A/N: This story is generally from Gale's POV, and he is seeing and thinking things that may or may not actually get integrated into The Plan in the end. Just keep that in mind. ;-)
Thank you to everyone who is reading, who have added this fic to their lists, and to those who leave me notes! :)
Chapter Six: The Roof
Dinner seemed to fade into obscurity shortly after the discussion about alliances. Haymitch and Effie talked to Katniss and Peeta, all bunched together at the corner of the dining table. Portia had excused herself to deal with dinner. The citizens of the Capitol sometimes took a shot of an emetic after a meal, so they could eat all they wanted, and Portia apparently was one who did so.
Gale pulled Cinna aside. "That was an amazing costume. What got you to make something so inspirational?"
Cinna nodded thoughtfully before meeting his eyes. "Sometimes, you gotta have a spark to catch fire, right?"
Spark. Fire. Fuel. The words spun in his memory, but he wasn't connecting them that evening, what with all that had gone on. He blinked and nodded. "Yeah?"
"Hers was her sister. You know them, right? You're friends?"
"Yeah. And my brother is friends with her sister," he said quietly, not sure where the other man was going with this.
"And now she's going to be the one starting a fire. For your District. You are the only people I've ever met from Twelve, but I hope that she keeps the fire burning for a long time."
There was a code in there somewhere; Gale could feel the tension in Cinna's words. They were, mostly, innocuous, but there was a weight to them that he knew he should be picking up on. He'd have to talk to Haymitch about it. There were plans, yes. Plans and plans and plans, but Haymitch was the one who knew where the bodies were buried.
Gale, well, he'd bring a shovel and help him bury another one if he had to.
Spark. Fire. Katniss Everdeen.
The lights in the penthouse suite were off, save in a recessed line near the high ceilings and under the cupboards in the kitchen. Gale prowled the quiet spaces, mindful always of the surveillance equipment that existed in every room of the Tower. Haymitch had told him and Fern about it all the year before.
"Why are we on the roof?" Gale had demanded of their Mentor. He had a protective hand on Fern's slim shoulder, already edgy about how to keep her from dying in the Arena.
She had her arms wrapped around her torso, but her chin was jutted out and Gale knew she was trying to appear tough and ready to begin training the following morning. For himself, Gale wanted desperately to stay alive and keep her alive…
As long as possible, anyway.
Haymitch hadn't had the ubiquitous bottle of booze, Gale had noted. No cigarette. He'd even been barefoot, there on the sloped roof of the Tower. In the dark, with the sparkling lights of the Capitol thrown out below them like discarded diamonds at their feet, Haymitch had gestured for them to hunker down and huddle up.
"We're on the roof because I had this crazy idea y'all wanted to stay alive. Am I wrong? 'Cuz if I'm wrong, we can all just go back inside, and you can contemplate your imminent demise."
Fern had huffed and Gale had to silently agree. Haymitch had used the phrase imminent demise four times since they'd boarded the train the day prior and it was starting to lose its impact.
"We want to stay alive, Haymitch. So why are we up here?"
The blond man had nodded as if he heard what he had expected to hear, and Gale held his breath until their Mentor began speaking.
"You know that the Games are rigged, right? Not just that they set up the Arena and make it terrifying but good for broadcasting," he explained, making a face that Gale couldn't see fully, but could catch the sharp edges of. "Really, they don't want anyone to win but they let one person win each year, to make it so that you'll work for it. To give you hope."
"Hope," Fern had whispered. Gale had only nodded, breathing deeply and slowly to keep as calm as he could.
"But before they even get you in the Arena, they are getting to know you. They have the Training days, which you start tomorrow. And they listen to you while you're here. They want to know if you have any special fears. Any special loved ones at home. Leverage they can use against you in the Arena or—" Haymitch pushed out a harsh gust of air and shook his head sharply as if to cast something away from him. "Or after," he ground out as if he were swallowing gravel. "Family. Friends. Sweethearts." At the last word, he looked Gale right in the eye as if he were ferreting out any secret love affair or something. "So be careful what you say in the penthouse. It's pretty. Real nice compared to Twelve, I know, and hell they redecorated it five years ago, so that's all right, but they are listening all the time."
"Even in the bathroom?" Fern had whispered.
Haymitch snorted. "Well, okay, maybe not everything? But I wouldn't put it past them to have some kind of recording device in there, too."
Fern shivered. "Eww."
Haymitch nodded at Gale. "Gale? You're awful quiet."
"It's just…I hate it."
"Me, too. But if you want to stay alive, and want anyone important to you to do the same? You'll remember."
And he had. Haymitch had told him, one maudlin night shortly after Gale and his family had moved to Victors' Village, what had happened to the rest of the Abernathy family and the girl that Haymitch had been sweet on, all those years ago. Gale had worked very hard not to let any of that happen to his family or the girl he was sweet on.
He'd been successful so far. His family was still fine, and Katniss would have been fine, but her sister had been Reaped and so—
Here we are.
He stood for a few moments, staring blindly at the lights of the Capitol through the so-clean-they're-invisible plate glass windows. They weren't breakable, the windows. That was another little tidbit that Haymitch had passed along that one night at his big, lonely house. He'd tried. Suicide attempts were, tragically, not unheard of in the Tower.
What was he going to say to Katniss?
He pressed his lips together, nodded at nothing, and decided he was wasting time. And there wasn't time to waste. At all. Walking through the room and down the short hallway, he then paused before the door he knew was hers. It was mostly dark. There were listening devices. He had to be very careful.
Every muscle in his face tensed up as he tried her door. It opened easily, without a sound. Not wanting to…intrude, exactly…he slid his hand in and waved it, hoping she'd see it and know it was his. She should know his hands by now, shouldn't she? After years of hunting together, he thought so.
Katniss caught his hand and he froze. He hadn't heard her move. Relief blew through him like a breeze as she held his hand and nudged the door the rest of the way open. He placed a finger on his lips in the universal Quiet! signal. She nodded. He backed away from the door so she could leave the room, and then held her hand behind him as he led her to the roof.
There was a maintenance door which led to a concrete corridor that ended with a heavy metal door…and a separate window. That was the method Haymitch had taken, so that was the route Gale used as well. It wasn't locked—who would be on the roof of the Tower this week, anyway, right?—and it was at a height that required only a little stretching to get through.
And they were out!
"Shh," he advised, recapturing Katniss's hand and easing her away from the window to make for the spot a few yards away where Haymitch had taken him and Fern the year before. "Careful right there," he added quietly as he found the spot.
Katniss nodded before turning carefully to see where they were. "Wow. This is such a…it's so weird, being here, Gale."
Watching her visible consternation, he nodded in sympathy. "I know."
She shuffled a bit, looking, he thought, for a comfortable place. At length, Gale invited her to hunker down in the same place Haymitch had sat with him and Fern. "This works here, if you want."
As she was wearing what looked like silk pajama pants and a sleeveless top, Katniss was able to sit down pretty comfortably, he thought. They sat side by side on the hard roof, gazing out over the city lights. "Thanks for coming up, tonight," he murmured.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her nod. "What's going on, Gale?" Her voice was husky, which appealed to him more than he would probably be able to tell her. "You wanted to talk?"
He reached for her hand and was relieved and grateful when she allowed him to do so again. "Yeah. First, Training starts tomorrow and we've gone over that, but is there anything you had any questions about?"
She made a helpless sort of sound. "How do I not die?"
He felt like she'd stabbed him with a shard of ice, and the cold pain of it pierced him. "There are ways," he said slowly.
"You were ruthless. I watched constantly when you were in last year, Gale. All the time. I was so…so scared for you. But then, I thought you'd make it."
"I was lucky."
"No, Gale Hawthorne. It's like Haymitch said. You're ruthless. And I, I don't know if I can be that ruthless."
He withdrew his hand, feeling as if it was still covered with the blood from the Arena. "After a few days…it might not be so hard, Catnip. But that's part of it. The way to win is not to die. To be the last person alive. To stay alive even when the others are out to kill you."
Katniss seemed to perk up a bit at that, and she turned to him, leaning forward a little. Her newly trimmed hair shifted over her shoulders as she did so, and he wanted to touch it, feel the shiny length of it between his fingers. She cleared her throat and he blinked, wondering if she'd caught him staring. "I can maybe stay alive. If I can hide. But what about Peeta? I worry about him. He's strong, like I said, but he's…he's had food his whole life, Gale. I don't know if he can be, well, ruthless." With a jerky motion, she turned away again. "And what would I do if it were down to just the two of us, you know?"
"I wondered about that, too, with me and Fern," Gale confessed, shrugging with one shoulder. "Unfortunately, I didn't have to worry about it long." He closed his eyes, still able to see Fern's death on the pedestal. Katniss touched his hand, then, and he opened his eyes to smile sadly into hers. "So, don't you worry about it. You worry about yourself. Haymitch and I will do our best to keep you both alive." He shifted to take her hand in both of his. "I…I care about you, Catnip. Last year, all I wanted was to spend time with you…after…and they kept taking me away. So I told myself that this year, I'd come back, after the Games. Back to you."
Her eyes widened. "Gale…"
"Hang on," he asked, shaking her hand a little. "I have never been so amazed by another human being as I was when you volunteered, Catnip. I know you've got a thousand things on your mind…your heart. I know that. I've been there, too, you know. But I want you to make it through this. I want to be there for you when you win. I want to hold you in front of all of Panem, too. If you'd…give us a chance, you know? You and me."
He held his breath, not sure even then if she'd answer him or put him off or tell him she couldn't think about it then. He kept staring at her, though, memorizing the way she looked, remembering how she'd always looked, to him. Was she pretty like the girls on the big screens? Not his Catnip. But she was smart. Sharp. Keen and beautiful like a well-honed knife that he trusted in his hand. She was all about making things work. Making people work but protecting her own beyond the reach of anybody.
How could he not love her?
Her fingers trembled a little and he wasn't sure if he should let them go or not. He chose to keep them in his own, hoping that was what she wanted, too. "I'm scared, Gale." She gestured toward the lights below with her free hand. "We've said, May the odds be ever in your favor for years, you and me, but I don't feel like they are."
"I know. I know exactly how that feels," he assured her.
She tossed her head impatiently. "Do you? Because I'm worried. I've heard about…Tributes, you know…who…" Her thin brows angled sharply. "It's not just my family that would be hurt, Gale. It'd be yours."
"We could run," he whispered, leaning as close to her as he could as a breeze kicked through their hair.
"Only if I win," she reminded him with a wry tone.
He could see it, in his imagination. See her as the Victor and see them going back to Twelve and escaping with their families as soon as they could. The world was bigger than Panem. And even within Panem, there were places to hide. Miles and miles between the Districts. Wildlands—they were bigger out by Twelve. Miles and miles. Or they could go to the ruins of Thirteen, maybe…
"I'll do my best for you," he promised.
She took a deep breath, as if preparing herself to feel pain of some sort. "If…if I make it, and if we can, I'll run with you. We have to take Prim and my mom and your family…"
"I'll keep my eyes out while you're in the Arena," he swore to her, his heart pounding as he replayed her promise over and over. "Figure out a plan."
"You really think I can win?" Her eyes were piercing through the shadows. He nodded. She cast her gaze over the lights again before asking him the question that had been at the back of his own mind since their first night at dinner. "What about Peeta?"
Gale let go of her hand. "I don't know. I've been trying to figure that out."
"He saved my life, Gale. I can't just…kill him. What if we hide, right? You and I have both seen that over the years."
There were years where Tributes created alliances for secrecy as opposed for conquest. The Hunger Games had been going for almost three-quarters of a century; every possible situation had transpired, Gale was fairly certain.
"What did he do? How did he save your life?"
Katniss told him, then, about a time when the Everdeens were literally starving. Gale had known that Violet Everdeen had…stopped living in quite the same way after the mine disaster; that had been obvious and even his mother had noted it. And in the Seam? Food was always scarce. But that they'd been starving? He hadn't known it had been that bad.
"I hadn't started hunting, yet. And Prim didn't know how to help yet, either, but Peeta…Peeta gave me bread when it cold and I was…" She pressed her lips together and ducked her head. That time, Gale did take a moment to caress the top of her hair and run one hand down her arm to let her know he was listening.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, not having anything else to say. They hadn't been hunting, they hadn't been friends, really, but he still felt guilty that she'd been that poorly off.
With a nod, she straightened. "I don't want to kill him. I can't hide with him and maybe, maybe make it to the end, and not kill him. I owe him, Gale."
He had no immediate plan to answer the iron in her voice, so he nodded instead. "Let's think on it while you're training, okay? See if there's…any kind of way to make it so you don't have to kill him. But Catnip?" She offered him the usual eye-roll that followed his nickname for her. "I don't know if I can watch you die. I think it might…"
"Gale," she countered immediately, her voice soft in a way he had never, ever heard it. The tone gave him hope. "Don't you think I died a hundred times last year?"
He'd been selfish, he guessed, thinking of his wishes and his wants for their future. He'd forgotten that she would understand, too.
But he did not want her to understand how difficult life was for a Victor in the Capitol. That…he couldn't see her living his life. No way.
With a renewed strength of purpose, he pushed himself up to his feet, not even surprised when she refused his hand to get up on her own. "I'm sorry. Sorry for everything that you've been through that I didn't help with. I'll do my damndest to stand by you from here on out, Katniss Everdeen." He reached out tentatively to pull her in for a hug, just a hug. Like...but unlike...the nearly manic embrace she'd given him upon his homecoming the year before. He could feel her fingers bunching his shirt at his back, feel the tremors that raced through her body.
She was afraid. Well, so was he. Terrified.
"There has to be a way," he whispered.
She pulled back a little from him to meet his eyes. "Can we talk up here with Haymitch and Peeta tomorrow?"
"Absolutely."
Gale listened the following morning over breakfast as Haymitch talked up training. Effie was with them, but the Stylists had left already to get to work on the interview outfits and making the Arena uniforms for their Tributes.
At length, ham and eggs and all the pastries were cleared away by an Avox—someone Gale was sure he'd seen before but knew better than to speak to lest the unfortunate girl be harmed even more by the machine in the Capitol—and Haymitch poured one last cup of coffee.
"Right. So first day. Remember, do not show your best skills."
"I won't use a bow," Katniss stated.
"And I won't go all—what did you call it? Caveman, Katniss?" They shared a chuckle and Gale knew he'd missed something, somewhere.
Haymitch snorted. "Right. Gale. You've been there most recently. Any advice?"
"They're going to remind you about the percentages," Gale said with a grim nod. Effie frowned, her pale makeup making her look like a puppet, but she also nodded with him.
"Percentages?" Peeta inquired softly.
Gale blew out a breath. "You've seen the Games every year, right? So you know that there is a lot of, well, killing…but there's also a lot of other ways to die. They're going to remind you of that. What percentage will likely die due to dehydration—"
"So get your asses to water, first thing," Haymitch interrupted, tapping a half-full water goblet with his finger.
Gale smiled ruefully. "What he said. And they'll tell you about poisonous plants, malnutrition, bug bites, sunstroke…there are lots of ways other than, well, the big dramatic ones." He sighed. "Of course, the Cornucopia is…awful. That's all about fighting."
"And running," Haymitch added. "Don't forget how to do that."
Shortly after that, Katniss and Peeta excused themselves, changed into their training gear, and headed down to the lowest level to spend their day…training. Mentors weren't allowed to watch, but Gale knew they'd be plenty busy, even so.
"What, my turn now?" Peeta asked, his tone as brittle as his smile. "I've had enough training, today. I need a break, Gale." Dinner was over, the day's training regimen had been parsed and suggestions broached for the following day.
Leaning against the closed door of Peeta's room, Gale swept the suite with his gaze. "I know. Did anyone show you how the wall works, there? With the viewing choices?" He crossed the room to pick up the controller, clicking the wall on to show a view of The Plaza. "And what do you mean, your turn now?"
He might have missed Peeta's scowl if he hadn't been studying his face. It was gone in the next heartbeat, though, when the younger man shrugged with an assumed nonchalance. "I mean, you were with Katniss the other night. I can only guess it's my turn." He slid a glance over from the corner of his eye. "For the pep talk or whatever."
Not sure if he'd dodged a brick or not, Gale decided to play it straight for Peeta as he had for Katniss. How sharp was the baker's son, though? Gale changed the scene to a different view: the night sky. Might even be a live feed, for all he knew. "Great view, yeah? Have you seen it since we got here?" He pointed a finger straight up, even while nodding at the viewing wall.
Peeta's brows shot up into his forehead in what may have been the first genuine expression Gale had seen from him since they got to the Tower. Peeta was…cagey. Cunning. He knew how to say what needed to be said, even when he was upset. But this sudden startle and silent question? They felt quite earnest. Peeta took the controller roughly and pointed it up at the ceiling. "That view?"
"Yeah," Gale said on a breath, relieved. "Come on, I'll show you."
He left the viewer on but beckoned for Peeta to follow him. The window at the end of the corridor was open, telling Gale that someone was already on the roof. He was unsurprised, therefore, to see Haymitch and Katniss sitting next to one another, already talking tactics. They hushed up when Peeta slipped a bit on the roof.
"Sorry," Peeta whispered. "Not used to the super-secret spy stuff."
Haymitch shook his head in an overplayed manner as they all settled down near a windbreak. "Right, then. So tomorrow, we start with individual training, right?"
Katniss nodded. "Yeah. You and me in the morning, you and Peeta after dinner."
Not surprised, as he and Haymitch had discussed this—though not to happen a day early—Gale went along with it. "Right and Peeta, you and I will be opposite. We'll talk about anything you have questions about that you want to keep to yourself, all right?"
"You won't tell Katniss?"
"Nope," Gale promised, though he smiled at Katniss as he did so. "And it goes for both of you."
Haymitch cleared his throat. "Thing is, Peeta, as you know, there's only one person that walks out of that Arena. And we know that, even if Tributes are friends, or whatever, this still holds true. Hell, there'll be alliances struck in the first two days in there that'll make a marriage look like a casual date, you know?" The older man twisted a comic smile that had the Tributes smiling with him. "But, they'll still try to kill each other before it's over."
The smiles vanished.
Gale met Haymitch's eyes. "Yep. Three years ago, the Tributes from Seven and Eleven, remember? Flickerman thought they were just…" Gale squirmed inwardly, because it had been weird and like a fictional romance there, for a couple of days early in the Games.
Haymitch made a disgusted sound. "Well, it was after that that they got a new Head Gamemaker, Seneca Crane."
"Last year, the Tributes from Three were looking like they were going to be more than just allies…"
Peeta made a disapproving sound. "I remember. They were cold and I think they forgot that the cameras were on."
"Remember, the cameras are always on in there," Gale murmured. "They edit out the stuff that they don't think we need to see, but they see everything."
"Well, they tend not to be around on the perimeter, where the force field is," Haymitch remarked. "But that's where I won, in the Quarter Quell. They might try to get you away from the edge, though, so be prepared for that if you Seek. It. Out."
Gale caught the emphasis and stared at the older man. The force field. Haymitch had knowledge of it. The force field couldn't be seen but it was essential to the Games.
Essential like air. Air. Fuel. Heat. Is that what this is? The fire we talked about?
A sudden jerk of motion caught his attention. It was his girl, right there, tugging on a lock of her hair. "There's no way to escape from the Arena, is there?" Katniss whispered, sounding resigned. "I mean, no way for anyone. We'll have to—"
"Yes. Remember. You have to prepare for your—"
"Imminent demise," Katniss and Peeta said together.
Haymitch slapped the roof and got to his feet, looking beyond irritated. "It's not a joke, dammit. It's reality for twenty-three out of twenty-four of you. If you want to have any chance of being that one, you have to be willing to do anything. And I mean anything."
Even Gale felt chastened by Haymitch's low-pitched tirade. He immediately spoke in support of it, however. "Avoid trying to be that couple," he told Katniss and Peeta. "That'll put a huge target on your back. Not in the Arena, maybe, but with the Gamemakers."
Katniss pushed herself to her feet, as well. "Right. None of that, then." She eyed Peeta and then Gale, and Gale didn't know exactly how to feel about that. Was she rejecting everything they'd spoken of the night before? Was she warning him merely to keep a lid on…on them? Until after?
He had promised to do his best to get her out of there. He'd do it, too. Anything.
Or was she warning Peeta not to…what? Peeta had saved her life.
The silence stretched between the four of them until, eventually, Peeta and Gale got up as well. The younger man sighed and stretched up on his toes for a moment. "Look. Just because I don't think I can win doesn't mean I won't try. I don't want to hurt Katniss, not for anything," he continued, "and that means I won't even hint at any…romantic stuff." He scratched at the back of his neck. "But I'll tell you, I had been thinking about it up 'til now."
"Peeta Mellark!" Katniss took a long step in Peeta's direction, hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Don't you dare. Don't you even dare! I'll look…weak!"
"You could never look weak," Gale hastened to say, trying to draw some of her attention so she wouldn't maim her fellow Tribute.
Haymitch, a calculating smile on his face that Gale could interpret despite the minimal light afforded by the city around them, stepped between the Tributes, a hand on each of them. "It'd make you interesting, but I don't want you targeted, either. So, good. That's settled. Let's get down. Both of you are meeting with both of us before breakfast."
He turned and left the way they'd come, disappearing into the open window. Gale nodded but waited to see if Katniss and Peeta would be going as well, but Katniss shook her head at him.
"We'll be in in a minute," she said.
Uneasy, Gale nevertheless left them and headed back to the window—only to be surprised to see an Avox waiting for him.
Her unexpected presence startled him, causing his heart to leap in alarm and him to flatten his back against the wall. "What is it? What do you want?" he asked more harshly than he would have under other circumstances.
She pointed to the window frame and then gave him a slip of paper.
Careful. They can monitor your comings and goings, even here.
I canceled the surveillance tonight, but will have to start it back up again soon before they grow suspicious and send maintenance.
Please destroy this note immediately.
He stared hard at the young woman, who still wore the red tunic she had had earlier. A convicted rebel, an Avox was compelled to servitude as punishment for their rebellion. Taking courage from her, Gale nodded and proceeded to tear the paper into tiny pieces while he stood there. "Right. Are you good with electronics?" he whispered as quietly as he could manage.
She nodded. Pointed to herself and then one finger, then to all her other fingers, one by one, before making her hands flare and move away from her with such force that he could feel their movements in the air around him.
The idea hit him square between the eyes and he blinked. "Are there others in your, um, position who know this kind of thing?"
She nodded and flared her hands away again.
A plan came to him in an instant, exploding from him with a smile that nearly hurt. "I will eat these pieces," he promised her. "But I need to talk to you in the morning."
Her eyes glinted as she nodded her agreement.
He ate the tiny bits of paper on his way back to his room. It was as good a way as any to assure that no one would ever be able to read the note.
E/N: Remember, if you are brave, bold, and daring and want a peek into the next chapter, drop me a line saying, "I volunteer!" and I'll send it to you. But I can only do that if you're signed in and accepting PMs.