A/N: Thanks so much for returning to this story! A fine cup of your favorite beverage to all who review, too! :)

May the odds be ever in your favor...

Chapter Seven: Subterfuge

"Haymitch, a word, please?" They had escorted Katniss and Peeta downstairs to the Training Room and were preparing to head out to their own business that day—networking and sounding out possible sponsors for their Tributes—but Gale felt the note he had received, and the hope it had given him, were more immediately important.

Time was, after all, of the essence.

He took Haymitch to the kitchen and turned on the water in the sink as he daren't risk the roof again. Beckoning the older man closer, he murmured, "I got a note from the Avox assigned to this suite last night. She indicated they have us under surveillance, maybe in the coming and going through that window to the roof. She canceled it for us last night for a brief time, but if it happens again, there might be maintenance people sent up."

Haymitch's brows shot into his forehead as he pursed his lips for a silent whistle. "Good to know. So we don't go back there. Anything else? We have to mingle and do some shopping." Haymitch bent down to the cupboard to get some pans so he could make some noise. The water had, Gale guessed, been on long enough.

Through the clattering bang of moving pots around and opening the refrigerator as well as heating water for no apparent reason, Gale told him what he'd learned from the Avox.

"I need to see her," Haymitch muttered as they helped themselves to some bottled water and left pots and pans out to dry on the counter.

They looked for her and eventually discovered she was changing sheets in Katniss's room. She was wearing a shapeless white tunic, that day, and her hair was bound up under a white net. When she saw the two of them in the door of the room, though, she froze as if she were a deer in Katniss's range.

Haymitch made a business out of fixing his facial expression and Gale tried to soundlessly reassure the young woman while he did so. He smiled, ducked his head, and held up a hand until Haymitch nodded harshly and blew out a breath.

"So, hey," he drawled. "I was wondering if you, ah, could put in an order for the kitchen. We need more beer. And for the Tributes. We want them to have a good last night, you know?"

Relaxing noticeably, the Avox nodded, folding her hands in front of her. Then, she mimicked writing a note, her eyes suddenly hard and sharp.

Gale leapt into the silence before Haymitch said anything that might be misconstrued. "I'll find out what they want and leave you a note, okay? On the kitchen counter."

She nodded and Haymitch rolled his eyes. There wouldn't necessarily be visual pickups in the bedrooms, so Gale figured it was safe enough. Then, he thought of a note. He gestured to Haymitch to keep talking and scrambled to find a piece of paper somewhere.

Toilet paper worked, and he used it along with a very careful touch of a pen. But because the paper was delicate and he didn't want to use more than a little bit in case it was noticed, he tried to keep his words brief.

Idea. Yes. During, not before.

You see Gamers? When?

Arena? Where?

He took two squares to get that out. Two fragile, white squares. And then he handed it to her.

"Thanks for ordering the food," Haymitch said as they left the room. "So, ready to head out?" he asked Gale.

Gale agreed that he was and they made quick strides to the brass-inlaid elevator. Gale kept an eye on the numbers as they dropped, all the while thinking of Katniss down in the Training Room. "So, tomorrow they'll be one on one with the Gamemakers," he said out loud. Talking of that was normal and expected.

"Yep. Peeta will be the last they see all day. He ready?"

"I think so, yeah." They reached the ground floor and exited into the main foyer. "I think he wants to work with camouflage. He's really good at it. Said it's like decorating a cake."

Haymitch snorted as they reached the big glass doors that led to the rest of The Plaza. Once they were out of the building, he kept a half-drunk, half-curious expression on his face as he spoke, his hands moving at total odds with what he was actually saying. Gale had to concentrate on the words so as not to be distracted.

"So presumably she's going to let us know who will be working with the Gamemakers?"

"Or be a go-between. I didn't indicate what we wanted done. But I had a thought."

"What?"

"Fire. Avoxes are like air. In everything, unseen, essential. Right?"

Haymitch stopped abruptly and turned to face him, recovering his composure enough to slap him lightly on the chest as if they were having a mild disagreement. "Go on?"

"She indicated there was a bunch of them that were into electronics. Surveillance. Barriers, maybe? She didn't say so much, of course, but what if they could disrupt the force field around the Arena?"

Haymitch's jaw dropped. "You are effing ruthless. Damn. That would mess up everything and get 'em killed, Hawthorne."

Gale nodded; he had thought of that. "Them meaning the Avoxes."

"Yeah. But she volunteered, you say?"

After taking a moment to recall the servant's expressions, Gale nodded. "She volunteered." He huffed out a harsh breath and attempted to smile as Haymitch was then doing. "Volunteering is deadly in the Capitol, isn't it?"

"Got that right."

They continued walking, weaving amongst the thronging spectators, the various conversations flowing around them as the screens flashed replays of the various Reapings and the highlights from prior Hunger Games. Gale tried to point things out to keep up with the outward image of learning the ropes as a new Mentor.

Haymitch, though, had gone oddly quiet. "What's up?" Gale asked when they'd crossed a spot recently vacated by a man and his two Dalmatians. "Am I wrong to be thinking like that?"

"No, Hawthorne. Good thinking. This is scary enough, to be quite honest. Hell, man, I'm not sure how I got rolled into this. I got things to do. And I wasn't sure I was going to be able to, but right now?" He turned and offered a slanted smile that actually seemed genuine. "I think I can. Just remember I'm blaming you."

Gale snorted but remembered to keep a smile on his face as they ambled along once more, weaving amongst the outrageously garbed Capitoline residents and their equally outrageously garbed pets. "You rolled me in, remember?"

"Oh, no. I was fine bein' drunk and depressed. Then you move in with a fire in your eye and your heart on the girl and that changed everything. Don't think I didn't see your face when she jumped you last year." Haymitch slapped Gale's chest with the back of his hand. "Yeah, yeah, so you got me into this and now I'm all over it. Dammit. What happened to my two-week vacation?"

"Right. Because it's so relaxing to be a Mentor for District 12."

"Sure it is," the older man drawled, actually sounding intoxicated. Gale noticed, though, that the pedestrian traffic around them had grown thicker. His appreciation for Haymitch's ability to play a role increased tenfold on the spot. "The alcohol is always there. The showers are great and the food's top of the line. But no, you have to go and win this thing and throw me back into being responsible."

"I'm kind of selfish, that way."

"No kiddin', Hawthorne. No effin' lie to that. Hey, look, let's go check out that place. Maybe we could get some fire-starters just in case, yeah?"

Well, that term took on a whole new meaning, that day. "I got some money."

"Good."

The day rolled on, with Caesar Flickerman's blue hair and white-white smile appearing on the big screens every so often, updating all of Panem about the latest happenings with the Tributes and Mentors. Gale was a bit surprised to see his own face appear in a brief spot.

"And last year's Victor, Gale Hawthorne from District 12 is acting as our newest Mentor this year. Seen in The Plaza today with veteran Mentor, Haymitch Abernathy, he is clearly enjoying the bounty of the Capitol and no doubt eager to see this year's Hunger Games!"

Cheers erupted as well as some shouts to him personally, making Gale very uncomfortable. He longed, deeply, for the sensible quiet times in the forest he had enjoyed with Katniss back in Twelve.

Keeping a small smile on his face and feeling sheepish and even a bit slimy on the inside, he elbowed Haymitch. "So are they gonna be ready for tomorrow?"

"We'll find out tonight. See how they're doing. Make sure Katniss hasn't used the bow yet, anyway."

"I think she said she was going to practice with snares." Gale sighed. "She needs the work."

"She's a survivor," Haymitch reminded him. "Even if she's got a Save the Sister issue."

Gale nodded and looked in a store window. "Hey, look in there."

"No, we are not getting her anything, Hawthorne, you idiot," Haymitch growled. "They can only take the uniform given."

"I know, okay? I was thinking for after."

"One day at a time. Remember," Haymitch added, nudging him away from the store with its belts and boots, "any attention could get her family killed. Even if we pull this off."

"I just want her to live…"

Haymitch sighed and, in what felt like a moment of actual sincerity, patted him on the back. "I know, kid. I know."

The message was, unsurprisingly, hidden three layers deep in his toilet paper roll.

Contact made.

Wilds 12 and 3

Will need escape

Wilds 12 and 3. He had to think a moment to connect the dots, there. And then it hit him. The Arena would be in the wild land near his own District.

Hope flared hot and high within him. Like a fire.

His original plan had been predicated on Katniss winning. She had to win. He'd crumple in devastation if she were killed in the Arena, so he had not let his mind consider that possibility as he'd been thinking of how to get her away from all the awfulness that was a Victor's life in the Capitol. But now? Now there was another option.

Gale emerged from his room, having disposed of the message in the most inconspicuous manner, to see the Tributes had returned from training. Peeta had a grin on his face and Katniss looked a bit bemused. In a good way.

"So...how'd it go?" Gale asked, joining them in the lounge. The Avox he'd been communicating with was standing against a far wall, head down. She wore another red tunic, with her hair pulled into a tight bun at the top of her head. It was…awful, how they were treated. There were no Avoxes in District 12, so his only experience with them had been in the Capitol. Last year, he'd been so keyed to the Games that he had paid them no mind, but this year…this year he had good reason to pay attention to them.

Could they liberate the Avoxes? What about the girl that served them specifically? Would helping her hurt the others? The Capitol had set up an annual murder show in retribution for a rebellion that took place several decades ago. What might they do for such a transgression as freeing actual slaves? He didn't know, but the message had indicated an escape was desired and he'd do his best if he could. As long as doing so didn't compromise Katniss's safety.

Filing that away for not right at the moment thinking, he brought his awareness to everyone else in the room.

Effie was perched at the edge of her seat, wearing an unusual purple shade as her theme of the day. Her hair, though, was a platinum blonde. He wondered how many wigs that woman kept and if she had an entire room devoted to them. With a swirl of her glass of something blue, she sparkled a little. "Well, now, I didn't get to go in, of course, but I was watching when they came out, and I can tell you that our Tributes are really having an impact."

"She's got herself a fan, I think," Peeta offered. "Girl from Eleven named Rue was watching her a lot, today."

Katniss's expression thawed and she flickered a glance toward Gale. "She reminds me of Prim."

Gale felt something nudge in himself. That was a lot for her to admit to; maybe they could try to get Rue out, too?

You can't save them all, Hawthorne, said a voice in his head that sounded a lot like Haymitch. Katniss first. Then Peeta if you are in time. Focus!

He wanted to tell her that they had a plan in progress, but he couldn't. Too many ways for it to go to hell and Katniss was amazing but she couldn't lie very well.

"What about you, Peeta?" Haymitch inquired, sticking to soda-water that evening. "Any little girls following you around?"

Gale was shocked to see the younger man blush bright red. "Er, no."

"No, but he got the Careers to take notice," Katniss told them.

"Hey, it was your idea!" Peeta countered.

Katniss rolled her eyes and leaned forward on the sofa. "They were looking at you like you were a meal, and we weren't even in the Arena. You did the right thing."

Effie held up a hand. "Now, now. We don't need to get agitated, do we? Tomorrow will be the most important day in terms of how we can help you. Your private sessions, remember."

"Meeting with Peeta in half an hour," Gale said with a nod to the baker's son.

"And Katniss and I will have a conference, too," Haymitch reminded him. "What else did you learn, today? Anything new that can save your hides?"

Gale mostly watched Katniss as they shared bits and pieces of what they had done during training, that day. No, she had not yet used a bow, but Haymitch had intimated one would be there for the private session the following day.

After a lull had slipped into the conversation, Effie rose to her feet. "Well! This is just lovely, and I am looking forward to seeing how you will impress the Gamemakers, tomorrow. Remember, their opinions are key, so it will be a big, big day for you both!"

"What did you do for the Gamemakers, Gale?" Peeta asked as they all stood and moved from the sofas.

Haymitch met his look with a twisted smile. "Bow and arrow," Gale admitted with a shrug. Katniss just snorted. "Hey, you're better than I am, so I expect you to make it count tomorrow," he told her.

After a little bit of laughter, they drifted away, each to their own rooms. Gale wrote another note via the same method the Avox had used before. This way, there wouldn't be need for personal contact.

It was tricky to indicate they wanted a huge thing. It was an enormous risk. He was prepared to do his best to get them out of the Capitol, though there wasn't anything he could do about their voices.

What were he and Haymitch getting themselves into?

Maybe it took a Victor to do this. Not one Victor, but years' and years' worth of Victors. Would there be a lot of them?

They'd meet with another couple tomorrow.

"Gale, you got a minute before you meet with Peeta?" Katniss—wearing a loose, flowing pantsuit in a shiny, copper fabric—leaned against a room-separating column.

He smiled at her; he couldn't seem to help himself. She glanced away, but a smile was tugging at her lips and that warmed his heart. "As many minutes as you need, Katniss."

She walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over all of the Capitol. He joined her and they spoke to the glass, seeing each other's reflections.

"I don't think I'll be able to make friends, like Haymitch says I should," she murmured.

He shoved his hands in his pockets so he didn't try to take one of hers. "Can I talk like a Mentor and a friend, here? Would that be all right?"

She turned to look at him for a moment, not his reflection, and nodded. They refocused on the window and he felt his heart speed up as she offered him such honest sincerity. "I've known you for four years," he began slowly, feeling his way through his words, aware of the possibility of being recorded or observed. "Your strength has never been in having a group of supporters, Katniss Everdeen. You do best alone or with one person beside you. Whether that person was your dad—"

She gasped a little and jerked her head around as if she'd watch him instead of the window again. He didn't look at her, though. He had to keep it a little distant or he'd be pulling her into his arms to comfort, support, and encourage her. And that would not be a good idea.

"Your dad, Prim, or even maybe me." He smiled at their reflections. "You are impressive as hell, Katniss. In The Plaza, with Peeta? You didn't need to make friends. You just had to be there, standing tall, and making it look like you owned the parade."

She snorted a little. "So I could go solo."

"You could. Only one walks out of the Arena alive." He hoped she remembered he was saying that because of the likely cameras or other recording devices. He hadn't forgotten that she owed Peeta Mellark her life.

Katniss froze, her face stiff even in the flat glass before she nodded. "Right." After a moment, she rolled up on the balls of her feet and stepped even closer to the glass, tapping on it. "So any other advice for tomorrow's private meetings?"

"Knock 'em dead, Miss Everdeen. Knock 'em dead. Just not, you know, literally."

She snorted.

Only a few minutes remained until his scheduled meeting with Peeta, and Gale did his level best to turn his mind toward helping the younger man. Gale remembered what it had been like, being the male Tribute. He'd been the only survivor from the moment he stepped off the pedestal at the Cornucopia bloodbath, but before that, he'd carried around a feeling of responsibility for Fern.

Peeta, he was sure, had a similar feeling for Katniss. Greater, likely, since he had already saved her life, once.

"Hey, Gale, are we meeting here?" Peeta joined him at the window, where they looked out over the lighted city. "It's a great view."

"We can if you want," Gale answered, half-turning to look him in the face instead of merely his reflection. This was a different kind of meeting than he had just had, and he wanted to acknowledge that internally. "Or we can get some coffee and meet in the kitchen? Or even your room, if you'd rather."

"Coffee sounds good."

A few minutes later, they were both leaning against the granite counter in the kitchen, holding mugs of coffee in their hands. Small talk had filled the space while they made it, talk about the bakery, Victors' Village and why it looked like a ghost town, and so on.

But then, warm mug in hand, Gale cocked his head. "So. Tomorrow. What's the plan?"

"I don't know. They're probably watching, right? And you and Haymitch have talked to them?"

"They seem to have a sixth sense, yeah. And we have been informally meeting quite a few people," Gale allowed himself to say.

"Right." Peeta sipped at his coffee slowly, thoughtfully. Gale thought he might be thinking of what to say. "If they have weights out there, I'll make them count," he said decisively. "I knocked over a whole stand of spears, so I could do something like that. But honestly? I think my camouflage work is my best to show them. Maybe blending my arm into the bark of a tree or something like that. The trainers said to focus on survival even more than weapons."

"That's good thinking, Peeta."

Peeta shrugged and sipped quickly at his mug. "Thing is, there is no way on earth I'm going to top whatever Katniss is going to do. I…" Grimacing, he set the mug on the counter and leaned forward in the manner of someone who wished to be confidential. "Only one of us is going to come out of this alive, you know that."

Pain knotted in Gale's chest for a moment as he nodded. "Those are the rules."

"But why?" Peeta demanded in a harsh whisper. "Why are we paying for something that happened when, when my grandparents were born?"

He agreed totally, but Gale held up a hand and pointed at the ceiling, where lighting fixtures could easily hide surveillance equipment. "I know. It's not fair. Did you study Ancient Rome in school?"

"I remember reading about Caesars, yeah. And how they baked their bread in round loaves. Some bread loaves were found in ruins, the books said."

"You would remember the bread," Gale said with a smile. "Well, they also had what they called circuses. Big fights and displays in arenas all over their empire. Kept people interested. And distracted."

"So we're a distraction," Peeta spat, looking disgusted.

With a shrug, Gale allowed that to be the case. "So we do our best, like the old time gladiators did."

"Did the gladiators ever win?"

"Yeah." Sometimes they even won their freedom, he mused.

"Well, I'd put my money on Katniss," Peeta declared, pushing off from the counter and standing, feet firmly planted, in the middle of the kitchen floor. "I want to help her win, Gale," he added softly. His eyes, though, were as sharp as any knife.

"She wants you to make it out alive, though," Gale told him, wanting him to have a reason to fight. To try hard and not sacrifice himself.

Shock seemed to freeze Peeta's face for a moment. Gale let him think while he finished off his own coffee. Maybe it had been a mistake to share that, but Katniss was sincere and Gale wanted to do his best for her. He wanted her to live. And if allying herself with the boy who saved her life gave her reason to do so, he'd help. For her.

At length, Peeta blew out a breath. "All right, then." He shook his shoulders and rubbed his hands together. His smile was short and hard when he asked, "Should I try to talk her out of that idea?"

"Have you met her?"

They shared a laugh, then Gale put his mug down next to Peeta's. "The winner is the last Tribute alive. When Haymitch won the Quarter Quell—"

"It was only because he outlived the other surviving Tribute. Yeah, he told me. It could have gone either way."

"Right. So I'll tell you like I told Katniss: Stay alive. That's the key thing."

"What about, like, making an alliance with someone else to keep them away from her?"

Gale thought about it as a strategy. "I don't know what your skills are. I don't know what kind of Arena you'll be facing in a couple of days, so I couldn't say how well you'd do, there, if you were only bent on survival. Alliances can be helpful, but something like that would keep you apart from her, which might be to your benefit as well. Hard to say. Flickerman and Templesmith speculate hourly on what could happen, but no one really knows. How are you with a sword? An axe?"

Peeta shrugged, seeming embarrassed. "Not so good. Knives, I know. And clubs. I learned how to stick-fight. What did they call it?"

"Kendo?"

"That, yeah. I can do that."

"Good. You can find sticks almost anywhere and they'll give you an edge for reach, too. Good thinking."

"I don't think I could fight her, though, Gale. Not…not like that."

"Maybe you could find time to spar with her tomorrow morning, before the private sessions start?" Peeta looked at him like he was crazy. Gale held up a hand. "Peeta. It's good practice, regardless."

"I'll think about it." His expression shifted. "Could you do it? If both of you were Tributes? You've known her for years, too." He glanced up at the ceiling as if reminding himself that he had to be careful.

Relieved at that last-second bit of discretion, Gale scrubbed at his jaw with both hands. "That's a good question. I guess I'm…relieved I didn't have to ask it of myself last year."

Peeta rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Mentor. You're a lot of help."

Gale let that pass. "Look, tomorrow, be strong. Be confident. They want to figure your odds based on how you handle the pressure, and you want them to be impressed, the Gamemakers, okay? The higher the score, the more sponsors will be willing to do for you. The better we can keep you alive."

Peeta shifted about on his feet uncomfortably. "Maybe I can make the odds better…" he murmured.

"How?"

After hearing Peeta's idea, Gale felt both impressed at the younger man's sheer gall and a bit sick to his stomach. He had no idea if he could go along with Peeta's plan. He was pretty sure Katniss would hate it.

"You should stick with her," he advised after some thought. He couldn't tell Peeta of the other, secret plan he and Haymitch were working on, but he could give the Tribute that much of a hint. "I think you have compatible skills. You're good with people. She's good with weapons and finding food. It'd be a beneficial alliance."

Katniss appeared at the edge of the kitchen just then and Gale wondered what she'd overheard, if anything. "Hey, Peeta. Hey, Gale. You done?"

"I think so," Peeta said, glancing Gale's way. "You?"

"Yes. I need something to drink. Oh, is that coffee?"

Reluctantly, Gale slipped past them, allowing himself to clap Katniss on the shoulder as he did so. "See you in the morning," he told them both.

Haymitch was waiting for him, the Avox they were…communicating with…in the short corridor was with him.

"Hawthorne," the older man began in his pretend-I'm-drunk manner, "our Avox, here, isn't feeling so good. Might need a day off. I'm going to see if I can get a replacement in for her tomorrow."

Not even sure why this was necessary, Gale had to pretend he didn't care. "Sure. Thanks for letting me know. See you in the morning?"

"Yeah."

The Avox nodded slowly and left them, but Haymitch followed Gale into his room. "We've got to talk."

E/N: Peeta, in canon, seems adept at managing people, so I'm keeping that as a thing, here, too. He's a good guy and his heart is in the right place. Remember, if you want a sneak peek into chapter eight, just drop me a line saying, "I volunteer!" If you're signed in and accepting PMs, I'll send it to you! ~LJ