Another Way Out

by always-andshewrites

A HG - Catching Fire rewrite. Sequel to "Changing the Game." Katniss and Peeta made it out of the arena together, but little do they know the games are only beginning. Who can they trust as secrets are exposed and identities are revealed? Everlark/Gadge. Told in multiple POV's.

2. Out of Sight, Out of Mind

Another Way Out

Chapter 2 : Out of sight, out of mind

Takes Place: 3 months after arriving home until tour day

| Katniss |

"I'm so glad you're feeling better Madge. You really had me worried, but are you sure you don't want to stay with us? I mean, between Peeta's house and mine, we have more than enough room." Madge rolls her eyes at me as she runs her fingers through her golden curls to brush out the tangles. Then she scoops her hair up, twisting it into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. As I watch her do this, I can't help but notice the once lustrous vibrancy of her skin and hair is absent; most likely a result from the raw chemicals in the homemade shampoo and soaps that come with a life in the Seam. Even without the luxuries from her merchant life she is still so naturally beautiful, and I get a pang of guilt at the jealousy I feel. Although, I know she'd give it all up in a heartbeat for a single chance to see her parents again.

I managed to convince her to meet me by the fence and we've made our way up my favorite tree. It's the oak tree I taught her to climb in and probably one of the more difficult trees to climb, even for a skilled hunter like myself. It's not exactly the best one to learn on, but if she can scale this tree almost as quickly as I can, then she can easily make it up any tree. Not that she would ever have any use for that kind of skill.

"Katniss, I wish you and Peeta would stop, I promise I'm fine. I'm happy where I am. And me too; I had myself pretty worried there for a while. It was like . . . like I was trapped inside my head—" She shakes her head in an attempt to rid the thought from her mind. "It's actually not that bad. You know what they say; money can't buy you happiness, and I have to say I agree with that. I have been happier living in the Seam with almost nothing to my name than I ever was before. I mean . . . well, you know, you lived there once. But really, I don't want or need special treatment just because . . . well, you know." She looks slightly ashamed by her admission as she stares off into the horizon, getting lost in her own thoughts. She knows I understand that she means because she was the mayor's daughter.

"—And Mrs. Haw— I mean Hazelle is amazing." She beams, glowing at the mention of Hazelle. I know firsthand what a doting mother Hazelle is from my years of friendship with Gale. She probably knows me as well as my own parents do, so when Gale told me that Hazelle has really taken to Madge, I knew that as much as Madge must miss her own mother, having a maternal figure like Hazelle constantly doting on her must be a nice change.

My scatter brain wanders to a few days ago when Prim was exploring our basement and came across a few boxes of clothes that she claimed were Madge's. When I asked her how she knew they were Madge's and not, well, I don't know who they would belong to since I'm the first occupant of my house; but my sassy little sister rolled her eyes at me and pointed to the top of the box. Written in giant black boldface letters were the words, "RETURN TO MADGE UNDERSEE." How they got there in the first place, we haven't quite figured that one out yet, but my guess is that Mr. Undersee placed it there before he and Madge's mom left for the Capitol.

Which means he most likely knew they would never make it to the Capitol, much less come back home. He had to have known that when the news of their deaths were announced, Madge would soon be evicted from the mansion to make room for the new mayor and her family. There just isn't another explanation for it.

Excited to be able to give Madge something familiar, Prim and I brought the box with us on one of our trips to see our friend. She refused the clothes at first, but Prim can be rather persuasive when she wants to be and Madge finally, however reluctant, accepted the box of clothes. I'm not sure why it didn't strike me as suspicious at how quickly Madge was to accept the box because not long after this exchange, I found out that she cut most of the clothes up, transforming them into a few dresses for Posie. The rest she gave to Rose, asking her to disperse them to any girls she knew of that could use them. It's actions such as these that give me hope, that inspires me to believe the world is not awful. Madge, a girl who has lost almost everything and yet, somehow, she remembers there are others still, more unfortunate than her.

The change in pace, in addition to the absence of luxuries in her life seem to have made no difference to Madge and I can't help but feel a sense of pride at having known her both before and after this tragedy. At first, most of the folk's in the Seam were hesitant to accept her as "one of them", but after some rather ferocious glares from Hazelle and a few verbal lashings from Gale, no one dares a single derogatory remark about the previously "entitled daughter of the mayor." Because she is no longer that, she is now just an orphan. I cannot imagine losing one of my parents, but both of them! Just the thought of losing even one of my parents sends a shiver up my spine. Even now, I have no idea how Madge is coping as well as she is.

"Katniss, aren't you nervous about the Victory Tour? I mean, I can't even imagine having to face all those families." Madge asks me once we reach our usual branch and get ourselves situated. I cross my fingers and hope there aren't listening devices in this tree. If overheard, Madge's statement would most certainly be considered treasonous.

Madge was the one to inform me as to the location of all the surveillance in our district prior to my games, keeping me out of the Capitol's eye on my trips into the woods. But I guess it's totally possible they added more after Peeta and I made a mockery of their games.

Madge reaches for the small stick she brought with her and begins hacking at a spot on the trunk of the tree. My brows knit together as I watch her, trying to figure out what she is doing; her question all but forgotten.

"Madge, what are you—" She places a finger over her lips to silence me and then removes a piece of bark from the tree, revealing a secret compartment. I watch in utter stupefaction as she buries her arm into the hollowed-out space that nearly reaches up to her elbows. To my surprise, when her hand returns, it is clutching firmly onto a book.

"What in the—" I gasp, wondering how it got there in the first place, or if it had been here all along.

She closes her eyes; and it's a moment before she opens them again. "Katniss, there are some things— you know what, I don't care what they said, you have a right to know." Her voice rises, clearly irritated at whoever "they" are.

"What— who—" She doesn't let me get my words out, she just keeps talking.

"I put this book here when you were in the Capitol. Or well, the games. It was the only place I could think of where it would be safe." She opens the book and plucks a pen from her ponytail, clicking it until a light emerges from the tip. The page appears blank at first, until she shines the light over the page; the entirety of the paper filled with someone's handwriting.

"Haymitch told me where to find this in my dad's office before the reaping. It's a special book that NO ONE can know about." She states, the tone in her voice conveying the urgency of 'no one.'

"Wait a minute, back up. Haymitch told you? You and Haymitch spoke before the reaping?" I had no clue that Haymitch and Madge had any connection to each other until the day Haymitch came to retrieve me and Peeta; the day Madge found out about her parents. So, this really shouldn't come as a surprise to me but for some reason it does.

Madge nods hesitantly and then her lips part ever so slightly before she speaks, "He and my dad were friends for a long time, just in secret. They didn't want anyone to know, it wasn't safe. The only reason I know everything I do is because I used to crawl in the walls at home and eavesdrop on his conversations. When I heard about their plans for the games, I confronted him. And well, there was a secret meeting before the reaping that I demanded he bring me to."

"A secret meeting? Wait— huh— hold on, who was there?" Stumbling over my words, I am eager to know more; yet something tells me I am keenly aware of who one specific member was. Is.

"It was just our dads and Haymitch." Closing my eyes, I supply her with a solemn nod, urging her to continue.

"What does it do?" I inquire, averting our focus back to the book.

"Well, you see; this book, it has a twin. If I write a message in it, the words appear in the other book almost instantly. It's how Haymitch and I communicated during yours and Peeta's games. He would give me pointers on what to say in my interviews and in return, I would spy on Tangie and Olive and report it back to him—"

"Tangie and Olive?" I interject, tilting my head quizzically; curious as to if those are actual people's names. It sounds more like food than people.

Madge chuckles and shakes her head. "Oh, sorry, I forgot you don't know who they are. Tangie and Olive were the Capitol reporters sent to Twelve once you and Peeta reached the final eight."

I know that Prim's name being called was part of some master plan to get me to volunteer, but what were the chances of Peeta's name being chosen? Suddenly, a memory resurfaces; no, actually, I think it was a dream. Tiny Rue in her sweet fairy wing costume appeared before me, insisting that I question the chances of Prim's name being called; Peeta's name, too. 'Ask the questions you need to get your answers', is what I think she said. But what does that mean? What is the right question?

"Was Peeta's name being called a part of their plan too?" I ask, knowing that Madge will be honest with me.

"I . . . I don't think so, but I do remember suggesting that they should think about giving Miss Trinket a random boy's name to call; just in case, you know. Because I knew you'd never come home without Peeta; at least not without a fight." I am taken aback, completely flabbergasted by this revelation. Not that Madge seemed to know me better than I knew myself, but that Effie has been a part of this from the beginning.

"Effie? Y- you; did you say Effie? As in Effie Trinket? Effie Trinket; District Twelve's escort? She— she was a part of it? Are you telling me that she picked up a slip of paper from the reaping ball and just . . . she deliberately called Prim's name? The ball wasn't just . . . filled with thousands of slips of Prim's name?"

Her hand snaps up to cover her mouth, realizing she wasn't supposed to reveal this bit of information. "Katniss, I'm— she— it wasn't— crap, I'm sorry."

My mind travels back to the night before our first post games interview when Effie cornered me on the roof. She apologized for calling Prim's name, for her part in calling Peeta's name and I assured her it wasn't her fault. In retrospect, it all makes sense; all of those hesitant glances and the guilt riddled expressions. However, after learning this news I am beginning to see Effie Trinket in a whole new light. I always thought she was a stuck-up snob. From the moment I first saw her, I placed her in a category as 'one of them.' "Madge, who is in charge? Who orchestrated for all this to happen?" Who do I have to thank for sending me into the arena? I leave unspoken.

"I've never met her, and I don't know this for certain, but I think . . . I think it's someone from District Thirteen."

"District what? No, there is no District Thirteen; it was . . . they destroyed it after the Dark Days; they blew it up, it's gone. There weren't any survivors." The words stumble out of my mouth as I try to wrap my head around what Madge has just revealed. It was only a few days ago that Peeta and I had the television on for background noise when I saw a reporter in one of those hazmat suits. The reporter was standing on the remains of the Justice Building of Thirteen and you could even see the scientists in the background collecting samples. She said they confirmed that the air is still too hazardous for human consumption. So, it can't—

"That's just the cover story the Capitol feeds us. They actually moved underground and are thriving. I mean, like, really, really thriving. Supposedly, they have this amazing technology and medical advancements that would blow your mind. From what I overheard in a few of my dad's conversations, they have stuff in Thirteen that makes the Capitol look like child's play." Madge explains to me.

"I don't understand Madge, if they have all this . . . technology and resources, why haven't they helped us? Why haven't they done anything to put a stop to . . . Madge, I—"

"I asked the same questions Katniss, but all my dad said was they were waiting for a spark. They are just one district, and a pretty small one from what I gather, so they couldn't risk taking the Capitol on alone, or at least not without the support of the majority of the nation. Which is where—"

"—I come in." I finish for Madge and she nods, confirming my suspicions. "But why me? Why did they pick me?"

"I don't know Katniss, but before my dad left for— before he left, he told me not to trust her, Thirteen's leader. That her intentions are not as pure as they seem." Narrowing my eyes, I feel a wrinkle in my forehead. My mind is spinning at this new information. What does all of this mean?

"Katniss, I am SO sorry that I didn't tell you, I wanted too so badly, but I couldn't. My dad— he said it was too dangerous and I promised, and—" Madge wails, her eyes pooling with tears. Knowing the importance of keeping her word, whether it is to me, to Peeta, or her parents, I quickly reach out and wrap my arms around my friend, assuring her that I am not mad at her. That she is not at fault.

"I love you Madge." I mumble into her shoulder. I am beginning to think there are a lot of things being kept from me and perhaps it is finally time to have that talk with my dad.

0 – 0 –0

| Peeta |

I have been looking forward to and dreading this conversation for most of my life. After Katniss blatantly refused to abide by her parent's wishes, continuing to sneak into my house night after night, Mr. Everdeen finally asked if we could have a talk. A shudder ran through me at the thought of it being "THE talk".

One night after dinner, Mr. Everdeen pulled me to the side, casually asking me if I could carve out some time to talk to him and then never brought it up again. Instead of having this conversation sprung on me, possibly cornering me in my own living room, I took the initiative and invited him for a walk in the woods; in comfortable territory for both of us. Plus, it will give me something else to look at other than his eyes. I think to myself, smiling because I'm pretty sure it's actually the real reason.

"How's it going Peeta?" Mr. Everdeen greets me once I reach the fence. I am becoming more adept with my new appendage and a sense of pride flows through me knowing it only took half the time to make it out here than the last time I attempted this hike.

"It's good Mr. Everdeen." I tell him after stumbling over the roots in the ground. Quickly steadying myself, I regain my balance in no time. I still have the cane Dr. Corrinne provided me with but haven't had to use it since the first week I was home. Speaking of Dr. Corrinne; there is something uncanny about that woman I cannot quite place my finger on. She is just too nice to be from the Capitol. A few weeks after I got home, she called to check in with me, wanting to make sure my leg wasn't giving me any problems. If that through me for a loop, I was completely stupefied when she volunteered to make a special trip to Twelve if I needed her to.

"It's Dylan, Peeta. Please stop calling me Mr. Everdeen, it makes me feel so old." He says, giving me his award-winning smile. For the first time, I notice he and Katniss share the same smile. I suppose it would be hard to miss, since Katniss almost never smiles. I inwardly grin thinking that I am probably the only one in the district to find Katniss' scowl charming.

"Sorry, habit I guess." I apologize, unable to conceal my blush.

"So, what's up Peeta, why did you want to meet out here?" He asks me.

Feeling more nervous the further along the trail we walk, I shove my hands into my pockets and look anywhere else but at him. I thought I might have more control over the conversation if I initiated our talk. I silently speculate. "Well, I just thought . . . I mean, it's been a while since our last chat, and you mentioned you wanted to talk so . . . and I — I wanted to talk to you about Katniss." Even though I'm tripping over my words, I find myself feeling optimistic for getting straight to the point. Yes, it's better to go ahead and get this over with. If I delay it any longer, I'm just going to end up making myself crazy.

"Ah, okay, I see. Are you referring to all of these "late-night visits"?" He asks me, using finger air quotes. I turn to face him, expecting to see anger or even disappointment on his face. However, neither of those expressions are present. Instead, he looks . . . amused.

"I swear on my life Mr. Ev— I mean Dylan, we're not doing anything; I mean, nothing has happened; I mean, not like that, I mean; it's not what you're probably thinking. It just— it feels better— I mean, no, not like th— that's not what I meant. That didn't come out right, I'm sorry—" I internally kick myself for stammering like an idiot and take a deep breath before making another attempt at it. We come to a stop on our path and Mr. Everdeen offers me an animated expression. I take a deep breath and slowly release it, hoping to calm my nerves before I continue.

"Peeta, calm down, it's okay. I know—"

"Please Mr. Ev— Dylan, I need to say this." He nods, remaining silent and allowing me to continue. "What I mean to say is that when either of us wakes up in the middle of the night with a nightmare, being able to physically see each other, well, it . . . at least for me, it gives me a sense of security. When I can lay my actual eyes on Katniss' actual self, I just feel . . . I don't know, safe? Knowing that she is alive and okay, it well, it comforts me. When she's there with me when we fall asleep next to each other, she . . . well, she keeps the nightmares at bay; for the most part, at least."

I must sound like a blithering idiot judging by the foolish grin painted on his face. And his deafening silence doesn't do anything to keep me from internally squirming.

"Mr.— Dylan, I want— no; I need you to know that I love your daughter. I love Katniss. I love her with all of my everything and I have for such a long time. I would never do anything she didn't want, and I need you to know that I would never disrespect her in any way—" I begin, and it's driving me crazy that he hasn't said anything yet. Although, I am probably making an even bigger fool of myself by continuing my rant. But the nervous idiot I am, I continue. "You have—"

With a genuine smile he rests a hand on my shoulder. "Peeta, calm down. If I thought for a second that you were hurting my daughter in any way, you would not have that other leg." He jests, casting a brief glance down to my remaining limb. "But I think we can both agree that Katniss doesn't do anything she doesn't want to do, so, I'm not worried."

"What?"

"I'm not worried Peeta. You guys went through a major trauma together; facing something as traumatic as surviving the games with another person creates a bond, whether you love them romantically or not. And I know you, Peeta. You and Katniss have been friends for years and you've been coming around long enough for me to know the kind of person you are . . . and I trust you Peeta."

"Um, okay." Wow, I was not expecting that. All my anxiety evaporates with his words, knowing he trusts me. I exhale a sigh of relief and we begin strolling through the forest again.

"I can see you are confused, and honestly, I did not feel this way at first. Trust me Peeta, there was a time when I wanted to strangle you." He speaks about squeezing the life from me so casually.

"Well, I appreciate you allowing me to keep my life, but what changed?"

"You have my wonderful wife to thank for that. Lilly, she— she talked to me, opened my eyes, helped me see the bigger picture."

"That's a relief, because there was actually something I wanted to ask you, I mean . . . run by you if you don't mind."

"Sure kid, shoot." My "silver tongue" as Katniss refers to my way with words has done nothing but fail me up to this point. Anxious, nervous and rambling like an idiot, I feel like I've done nothing but embarrass myself, yet I keep going. This is too important to stop now.

"Well, you see, well— um, well first, I need you to know that I am not thinking about this anytime in the near future, but just . . . one day, hopefully, if she'll have me. One day I want to marry your daughter. She is everything to me and . . . and even now, it's excruciating to be apart from her. I mean, it is physically painful; it literally hurts . . . like, deep in my bones, it hurts. Mr. Everdeen—"

Mr. Everdeen narrows his eyes, scowling at me, and for the second time I see Katniss looking back at me. "Peeta—"

"I'm sorry, I know you said not to call you that, but I can't ask you what I want to ask you and respectfully call you by your first name." Recognition fills his eyes for a moment, as if he knows what's coming next. In all likelihood, he probably does.

"Your daughter— Katniss . . . if you asked me to describe her, I would tell you that she has a permanent scowl painted on her face, she's a slob, she can't cook to save her life and she is easily annoyed. And it's true, for the most part. That scowl of hers remains etched on her face at all times, but when I can get her to crack a smile, it is the most beautiful sight I may have ever seen; it has the ability to melt my heart. And I could care less about her cooking skills, or how messy she is. I wouldn't change one single thing about her, I will take her exactly as she is for a single chance to spend my life making her happy. Katniss— she also has the ability to see the drawbacks of any situation. Somehow, she can find all the things that could possibly go wrong in any given scenario. But that's where we complement each other because I am the complete opposite. We balance each other out." I take a deep breath, pausing for a moment.

"Mr. Everdeen, I was hoping, or actually wondering, if when the time comes . . . you know, like, years and years from now, if it would be possible to have your blessing?" I give him a moment to process my request before I continue. I have practiced this speech for years, but it always seemed so far out of reach. It wasn't until we were on our way to the Capitol that Katniss finally admitted her feelings for me. By then, we weren't even sure if we'd make it out alive, much less together.

"One of my favorite qualities about Katniss is how passionately and fiercely she loves and her sheer determination to keep those same people safe. She is also the bravest person I've ever met; even when she is terrified out of her mind, she doesn't show an ounce of fear; she pushes ahead. If you ask me, she pushes all of us ahead. She keeps me going. She is spontaneous and erratic, but I don't think those are bad qualities to have. Katniss: she feels with her whole self and I don't know, I find something magical about her. She has the ability to inspire hope and courage; and her voice, she doesn't sing often but when she does it's like she hypnotizes me and, and—" I am grinning like a lovesick idiot as I list off the many attributes I love about Katniss Alexandria Everdeen, that I don't even realize I've stopped speaking and am staring off into the horizon with an image of Katniss in my head.

Mr. Everdeen's voice startles me, jolting me back into the now. "Peeta, well, first of all; yes, of course you have my blessing. I already consider you a part of our family and I would be honored to call you my son. But Peeta, I think we got our signals crossed when I said I wanted to talk to you, although I appreciate you taking the initiative. You see Peeta, the reason I said I wanted to speak with you is because, well, I never thanked you."

Halting in my tracks, I scratch my head feeling most confused. "Thank me? What for?" I run through my memories of the last few weeks, trying to figure out what he means to thank me for. But for the life of me, I can't think of a single thing I could have possibly done that would warrant a thanks.

"During the games when you and Katniss were in the cave, you told her a story. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that it actually happened. When I was in that coma, Lilly, she— well, to put it mildly, she checked out. And if it weren't for you giving Katniss the bread, either I would have never woken up, or when I finally did wake up, I may not have had a family to be with. And I owe it all to you. What you did Peeta, what you did was brave, courageous; even heroic. And you did it knowing full well the consequences, that your mother— I cannot even begin to repay that debt." He shakes his head, his lips forming into a firm line after mentioning my mother and I see a slight shiver run through him at the knowledge of what she did.

"I didn't do it because I wanted payment, or even acknowledgement of a job well done. I did it because Katniss needed it, Prim needed it; I did it because I could, because I had the ability to help her and . . . and because it was the right thing to do. Any decent human being would have done the same thing."

"No Peeta, they wouldn't. You saved my family's life." He gives me a somber look, staring at me so seriously.

"Well, I would do it again and again; I would do anything for Katniss sir, because I love her that much. I would give her my right arm to keep her safe. Hell, I would gladly give her my other leg if it came down to it. I promise this to you that if, whenever the time comes and if she agrees to have me, I promise you I will always put her first. I will take care of her and work my best and hardest to be the kind of man she deserves."

"I don't doubt that for a second Peeta. And— no giving away any appendages." He quips, patting me on the back and then his mouth transforms into a frown. "We should probably start heading back, it'll be dark soon." He suggests, stroking his beard and looking up into the sky. I nod and we make a U-turn at the next tree, heading back into town. "And Peeta, she loves you too, that much, and . . . I think you're good for her too. I know why you were in a fight those first couple of weeks you were home and I appreciate you trying to see things from my perspective. I hate myself for . . . well, you know." He finishes, his words trailing off. I wonder if he is aware of the various listening devices throughout the district. Or better yet, the one in my leg?

As we pass the local blacksmith, I get an idea.

0 – 0 – 0

| Katniss |

"What is this place?" A few days ago, I approached my dad, informing him that I was ready to talk. After my talk with Madge, I came to the conclusion that I wanted answers. No, I needed them. Finally, Dad promised that he would find the time for us to talk, and soon. That was three days ago.

Since Dad's injury from the explosion in the mines, he is considered "handicapped" and in turn, was incapable of working the standard six days a week in the mines like all the other miners. Instead, he only worked three days a week. Thankfully, Mom had her healing business to make up for the lack of income on his part, although I suppose now that I am a victor that doesn't matter. Since my return, Dad has given up his position in the mines, which I am thankful for. I never liked the thought of him being trapped hundreds and hundreds of feet underground, even before the explosion. Now, if only I could convince Gale not to go. I shake my head, knowing he would never accept my "blood money".

However, with Mom being the only healer people in the Seam can afford, she said she just can't in good conscience give that up. If you ask me, I think she loves her work, kind of how I love being in the woods. No amount of money could keep me from doing what I love. Except maybe the squirrels. I think silently, cringing at the thought of the furry rodents that seem to be prevalent in each of my nightmares.

Peeta left at dark o'clock in the morning to help his dad in the bakery, the same as he does every morning, except for Sundays. He always makes sure I am awake before he leaves so that I can walk Prim to school. We have both been terrified to let Prim go anywhere alone; afraid Snow will take his anger out on the people we love. Maybe I'm being paranoid, but it's better to be safe than sorry. I would never be able to live with myself if my actions in the arena were the cause of something— anything happening to my little sister. And school is no exception.

After walking Prim to school this morning, I spent about two hours in the woods before making my rounds in the Hob. I made my usual trades, making sure to stop by Ripper's to fetch a bottle of spirit's for Haymitch. He doesn't know it, but I have been stockpiling for him in case of another shortage. My last stop is always Greasy Sae's, grabbing a bowl of her famous "Mystery Soup of the Day". The mystery is most likely wild dog, but people don't tend to want to eat it knowing that, so she leaves it a mystery. Darius was there today, one of the only peacekeeper's in Twelve that doesn't give me the creeps. He is always friendly with me with his flirtatious banter. It's hard not to like someone so cheerful, with his stark red hair and such a cheerful smile.

After gobbling down my soup and returning Sae's bowl back to her, I made my way home. When I reached Victor's Village, I was surprised to see Dad waiting for me by the gate of the front entrance. "You wanna take a walk kiddo?" He asked me, donned in his tradition hunting clothes.

"Sure." I told him apprehensively. I was eager to get answers yet, terrified all the same for those precise answers. I walked alongside Dad as he led us into the woods. Once we slipped under the fence, we took our usual path that led us deeper into the forest. However, when we got to the fork in the path, instead of turning left we made a sharp right.

I didn't ask questions; I just followed behind Dad. We walked in silence for close to fifteen minutes until we reached a clearing in the woods. A single tree stood in the center of the clearing, and I thought for a moment that Dad had lost his marbles when he began playing with the branches of this suspicious tree. I stood there, furrowing my brows in confusion as I witnessed the tree open up and a set of stairs appeared in its place.

Raising a brow, I ask Dad again, "What is this place?"

Dad places a finger over his lips and motions for me to follow him. Once we reach the bottom of the steps, he touches something against the wall and the entrance closes. Trapping us underground.

Immediately sensing my panic, Dad reaches for my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay Katniss, we're completely safe down here. I promise." He affirms and for some reason, I trust him. I probably shouldn't after all the secrets he's kept, but at the end of the day he is my dad.

It's pitch-black down here, which only exacerbates my anxiety. My heart accelerates even more when I wave my hand in front of my face and cannot see a thing; reminding me of when the gamemaker's blinded me and Peeta in the arena. As if on cue, a dim light appears right next to Dad, who I can now see holding a lantern in his left hand, almost level with his head.

With the lantern illuminating the way, I ascertain that we are in a narrow, tunnel like structure. The ceiling can't be more than eight feet high and if I were to spread my arms out, I'm certain my fingertips would barely graze the walls. We don't walk much further when we reach a set of four giant rocks that we use as chairs. Dad places the lantern on one of the rocks and we each take a seat. I cross my legs over each other, resting my elbows in my lap and balance my chin on top of my hands.

"What is this place? Where did it come from? And— and how long has it been here?" I demand this time, irritated that it is the third time I have asked the question.

"This is a secret underground tunnel that was built a long time ago by rebels disguised as Capitol citizens. From what I've been told, it somehow connects all the districts together. But Katniss, this is the only place we can talk that is completely void of listening devices. The Capitol is not aware of its existence, making it the only place we can speak freely. However, staying down here too long would rouse their suspicions."

I nod, understanding that we must get to the point. And . . . hopefully we will be able to come out here again.

"Sweetheart—"

"Don't call me sweetheart." I snap at Dad. "Sorry, I didn't mean for— it's just . . . that's what Haymitch calls me." I tell him, as if this should explain it all.

Dad grins and then runs his hands through his wavy hair, which causes the corners of my mouth to turn up. I never noticed it before, but both Peeta and my dad have the same nervous tell when they are anxious about something. "What do you want to know Lexie?"

The nickname causes the corners of my lips to turn up and I think it's the first genuine smile I've given my dad since coming home from the games. Since finding out about what he did. "Everything. I want to know everything, from the beginning." I assert, wiping the smile from my face to convey the seriousness I feel.

Dad chuckles and shakes his head at me. "Of course, you do, and you will. But I don't think we have time to cover everything right now."

"Okay. Then, why did you do it? Why did you make them call Prim's name?" I begin with the question that has been eating away at me since the moment I overheard my dad and Haymitch talking on the train. "You were that certain that I would take her place? You bargained Prim's life on a chance—"

"Katniss . . . I— I'm going to make you a promise right now, okay?" I nod, motioning for him to continue. "I can't tell you everything, it just isn't safe, but I will tell you as much as I can." I nod again, meeting his eyes with my full attention. "First of all, yes. I was that certain that you would not let Primrose go into an arena. Because I know you Katniss Alexandria Everdeen, and there is not a selfish bone in your body when it comes to your sister. You would rather cut off your right arm rather than see her suffer."

Squirming in place, I try my best not to scowl because he's right. Anyone who knows me knows how much I love Prim. "But Katniss, putting all that aside, there is someone else calling the shots and if I didn't go along with their plans, they would have done it anyway. But Katniss, this is bigger than you, bigger than me, Prim, Peeta; it's bigger than all of us. It's about bringing Snow down, about ending the games, about freedom. It's about being allowed to slip under the fence without fear of repercussions. Whether you do it because you want to, or to feed your family. It's about choices, about freedom. I said no at first, because you are my baby girl, and I would kill anyone who tried to harm you. But once they explained the bigger picture, I realized they were right. And honey, maybe this is wrong, but when they said they chose you, I was proud. Proud that my daughter has the ability to make this kind of change. Proud that you have the power to sway a nation."

"But—" I begin, but Dad places his hand on top of mine, urging me to let him continue.

"Katniss, from the moment you screamed "I volunteer" for Primrose, I hated myself. I still do. But as I watched you in the arena— hell, I noticed it before the arena. Without even realizing it you defied the Capitol at every twist and turn. You volunteered for your sister, not for the fame or the glory, like the career's do, but because you would rather die than see your sister suffer. And it didn't stop there; when Peeta joined you on the stage and you guys held hands, you didn't hide your friendship, your relationship. You went into the games together, refusing to play by their rules, and you guys made no effort to hide it either."

Dad takes a breath before continuing, "And as much as I didn't want to admit it, they were right. You were above and beyond anything they imagined, you and Peeta exceeded their wildest expectations. But . . . it wasn't until the moment you found Thresh; you tried to take care of him until you realized there was nothing you could do. Instead of abandoning him, you held him in your arms . . . you played along with his delirium by pretending to be his mother. You held him in your arms and sang to him. And then— I cannot even begin to describe the insurmountable waves of pride I felt when you performed the death rights for him . . . sending him off with your token to watch over his body. That was the moment, for me at least, that I knew that no one else could do this but you."

Dad pauses, wiping a tear that is gliding down his cheek. "Katniss, with all that being said, I am so sorry. I am so, so, so sorry for my part in putting you through that torment. That hell. I know that my actions are unforgivable, but I hope that one day . . . that one day you will find it in your heart to forgive your ole' man." I hop off my rock and join Dad on his, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"I was so angry, Dad. I just . . . I was angry, and I think I hated you there for a little while. Don't get me wrong, I'm still mad, but I will always love you. And I do, I love you. But Dad, I'm still confused. What was I "chosen" for, and what do they expect me to do?" I came down here with the intent of acquiring some answers only to have more questions.

"I was promised that your part would end when you won the games. However, no one expected you to be as . . . moving . . . as you were. You were supposed to volunteer for Primrose, showing the nation that love is stronger than fear. That in this wicked world we live in, there are those of us who have not lost our humanity. Volunteering for your baby sister because you love her so much, because you knew you stood a fighting chance; where if Primrose had gone in there, she wouldn't have lasted . . . she just wouldn't have lasted." Dad struggles to get his last words out, as if the simple thought of Prim going into the arena causes him pain.

"But then Peeta's name was called. The second you guys left, I demanded we figure out a way to bring you both home. I refused to play along unless he was included, because even then, I knew how you felt about him. I knew you would never come home without him. If you did . . . if somehow you made it back to Twelve without him, you wouldn't be Katniss anymore. You wouldn't be my baby girl anymore, and you definitely wouldn't be what they needed you to be."

I am thankful for the darkness of the cave, hiding the deep blush I feel creeping up my cheeks. "I love him, Dad." I admit for the first time out loud to someone other than Peeta, without the presence of cameras.

"I know you do Lexie. Peeta is a good boy."

"So, Peeta's name being called wasn't part of some sort of master plan? I mean, it seems . . . it's just crazy how it worked out, I guess." I think about Haymitch's strategy to sell "The Love-Struck Fool's" and how the Capitol fell in love with our love story, which was the only reason we both made it out of there. No, Katniss, you made it out of there because you outsmarted them. I remind myself, remembering how they wanted Peeta and I to kill each other.

'Katniss! Katniss? Where are you? Katniss!' Peeta's tremulant voice echoes in my head. Crap, I forgot to leave him a note letting him know where I would be. In my defense, I didn't know I would be having this talk with Dad today.

"It's okay Peeta, I'm with Dad."

Dad stops talking, narrowing his eyes. Only then do I realize that I answered Peeta out loud.

'Katniss!'

'I'm okay Peeta, I went for a walk with Dad. We're talking.' I assure Peeta while keeping my eyes focused on Dad; thankful that Peeta and I have been practicing communicating with each other while carrying on a conversation.

"Katniss, are you okay?" Dad questions me, looking more curious than anything else.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm not sure what happened." Dad raises his wrist to check the time and his forehead wrinkles.

'Crap Katniss, you scared me to death! I thought— never mind what I thought. Let me know when you guys are headed home.'

"We should probably start heading home, it will be dark soon. It's not safe to be out here so late, and we've been down here longer than we should." Dad is right; as the days grow shorter and cooler, we also seem to lose daylight earlier and earlier each night.

I nod, standing up and stretching my legs. "What time is it anyway?" It feels like we've only been down here for twenty minutes; it can't be any longer than an hour though.

"Four o'clock."

"Seriously?" Three hours. We left home shortly after lunch time, so I guess that's about right. It took us almost an hour to get out here and will take equally as long to get back.

Dad leads us back the way we came, navigating us through the tunnel and to the set of stairs that brought us down here. I pay close attention this time, seeing a numerical keypad on the wall that Dad punches three numbers into, commanding the ceiling to open up. He pokes his head out first, making sure the coast is clear before motioning for me to follow. Sure enough, when we're back in the cover of the woods, the sun is kissing the horizon. We probably have just enough time to make it home before dark.

"Katniss, you can NOT repeat a word of this to anyone. I mean anyone. It just isn't safe." Dad tells me as we make our way back.

"Okay Dad, I know."

"I'm serious Katniss, not a word. We'll find a way to bring you and Peeta out here soon."

"Not a word, I promise Dad." I assure him. And it's not a lie. I will not say a word out loud to anyone.

"Mom is going to be so mad at me; it was my night to cook dinner. I didn't realize we would be gone this long." I try to sound contrite, but the truth is I hate the nights when the cooking lands on me.

"I told your mother we were coming out here. And after the fiasco last week, I think you've been banned from cooking ever again; at least that's what Peeta told me." Dad chuckles.

"Since when do you talk to Peeta?" I ask defensively.

"Oh Lexie. Lexie, Lexie, Lexie." Dad shakes his head, grinning mischievously. For some reason this reminds me of Cinna.

"Dad, how did Cinna know to call me Lexie?"

0 – 0 – 0

| Haymitch |

"Haymitch, I can't take your money." Hazelle tells me for probably the millionth time this month. I promised Ric I'd look out for Madge and since the Hawthorne's seem to have taken Madge under their wing, try as I might to help them out, Hazelle refuses me every time.

"Hazelle, please." My eyes plead with her. "I promised Ric—"

"Haymitch, she is no bother. She helps me more than anything; if anyone should be compensating someone, it should be me.

I raise an eyebrow, casting her a questioning glance. It's true that Madge pulls her weight around the Hawthorne home. I know for a fact that she helps out with taking care of the youngest Hawthorne, in addition to assisting Hazelle with her laundry service. I've stopped by plenty of times to see Madge sitting with Hazelle, a pile of laundry in-between them as they fold away.

"There's gotta be something—" I continue, ready to get down on my knees and beg if I must.

"Actually Haymitch, perhaps there is something you can help me out with." I meet her eyes, giving her my full attention.

"Anything. Just name it and I'll find a way to make it happen." I pledge, hoping that it is something within my grasp.

"Well, Haymitch, ever since the . . . uh . . . you know, 'the incident'—" She winces, referring to when Madge broke down and couldn't stop crying, "—well, ever since then, she's seemed better, you know going through the motions; smiling, laughing and talking at all the appropriate times, but I can't help but feel as if it's all for show. That there is something missing from her life—"

Yeah, her parents. I silently retort.

"I overheard Madge talking to Posie one night and her entire being just radiated this brilliant light when she shared a story about playing the piano. Now, I know there is no way we could afford, much less fit one of those giant things in our home, but perhaps there may be a smaller one, or . . . oh, I don't know Haymitch, it just seemed to make her so happy, just the memory of playing." Hazelle beams as she recalls the memory, and suddenly, I get an idea.

"I'll be right back Hazelle!" I exclaim, rushing out the door and sprinting across town.

Not exactly in the best shape of my life, I am huffing and puffing, sweaty and out of breath by the time I reach the mayor's house. I give myself a minute, taking a few deep breaths as I fight for the oxygen to fill my lungs. Once my breathing has stabilized and I am no longer wheezing like an eighty-year-old man, I use the back of my sleeve to wipe the sweat from my brow and then knock on the door.

"Why hello Haymitch, what a surprise!" Rose chimes, shocked to see me.

"Is Poppy, I mean Mayor- what the hell is her last name again?" As soon as the words tumble out of my mouth, Poppy appears with her husband by her side. Kadinski; Raven Kadinski, a damn sponsor. I keep forgetting he's actually a rebel. I wipe the disgust off my face remembering how he did try to help my kids out in the arena. And he helped Effie too. That little voice in the back of my head reminds me.

"I uh . . . I was wondering what you had planned for that thing?" I ask, pointing to the grand piano sitting idly in the center of the great room.

"It's immaculate, isn't it?" Poppy beams, looking over to the piano. "But no one knows how to play, so it just sits here. Do you play Haymitch? Kizzy wants to learn, but it's hard to learn if there is no teacher." At the sound of her name, "Kizzie" comes out of her hiding place behind the security of her father's legs. She's a tiny little thing, probably about six or seven years old. Now I see why Plutarch can't stop talking about her, the little girl is a beauty with her striking blue eyes and golden blonde ringlets.

"Hell no, I mean shit, oh crap, dammit; sorry." I sputter, reaching up to cover my mouth in front of the kid. "Wouldn't know what to do with it if my life depended on it, but . . . maybe we can help each other out." I forgo all pleasantries and decide to just spit it out.

"How so?" Raven asks, his curiosity piqued.

"The Undersee girl; Madge, you know, Ric's daughter—"

"Yes, how unfortunate about her parents, the poor dear—" Poppy croons apologetically, glancing up and then meeting my eyes, reminding me of the surveillance filled in her home.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, the girl's a prodigy; she's a musical genius. I only heard her play once or twice, but uh . . . I bet she'd be interested and probably willing to teach your girl."

Poppy clasps her hands and looks up to her husband, beaming at him. "Oh! That would be magnificent, absolutely splendid!" She trills, lowering herself to her daughters' level. "Would you like to learn how to play the piano Kizzie?"

The little girl's face lights up and she starts bouncing. "Really mama? Yes, please! I want to, I want to!" She nearly squeals in delight, jumping up and down.

Poppy and Raven squat down to Kizzie's level to give her a hug and I get a strange sensation in my stomach. I can't help but notice how they look like actual District Twelve residents. There isn't a single thing that screams "Capitol" to me. With their blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, they look like any other merchant family in Twelve.

"Um, if you reach out to her, you didn't hear it from me." I add as an afterthought, knowing how Madge has a distaste for handouts. Madge on the other hand, may have been born as a merchant, lived a privileged life up until a few months ago, but her distaste for handouts and her stubborn attitude when it comes to making sure she's earning her keep is Seam, through and through.

"Cool." I say with a huge grin, feeling an overwhelming sense of excitement at being able to do something for Madge. If only all my problems were this simple to solve.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0

| Poppy Kadinski – 12's New Mayor |

"Are you certain that Snow is planning to visit our Victor's?" I ask my father, speaking into the microphone, only after ensuring the device that distorts all surveillance is up and running. Dad sent it to me, saying it was a gift from an ally in District Three. Beetee something. It is such a simple thing really, no one would ever guess its purpose. It looks like any other golden coin you might find in the districts. The traditional Panem drachma has on one side, an image of Snow's sinister face, and on the other side, the emblem of the games: Snow's most prized accomplishment. However, this coin, when you shine the light enhancer on it, is replaced with a mockingjay on one side, and a jabberjay on the other. The symbols of our victors, only made visible with the aid of the light enhancer. All you must do is place the coin on whichever device you are speaking into, and somehow, it transmits a signal to any audio or visual device within a twenty-yard radius. I must say, it is rather magnificent and most brilliant. On the other hand, if anyone knew I possessed such a thing; well, let's just say I could be killed for having it in my possession.

"Yes darling, but let's get back to that in a moment. How are things holding up in Twelve? Are the residents accepting of you?"

"Eehh . . . they're warming up . . . slowly." I reply uncertainly.

"That is to be expected. Raven does nothing to help, I'm sure."

"It is what it is, Dad." I say, frowning at my father's distaste for my husband. Truthfully, he has never much cared for Raven or the status his family holds in the Capitol.

"This is true my dear, this is true. About Coriolanus, he is planning a trip to Twelve the morning of the tour. Amy, I believe he is beginning to lose it, but the measures he has gone to remain in power will do that to a man."

"Should I warn them?"

"No! You mustn't let on that you possess any information. If word gets out, he will know where the leak came from and we will be powerless to assist in the cause. You are my entire world Amy, you and Kizzie; I would just die if anything happened to either of you!"

"But not Raven?" I ask, with a tremulous laugh.

"Ehh . . . he's growing on me." Dad says, letting out a timid chuckle.

"Okay Dad. And . . . what about her? Is she still giving you trouble?"

"Don't you worry your pretty little mind about such frivolous things Amnesty, you leave me to deal with her. I only want you to focus on your duties in Twelve and ensuring that our Lovestruck Fools remain safe and protected. They are of the utmost importance, without them, we will fail. That is certain."

"Dad, you must work on referring to me as Poppy. Amy is gone. But . . . don't you find it a bit hypocritical?"

"What's that?"

"That we are rallying everyone up, fighting to end the games. To end the slaughter of children. However, this "Coin" person has no reservations about using the very children sent into the arena to do her bidding. I don't trust her choices Dad; I don't like this, not one bit. It's not right."

"Amy— Poppy, I— you're right, but right now she is the lesser of two evils. Let us focus on one dictator at a time. Right now, the plan must stay the same. Veering of course from her intentions could very well be detrimental to us all."

"I understand Dad." I tell him as the coin begins to vibrate, informing me that I have thirty seconds to complete my call before the surveillance is up and running again.

I must find a way to discreetly get one of these coins to Katniss or Peeta. I tell myself as I say my goodbyes to my father and end the call.

0 – 0 – 0

| Madge |

"Hey Madge, are you headed to see Katniss?" I jump, startled from the sound of Peeta's voice. I just left the mayor's house; my old house . . . from teaching her daughter her first piano lesson. She really is a sweet little girl. At first, I had my reservations, but I think I actually like her. As hard as I tried, it's hard to dislike a cute, bouncy, beautiful little girl like Kizzie. With those brilliant blue eyes and her golden blonde ringlets, she reminds me so much of myself when I was that age. What I wouldn't give to be seven years old again, without a single care in the world.

I didn't even realize how much I missed playing until I sat down at my old piano bench. It felt more than amazing and was just what I needed. I must have been on Cloud 9 as I was walking home, because I didn't even realize I had passed the bakery.

"I wasn't, but that actually sounds like a good idea." I tell Peeta with a smile. I am riding out my high, certain there isn't a thing in the world that can bring me down.

"Mind if I walk with you?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure."

"Can you give me one second? I just need to run inside and grab something before my mother gets here." Peeta runs inside and is back out in less than ten seconds.

"That was fast." I say, noticing the 'Mellark Bakery' logo on the folded over paper bag he is carrying.

"Yeah, they're cookies for tonight. I promised Prim I would bake her favorite for dessert. Chocolate peanut butter."

My mouth begins to water at the name. It sounds so delicious. "Are you not supposed to be there when your mom is working?" I see a flash of pain cross Peeta's eyes at the mention of his mother.

"She um . . . she blames me for my dad leaving, for the district shunning her. She still isn't speaking to me, but she and Dad have an arrangement. She never much liked working in the bakery anyway, so Dad, Rye and I run the bakery. "In house" stuff like dealing with the customer's, baking, and all the prep work. Mom comes in around three o'clock and does the closing down stuff, as well as the books. For now, anyway."

"I didn't know your dad left, I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's a good thing. I mean, I really hate her for so many things, but . . . but she's my mom. And even though she's spent her life hating me, I don't know, it still hurts that she hates me so much. Graham too. I think that hurts worse." Even though my mother never abused me in any way, I can relate to his words. My mother was never an actual "mother" to me, but it didn't matter. I still love her. Loved.

"Why does Graham—"

"He says I made the "stories" up I told Katniss in the arena. You know, the ones when we were in the cave?" I nod, vividly remembering Peeta's not so "stories".

"How?" I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me. I don't understand how anyone who knew Peeta prior to the games could have heard his stories and not immediately realized they were true. From a time before I can even remember, I have memories of Peeta coming to school with his various injuries. He played it off as being clumsy, fighting with his brothers, or occupational hazards but I always knew the true cause. Plus, there were a few times I ran into Peeta late at night, only to find him hiding outside nursing an injury. A few of those times I kidnapped him, rushing him to the safety of the Everdeen's where he sought out treatment for some rather nasty burns.

"Holly says he's blind to everything she did to me. I mean, I guess I understand it. Mom never hurt me in front of him and she always treated him like the golden child. Anyway, I don't want to talk about them anymore. How are you feeling?" I don't blame him for wanting to push them to the furthest recesses of his head. Talking about things makes them real; out of sight, out of mind.

I think it's sad that Peeta's own brother is blind to the witch's abuse, yet his wife sees clearly the wicked woman she is. I brush it from my mind and chuckle at Peeta's question. "Actually Peeta, I'm really good. I feel absolutely amazing right this minute." I admit, unable to conceal the ear-splitting grin that overcomes my face.

"I can tell, you're literally glowing. What is the cause of this, or should I say who?" Peeta grins, waggling his eyebrows.

"It's not Gale, if that's what you are insinuating. Actually, if you must know, the mayor asked me if I would give her daughter piano lessons. I just . . . I've missed it so much, being able to play the piano, I mean. Before, well, you remember. If I was happy, sad, upset, or even angry, I would play. I didn't realize how much I missed it until I sat down at the piano bench; until my fingers glided across the keys."

"What was it like? Going back into your old house? Was it awkward? And what is the new mayor like? I only met her briefly the day they swore her in. I heard her husband was a sponsor, so I figure it's better for me to stay as far away as possible, so that I don't say something that could get me killed." Peeta asks, slowly lowering his voice until it is barely above a whisper. Should I tell him the truth? That the mayor— that she is one of us?

"Honestly Peeta? That house was never a home, it was much too big for me and my parents. And—" No, I don't trust that there aren't more listening devices throughout the district. More that I do not know about.

"What's wrong Madge?"

Thinking better of it, I make a confession instead. "You're going to think I'm a horrible person for saying this; I feel horrible for just thinking it. But . . . when I'm spending time with the Hawthorne's in their tiny little house, it feels more like a home than anything I've ever experienced before."

"Why would I think you're a horrible person? That's not a bad thing Madge, that's good. I'm glad you have that. Just because you're happy and have made a new "home" for yourself doesn't mean you love your parents any less. I mean, look at me and my screwed-up relationships with my parents. I think of Katniss' mom as more of a mother to me than my own mother, but that doesn't mean I don't love my own mother. Do you think that makes me a bad person?"

"NO! Of course, not Peeta, you are probably one of the best people I know." His eyes avert from mine, focusing on a rock near his feet.

"Good people don't kill, Madge." He mumbles under his breath, kicking at the rock. I reach out to touch his shoulder, trying to get him to look at me but he flinches back.

"Peeta, you didn't have a choice." I tell him, trying to offer him some comfort.

"Don't make excuses for me, there is always a choice Madge. It might not be pretty, but there is always a choice."

"If you chose differently, you would have died. Which means—"

"I know Madge." He yells at me, tensing up. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. This might sound cruel or whatever, but I don't regret my actions, my choices. The alternative would have meant that Katniss would be dead, and that is not a choice I could live with . . . or die for. Anyway, let's talk about something else."

Good idea. I think to myself. "I've been meaning to stop by because I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me for what?" He asks, genuinely confused.

"For coming over every day. For checking up on me." Peeta stops walking and pulls me into his arms.

"You're my friend Madge. My best friend. I love you and nothing will ever change that." I give him a smile and we pick up our pace. Peeta opens the gate for us to enter the village and I follow him to his house.

"I found a straggler on my way home; I hope it's okay." Peeta yells into the room once we are inside. I copy him when he slips his shoes off in the foyer, noticing a few other pairs of shoes. That's weird, that's a "Lilly" thing. I think to myself at the sight of all the shoes. I follow Peeta until we are in the main room, surprised to see Katniss' family making themselves useful in Peeta's kitchen when he wasn't even home. Lilly and Dylan are standing over a hot stove while Prim and Katniss are sitting at the kitchen table. Prim is cutting up vegetables on one side of the table while Katniss is sitting adjacent to her with a trash can between her legs, peeling potatoes. She has that ever-present scowl on her face until she sees Peeta. When her eyes land on him, her entire face morphs into something beautiful. She pushes the trash can out of her way and literally runs into his arms, nearly knocking him down. Something about their greeting causes a fluttering in my stomach, followed by an image of Gale that pops into my head.

Before I know it, a tiny pair of arms are wrapped around me, almost knocking me down.

"Madge! I've missed you!" Prim squeals into my shirt. "You're staying for dinner, right? Please? Please!" She looks up at me with the biggest eyes, and it pains me to have to say no.

"I would love to, but I can't. Not tonight. Hazelle is expecting me and if I don't show up, she will worry." The disappointed look on Prim's face squeezes my heart. "Maybe another night?" I suggest and that seems to do the trick because Prim's frown instantly transforms into a radiant smile. She looks at her parents, as if asking for permission.

"Madge, you know you are welcome here anytime." I smile and nod to Lilly.

"Thank you, Lilly."

Peeta goes over to the sink, washing his hands before he takes Katniss' seat at the table and pushes her away. "I can finish this, why don't you go spend some time with Madge before she has to leave." Katniss pouts, but gives Peeta a kiss before she pulls me upstairs to Peeta's room.

My forehead wrinkles in confusion when I take in the sight of the bedroom. This room looks like it should belong to Katniss instead of Peeta. The immaculate bed, which is pushed against the wall furthest from the door is made, which is probably the only thing in the room not Katniss. But Katniss' clothes are tossed all over the room, adding to my confusion. When I turn my head, the closet door is open, revealing what appears to be men's clothes.

Katniss closes the door behind us and pulls me to Peeta's bed, a massive grin on her face. "Thank you so much for saving me!"

"You're welcome, but . . . why are you guys all at Peeta's house? This is his house, right?" I ask her, knitting my brows in confusion.

"Oh. Yeah, I guess that probably seems a little weird. So, my parents, well, mostly my dad had a fit that I was spending so much time with Peeta. Can you believe he thought he could forbid me from sleeping at his house?"

"Well, I mean, normally, I mean . . . IF neither of you survived the games; then yes, I would say it was weird."

"Yeah, well anyway, I told them that they were living in MY house, and they are my guest. If they don't like what I do in MY house, then feel free to leave it." She explains so casually, as if she is telling me about any other simple thing and not being a little brat to her wonderful parents. Her parents who are still very much alive.

"Katniss! You didn't!" I exclaim, covering my mouth with my hand. She smirks, her mouth forming into a firm line as she nods. "I know, I know. Childish and immature. Stubborn spoiled brat, Peeta told me already, but Madge . . . I can't . . . I need to be with Peeta."

"Hey, no judgement here." I tell her, urging her to continue.

"I stormed out of the house after that, and Mom came over a few days later saying Dad wanted to talk. Madge, ever since I came home, I get these nightmares; like, they're really, really, god-awful and gruesome and Peeta is the only one who understands."

I completely understand what she means about nightmares, and if there was something— or someone who could help alleviate my own demons, I would want them there too. "And he gets them too. Sometimes. We're not having sex, and I think Dad finally understood because he agreed to "being okay"—" Katniss explains using finger air quotes. "—with it, but with a few stipulations. I have to spend time at home with them during the day, which is fine because Peeta is usually at the bakery all day. And then, from the time Prim comes home from school until after dinner, we all spend that time together. Usually, I meet Prim at school, and we swing by the bakery for Peeta on our way home. But Prim got out early today, which is why—" She loses her train of thought, shaking her head.

"Anyway, the house thing; we alternate between my house and Peeta's for dinner. To take turns with the mess and everything." She explains, clearing up my confusion as to why her family is cooking in Peeta's kitchen. She seems very manic, spewing her words out at a million miles a second. Or anxious at the very least.

"Oh, okay, that makes sense and I think it's kind of nice." There is a pregnant pause for a moment, and I notice Katniss squirming in place, picking at the skin on her thumb.

"Katniss, is everything okay?" Startled by my question, she meets my eyes for a moment, but quickly glances down to her toes. Something is clearly bothering her, I just have to get it out of her.

"Um, yeah. I uh . . . I wanted to ask you something Madge." She places her hand next to her mouth as if she's trying to tell me a secret. "About sex." She whispers, a blush creeping up her cheeks, reaching the tips of her ears. I can feel the heat in my own face at the mention of the word.

"Um, okay, what about it?"

"Well, I know we don't normally talk about this kind of thing, but, um . . . have you ever . . . you know . . . done it?" I let out a cackle from deep within my belly.

"Who would I—? I've never even had a boyfriend—" I cackle, managing to get the words out once I've caught my breath.

"I mean . . . technically, that's not a requirement. But . . . I don't know, Gale?" She asks, shrugging her shoulders, looking anywhere but at my face. This forces another laugh to explode from my lips.

"Have you and Peeta?" I ask, turning her question back to her. Judging by how red she just turned, I would think her face was on fire.

"No, no we haven't—" She responds defensively. "—I mean, we haven't actually had sex, but . . . other things." I am officially intrigued.

"Do you want to?"

"Madge! Oh my god, no. No, that's not— no. We can't, it's—" She stumbles over her words, not really making any sense. Clearly, she's lying. She SO wants to do it.

"Katniss, come on. It's me. You can tell me. No judgement, remember?"

"It's just that . . . well, at first it was just kissing. A little kiss here and there . . . and that seemed to satisfy us. And then we needed more. So, the kissing became more intense. And for a while, it was enough. But then it turned into, I don't know what to call it other than "intense make out" sessions. And then touching, yes, lots of touching. And like, I don't know, it's like it's not enough anymore. No matter how close we are, it's never close enough. I mean, for a while it is, but then we always need more." She squeezes her eyes shut and then hides her face in her hands. "Oh my god, I can't believe I just told you that. What is wrong with me? This isn't me. Ugh!"

"You're in love Katniss, all of that—" I lift my hand and wiggle it in the air, motioning to everything she just spoke about. "—stuff is natural."

"I don't want children, I never have. But I want to be closer to Peeta, and if we do . . . that, then the possibility of children is . . . possible."

Maybe I haven't had sex but that doesn't mean that I am completely useless to offer her some advice. "My dad used to get these magazines from the Capitol and normally he would just toss them in the trash, but . . . well, you know me, I'm nosy. I read this one article about sex once, and there are a few ways you can do it without risking pregnancy. Of course, it's not guaranteed, but I guess it's better than nothing, right?"

Katniss nods, scooting closer to me and staring at me greedily, soaking up my every word. "So, the guy can . . . you know, pull out before he . . . you know. And the other way I read about was about counting the days between your cycles. Really, there is only a small window of opportunity to get pregnant. I think I remember reading that it's something like two weeks from the day you start your period. Did you know in the Capitol, women don't have their own children? They have these special doctors called "fertility specialist" and couple's pay other women— I think they are called surrogates that carry their children for them? Wait a minute, I bet your mom knows some herbs or something—"

"You seriously think I am going to go to my mother for help about having sex? Madge, I think you've lost your mind—" I smile at this statement, glad she can still joke around with me about this kind of thing. "And . . . that doesn't surprise me; about women not carrying their own children. Anyway, I don't want to talk about this anymore, tell me about Gale." She asks acquisitively, inching herself closer to me.

"Gale is . . . well, he's Gale. He works all the time, so I barely see him." I can't help but smile at the thought of Gale when Katniss rolls her eyes at me.

"Are you two like a thing now? I hardly ever see him anymore, but I . . . I've noticed a change in him."

"A change? What kind of change?" I ask, my curiosity taking over.

"I don't know . . . he's . . . different—"

"Good different, or bad different?"

"Well, not good or bad, just different. It's like . . . like he's . . . I don't know . . . happy. Which is a strange emotion coming from Gale Hawthorne. But anytime I ask about you he turns into a brick wall. I think it was about two months ago when I noticed the shift in him, and now he's all smiles and positive thinking. It's just . . . weird and I can't help but think that you are what's responsible for this personality deviation."

"He told me he loved me—" Katniss and I both turn to the door when we hear someone knocking.

"It's open!" Katniss screams to whoever is on the other side. The door creaks open and Prim's bright face appears.

"Katniss?"

"What's up Little Duck? Is everything okay?"

Prim enters the room and closes the door behind her. "Yeah, everything is fine. Dinner is almost ready, but I was wondering if I could talk to Madge for a minute before she has to leave." Katniss looks at me, as if asking for my permission.

I look over to the clock on the nightstand next to the bed to check the time. "Oh, crap, I didn't realize how late it was! I don't need to leave right this minute, but I will need to leave soon." I tell them. Katniss stands up and walks over to me, giving me a hug.

"Is it okay if we talk in here?" Prim asks her. For a moment I forgot this was Peeta's house.

"Of course." Katniss affirms, standing up to leave.

"Oh, and you might want to go check on Peeta, Dad pulled him over to our house for a little while. Who knows what kind of threats he was making?" Prim smirks, looking at Katniss and giving her a cheeky grin.

"Dammit!" Katniss runs to the door but turns around to look at me before making her exit. "Don't leave without saying goodbye first?" I give her a nod and she bolts out the door screaming, "DAAAD!"

"Is everything okay Prim?" I ask her, noticing the concerned expression clouding her features.

"Yeah, it is. I just wanted to see how you were doing. After the . . . you know." She means after my breakdown. When her and Lilly came to my house that night and had to sedate me.

"I'm feeling much better Prim. I've been meaning to stop by sometime to thank you. I can't even begin to tell you how much that meant to me; what you did for me."

"Madge, its—"

"No, Prim. I'm not talking about that day; I'm talking about all the days after that one. But especially that one week when I was in that catatonic like state. You came over every single day and sat with me. You talked to me and would brush my hair. I remember one day specifically when you came over with a grilled cheese sandwhich, complaining about Katniss."

"You knew I was there? I thought— I wasn't sure what I thought, but something in me said that maybe you were aware of what was going on around you. If you don't mind me asking, what was it like?"

"I don't mind Prim; and it was awful. It was like . . . like I was trapped inside my head, unable to break free. I was screaming, yelling, kicking and throwing punches trying to break out of my own mind. Don't get me wrong, I love Katniss to death, but she is not the most patient of people. She would come over, pop in for a minute to check on me and leave just as quickly. And I think it made Peeta uncomfortable, watching me just staring at the walls. But you; you treated me as if I was really "there". You didn't let my altered mental state scare you away. You carried on a conversation for the both of us. I remember you telling me everything that was going on, all the gossip and drama that you knew about. So, thank you Prim." I lean in and wrap my arms around Prim's tiny frame.

"DINNER'S READY!" Dylan screams from downstairs.

"I guess that's our cue." Prim says with a smile.

We make our way downstairs and I am more than a little surprised when I see Haymitch seated at the dining room table.

"Madge, remember, you can come over anytime. If we aren't home just check over here." Lilly tells me as she fills the table with plates.

"Thank you, I better get going. Oh, and Haymitch?"

"Yeah?" He says, looking up at me.

"Thanks for the reference." His forehead wrinkles in confusion, lifting a brow.

"Come again?" He asks, and for possibly the first time, I notice the absence of a flask in his hands.

"I've got a job teaching the mayor's daughter piano lessons. I know it was you, so thank you."

"I uh, I didn't . . . it um—" I walk over to where Haymitch is seated and wrap my arms around his shoulders.

"Thank you Haymitch." I tell him, squeezing his shoulders, and maybe it's my eyes, or perhaps I'm seeing things; but I could swear that I just saw Haymitch blush.

0 – 0 – 0

Katniss

"Katniss, Kat, wake up." I hear Peeta's voice before I'm fully awake and slowly open my eyes. Except when I open my eyes, everything is pitch black and there is something covering my face. When I reach up to remove whatever is blocking my sight, Peeta gently places his hands reassuringly on top of mine.

"What the— why can't I see anything?" I demand, tensing up at my sudden blindness.

"Good morning beautiful." He says, placing a kiss to my cheek and then pulling me into his arms for a moment.

"It's a surprise." He whispers into my ear with one hand on my back, the other pulling on my arm as he helps me to a sitting position. I have never been the kind of person that enjoys surprises; I like to know everything.

"I don't like being left in the dark, pun intended." I scowl, unsure if he can see it because of the blindfold that's covering my face, as well as not knowing how much light is in the room. I know today is tour day, and who knows what surprises it has in store for me, so I'm not sure I can handle anything extra. Not to mention that the inability to see takes me back to the arena, back to the tornado. Back to when the gamemaker's distorted our sight, blinding us all. Back to when they tried to get us to kill each other.

"You'll like this one, I promise. Just . . . trust me. You do trust me, right?"

"You know I do." I tell him, fighting the smile that is forming on my lips.

"What time is it anyway?" I ask as Peeta guides me out of the bed and through his room. With the blindfold securely over my eyes, he helps me get dressed. Once it became clear that the blindfold was more trouble than it was worth, he finally allowed me to remove it, but only in the bathroom.

Thankful for the absence of the blindfold, I take my time in the bathroom. I do my business, wash my hands and face and then brush my teeth. All the while, wondering what Peeta has up his sleeve. As soon as I open the door, Peeta is waiting for me with that damn blindfold in his hand. He secures it around my eyes, folding it in a knot at the back of my head.

"Is this really necessary?" I snap at him, scowling once more.

"Katniss, I promise you're going to love it." He trills. How someone can be so chipper this early in the morning is beyond me, which only adds to my aggravation

"What time is it anyway?" I ask, conceding to the fact that he intends to keep me blind until he reveals this "surprise."

"Really early. Sun's not even up yet." He informs me, helping me get my jacket and boots on and then leads us out the door.

Peeta interlocks our arms together once we pass through the front door, never releasing me from his grip. Together, we stomp through the foot of snow that covers the ground, making our way to Peeta's surprise. Using my remaining senses, I intuit that we are headed into the woods. Or maybe it's the meadow, I can't be certain without my sight. It's probably the meadow since the fence is electrified today, due to everyone arriving today. Capitol wouldn't want their precious minions to be without power.

Finally, after what feels like an hour of walking through the snow, Peeta pulls me backwards into his arms and gently removes the blindfold. Even though I complained about not being able to see from the moment I woke up, I keep my eyes closed for another moment, inhaling the sounds of mother nature. I pick up the sounds of tree branches scraping against each other from the force of the wind; the scampering of chipmunks racing up a tree as they hop from one spot to another. I hear the symphony of birds chirping their morning melody, signaling the start of a new day. The mockingjay's are not far away, mimicking the bird's song, and then there is something else that is slightly out of place. Something that is not of mother nature's doing. It sounds like . . . like the crackling of a fire?

The anticipation is driving me mad, so slowly, I open one eye, and sure enough we are in a small clearing in the meadow, surrounded by trees. Peeta has prepared a picnic, surrounding us in my favorite things. Trees, nature and him.

The entire district is covered in a blanket of white, minus this one tiny spot in front of me where the snow is shoveled into a heaping pile. He must have done this days ago, allowing the sun to soak up any remnants that he was unable to scrape away because the ground isn't even wet.

There is a blanket spread on the ground for us to sit on, as well as an additional blanket to cover up with. Less than a foot away, he has built a small fire to keep us warm, which means he must have woken up hours ago, made the trek out here to start the fire and then walked all the way back home to wake me up and bring me out here. Now, I feel guilty for giving him such a hard time this morning.

I turn around to face him, my eyes filled with tears at his thoughtfulness and wrap my arms around his neck. "PEETA! When did you— how did— oh my god Peeta, this is incredible, it's just . . . it's amazing!" My mind is blown at his creativity, at his thoughtfulness. He has transformed a day I have been dreading for months into something . . . better. No matter what happens for the rest of the day, I will always remember the incredible way it began.

"I just thought it would be nice for us to get away from everything. You know, spend a quiet day in the meadow, with just the two of us before we are bombarded by our prep teams and . . . everything." His cheeks pinken, and from the way he's looking at the ground I know it has nothing to do with the frigid temperatures. And then a smile forms on my lips at the thought of a bashful Peeta.

He kneels onto the blanket, lifting the lid to the picnic basket and pulls out a plate and two cups. Then he looks up at me, extending his arm, his eyes twinkling with the setting moon. "Come have some breakfast with me." He urges, inviting me down to him.

He doesn't have to ask me twice as I drop down next to him, joining him on the blanket. We feast on all my favorites; strawberries, oranges, and somehow, he even managed to acquire some grapes. Where did he even get all of this from; and better yet, when? I have to give him credit, I never knew he could be so duplicitous.

I wonder if all the secret phone calls with Effie was actually him scheming to create this perfect date for us. Normally, he orders what we need from our local grocer; I know it's only to give him business, but all this food . . . it couldn't have come from anywhere but the Capitol.

"Oh my gosh Peeta, this is delicious!" I moan with a mouthful of oranges, sighing with pleasure from the tart, juicy fruit in my mouth. His eyes meet mine and they darken slightly, before a mischievous glint appears in his eye. Maybe it's not mischievous, but more like . . . seductive. Whatever it is, I like it.

Before I know it, he pounces on top of me, pinning me to the ground. He intertwines his fingers with mine, trapping my hands above my head. He leans down to kiss me, dipping his tongue into my mouth.

"Mmm . . . you're right. Mouthwatering—" He says, suckling on my lower lip, "Scrumptious, absolutely—" He leans down again, giving me another kiss, "—insatiable—" Forgetting altogether about the delectable food, I lock my arms around his neck and savor his lips. Vulnerable to my kisses, I wait for the perfect moment to flip us over so that he is the one pinned to the ground. Straddling his hips, I never break our connection and cherish this moment, wishing with all my might it never had to end.

Finally, we come up for air, never breaking our gaze. The love in Peeta's eyes is so prevalent, I think I could stare into his striking blue eyes for the rest of time and be completely satiated. His hand reaches up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear. "I love you Katniss." He tells me with so much sentiment that I can literally feel the love emanating from his pores. It is in this moment that I know; without a doubt how absolutely, completely, irrevocably I am in love with this boy.

His eyes sparkle under the moonlight when he looks at me. Looking at me, no— into me, as if he has a direct link into my soul. He looks at me like I am the most beautiful thing in the world to him and I love it.

Eventually, I slide off his hips and curl my body next to his. I rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady sound of his thrumming heart. It is the sound I fall asleep to each night and it quite possibly could be my most favorite sound in the world.

We lie here for a while, watching the miracle of another sunrise bleed its beautiful array of colors into the sky, as it does every other day. Except today is not like the others, today is tour day.

A shudder runs through me when I suddenly get a flashback of the other night. When Peeta and I were kissing, and it just wasn't enough anymore. My conversation with Madge comes to the forefront of my mind when I remember the want I felt.

Peeta and I wanted— no, we needed more as we explored each other's body's more intricately than we ever have before. There was a time when simply being in Peeta's arms and kissing each other was enough, but now; I always feel like I need more. It's like no matter how close I curl into him, no matter how much of our skin is touching, it's just never enough. I think about needing him inside of me, wondering if that would be enough. Would it satisfy that hunger?

I begin lightly trailing my fingertips along Peeta's abdomen and instantly feel the goosebumps appear on his skin.

"Stop . . . you know what that does to me." He sighs, shivering before he begins to supply me with my own form of torture and begins trailing kisses down my neck until he reaches my collar bone, sending a shiver coursing through me.

My body is filled with electricity for Peeta which sends my mind back to the last time it felt that way; when Haymitch barged into Peeta's house and caught us in a compromising position. I am so glad we are out here alone, with no Haymitch to interrupt us. Oh god, Haymitch!

"OH CRAP! Haymitch!" I yell out, my eyes opening to see the sun perfectly straight up in the sky, signaling it is getting close to noon.

"You're kidding, right? You're thinking about Haymitch right now?" Peeta groans, giving me those sad, pathetic eyes and pouting his lip. He reaches out to pull me closer to him.

"No Peeta," I begin, removing his hands from underneath my shirt. "—he said not to let him oversleep. Come on, we need to go wake him up." I sit up, scooting away from Peeta. I know that if I do not remove myself from his touch, I will be incapable of saying no for long. Scooting back, I proceed to button my shirt back up and tame the stray hairs on my head back in place.

"I um, I'm going to need a minute." Peeta tells me, shifting uncomfortable on the ground.

Embarrassed, I look anywhere else but at Peeta and simply nod. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'll um . . . I'll start packing up." I say, thankful for something to do.

Peeta takes a few deep breaths and then he is by my side, helping me consolidate our remaining food. We throw some water on the fire and fold the blanket before heading towards Victor's Village. While Peeta has mastered walking with his new leg on solid ground, making this trek in the snow is a challenge in itself and it takes us much longer than it normally would to get to Haymitch's house.

Once we reach Haymitch's front door, I brace myself for the putrid stench that normally fills his home. However, when we enter his house, I am surprised that it smells . . . almost clean. Or, well, cleaner than it usually is. I wonder if he hired someone to help him tidy up since he knows Effie is coming today. The clock above his stove reads 10:30, meaning we are not as late as I originally thought. He still has at least an hour before Effie arrives.

Haymitch is passed out at the kitchen table, as usual. He is snoring loud enough to rumble the house, and his head is hidden in the crook of his arm. Most likely, he passed out drunk earlier this morning. Even twenty-five years after his games, Haymitch still refuses to sleep in the dark. I probably would too, if I didn't have Peeta. He is my light in the darkness.

"Haymitch, come on. Wake up Haymitch, it's time." Peeta says, gently nudging our near comatose mentor. Having been on the other end of waking Haymitch up from an alcohol induced slumber, I don't even attempt to wake him up. Instead, I spot an empty cannister and grab it, making my way to the sink. I turn the faucet on and fill it slightly over halfway, leaving just enough room so that it doesn't slosh around during the walk back to Haymitch.

'Watch out.' I tell Peeta, motioning for him to move out of the way. Slowly creeping next to Haymitch, I dump the entire contents of the cannister onto his head and quickly jump back, bracing myself for his swinging hands that are most likely clutching onto at least one knife.

"What the hell! Why am I all wet?" Haymitch grumbles once he spots Peeta and I in front of him.

"You said to wake you up; it's tour day. Effie will be here in about an hour."

"I said to wake me up, not give me pneumonia." He scoffs, reaching for a towel to pat his face dry.

"Well, you're awake now, so mission accomplished. I suggest you take a bath first—" I say, grabbing Peeta's hand and dragging him to the door. "—and you might want to clean up a little, you know how Effie is." I finish, slamming the door behind us.

"I just did!" I hear him grumble from the other side of the door.

Peeta and I both look, first to my house, and then to his, not sure which one to go to first. Once our prep teams show up, we will be separated until the cameras arrive, a moment I am dreading. I do not like it when Peeta and I are not together, but I absolutely detest it when we are forced apart.

However, when we turn our heads to Peeta's house, there is a sleek, fancy black car that is most certainly from the Capitol camped out in his driveway, making our decision for us.

Tightening my grip on Peeta's hand, we sprint over to his house, wondering who our guests are, yet something in my gut says I know exactly who it is.

A/N: For those of you hoping to witness Peeta's swimming lessons; trust me, I have not forgotten about that.

Drop me a line . . . questions, comments? What would you like to see in the chapters to come?

A line from Chapter 3 comes from . . . . . . . . Lucy Gray . . . . . . or well, Snow's subconscious

'As long as you can find katniss, you will never starve. Do you remember that day Coriolanus? I wonder if that's how the people in the district's feel; that Katniss is feeding them . . . hope. Soon, their bellies will be full and—'