A/N: Welcome back to Panem! Sending gratitude to everyone reading and adding this fic to your lists. :) So kind of you! I truly enjoy interacting with y'all.

Chapter Nine: Interviews

It was the last day before the Hunger Games began in their horrid, bloody outbreak of retribution. Gale's nerves were jolting through his whole body, making his hands twitch and his heart race even before he got out of bed. Tomorrow. The Games start tomorrow.

He'd have to watch her leave the building with Cinna, who would be the only one allowed to stay with her until she had the final trip to the Cornucopia. Hell, Gale didn't even know what the Arena would be, this year! A water environment? Would they be stuck having to fight for land or die? A desert, where the thirst would drive them insane? Would there be a swamp filled with dangerous creatures that had been created by the mad scientists of the Capitol? They Gamemakers could create anything in the wild lands between Districts.

Scrambling out of bed, he hit the shower first, not even shaving. His hands were shaking, for the love of Mike, and he had to get to her. Haymitch's door was half-open, and Gale popped his head in there.

"Hey."

"Oh, hey, Hawthorne. Look, you're gonna take Peeta down to the training room at nine this morning, all right? I'll follow with Katniss at eleven o' clock and we'll all get together for a late lunch before we get prepped for the interviews."

Feeling as if he'd been doused in freezing water, Gale shook himself. "What? Oh, right. There's two of us, now."

Haymitch's smile was wry. "Yep. Hey, come 'ere. I got a print-out of the room usage, for today, so you know who's down there."

Surprised, Gale entered the room and accepted the sheets of paper. The first one was indeed a print-out of the training room schedule, but there was a second one, as well, and it was a handwritten note.

H-

Bringing E down 9:30. We'll switch then. Talk tactics with M.

Don't be stupid. Say goodbyes in private, yeah?

-A

Gale knew better than to even mention the private communication. He folded both pieces of paper and slid them into a pocket. "Hey, thanks, Haymitch. It's gonna be a busy day."

"Yeah, and Portia and Cinna will be wanting them to have an early dinner, so they can get all dolled up for the interviews."

"What about you and me?"

"We'll be backstage, like I was for you last year." Haymitch snorted and reached for a long-sleeved t-shirt. "So wear a tie. You're supposed to be the respectable one."

"Will Sponsors be there?"

"In the audience. Do you remember the crowd?"

Gale snorted. "Barely. I was petrified."

"Well, pay attention to the monitors this year. We'll learn a lot."

Gale missed seeing Katniss before breakfast, but he was relieved they'd have time together later that day; from the way Haymitch was talking around it, there would be…time. Gale promised himself there would be time even if he had to pull her under a blanket to muffle conversations in a bathroom.

The mood at the breakfast table was brittle, it seemed to Gale. As if one wrong word would pierce the veneer of optimism they had all adopted after last night's scoring broadcast. Gale chose the seat across from Katniss, that morning, smiling at her when she greeted him.

"Get any sleep?" he asked her.

She reached for a pitcher of juice. "Not much, to be honest. Not until I put on that forest-view image on the wall." She shrugged a little as she pulled over the butter for her toast. "That was actually helpful."

Impressed, Gale saluted her with his coffee cup before filling it. "I never even thought of that, myself. Nice." She smiled at him and he held her gaze for another moment before turning to Peeta "So, you and me at nine, right?"

Peeta's preoccupied expression was a bit worrisome, but he answered immediately. "Yeah. I'm ready." After shooting a look at Katniss, he continued. "I could use some advice."

"That's why I'm here." Gale nodded and reached for the platter of scrambled eggs. "Don't eat heavy, okay?" He grinned. "Don't want you to get sick while we're in training."

"Good advice," Haymitch called from the head of the table. Portia and Cinna nodded as well.

Effie tossed her head. "Well, I think you and Katniss should eat anything you want to, while you're here. It's one of the benefits of being here! You're allowed to eat anything you want, and we can even get more, if you'd like!" She smiled in a general way and Gale cringed inwardly. Effie seemed as if she was struggling to maintain that smile and he could relate, but he also wondered if she had any way to not do what she was doing. Was she stuck in her role as the rest of them were in theirs? Would her life be forfeit if she decided she had had enough?

He'd ask Haymitch. Perhaps they could invite Effie Trinket to join the exodus.

Peeta went to change, and Gale used those few minutes to reach out to Katniss, beckoning for her to join him at the window. Not a lot of reflection, as it was a bright day outside, but it was privacy of a sort, anyway.

He covered her nearest shoulder with the palm of his hand for a few moments, grateful when her initial stiffness eased under his skin. "Hey."

"Hey."

"You were pretty quiet at breakfast," he remarked, slowly lowering his hand to his side.

She sighed. "Yeah. Just thinking about Prim. I miss her."

He nodded and rocked back on his heels. "Yeah. I miss my family a lot when I'm here. Worse last year, though."

She snorted. "No, really?" She half-turned toward him. "You didn't mention them during your interview, though."

"No." Grimacing, Gale stared, unseeing, out the window. "I didn't want to bring any attention to them at all if I could help it. Haymitch's family and girlfriend…" His voice fell; the revenge President Snow visited on Haymitch's loved ones after the Quarter Quell had made them all a bit nervous about their personal lives being widely known.

"Gale," Katniss whispered. She touched his hand, and he felt a sort of zing inside because she did so voluntarily. After a quick breath, she continued. "If, if I don't make it. If I don't…"

He gripped her hand in his own, maybe too tightly, but she didn't seem to notice. "I'll look out for them, Catnip. I swear it." Releasing her, he pretended a lightness he didn't feel as he added, "Rory's looking after her for me while I'm here."

They were still shaking their heads about that when Peeta approached. "Ready, Gale?"

"Yep. Let's go."

Gale eyed the way that Peeta seemed to disappear into the rock that he was leaning against. The younger man's entire hand had been blended to appear just like the rock and Peeta had only used the materials at hand to make it happen. "That. Is. impressive. You could hide yourself brilliantly, with that."

"Or I could hide Katniss."

Around them, the sounds of hand-to-hand combat echoed in the Training Room. The clangs of steel weapons, the thuds of bodies hitting the floor. Mentors were guiding their Tributes or fighting with them, preparing them for the next day. The lights were about at half-brightness overhead, discouraging overt attention beyond one's immediate vicinity.

It was effective. "You could hide her, yeah. But I'm pretty sure she'd want you to hide yourself, too."

Peeta shifted and dragged his hand over his hair…leaving a trail of faux-stone in its wake that made Gale chuckle.

"What?" Peeta demanded.

"You've got rock in your hair. Come on, Mellark, let's run."

There was a track around the perimeter of the Training Room, and Gale led the way. "Stamina," he called over his shoulder, "is super important, no matter what the Arena looks like, tomorrow."

When they'd run partway around, Peeta puffed out, "Stop, would you?"

There wasn't anyone in their vicinity at the moment, so Gale did. "Hey. You okay?"

"Yeah." Puff. "I wanted to ask you a question."

"What?"

Peeta wiped sweat from his face and bent over to get some more air, Gale supposed, before he stood straight again. "Do you really think Katniss and I should stay together?"

"If you make an Alliance with her, it would make sense. She's good with weapons and you," Gale went on, pointing at the sweat-dampened camouflage matter in Peeta's hair, "are good with the environment. Plus," he went on under his breath, pretending to get some of the rock stuff off the younger man's shoulder, "you'll keep each other safe near the border. Don't forget that."

"Still thinking about that?"

"Yep, still am. Ready to fight?"

"What?"

With a feral grin, Gale led the way to where the knives were, hanging on a perforated steel frame. "Come on! Try to stop me!"

Gale went easy on Peeta, but even as he tried to be encouraging and show him how to block and then how to slice, he could see that Peeta didn't have it in him to harm anyone. He shoved the younger man down to the floor and pinned him to it with his knee.

"Hey!" Peeta shouted.

"Shut up and listen if you want to live past the first day," Gale advised, tapping the flat of his knife on Peeta's arm. "If one of those careers, like Cato maybe? Comes after Katniss? What are you going to do? Wave him off? Or try to pick him up or what?"

Peeta went white. "Do you really think…someone would…"

They were interrupted by a drawled yell. "Hawthorne! Get offa Peeta and trade with me, yeah? I didn't want you to kill the kid."

Heart leaping in his chest, Gale got up and pulled Peeta up along with him. "Not killing him, I swear," he said. "Just letting him know it's more than a game."

Still pale, Peeta nodded and stared at Katniss in a way that Gale didn't entirely understand. "Yeah. I mean, we're a team, right?"

"Right," Katniss said.

Haymitch, wearing a pair of trousers and an open-collared button-down shirt, beckoned to Peeta. "My turn. Let's see what you got, kid."

Gale turned to Katniss, who was surveying the Room with cool gray eyes. "Last time I'll be down here," she mused, sounding offhand about it.

"I thought so, too, last year," he said, moving to stand next to her. "Wanna run or fight?"

She sent him a challenge in her gaze. "Catch me." Without another word, she jogged off to the nearest point on the track, running past Marvel and Glimmer and the little girl from Eleven, Rue, who was working with the male Tribute, Thresh.

But Gale, didn't stop to talk, he just did his best to keep up with Katniss. "Hey, you're fresh," he called after they'd run for maybe a hundred yards.

"And you're experienced." She slowed down, then, and he lunged to catch her, grabbing her by one arm and throwing himself off the running track. She rolled with him, her face tense with stress as she pinned him to the floor.

He didn't fight back; she looked like she'd use a knife on his face just then, if she had one, and he wondered what was going on in her head. "Hey, Catnip," he murmured, not struggling, though she was straddling his stomach while pressing on his arms. She felt…amazing, and it was all he could do not to break free of her hold and roll her back the other way.

Don't be stupid, Hawthorne. Haymitch's voice echoed in his head.

Katniss blinked and puffed out a breath. "Oh, damn, Gale. I'm sorry." She leaned back, freeing his arms but also landing on his hips, which was…uncomfortable. He let himself smirk and tap her thigh and she actually blushed before making some kind of aggravated sound and rolling right off him. "You're awful."

"No, if I were I'd have rolled you over, pinned you to the floor, and put my blade to your throat to remind you how it's done," he told her, pushing up slowly up to his feet. "You up for some hand-to-hand? Peeta and I did some knife fighting, earlier, before you got here."

"That would be good," she said softly, not meeting his eye. "Sorry, by the way."

He led the way to the knife-frame and she was at his side after two strides. "For what? Getting the best of me?" He glanced at her, saw a bloom of color in her cheek, and looked away. "You caught me by surprise, Catnip," he told her with a grin. "Good job. Won't happen again, though."

"Are you sure?" she challenged, sounding more like herself.

They had reached the knives, and with a wave of his arm, he indicated she should choose first. "Yep," he said in answer. "Because if you roll me under you again, I'm pretty sure we won't be sparring."

"Gale!" His name exploded from her in a rasp of air and she froze, staring at him.

He waited her out and she eventually calmed enough to select a knife. He chose one, as well. It had a non-reflective blade and leather-wrapped handle. When they were both armed, he had her step away from the frame before squaring off. "You okay?"

"Yes, but…that's private," she insisted, adjusting her grip on the white-handled blade she held. "Okay, so teach me what to do so I can, you know, not die."

"That's why I'm here. But," he went on, smiling at her a little before they got to work, "after? I'm getting back to that whole rolling over thing."

"Gale. Teach me."

So he did. "Right. So, let's say this is a surprise attack, right? And you need to fight." He showed her how to hold the knife, which was not how she was holding it. "You're not going to cut a roll in half, Katniss. You're going to try to take a chunk out of your opponent."

She blinked and looked at the seemingly backward way he held his knife. "Like that? Why?"

"So your movement isn't hampered if your blade gets stuck. Also, there's more force on the cutting edge if you attack this way." He demonstrated with a lunge at empty air.

She copied him, but haltingly. "I can't do this without seeing someone there, Gale."

He stopped and brought her up next to him. "Look around the room," he whispered. It wasn't a big deal, studying the opposition. "Any one of these people might be out for your blood, tomorrow. Which sucks, but—"

"Yeah."

"So pick one and imagine them to be your opponent. Gossip has it that Clove from Two is lethal. See her? She's working on swords right now. If she comes after you, throw something at her face and run."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. She throws knives, Katniss. Get out of her way. But that guy? Cato? If he comes at you? I'll teach you how to fight. See him?"

"Yeah," she said, setting her jaw. "I can do that."

They spent the next hour alternating between knife fighting and hand-to-hand combat without weapons. When she legitimately got him face first on the floor and had his arms twisted behind him, he yielded and they got to their feet. "That was great. I hope…" He wiped the sweat from his forehead. "I hope it'll help."

"Me, too."

"Ready to head up? Gotta get cleaned up and prep you for the interviews."

"Yeah." With a toss of her long, thick braid, she nodded. "Any other advice?"

"Find the edge," he murmured. "Keep Peeta close." She nodded and he stopped just short of where Haymitch and Peeta were putting away some first-aid supplies. Peeta was sporting a field bandage over his forearm, but no blood was in evidence. As Haymitch was wearing a makeshift eyepatch, Gale guessed they were practicing. "I'll do my best to get you out of there."

"You just hate losing."

"Well, yeah."

She side-passed him with a bump and joined Peeta. "You okay?" she asked.

Peeta went on to give her an account of their practice session and Haymitch nodded. "He could be a good doc. He's got an eye for detail."

"That's for sure. His camouflage is brilliant."

"So, Katniss caught you, huh?"

"A well-earned pin. One, mind."

"Good. That's good."

Their departure seemed to be a signal to all the other Tributes and Gale could hear a veritable parade of Mentors and Tributes follow behind them to the elevators. They all had the same timetables, that day, and it was going to be another long one.

Not as long as the days to come, but…yeah.

The Mentors were gathered backstage, and they could already hear a warm-up happening onstage in advance of Caesar Flickerman's appearance. There were several video screens placed about the room, enough so that the Mentors didn't have to congregate to watch, but they did, anyway.

Prisca—Victor of the 49th Games—approached them first, her red hair catching all the light in the room so that it seemed to incandesce. "The Girl on Fire, eh?" One brow angled sharply as she regarded Gale and Haymitch. "That was nicely done."

"All thanks to Cinna," Haymitch said, adopting his inebriated air once more. "He's a flippin' genius."

Prisca's smile was thin. "Yes, well. One never knows what a new Stylist will bring to the Hunger Games, does one? Perhaps next year, he'll ply his talents elsewhere."

"Oh, I think he'll be in demand next year," Sasha opined. The District 11 Mentor had her eyes on the screen in front of them but was clearly alert to the conversation. "He did his job, right? Now we have to do ours." At that, Sasha slid Prisca a look, but the red-haired woman didn't reply.

Gale cleared his throat. "I just think we're lucky to have Cinna and Portia. Dressing like miners gets a little old."

Sasha smirked. "You didn't look so old yourself, now did you?"

Haymitch slapped him on the back and was chuckling when Prisca dropped her disdain for a moment and batted her lashes dramatically at Haymitch. "You didn't look so old, either, at the Quarter Quell, Haymitch Abernathy."

Gale had never seen Haymitch turn quite that shade of pink, before. He'd have to remember to tell Katniss, later!

Brassy trumpets signaled the beginning of the flashy experience that was Interview Night for the Hunger Games. All about the backstage area, conversations hushed as all the Mentors and some of the Stylists gathered around the video screens.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, your Master of Ceremonies, Caesar Flickerman!"

The man himself was still sporting blue hair—his color this year, apparently—and a matching suit. His trademark smile was wide and sincere as his chair turned him to face the studio audience. "Where's Cinna?" Gale asked Haymitch under his breath.

"In the audience. He left word that Katniss was nervous, and he wanted to give her moral support."

Gale nodded and watched the screen. Flickerman was focused on getting applause from the audience, keeping them enthusiastic about the Tributes. Why not? It wasn't as if any of them had had to face a Reaping. The Capitol never had Tributes, did they?

Never had Tributes…They were the only Tribute-free part of Panem…

A jolt struck him, as if electricity connected with his brain, and Gale stiffened, not hearing the usual patter of Those Who Were About to Die. Thirteen Districts had taken part in the Rebellion, but only twelve sent Tributes. Thirteen, everyone said, had been obliterated.

It would be the perfect place to go with Katniss and their families. And the Avoxes. And Haymitch, if he wanted to come. It was dangerous, rumor had it, but was it still?

Checking it out would be worth it. There were all those miles of woodland. And if he got a pilot that was ready to run and hide out—it might just work.

When he was able to put that idea aside in his head, to be reviewed later, Gale found he'd missed the first District's Tributes. Cato from Two was up, his body language confident and unafraid. Well, fine. He was a Career and they always looked that way.

Next to Gale, Haymitch was holding a glass of what was supposed to look like bourbon but was in fact juice on ice. Haymitch might play the drunkard, but he hadn't actually touched a drop before any official event for the Games. Gale wasn't sure what they were supposed to learn, watching these interviews; the production was primarily to garner support for the different Tributes so that Sponsors would have names and faces and backstories to aid them in their decisions in the coming days. But Gale supposed that knowing was better than being ignorant, so he paid attention as best he could, all the while waiting…waiting to see how Katniss would do.

"I don't know how to make people like me," Katniss had protested earlier that day in the penthouse. Haymitch and Gale were sitting with Peeta and Katniss, a pitcher of water on the low occasional table, talking about how to approach the evening's event. "Peeta can get anyone to like him. I've seen him do it. But, ugh. These people are going to be seeing what I look like and what I say and deciding whether or not to help me?"

Gale had wanted to reassure her, remind her that she was amazing and brave and strong, but he remembered the likely surveillance equipment and bit his tongue.

Peeta got to his feet. "You don't have to make people like you, Katniss. Haven't you heard the rumors? You're the Girl on Fire, remember? They've been calling you that in broadcasts and the others were sneering it at you during training."

"They want to like you, Everdeen," Haymitch drawled, leaning back and crossing his legs. "Just be yourself. You volunteered in place of your baby sister and that's all you care for. And Mellark?"

"I know, I know. No, I don't have a girlfriend. I'm focused on the Games. Parents and my brothers are watching, yeah. I know."

"…You know her as the Girl on Fire!"

Haymitch backhanded him gently on the chest to make sure he was paying attention and Gale blew out a breath to study his Tribute. His friend. The girl he was pretty sure he wanted to spend the rest of his life with...if they got through this. Flickerman's introduction of her was fulsome, and he seemed to pour more emotion into it, as if sincerely interested in Katniss as the interview went along.

The noise in the auditorium was like a storm. Katniss was visibly overwhelmed, but she got herself together before too long, and Gale was enormously proud of her.

She somehow found a tentative smile which was well received. And then she displayed the gown Cinna had created for her. The flames—clearly Katniss had an image to maintain, that none of the others had and or could imagine being gifted with—flared out from the skirt as Katniss spun on stage.

"Wow," Gale whispered. He wasn't the only one, either. Exclamations were heard in front of all the screens.

"No one said they could have trick outfits!" one Mentor complained in a shrill way. "That's not fair!"

"And Caesar thanked her? What the hell?!" another Mentor cried, his voice echoing.

"Hey, hey, it's totally legal," Haymitch shouted over the rising noise. "Just because your Stylists are used to the status quo…"

"Shut up!" Gale called out. "They're not done!"

"New kid," Sasha muttered, nearly at Gale's elbow. "Relax. Nothing you haven't heard."

Caesar Flickerman took Katniss's hand and asked her about Prim, and Gale's heart clenched.

"I told her that I would try to win. That I would try to win for her," Katniss told the man, clearly, distinctly, and without any of the airs someone else might have.

Prisca sighed. "They love her, you know. That big aww. And now Caesar will get them all teary over her. Watch." She shot a near-glare at Gale. "This won't help her fight, you know."

"But it might help her get Sponsors," Gale countered, willing himself to be as strong as Katniss was, that night. "And if it does, my hat's off to Caesar Flickerman."

"You did it, darling! That was incredible!" Effie was the first one to greet Katniss as she returned from the interview, looking shocked and in need of a hug or a drink. Neither were things Katniss usually indulged in, but Gale would have in her shoes.

"Nice job, sweetheart," Haymitch said next, clapping his hands slowly.

Katniss shrugged off the compliment with a tired chuckle and Gale felt he could add his comment in at that time without everyone thinking…well…the truth about his feelings for the girl. "You were fantastic. Loved the dress."

That earned him a genuine grin and Gale silently congratulated himself. "Thank you."

"Bet Prim is proud of you, too," he added.

She didn't smile at that but nodded soberly. "I'll do my best for her."

"We know, dear," Effie said, fussing with a loose strand of Katniss's hair. "Oh, look! Peeta's turn and then we can all go."

By that time, there was more alcohol flowing backstage, and Tributes and Mentors were more clustered together in their District groupings. Rue and Thresh had joined Sasha, but they had moved to another screen during Katniss's interview.

Peeta's interview was an entirely different sort. He and Caesar chatted like friends, talking about the Capitol and the showers, of all things. Gale smiled at Katniss. "He's really good."

She bit her lip. "Yeah. But smelling each other?"

"Well, it's not like he has a dress that catches fire," Haymitch muttered. "But don't worry. He's really good. They love him."

"Yeah, I can see that."

Caesar then went on to ask if Peeta had someone waiting for him back home.

"No," Peeta said with a regretful smile. "I've been baking a lot of bread, lately. No time for girls."

"Baking…bread?" Flickerman repeated, clearly amused. "Well, ladies, here's a man who's good in the kitchen!" That got a general laugh.

"If you win, I hope you'll get someone to bake for you, Peeta. Maybe even a cake!" More laughter followed and Caesar stood up, catching Peeta's hand to lift it like a champion's hand. He'd done the same with the twenty-three Tributes before, too. "District Twelve, Peeta Mellark!"

It was over.

Tomorrow, the Games would begin.

E/N: Finally, right? Hope you liked the interviews from the backstage perspective. Next chapter will be up on Wednesday, and if you want a sneak peek, just drop me a line saying, "I volunteer!" and I'll send it to you. This only works if you're signed in and accepting PMs, though! See you Wednesday!