. There's more liquor, lots of noise, it's chaotic, but you'll need it." He shrugged and looked across the room as the latest arrivals entered. "Sasha, from Eleven, helped me quite a bit a few years ago."

Sasha was the only Mentor from Eleven, as they'd lost their only other during the past winter to a lung disease. Her dark skin gleamed in the light from the wall sconces, her smile was thin and knife-blade sharp. Gale had seen her on the broadcasts and winced a little. Her Tribute had almost won…but he, Gale, had taken the younger man down under a hot, dry sky.

"Seeing them all is the worst," he remarked, not purposefully saying so aloud. He was startled to hear his own voice but surprisingly comforted to receive immediate affirmation from the others gathered around the small table. Tears burned in his eyes for the briefest moment before he looked down and willed them away. "Not just me, huh?" he asked, trying to sound less affected than he was.

"Nope," one of the women from Eight murmured. "It takes a few years, too." Her light green gaze was sorrowful as it held his. "Next year, someone will have to face you, you know."

He shut his eyes, imagining someone killing Peeta or—God forbid, Katniss—as he'd done Barnes the year before. "Damn."

All those nearest and in earshot lifted their glasses. As one, they said, "Damn it all."

Gale froze, a sudden hope piercing him. Were other Mentors as ready to take action as he and Haymitch were? Sasha lifted her chin, catching his heightened attention. She nodded as if she'd read his mind.

Perhaps they were. Maybe they were the "air" that Haymitch had alluded to, the day before.

It was after ten by the time Gale made his way back to where his Tributes were staying. The lounge was indirectly lit by tubes up near the ceiling, and the uncovered windows showed only a dark blur of land topped by a less-dark blur of night sky as the train sped through the night. They'd just picked up the Tributes from District Two. Gale couldn't imagine having to wait for the train for such a long time after the Reapings.

Scheduling Reaping Day was a bit of a hassle, he imagined as he stared into the night, gathering his words and nerves.

Why am I nervous? It's Catnip. We've been friends for years. She knows me. She trusts me…doesn't she?

His heart gave a hard double-thump in his chest as he went to the door that he knew was hers—he'd found out before dinner where his Tributes were sleeping. Mentors needed to know, right? Holding his breath, he knocked softly. "You awake?" He let out the breath and drew a new one in without any sound. There was a barely discernible rustle before the door was unlocked. "Hey," he whispered into the dark space that appeared as she opened the door.

"Gale?" She frowned before backing away; he could see her shadowed expression even as she beckoned him in. "Come in," she whispered. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?"

He blew out a breath as he entered her room. "I'm sorry…were you, uh, sleeping?"

"Tonight?" She looked at him as if he were insane. "No. Too nervous." She waved vaguely at the chair next to the narrow bed.

He lowered himself into it. It was a small room, but compared to what he knew Katniss had in the Seam? It was luxurious. Soft mattress, freshened air, a private bathroom, mahogany furniture. "I thought you might be. I just wanted to talk to you. I would have given…well…not my right arm, maybe, but my best boots to have had you with me to talk to last year," he confessed to the girl now sitting cross-legged on the bed.

She offered him a crooked smile tinged with disbelief. "Well, you did really well even without me. But," she went on softly, plucking at the blanket on the bed, "I don't know if I'll do as well."

The train slowed. "Five," a quiet, feminine voice said through the unobtrusive speaker in the ceiling.

"District Five? Is that where we are, now?" Katniss asked, frowning up at the speaker.

"Yeah. It's a fast train. You should get some sleep. We'll be in the Capitol before noon tomorrow, I think, unless something goes wrong." He took a breath before holding out one hand to her. "But honest, Catnip, I think the most wrong thing is having to be your Mentor for this. I don't know how I'm going to do it."

She took his hand slowly, staring at it as she started to tremble a little. "I'll try to win."

"I know you will."

"But I don't know if I can…can kill someone, Gale." With a jerky lift of her head, she scooted a bit closer to him. "Animals, sure, but a person?"

Too many images flared behind his eyes and Gale dropped his gaze to their joined hands. "I won't tell you it feels the same, Catnip, because it doesn't. But the mechanics…are the same, basically." He looked up again and waited until she was focused on him. "Aim and apply deadly force. Arrow, knife, or even your bare hands. Do what you have to do," he said, ending on a whisper.

She swallowed audibly, but her fingers were cold. "That's what you did, right?"

He sighed. "Yeah. It's a bitch, Catnip, not gonna lie. But yeah."

She blinked rapidly and withdrew her hand from his. "I'll do my best." She rubbed her hands together as if to warm them and he took them in his own again, bringing them up to his face, cupping his hands around hers, and blowing hot breath all over her fingers. She made a startled sound and he suppressed a small smile.

After lowering their hands, he kept them in his own as leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Part of the Mentor job is to help you do well for the interview with Flickerman, you know?" She nodded quickly. "I wanted to let you know," he said slowly, "that they might try to surprise you or unsettle you."

"Like when they asked if you had a girlfriend in your interview last year?"

"You remember that?" he blurted, blushing and letting go of her hands. His had gone all hot and sweaty with the memory of that interview and the way Caesar Flickerman's smile had seemed playful but predatory.

"So tell me, Gale, do you have a special girl back home in Twelve?"

Gale had blushed, despite all efforts at appearing nonchalant. "I don't have a girlfriend, if that's what you're asking," he said over the pounding of his heart. He wouldn't have put it past the Capitol spies to have monitors imbedded in the chairs on the stage, at that point.

"Really? Handsome fellow like you? I don't believe it." Caesar had leaned forward, almost as if he were flirting with him, which unsettled Gale to no small degree.

His memories of Katniss spun in his mind. "A man likes to keep some things private," he'd finally said.

"A ha! I knew it! Well, if you win, you know, I imagine that could change for you and your private person," the host said, his voice sliding with all kinds of innuendo.

In Katniss's room as the train stopped in District 5, Gale nodded and kept her gaze with his own. "Yeah, and then you…well…kinda grabbed me when I got off the train."

She held up a hand. "I am so sorry for that."

He laughed a little, but his limbs were thrumming with all the things he wanted to do, to say, so he pushed himself up from the chair and paced the two steps he could on the small bit of floor allotted to the room. "Don't be, Katniss," he said after he'd found his voice again. He paused and dragged a hand through his hair as he looked down at her. "I wasn't. Not even a little bit."

"Gale Hawthorne, I practically jumped you." She shook her head and shifted to lean against the headboard of the bed, her eyes trained on the wall opposite. "I was just so relieved to see you home, you know? After watching you for all those days…"

"I liked it," he confessed with a shrug, returning to the chair and moving it to see her better under the recessed lighting on the wall. "The jumping me part, not the being broadcast all over Panem part." He shook his head. "That…I wish I could keep you out of it."

She went very still. "You…liked it?"

He didn't recognize the tone of her voice and wasn't sure what to say in answer. Was she angry? Worried? Frightened? Nervous? He didn't know…and he thought he knew just about everything a guy could know about Katniss Everdeen. "I did," he said after a long breath. Honest. He had to be honest. Time was short, though. Getting to see her alone again like this before the Games was a toss up and, as the two of them had both proven, the odds were not in their favor. "I've…thought about it, a lot, since then, too."

She blinked a few times and turned to look at him. Finally. "You have?" She pushed a lock of hair from her face and looked embarrassed. Like the girls in school used to look, back when he was interested more in getting any girl's attention instead of focusing on Katniss.

Encouraged, he moved to take her nearest hand in his own, though his mouth was dry and his heart was racing again. "Yep. But this is the thing, and," he continued, squeezing her hand lightly, "I do not regret it for myself for a minute, but you might. Because that was played all over Panem, of course, like the Victors' homecomings are every year."

"They make it like it's a huge deal," she added, her tone rebellious. He liked that she was still rebellious. "That you were home and safe and that was the happy ending of the Hunger Games that year. But it wasn't." With a grimace she shook her head. "You've hardly been home at all, it seems like."

"Hate to break it to you, Catnip, but being a Victor isn't all about the big house."

She snorted and relaxed more. "Right. So, you mentioned the interview."

He nodded slowly and tried to relax back into his own chair. "They might bring last year up. Flickerman is…very good at his job. And his job is to show you off and, really, he wants the audience to like you. He'll probably ask you about why you volunteered."

Katniss let out a small sound before clamping her jaws shut and nodding.

He continued. "They might ask if you've got someone at home, waiting for you. They want people to be cheering for you, understand that. And you volunteering, well, I bet that's already news all over Panem."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously." He smiled crookedly. "You were so brave. You are so brave, Katniss." His breath caught, but he mastered himself in a moment. "I'll do everything I can to help you."

She turned fully to study his face and he could practically feel her focus as if her fingertips were stroking his skin. It was unnerving but also something he could see himself enjoying for an inappropriately long time. "All right." She dropped her head. "So that's why you came tonight? Pep talk?"

He chuckled. "Well, not entirely. I just…really wanted to see you. We haven't had as much time, not this whole year. I didn't know that being a Victor would take me away from home so often."

"Yeah. I've missed you, Gale. A lot."

"Same. And it's going to be crazy when we get to the Capitol and then you'll be training and showing off for the bigwigs and then…"

"The Games," she finished for him on a whisper. "Yeah." After clearing her throat, she nodded. "Thanks, Gale."

"Can I ask you a question?"

She tossed her head. "Of course."

He'd had time to think about this—not for this situation, but with this particular girl—and he knew he'd have to put his own wishes and feelings out there because she might not be ready to even think of having feelings of her own, yet. She was two years younger than he, had been taking care of her family since her father had died, and had never been interested in any boy at school or the Seam, as far as he was aware. Not even Peeta Mellark, with his blond hair and blue eyes, had apparently garnered any attention from her; the pair of Tributes been stiff as boards at the Reaping.

"Would you consider being my girlfriend? We could wait until this is over—I don't want you to have to lie or put yourself in more danger—but would you?" He tried not to be obvious as he held his breath to wait for her answer.

Her face had gone still as she studied him as if he were a new puzzle or skill she wanted to learn. "I—me? Really? But what about Madge and Sarah-Anne? I thought you were going with one of them."

He took a deep, hopefully quiet, breath of relief. She hadn't laughed or refused. "Not for more than a year. Just wanted to wait for you." He swallowed. "We can't just now, like I said. Effie told me about a year where there was a, a relationship between a Mentor and his Tribute and they…they sabotaged the Tribute during the Games."

"What?" She clutched at the pale blue top she was wearing. "That's—"

"I know. So we have to be careful."

"Like you said." She nodded in a strangely even manner. "What would they do to you?" she whispered.

He went cold just thinking about it. "I, I have a lot of family…"

Their eyes met with a sharp, edged electricity in the air. "I'll be careful," she promised. "You be careful too, all right?"

"Right."

"Four," the intercom announced.

"Damn, already?" Gale groused, glaring balefully up at the speaker in the ceiling. "I better go, Catnip."

"Yeah. Still won't get any sleep," she said lowly as she rolled off her bed to gain her feet. "Will you?"

"I might try. Got a few hours. If I'm late to breakfast, you'll know why."

She smiled as she opened the door for him. "Okay. Thank you."

"Goodnight, Catnip," he murmured, slipping past her and letting his fingers skim the skin on her arm as he did so.

"Night," she whispered.

He thought he might have heard another door close as he left the small passenger-compartment area, but when he looked back, no one was there. He ignored the twinge he got at the back of his neck; he was preoccupied with thinking about Katniss.

That was probably Catnip making sure she got rid of me, he decided with a smile he didn't have to hide.

Katniss Everdeen might be his girlfriend in a few weeks…if he could keep her alive.

Remember, if you would like a sneak peek into the next chapter, simply say, "I volunteer!" and I'll make sure you get one. This only works, of course, if you're signed in and accepting PMs. :) See you Wednesday.