A/N: And we're back! We left Gale and Haymitch off to do their Mentoring thing after Katniss and Peeta left Rue *sad chord* to run into the forest.

As Effie would say, "It's a big, big, big day!"

Chapter Twelve: And on the Third Day…

He was being smothered!

Gale fought in his bed, lashing out with all the desperation a Victor would possess for the rest of their life. He connected with flesh and heard a muffled grunt and his name.

"Dammit, Hawthorne, shut the hell up!"

He relaxed immediately and held up his hands away from his head so that Haymitch would recognize his compliance. When his mouth was free again, he whispered, "Sorry."

"Today's a big, big day. The kids are ready to go and so am I. Get your butt out of bed."

Haymitch stepped away, but Gale could practically feel the man's narrowed focus on him. "I'm up. I'm up."

"Shower. Get it in gear. Looks like the Games have wound up after our girl's evening."

Gale pushed himself out of bed and scrubbed at his jaw, hearing that distinctive sandpapery sound that meant he needed to shave. "Yeah, she really let 'em have it."

After another admonition to hustle, Haymitch left him. Gale hit the shower, remembering the night before.

Dr. Smith had been willing to provide antibiotics for Peeta to prevent him from developing an infection. Her smile had been far too perky. "Always glad to help a Victor out, Gale," she'd murmured, making the arrangements. "I'm thinking your Peeta is a smart lad. Who knows, maybe you could bring him around with you, later this year, if he makes it?"

Gale had made himself smile and play along, all while vowing to himself to keep Katniss—and Peeta!—out of the Victor Visitations if they did indeed make it out alive.

Upon returning to the penthouse, they were treated to reactions to the River Rumble, as Claudius termed it in a misguided effort at wit.

"The Peacekeepers in District Eleven are trying to calm a riot in their Justice Square," the host had reported, his tone avid and breathless. "The people there are protesting!"

"What are they protesting?" Caesar inquired, picking up his cue like the pro he was.

"Oh, half of them are trying to send bread to the Tributes from Twelve, and the other half want her dead for leaving their Tribute to face the others alone."

Flickerman had pursed his lips and pretended to whistle. "Well…I can see how that would be a problem. The outlying districts don't often have such a response to their Tributes. Young Rue captured their hearts."

Gale could recognize that truth that morning, but his mind was on his own Tributes. Katniss had captured his heart. Still he'd done his best and sent the medicine to Peeta, with a note for him to take care and stick with Katniss. Even Haymitch said that was innocuous enough for the second night in the Games.

And that night, more numbers and faces shone in the night sky over the Arena. Gale knew all their names. Rue. Glimmer. Cato. And the Tributes from Four: Wrasse and Aquamarine. Jason from Six and Lustring from Eight had also died that day. One from a Tracker-Jacker; the other by falling and breaking her neck. Nineteen Tributes were already dead, leaving Katniss, Peeta, Clove, Thresh, and Foehn—the girl Katniss had nearly run over on her way back to Rue.

The Hunger Games generally lasted for a couple weeks, and all of Panem would be glued to their video screens all day, every day if they could be. Businesses kept the Games on during working hours. Families kept them playing during the day and everyone talked about them over dinner. President Snow had made that the normative behavior, early on in his Presidency. Watch the Games. Appreciate the Tributes. Enrich yourself by betting. Immerse yourself in the adrenaline rush.

Understand that the lives of your children are in the hands of the Capitol.

Gale hated it.

But there was hope. A lot of it. In the form of a note he'd found in his bathroom the night before.

Saw about the pilot. Thank you.

As many as can will find you at Sal's.

We do not ask for you to wait if we are late.

Just go and know we are proud to serve you.

- L

If they were late, it was likely they weren't going to make it at all, was what Lavinia the Avox wasn't saying.

So, it's going to be today. After his shower, Gale studied himself in the mirror. He needed to look like a Mentor as he left the building. He had to schmooze and find a viewing spot in the Plaza that would allow quick access to the transport. So, he shaved and made sure he was as perfectly groomed as possible. He was a Mentor to two-fifths of the remaining Tributes, and that meant he would be seen, that day. Seen and noticed and maybe even interviewed.

How would he be able to monitor the Games to see if the force field fell and still get to the hovercraft and meet the Avoxes if Caesar Flipping Flickerman was talking to him?

He needed an identical twin.

Someone was banging on his bedroom door. "Hawthorne! You've got a guest."

Nearly choking in surprise—and then in laughter at the reflection he caught on his way out of the bathroom—he pulled on a pair of trousers to answer his door. "What?"

Haymitch was leaning opposite the door, hands behind him as if to hold him up against the wall. "You've got a guest. You arranged to employ an Avox, the contract says?" He then produced some sheets of paper and waved them a little so that they made a rattling sound. "What's up?"

Remembering that there was still a role to play, even that day, Gale smiled sheepishly. "Look, I wanted to take my girl on a date, you know? Thought I'd make it something special since I haven't seen her a lot recently and was going to be busy with the Games."

The older man gave him a nod while mouthing Nice job. "Yeah, I know how that is. Fine. You take the paperwork, then. Remember, we've got work to do today, okay?"

"Right, I know. I'll be ready in a few." He took the paperwork but left his room as he skimmed the top page. "Flex. Oh yeah."

Haymitch looked amused, smug, with an air of having a secret about him as they moved toward the main lounge. Gale decided not to give him the satisfaction of inquiring, as he was really wanting to focus on figuring out how to manage everything that needed doing that day.

The video screen in the lounge was on, and he could hear Claudius Templesmith raving about the Rumble at the River the day before. "So now, we have five—count them, five!—Tributes in the Arena! Clove from District 2 received a welcome gift of medicine overnight, and she's made her way back to the Cornucopia. There, you see? She's in the process of moving everything out of the trees, though."

Caesar Flickerman interrupted with a small chuckle. "Well, she is probably wary of being near any number of trees, Claudius, and I don't blame her."

Haymitch snorted and so did one other person. Gale only then saw the quiet man standing against the farthest boundary-column in the room. He held up the papers and looked at the man again. "You're Flex? Avox in Transfer and formerly of District Five?"

Laughing, Haymitch collapsed on the nearest sofa, using the remote to mute the broadcast, though the images remained visible. "He could be your twin, Hawthorne! Damndest thing I ever saw! Sure you don't have family in Six?"

Gale grinned and stared at Flex, who shrugged. Then, the Avox waved a hand like he wanted to move on. Pointing at the papers Gale still held, he drew a question mark in the air.

"This looks solid, thank you. I, ah, did the business with Crassus already, so you're stuck with me for a while, all right?"

Flex nodded and pulled a piece of paper out of his back pocket. It was the backside of a work order that was stained with oil and ripped through in a couple of places, not to mention appearing to have been crumpled and straightened several times.

Mr. Hawthorne,

Thank you for hiring me. It was good of Lavinia to recommend me.

I am from 6 and have experience with hovercraft, as per the job description. I would like to see the craft in question so I can do a maintenance check before it is needed. If you require a different uniform, that is your prerogative, per the contract.

I am legally bound to inform you that I am serving in retribution for my rebellion against the Capitol. They took my tongue so I cannot speak, but I can make noises in an emergency. As such, I will require someone to speak for me as I pilot.

I can stay in Avox quarters here in the Tower or wherever you would prefer. You have hired me for 2 weeks.

Avox Flex

Gale read the note twice and then studied Flex's face. Hope rose in him again, and he thought that, perhaps, they might just make this happen.

Haymitch slapped the sofa and brought back the sound for the viewing screen. "There they are!"

Flickerman, on the right half of the screen, was commenting on Katniss and Peeta, who were on the left.

"As we've seen with Thresh, Clove, and Foehn, Katniss and Peeta have left the center of the Arena and are seeing to their own supplies two kilometers away. They've been there all night, and I am guessing the Gamemakers will be enticing them back to the center soon."

Gale frowned at the screen. Peeta's eye was still bandaged, but he didn't seem to be otherwise impaired. He might need a new eye, actually. And there was no way he, Gale, would be able to supply one where they were going. Sorry, Peeta. Katniss was kicking dirt in a fire ring, so he guessed she had taken the time to start a fire—a luxury Gale hadn't had in the Games—or she'd managed to find fire starters on her own. Possibly in the supplies cache where she'd been the day before.

Haymitch started pacing. "This isn't good," he muttered.

Gale chanced a look at Flex before focusing on the other Mentor. "What?"

Haymitch pointed angrily at the screen. "It's too quiet, in there. Crane isn't going to let that stand. Snow…" He sneered the name with more contempt than Gale had heard from him before. "Snow will insist on death. You know it. I know it."

He was about to reply when Caesar made a knowing sound. "This doesn't surprise me at all. Does it surprise you, Claudius?"

This was the sudden sight of flames at the edge of Katniss's campsite.

"Damn." Gale slapped the sofa under his hand. "It's between them and the perimeter, right?" he asked the air. Flex got his attention by waving one arm in broad strokes. "What?"

Through a series of gestures, the silent man indicated that the Games could be over soon.

Worry churned, and not just because Katniss could become The Girl Set on Fire. The fire, of course, would drive all of the Tributes to a central location.

One year, the Gamemakers had employed engineered attack dogs to round up all remaining Tributes into a fenced area and they had no choice but to fight or be killed by the muttations. This year, apparently, it would be fire.

"This is going to be a problem," Haymitch ground out, collapsing onto a chair.

"This will be a problem!" echoed Claudius Templesmith on the screen. "But the Gamemakers are always ready to improvise!" The man looked almost ready to drool right there on camera.

Katniss grabbed Peeta's arm and started shaking her head and pointing at the fire. She didn't want to run, but the fire was moving closer.

Peeta sprinted to a tree and began climbing. "What is he doing? Haymitch demanded of the air. "Those trees will burn. I guarantee it."

"Look, there's Foehn, she's also climbing. Oh, look!" Caesar called as if pointing out the way a small child mastered a skill. "She's going to jump from tree to tree!"

"Ah, she's quite nimble!" Templesmith remarked. "And Clove is just running. I'm going to guess that she'll try to be first to the middle of the Arena so she can establish a position. This is going to get interesting."

"There's Thresh…"

They went on while Gale focused only on Katniss and Peeta. They were soaking themselves with all the water Katniss had liberated from the cache at the Cornucopia. "Haymitch, are you seeing this?"

"Yeah," the man said abruptly.

They all moved closer to the screens, the three of them in the suite. It was early enough in the day that the rest of their team was out being involved in their personal concerns.

All at once, Haymitch froze. "Gale," he said. "A word, please."

Gale turned to meet Flex's eyes. "You wanna keep watching this? Is that okay? We'll set you up as soon as Haymitch info-dumps, all right?"

Flex sent him a thumbs-up before turning to continue watching the Games.

In the kitchen, Haymitch turned on the faucet and started filling glasses with water. Gale just watched, figuring the older man was making camouflaging noise.

"I've gotta go. Like, now. They're going to be…you know…any minute, I'm thinking."

"Right." Everything was escalating that morning. Afternoon. Whatever.

"So listen. They're getting wet. I'm thinking they'll try to run back through the fire."

Gale nodded. "That's what I'd do, probably, if I had to stay near the perimeter."

"So they're going to need burn treatment. Grab water and ice and sheets and have your double, over there, take it with him. You get out and be seen. Hurry."

"And you?"

Haymitch started pouring the water into the sink from a high altitude, arm stretched up as far as it could go. The splash was pretty significant. "I'm going for Snow. You get out."

All the blood in Gale's head dropped toward his feet. He could practically feel it. "Really."

A nod. "Yep." A slanted smile. "Hey, been wantin' to do that for decades. You get the kids." He finished pouring the water. "So, hey! See you out there, yeah? Remember the burn ointment. Ask Dr. Smith again. I think she likes you." His tone was light but the blue eyes were still and sober.

"Good idea. See you later."

Heart pounding, mind racing, Gale just stared at the glasses, wondering where she was. Lavinia. The Avox assigned to the penthouse suite. He hadn't seen her…

She'd gone, too. What had he started? How many people…

Enough, Hawthorne. You're going to get out of here, find Katniss, and get her safe. All of you. Safe and away and…now. Go.

It was a nice uniform that Flex was wearing, Gale decided as the Avox left the suite in a suit of Gale's own clothes. Any random surveillance equipment would show a person who looked a lot like Victor Gale Hawthorne leaving the Tower and heading off. Maybe to find Dr. Smith about the medicines for his Tribute. He was heading to where Salvatore would be expecting the pilot for the hovercraft. All the paperwork was in order and Gale hoped to hell the odds were actually in their favor.

Ten minutes later, with the smallest bit of unobtrusive baggage he could find, Gale himself headed down in the elevator. The Penthouse Suite had the privilege of a private elevator, so there were no stops and starts, no unexpected meetings up and down. Soon enough, he was out of the building and well into the Plaza, where he would see and be seen and watch for when the force field fell in the Arena.

He was already sweating. Still, he watched the screens as Katniss and Peeta screamed and jumped and dodged falling, flaming trees. The fire seemed sentient, of course, as it was being guided by Seneca Crane and his minions. All the screens held running Tributes save the one that featured the Tributes from Twelve.

"Maybe they're confused?" Claudius wondered, baffled.

"Gale Hawthorne! Is your Tribute trying to live up to her name?"

"Hawthorne! Now you've got the Boy on Fire, too!"

"Oh! Eleven and Two! Look! It's Thresh and Clove!"

A loud groan rose up from the floor of the Plaza as Clove's knives hit the larger Tribute in one eye and his groin. As if uncaring, Thresh ripped the knife from his eye and kept moving to the smaller Tribute. His blood washed down his face and chest to meet the seepage on his legs. He reached the girl and grabbed her by the head with both hands. She cut him over and over, but he only smiled redly before snapping her neck.

Then, as he lay dying, he held up the three-fingered salute and Gale shut his eyes for a moment.

Two cannons fired and even Katniss and Peeta paused in their escape to stare at each other. The pops and ravaging of the fire prevented audio from reaching the pick-ups that were undoubtedly doing their best, so Gale didn't know what his Tributes said at that moment.

He just hoped they both made it out so he could ask them.

There was a respectful pause from both Flickerman and Templesmith before Caesar said, "That was…a good death for District Eleven. A valiant fight from District Two."

"Foehn is still trying hard to stay alive—oh, look!" With an ominous suddenness, it seemed to Gale, the fires ceased their inward paths.

He could hear the screaming as the flames seemed to withdraw into the soil of the Arena. The screens all over the Plaza reflected different scenes. On one, there was Foehn, her red hair covered in soot as she sought to rip her melting boots from her feet. Her tears tracked through the black dust on her cheeks and the cameras zoomed in for every excruciating grimace and cry.

Another screen showed Katniss, burns on her face and hands, as well as on her now-bare feet as she and Peeta stood back-to-back. They had heard the cannons, but there wouldn't be any faces shown until nightfall. They wouldn't be sure of who was still alive.

Peeta's bandaging had been singed away and everyone could see the crater in his face where a small stone had wounded his eye. "Katniss? What do we do?"

"Stick together!"

Another camera panned over to where Thresh and Clove had fallen. As the audience watched in the Plaza with the kind of anticipation that only happened in blood sport, a hovercraft descended to retrieve the bodies.

Caesar Flickerman did a voice-over. "That was intense, don't you think, Claudius?"

"It really was! Have the Gamemakers prepared for this?"

Gale was ready to bolt, to walk as quickly as he could to where Flex was supposed to be waiting with the hovercraft. Get in the air! he demanded of himself. Get to her! Now!

But what about the Avoxes who were planning on destroying the force field and then finding him? They were counting on him to help them escape. As many as could make it, anyway. Lavinia had said not to wait, but leaving before it had even happened was…a breach of trust. And as ruthless as he might be, he didn't think he could do that.

Not and look Katniss in the eye when next he saw her.

Which should be soon. He hoped.

Gale started walking, anyway. Slowly, nodding at those who called out to him, looking as if he were going to talk to someone. He was approaching the last tables, weaving through the vendors distributing sweets and beverages, when he heard his name.

"Gale Hawthorne!"

He couldn't ignore anyone, not even at this point, because if the force field didn't fail, his Tributes—Katniss!—would remain in the Arena until only one of them were left. Marston Potter, the pharmaceutical genius, was beckoning and Gale stepped to him, not quite smiling.

"Marston Potter. What can I do for you?"

The other man's eyes were still shielded by special contact lenses, but he seemed sincere when he said, "It's more like what I can do for you. This kind of body count so early in the Games is unprecedented and I'm thinking to send in some burn creams to your Tributes."

Shocked, Gale nodded. "Both of them?"

"I think so, yes." He appeared a bit sheepish, though, as he shrugged and added, "The resources I set aside for Sponsorship this year might be underused."

"Thank you, of course." After a moment, Gale added, "I'll let Haymitch know. He's the one who's arranged things so far."

Marston flashed a smile. "I'll take care of it for you. Right after this announcement."

The nearest video screen featured Claudius Templesmith's face with an overall aerial view of the Arena behind him. "Well, it seems that our Tributes are trying to lie low for the rest of the day. What, aside from fire, can bring the Tributes together. Remem—"

Static interrupted Templesmith's commentary. His face was pixelated and separated with jagged edges and Gale felt a sudden rush of adrenaline take over his body. "Marston—I'm going to find Haymitch."

The other man didn't even turn. "Right. I'll remember the meds."

"Thanks!"

It's happening. It's happening!

Flickerman's face appeared next, a wary but still warm smile lighting his entire face. "Well, even in the Capitol we can have glitches! But there, you see behind me—wha- - - -" Caesar's face froze on the screen, his smile split so that his upper teeth were at the top of the screen and the lower were on the bottom. Still, his words were being broadcast. "Whoa! Well, at least my smile is still there, right?"

Low, uncomfortable laughter swept through the Plaza.

Gale paused, watching. What would come first, the force field or Haymitch's final act of rebellion? The long-time Mentor surely wouldn't survive only to be made into an Avox…

"There seems to be some kind of irregularity at the Arena," Caesar's voice informed them. He sounded concerned and intrigued more than upset, so Gale kept moving to the meeting place. Now, he was jogging, uncaring if any video surveillance tracked him just at that point. Everything was narrowing to a single, unrelenting point, and time was not a friend to him or anyone.

He didn't hear Caesar's announcement about the failed force field, but he heard the almighty shout of shock from the Plaza when it happened.

E/N: Because I'm evil, no advance viewing for the next couple of chapters. Mwahaha. May the odds be ever in your favor.