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.

5. Something Rebellious

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games, all lines depicted from the original book belongs to Suzanne Collins. In addition to the referred songs in this chapter: also, NOT MINE. (Just minding my P's and Q's)

To: Linds xD: Thank you so much for the review! I tried to reply but you have private comments disabled. I am so glad you are enjoying my "Madge" as well as my take on some of the other minor characters!

Thanks to everyone for the birthday wishes, you truly, truly made my day!

Another Way Out

Chapter 5 – Something Rebellious

Quote: "There he is. So, you know that thing I told you to do; why don't you go ahead and get on with it." Klaus Mikaelson; Vampire Diaries Season 3, Episode 10 (16:36)

| Madge |

"I need to use the bathroom; you keep practicing and I'll be right back." I give Kizzie a smile, resting my hand on her shoulder and then stand up from my seat at the piano bench. I have been more than impressed at how fast Kizzie has caught on to the piano. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought she already knew how to play. After only a few weeks, her tiny little fingers dance across the keys to "Heart and Soul" with ease, which always brings a smile to my face. It was the first song I learned how to play with my mother as my teacher when I was just four years old. It was also the song that inspired me to want to learn more about music. With some time and practice, I have no doubt Kizzie will be as skilled, if not better than me by the time she is my age.

As much as I want to hate these people who live in my old house, I don't. I can't. When I feel the beginnings of those hateful feelings festering inside me, I take a deep breath and remind myself that I met Poppy before my dad died, that time in the tunnels. That it was in fact, my father who introduced us.

'She's on our side, Madge,' I tell myself as I turn the corner to the bathroom. Almost everything in this giant mansion has remained the same, looking almost exactly as it did when I still lived here with my parents. It brings a smile to my face when I see the miniature elephant figurines next to the soap dish; something my mother placed here when I was four years old. Part of me appreciates the continuity; each time I come here . . . it's like . . . like they're just within my grasp; but at the same time, it's also a vivid reminder that I am all alone in this world.

When I'm done and the door to the bathroom clicks shut behind me, my curiosity is piqued from a pair of voices coming from what was once was my dad's office. I guess it belongs to Poppy now. Wonderment gets the best of me and my feet seem to have a mind of their own as I find myself standing just outside the door that leads into the office.

"Raven honey, you've got to stay calm. They're safe right now . . . or at least while they're on tour. Too many eyes are on Katniss and Peeta, making it impossible for him to do anything that might harm those kids." Poppy's voice is so calm and soothing, that even I believe her, and I haven't a clue what she's talking about.

"I know Amy, but . . . what's going to happen when they announce the Quell? Katniss and Peeta are . . . Amy, we've got to find them another way out. I'm not sure how much influence I'll have this year, with all the new changes, but you know as well as I do that it's too dangerous for them to go in there, they'll—"

"Baby, stop," I can't help it when my lips curve up into a half smile from the pet name Poppy uses when addressing her husband. Her voice is commanding, but in a soft and gentle tone; how she does that, I have no clue. "Honey, please— you're going to end up making yourself crazy if you don't relax. You must realize there are so many on our side willing to sacrifice their own lives to ensure their safety. And— and you know she wants to publicly rescue them. It would be detrimental to interfere with her plans at this stage in the game."

"Psh— Game— GAME? Amy, this isn't some game; we're talking about children's lives for Christ's sake!" Raven hisses; his irritation overpowering his usually calm and sensible demeanor. My jaw drops— did he really just— who is this man? I knew Poppy was on our side, but is Raven also a . . . rebel? I would have never thought he could be a rebel, considering the high status his family has held in the Capitol for generations; and the fact that he's a sponsor. A rebel disguised as a Sponsor, and a distinguished one at that.

'What did you expect Madge, he ISmarried to Poppy," I squirm in place, thinking to myself.

As much as I want to remain hidden behind the door, I know if I don't return soon Kizzie will come looking for me. So, I silently tiptoe back to the main room, back to my piano. Back to the sweet, innocent little girl in the great room and resume my job of teaching her music.

Holy hell, what did I just stumble into? What about the Quell, and what do Katniss and Peeta have to do with it? Sure, they will be mentors, but . . . but—

"Hey Miss Madge, listen to this," Kizzie sees me from around the corner and lights up with a radiant smile as she begins to replicate a piece I played for her the other day.

I avert my attention to her; mustering every bit of my willpower to supply her with my complete focus. I can ruminate over the words I overheard later, in the privacy of my own house. My actual home in the Seam.

"Wow, that's amazing Kizzie. You know, you have a very artistic ear. Not many people have the ability to play a piece from memory after only hearing it once." I bluster, which causes her to grin from ear to ear, her confidence boosted.

Mission accomplished. I smile, feeling my own sense of pride soar at being the cause of her radiant glow.

'Oh, to be young and innocent again,' I think to myself, craving the naïveté

that Kizzie possesses.

We spend another hour at the piano and then I try to say my goodbyes. However, Kizzie has other plans.

"Miss Madge, can we please play "Heart and Soul"? It sounds so much better when we do it together," she begs, giving me those sad and pathetic, yet adorable eyes.

"I don't know Kizzie—" I begin, flashing my eyes over to the clock on the wall.

"Pleeeaassseee? Just one last time Miss Madge, pretty, pretty please?" Her expression is so dejected that I don't have the heart to tell her no. Which was probably her plan all along.

"Okay fine," I tell her, narrowing my eyes with mock contempt before I give her a genuine smile. "One last time and then I have to go," I tell her, glaring deep into her eyes and holding one finger up. We play our duet and then I bolt out the door before giving her another opportunity to sucker me into staying any longer. Not to mention that after what I overheard in the hallway, I am not ready to face either Poppy or Raven yet. Kizzie promises me that she will have one of her parents pay me double at her next lesson, but at the moment, that is the last thing on my mind.

I've got to get out of here and think. I've got to get away and— my thoughts race through my head as I run as fast as my legs will carry me until I reach the Seam. I bypass the Hawthorne's home and head straight into my house. So many questions are running through my head that I don't even know where to begin.

Okay. What did they say? I ask myself, pacing from one wall to the other. First, Poppy said they were safe. Katniss and Peeta are safe; that one was easy to figure out. 'They're safe while they are on tour.' That must mean the president cannot harm Katniss and Peeta with so many people watching their every move.

Okay, Raven said something next. He sounded so worried, scared even for Katniss and Peeta. He said something about the Quell and finding another way out. What does that mean? Another way out of where? They can't go in there, were his exact words. They can't go in where? And then I wonder where 'there' is. Next, Poppy said something about there being people who would ensure their safety. Who's safety? Katniss and Peeta's? Why would they need protection during the Quell, and from who?

I can only assume the 'she' Poppy refers to is the leader from 13. The same one my dad warned me about. She wants to publicly rescue them. Rescue them from what— and what does that even mean?

My pacing slows as I absorb all the information and then come to a complete stop when it hits me like a ton of bricks. I should have seen it there all along, how could I have been so blind?

The rules for each Quell were supposedly written just after the Games were instituted. But what if that isn't the case? What if Snow is handcrafting the perfect card for this year's Quell to eliminate all his problems at once. After Katniss and Peeta's stunt with the berries, Snow has lost control. And . . . and now, he's trying to . . . take it back; regain what was lost. What's that saying my dad used to say?

Kill two birds with one stone,my father's words echo in my head. "Holy shit-balls!" I exclaim as all the pieces finally fall into place. Katniss and Peeta will not be mentor's this year; no, they will be going into the Quell. The Lovestruck Fools of District 12 will make history once more and be tributes two years in a row. This must be Snow's master plan! It has to be; there just isn't another explanation.

For over an hour I pace the length of my kitchen and living room. And then I clean. And then I pace some more. There isn't a single spec of dirt left in my entire house, but I have to keep myself busy; I have to think about everything I just learned. Should I tell anyone?

I realize there is only one person that I can trust with this information, but he isn't here. I zip through the house, looking out of each window to make sure no one is coming. Once I am absolutely certain the coast is clear, I draw the curtains and double check that the doors are locked. Then I slide my sofa over to expose the loose plank in the floor and pry it open, retrieving my book from the box in its secret location. And then I replace the plank, slide the couch back over it, but not before double checking the windows one more time. I can never be too sure; because I, for one, would like to make it to my seventeenth birthday.

Plucking the light enhancer from the bridge in my bra, I take a seat at my kitchen table. I click the top of the pen three times to activate the pen in writing mode and then grip it firmly in my hand. Just when the tip of the pen is barely hovering over the page, it begins vibrating.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0

| Katniss |

I squeeze Peeta's hand as our train enters the outskirts of District 11. I don't remember seeing any of this when we made our way to the Capitol for the games six months ago. There are huge, open fields, filled with herds of cattle grazing on the grass. Poor cows aren't faring much better than any of us, I realize when I see the state of the dead grass they are forced to consume.

As we get closer to 11, my shock grows tenfold when I catch sight of the watchtowers scattered throughout the land; spaced evenly apart with armed guards to man each one.

Peeta places a finger under my chin, 'Close your mouth Katniss,' he warns me, but I can't help my agape expression, too overwhelmed by the sight in front of me.

'And I thought we had it bad; 12 is nothing like this.'

In school we learned that District 11 was a large district. But the word largedoesn't seem to cut it. There are so many people, hundreds and hundreds, maybe even thousands; with their straw hats on their heads to protect their skin from the sun. And I'm pretty sure this is just a fraction of the district. With it being peak harvest time, I doubt the Capitol would allow everyone the day off, not even for the Victory Tour.

A few minutes later we pass by the orchards, reminding me of Rue and I find myself wondering if those are the trees she once climbed.

'Do you think those are the trees she told us about?' I know he's talking about Rue even though he doesn't say her name; apparently on the same wavelength as I am, or maybe he heard my thoughts. Either way, I don't answer him, still too overwhelmed by everything I've seen up to this point and we haven't even actuallyentered the district; not officially anyway.

"How do you think they do it? Do you think they have some kind of preliminary drawing for the reapings? That they . . . pick the winners ahead of time?" Peeta asks, just as shocked as I am at all the people we see.

I don't have time to answer him because the train comes to a stop and waiting for us at the loading dock is a squad of eight peacekeepers.

"Really, you'd think we were all criminals." Effie huffs, exasperated at the sight of all the peacekeepers in their white suits, not to mention the armored truck they shove us into. It's just me, Peeta, Haymitch and Effie; the rest of our team is instructed to stay on board, as they will be provided with a device to watch the ceremony from the train.

'Not you Effie, just us.' Peeta tells me, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

We aren't in the truck for long when it stops in front of the Justice Building. The peacekeepers guide us inside, and it isn't long before I smell all the different foods they will be serving at the dinner. We continue walking, following in line with the peacekeepers. No matter how narrow the hallway becomes, I refuse to release my grip on Peeta's hand. Although, as frightened as I am, I can't help but be amazed at the same time. I can tell that their Justice Building, a huge, marbled structure was once a building of great beauty, but time and lack of care has not been kind to it.

"This way children, this way," Effie warbles, gripping her clipboard to her chest and leading us to what she calls the verandah. We walk and walk until the roof ends, between the front doors and set of stairs. We reach the top and wait behind a curtain where we listen to 11's mayor addressing his people as he introduces us. I try to remember everything Effie told me; about what to expect and when. I internally groan when it suddenly hits me how important her schedules actually are and make a mental note to be more appreciative of her in the future.

'The mayor will read a speech in our honor and then we will respond with a scripted speech. Then we can give our personal thanks, followed by the mayor giving us a plaque. We will smile and wave as we give each other googly-eyes and then head back into the Justice building where we will have dinner and dancing in our honor,' Peeta recites Effie's words back to me, to which I respond by giving him a smile with my eyes.

'Thank you. What would I do without you?'

'Not sure, probably get lost,' he smirks, causing the corners of my mouth to turn up in a sort of, half-smile.

"Big smiles!" Effie chimes as she pushes us through the curtain and onto the stage.

The sun is shining right in my eyes, but I can still make out the roped off section of a platform near the bottom of the stage reserved for the families of the dead tributes. Thresh and Rue's families, I say to myself. I am overwhelmed from the sun blazing in my eyes and the deafening sound of applause that seems to come from every direction. Out of nowhere, two little girls in pretty pink— matching dresses walk up to me and Peeta and hand us each a bouquet of flowers.

"Thank you." I tell the little girls, smiling before they walk away. Judging by the befuddled glances they share with each other; this only seems to confuse them. Peeta meets my eyes and just shrugs his shoulders. The mayor finishes his speech and hands the "floor" over to us. It's time for us to read our card.

Just like we rehearsed, and rehearse we did; a few times with Mom and Dad, with Prim, even Madge was a sounding board for us a few times. Because even before the president visited us, something in our gut told us we had to get this just right.

Peeta and I recite the scripted card the Capitol provided for us and the words are painful on my tongue. Like a lie. Who am I kidding, it is a lie. I can't even remember the words we are forced to say; something about honor and peace and proud to serve our country.

Bullshit. Nothing but lies, lies, lies! I'm screaming on the inside.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0

| Peeta |

"Katniss and I would like to begin by thanking you for welcoming us to your district," I begin, squeezing Katniss' hand for support. I feel like a traitor, as if I should be executed right here and now for the things the Capitol is forcing me to say. I can only hope Thresh and Rue's families can see past the façade and know that I don't want to say these things; that I do not mean them, that the Capitol is forcing me to recite these atrocious lies.

'Yeah, like they had any choice in the matter,' Katniss' brazen remark causes me to flash my eyes at her for a moment with a warning glance. I do not need any distractions right now; this is hard enough as it is, with my own voice in my head.

We finish reading the cards with no more facetious comments from Katniss and then it's time for us to give our personal thanks.

We both knew this wouldn't be easy, having distinct connections to the former tributes of 11; me with Rue and Katniss with Thresh. They were our allies after all. Not only that but we were both present when our friends died. I held sweet, tiny Rue in my arms, painting her a beautiful image of the perfect life for her as she drew her final breaths. And then, I decorated her in an array of flowers and weeds just before the hovercraft came to retrieve her body.

Why did I do that? What possessed me to do something of that caliber? Never in the history of the games has an opposing district expressed any kind of remorse from the death of a tribute from another district, allies or not. The pain from her death still feels so fresh, so vivid. And it only amplifies each time I recall the memory of holding Rue in my arms as she breathed her final breaths. And then . . . I felt nothing but pure unadulterated hatred at the sound of her cannon. I wanted . . . I wanted . . . if I am being completely honest with myself, I wanted to hold 'them' accountable for her death. For what they did, for what they made me do. I wanted everyone, not just the Capitol but everyone in Panem to see how Rue's death affected me so. I wanted them to feel it too. The pain inside was eating me alive and I needed to share it with someone, anyone.

And then there was Katniss with Thresh. She did the same, I guess. But I think what she did probably moved so many people, one-hundred times compared to my actions.

Suddenly, I see a flash of pink, most likely a reflection from the sun, but for some reason, it reminds me of Effie, and thus, reminds me of our short conversation just before we were pushed onto the stage.

"Now remember my darlings, no one will hold it against you if you choose to stand by the Capitol scripted speeches. But . . . well, since strong, proud, Thresh, and sweet, kind Rue were allies of yours, if you feel compelled to say a few rewarding comments for your thanks, well— you know what I mean. Go on, go on, you'll do great. Haymitch and I will meet you after!"

"You'll do fine sweetheart," Haymitch assured Katniss, most likely sensing her tension. As if we weren't stressed out and overwhelmed enough, he added, "Oh, and after the dinner, one of the families has requested an audience with you." I instantly felt Katniss freeze up from his words.

"What did you say?" She asked, needing clarification.

"Go on. You and Peeta have a show to put on," Haymitch dismisses her, shoving us onto the verandah; causing me to wonder if he knows something.

Thinking about Effie and Haymitch's words to us, I reach into my pocket for the card containing my 'personal thanks', but at the last minute I change my mind. It was as if Haymitch and Effie wanted us to speak our truths. I glance over to Katniss and squeeze her hand; I truly hope she will forgive me.

"I didn't know Thresh all that well, we only spent that first day together. But in that small amount of time, I knew that if we had met under different circumstances, he would have been someone I would have liked to have been friends with. Even though he threatened me when he first saw me, I knew it was only to protect Rue. I would have done the exact same if our roles had been reversed." I inhale a refreshing breath just as Katniss gives my hand a little squeeze, urging me to continue.

"Thresh . . . he was brave, he refused to play the Games by anyone's rules but his own and I respected that about him."

I grip onto Katniss' hand a little tighter and then fill my lungs up with oxygen as I fight back the tears pricking my eyes. "But Rue; she was my friend. She helped me and Katniss escape the careers, pulled us to safety and nursed us back to health. She could have left us there to die and won the games right then and there, but she didn't." I turn my body, pulling Katniss along with me and look into the eyes of Rue's entire family before I continue. Wanting, no, needing them to see the genuine sincerity in my eyes.

"Katniss and I are standing here today, only because of the beautiful, amazing and courageous daughter you raised; were raising. She was kind and she was thoughtful," I pause for a second, squeezing Katniss' hand once more and pulling her even closer, soaking up any courage she has to offer as I continue.

"I know this in no way makes up for the loss of your children, but as a token of our thanks, Katniss and I would like for each of the tributes families of District 11 to receive one month of our winnings for the duration of our lives. Thank you." I finish with a nod of my head, afraid to meet anyone's eyes.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0

| Gale |

"God-dammit, what the hell is her problem?!" I shout, slamming the toe of my boot into the trunk of a tree. "FUCK!" My voice echoes through the empty forest. When Vick said he saw Rye Mellark of all people walking into Madge's house . . . I don't know, something inside me just snapped. I could feel my blood boiling as I pictured the fucker pushing Madge up against the wall, slamming his mouth against hers and ramming his tongue down her throat. I'm not jealous, no— that's not it. I was just warning her. Madge is too trusting sometimes.

When I can no longer feel my toes, whether from the frigid temperatures or from kicking the tree, I figure it's time to go home. I'm not ready to face my mother, but she'll worry if I'm not back soon. Madge normally helps Ma with dinner but judging from the way she threw me out of her house the other night, I doubt I'll see her anytime soon. I don't know, maybe I should apologize.

"Hell no, forget that!" Although no one is listening, it feels good to stretch my vocal cords. "I'm not apologizing, Madge is the one who is wrong."

I open the door to my house and smile when Posie runs to me, wrapping her tiny arms around my neck. I pick her up and swing her around once before setting her back down. Within minutes of being inside my toes begin tingling from the warmth of the house and I wiggle them inside my socks. And the house smells so good. Like . . . like some kind of stew and . . . freshly baked bread. I look over to the kitchen and freeze in place when I see those golden curls bouncing in its usual ponytail. Madge.

'Well good. I bet she came here to apologize,' I think cockily to myself as I watch her and Ma whispering to each other while they stand over the hot stove. Even though I am mad at her, it warms my heart to see them together. But then, I'm not mad at her anymore; seeing her blend with my family so seamlessly melts all my anger away.

Madge is amazing, maybe the most amazing girl I've ever met. If this were Catnip, she'd refuse to come over and avoid me for days, maybe even weeks. But not Madge. I wonder if she is aware of how much she means to my family, and decided she wasn't going to let our fight interfere with her relationship with them. This girl . . . she is incredible.

I walk over to the sink and wash my hands. Then, I shake the excess water off before drying the rest on a towel. Casually, I sidestep next to Ma and place a kiss on her cheek.

"You're home late, is everything okay?" Ma asks me. Madge's blue eyes flash up to mine, burning with rage; and my god is she sexy when she's mad.

"Yeah, I just . . . needed some air." Okay, so apparently Madge didn't tell Ma about our fight. "Uh, Madge, can I talk to you for a minute . . . privately?"

"We're cooking right now Gale. Maybe after dinner if there's time." She snaps at me. Shit, she's mad. I've got to talk to her and make her see reason.

Madge interacts with my family as if nothing is amiss, smiling and nodding to me at all the appropriate times, but refuses to speak to me. Once dinner is over, she helps clean up, reads Posie a bedtime story and then rushes out the door to go home. Okay, clearly, she doesn't want to talk to me right now.

Fine! If she wants to be stubborn, two can play at that game.

Once all the kids are in bed, it's just me and Ma in the living room.

"So, what's going on with you and Madge? I couldn't help but notice some tension between you two tonight." I'm sitting on the couch, slumped over with my elbows digging into my knees as I hide my face in my hands.

"I'm sure she already told you everything, so go ahead, take her side." I grumble through my hands.

"Actually Gale, she didn't say anything." I snap my head up to meet Ma's eyes.

"She didn't?" Ma shakes her head.

"So, what happened?"

"Well . . . it was the other day . . . I got home from work and Vick told me he saw Rye Mellark at her house. And um . . . I told her he was bad news, that she shouldn't have him over."

"Did you tell her, in your opinion, that it wasn't a good idea, or did you demand that she not have him over there?"

"She did talk to you, didn't she?"

"No Gale, she didn't. But you have a tendency to be a little um . . . demanding at times. And . . . I like to think I've gotten to know Madge pretty well over the last few months, and . . . maybe I'm going out on a limb here, but I don't see Madge as the type of girl who takes kindly at being told what to do."

"That's the understatement of the year." I mumble.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Ma implores, inching a little closer.

"So, you're taking her side?" I ask defensively, not wanting to repeat myself.

"No, that's not what I am saying. What I am trying to say is that maybe you should talk to her, have a calm, reasonable conversation, and maybe you should just tell her how you feel. If Rye is a bad guy and you're just worried for her safety, then tell her that. But if you're, oh, I don't know, jealous; then perhaps you should tell her that too."

"I am NOTjealous. Of that jerk; yeah right." I huff, storming out of the living room and into my room. Vick and Rory are sleeping together on the bottom bunk of their beds, as usual, which causes a smile to form on my lips when I see them curled up into each other.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0

| Katniss |

You would never know how nervous Peeta is from the expression he wears; he is a vision of strength, bravery and courage. I only know how scared and nervous he is because . . . because, well, I know him.

My eyes are trained on him, silent tears streaming down my face. There are gasps and whispers in the audience. Never in the history of the games has a victor ever offered any amount of their winnings away. I couldn't love him more in this moment than I do. Yet, I do. He never ceases to amaze me. With each word that comes out of his mouth, I love him more and more.

As sharp as the pain cuts my heart, and Peeta's heart too, I know that we're doing it. We're doing what President Snow wants, we're proving our love for the other in front of all of Panem. Or, at least, I hope so. I know it's unconventional, and probably not at all what President Snow expected, but if he and everyone else cannot see the love emanating from my body, then nothing is going to show them.

I cannot even wrap my mind around how much money "one month of our winnings" actually is. Unable to deal with much else when I first came home, I pawned the responsibility of my winnings off to my parents, but even I know that one month of a victor's earnings could easily feed a family of four, or even more, for at least a year. Although there is nothing that could ever replace Thresh and Rue to their families, we just changed their lives for all times. As long as Peeta and I live, they will not hunger.

Of all the times we rehearsed our speeches, this was not in a single one of them. Which leads me to believe that this was a spontaneous decision he made. I even remember on a few occasions, overhearing Peeta running his speeches by Effie, her wanting to make sure he said all the right things. I wonder if she knew about this and then think better of it. If I didn't know about it, I seriously doubt he would have confided in her; on the off chance that she would have told him no.

'I'm sorry Katniss, I know this wasn't what we talked about, but . . . it just felt like the right thing to do.' I squeeze Peeta's hand in a show of support just as a deafening applause erupts from the crowd followed by the mayor returning to the stage and handing us each a plaque. It is so big, I have to set my flowers down on an empty chair.

When I resume my position by Peeta's side, I see Thresh's family, his sister glaring at me. Even though the money was a lovely gesture, she is not happy. Is she mad at me? I didn't kill Thresh, so why— but then it hits me; she wants to hear what I have to say. After what I did for him in the arena, if I remain silent now, then it means nothing.

"Wait—" I shout.

"Please . . . wait, I want to give my thanks to the tributes of District 11." I say, squeezing the plaque against my chest. Even though our allotted time is over the mayor gives me a kind smile and nods, extending his arm out in an offer to hold my plaque while I step up to the center of the stage. My eyes meet Peeta's, pleading with him to accompany me. I absolutely can NOT do this without him by my side.

I squeeze Peeta's hand even tighter, facing Rue's family first. "Rue; I . . . I didn't know her as well as Peeta did, but I cherished the short time I did spend with her. She was kind, sweet, compassionate and a nurturer at heart. But Rue— she reminds me of everything beautiful. I see her in the yellow flowers that grow in the meadow near my house. I hear her in the mockingjay's that sing in the trees. But most of all, I see her in my little sister. From the first moment I saw her, when they called her name at the reaping; I saw my sister in her. She was a beautiful girl, inside and out, and it wasn't fair that she died. I'm sorry I couldn't save her." One of Rue's sister's gives me a smile and I return it, wiping the tear from my cheek as I prepare myself to face Thresh's family.

"I wish we could have found Thresh after the tracker jacker's nest fell. He was a great person. And like Peeta, I respected him from the moment I first met him, when the career's invited him into their alliance and he refused. I'm sorry I couldn't save him, I really wanted to. He loved Rue like a sister. I think . . . I think I understood him; I saw myself in his fierce determination to protect Rue. And he loved his family; he adored his "Pretty Penny." He told me so on many occasions." I look at the little girl standing next to Thresh's mother, most likely Penny. I do a double take, my eyes landing back on the woman I think is Thresh's mother and wonder if her name is Roberta.

No, it couldn't possibly be, it was just a dream Katniss. I chide silently, urging myself to continue.

"Thresh was a model of bravery and courage. If only half the people in the world aspired to be even remotely as brave and courageous as Thresh was, I think the world could be a happier place. After we came home, Peeta told me how Thresh saved him at the feast. That Thresh refused to come back with him, insisting that Peeta hurry back to me with my medicine, with a promise to hold Cato off. He sacrificed his life for us, and for that, I . . . we can never repay that debt." I pause for a second, turning my head to meet Peeta's eyes, and then it's as if someone takes over my body as I take a deep breath and open my mouth. And then . . . it's like I am not in control of my body as the words escape my lips. And it's like . . . almost as if Thresh is standing next to me, whispering into my ear because I have never heard these lyrics before.

Ooh-ooh-ooh

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

Somewhere over the rainbow

Way up high

And the dreams that you dream of

Once in a lullaby, oh

Somewhere over the rainbow

Mockingjays fly

And the dreams that you dream of

Dreams really do come true-ooh-ooh

Someday I'll wish upon a star

Wake up where the clouds are far behind me

Where trouble melts like lemon drops

High above the chimney tops that's where

You'll find me, oh

Somewhere over the rainbow

Mockingjays fly

And the dream that you dare to

Oh why, oh why can't I? I

Someday I'll wish upon a star

Wake up where the clouds are far behind me

Where trouble melts like lemon drops

High above the chimney top that's where you'll find me

Oh, somewhere over the rainbow way up high

And the dream that you dare to

Why, oh why can't I? I

Ooh-ooh-ooh

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

Ooh-ooh

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

Ooh-ah-ah-eh-ah

Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah

"That's all; thank you for your children and thank you for sending Peeta the bread." I tell everyone after an awkward moment of silence.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0

| Cinna |

Portia and I, along with both of our teams are huddled in what we have named the "Star Car", the car at the far end of the train, the one with the windows that disappear into the ceiling as we watch the ceremony from the little hand-held device the peacekeeper's supplied us with.

"Our Girl on Fire has impeccable talent," I whisper to Portia who has tears in her eyes from the song Katniss sang.

"That's all; thank you for your children and thank you for sending Peeta the bread." Katniss smiles, letting everyone know she is done.

"What was that? Did someone just whistle?" Artemis asks when we hear the familiar four-note tune from our kids' time in the arena. The camera scans the audience until it zooms in on an old man. He wears a faded red shirt with overalls, looking as if he will probably return to work once the show is over.

And then, what happens next cannot be a coincidence as it happens in almost perfect synchronicity; everyone kisses the first three fingers of their left hand and extends their arm out. I distinctly recall seeing this action performed by the citizens of 12 at Katniss and Peeta's reaping, in addition to seeing the pair performing this act as separate entities when both Rue and Thresh died in the arena. It is some type of gesture of either thank you, or goodbye; or perhaps both.

Portia's head snaps up, her eyes locking on mine, the fear for this man's life prevalent in her expression. "This is not good," she mouths to me.

"Well, this is what Haymitch wanted, for them to be their own person," I whisper into Portia's ear.

"I'm not quite certain this is what he was referring to, I don't think he was expecting them to be so . . . moving."

Portia and I watch the kids, the fear is discernable in their eyes as well. Katniss looks as if she knows something bad just happened, and she wishes to do something, say something— anything to neutralize the situation. However, they are ushered off the stage and the mayor takes over.

I'm sure she only wished to give her thanks, to truly, genuinely show the families of the deceased tributes how deep her grief runs, but I fear she and Peeta, together, have elicited something dangerous. An act of dissent from the people of 11. After the events of today, there is no going back; not that there was before anyway.

I can't help but remember my time in 13 and how adamant Coin was that the strong-willed, stubborn, defiant girl from 12 would be well worth our time. And as much as I despise the woman and everything she stands for; I can't help but think she was right. Except she forgot one thing: Peeta. When you put them together, they create something beautiful, something exceptional; something rebellious.

Katniss and Peeta are ushered off the stage, but I keep the device gripped firmly in my hands.

"Cinna?" Portia says and I give a slight shake of my head. I have a very bad feeling about what is to come, just as Portia does.

I have no doubt that the live feed to the districts has been severed, but we have devices that belong in 11, which means we see the entire scene play out before us.

Hand in hand, Katniss and Peeta re-emerge onto the stage just in time to see the peacekeepers dragging the old man; the same one who whistled onto the front of the stage. The old man is frail, probably in his seventies, yet it takes four peacekeepers to slam him to his knees. I'm sure their dragging him to the exact spot Katniss and Peeta were standing only mere moments ago was no accident, as one of the white-uniformed guards pulls his gun out, pressing the barrel to the old man's forehead—

"Nooo!" Portia inadvertently shouts, pulling herself into my arms and burying her face in my shoulder.

Katniss is screaming hysterically, "NO! WHAT— WHY— He was— he was just remembering Rue!" As she attempts to run to the man while Peeta holds her back. They disappear back through the curtain and the peacekeepers drag two more innocent souls to the center of the stage.

It is not a moment too soon before their lives are ended, sharing the same fate as the old man.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0

| Haymitch |

"I know this in no way makes up for the loss of your children, but as a token of our thanks, Katniss and I would like for each of the tributes families of District 11 to receive one month of our winnings for the duration of our lives. Thank you." I cannot help the smile that forms on my lips when I hear the boy's words through the speaker. I turn when I hear Effie gasp in shock and see her hand secured firmly over her mouth.

"C-can he do that?"

I chuckle and say, "I don't know but he just did." The word proud does not even begin to describe the insurmountable waves of joy that soars through my body at his words. Damn, he's good, I think to myself as Effie stands nervously, trembling as she listens to the ceremony.

'Take that Snow!' I silently smirk, and then, 'Up yours!'

The applause coming from the tiny handheld speaker in my hands makes me think the ceremony is over and a pang of disappointment washes through me when I don't hear any comments from the girl. Surely, she's not going to let their deaths go un-thanked; it's just not in her nature. Victor or not, her Seam pride runs deep; Yeah, I would be one to know.

As soon as the thought crosses my mind, the tiny device in my hand projects the girls voice, "Wait! Please . . . wait, I want to give my thanks to the tributes of District 11."

She thanks both families, basically a replica of the boy's words, adding a few personal comments about Thresh's sister. And then she does something completely out of character; she sings. It's a beautiful song, something about rainbows, mockingjay's, dreams and lemons. It's not a song native to 12, or maybe it is, and I've just never heard it; but wherever it came from, it's beautiful.

"Damn. Sweetheart's got pipes." I blurt out, causing Effie's face to contort into a fierce scowl.

"Please Haymitch. Must you be so vulgar every waking moment of your day?" She nearly growls at me.

"That's all, thank you for your children, and thank you for sending Peeta the bread." Sweetheart says once her song is over.

"Come on Trinkie, let's head out so we can meet them." Effie follows me down the hallway until we're in the room we were instructed to wait for our victor's in. Effie jumps and grabs onto my hand, startled by the sound of a gunshot we hear in the distance. Heat flashes through my body, my heart speeding up from the anticipation.

"What the hell?" I mumble, looking all around hoping I don't find my kids lying dead somewhere.

"Do you think something is wrong? They should have returned by now." Effie asks after patiently waiting for the kids to get back. Finally, I catch sight of the white uniformed guards coming around the corner and then see they are following closely behind my kids and I don't like it. Nor do I miss the terrified expressions painting Katniss and Peeta's faces, and I sure as hell don't like how close those damn peacekeepers are. Something's wrong, something isn't right, I can just feel it. I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding when the white-uniformed peacekeepers shove the kids in the room with us and slams the door behind them.

They look utterly terrified.

"What happened?" Effie asks, prancing over to the kids with a smile on her face but I'm pretty sure she's already figured it out. That woman is a hell of a lot smarter than I ever gave her credit for, not that I'll admit it though. Not out loud, anyway.

"Nothing Effie, a truck backfired, is all," Peeta lies to Effie. And then we hear two more gunshots.

"Come on, you two with me. NOW." I demand, grabbing the boys arm and dragging them into the next room. I rip the mics from their shirts and stuff them under a couch cushion. Just like the last time I was here, I lead the four of us up a magnificent curved, marble staircase that opens up into a long corridor, the carpet still looks as worn as it did the last time I saw it.

Twenty-five years later and I still remember the way. 'It's not like you could ever forget,' I remind myself, recalling the harrowing events that followed. I glance over my shoulder when I hear the click, clack of Effie's six-inch-high heels clicking against the floor, to see that she's lagging behind.

"Give me your shoes," I assert once she's caught up with us. She doesn't question me; no smart-ass remarks about improper blah, blah, blah, she just hands them over. Using the boy's shoulder to keep her balance steady, she removes her shoes, one at a time. I take her shoes, stuffing them into the pockets of my jacket as we continue our trek. Finally, we enter a pair of opened double doors. The ceiling must be at least twenty feet high with designs of fruit and a variety of flowers carved into the walls. And then there are the chubby little winged babies staring at us from every which way, kind of giving me the creeps.

One look in this room and you can see it has clearly been prepared for the kids, but I just keep walking; every few seconds looking back to make sure everyone is still following close behind. We go through a maze of staircases and hallways until finally, we reach the trap door. I push the door aside and we ascend the ladder, and then at last, we are in the dome of the Justice Building. It looks as if no one has been here since my last visit, I think I even recognize some of the broken furniture and rusty weapons. Once Katniss, Peeta and Effie are all safely inside, I turn to my kids and say, "What happened?"

I notice the confused glances the kids share regarding Effie's presence and then the girl opens her mouth to speak, but her words seem to get stuck in her throat. The realization of everything must have just hit her because in no time, she is hysterical.

"Oh my god, oh my god, what did I do, what did we do? They killed him; the peacekeepers killed that man! President Snow— he's going to— oh god, we didn't do what he said, oh my god, oh my god!" One right after the other, the words just tumble out of her mouth.

I shake my head in confusion, trying to make sense of her words. "Wait a minute, wait a minute, slow down. Who did the peacekeepers kill? And what about President Snow? What the hell is going on?"

"We . . . we got that man killed!" Katniss is still frantic, so the boy takes over.

"I said my thanks, and then . . . we were about to leave, but . . . and then— Katniss said hers too." I roll my hand in a motion for him to hurry up and get on with it, because I already know all this. "She sang a song to remember Thresh; and then— the man— he whistled Rue's four-note tune. We were ushered off stage and then Katniss remembered she forgot her flowers. That's when we saw it— the peacekeeper's had the man on his knees in front of everyone with a gun to his forehead . . . and then . . . that's when we heard— saw the gunshot— they killed him." Peeta explains to me, clearly still shaken up.

"Oh heavens!" Effie exclaims, using her hand to conceal her shocked expression.

"What are you not telling me?" The boy looks down to his prosthesis and then back to me, as if to remind me about the bug in his leg.

"Doesn't work anymore."

"Are you sure?" He inquires with a lift of his brow.

"Positive. Got confirmation from someone on the inside," I assure him.

And then he tells us everything. About Snow's visit to them and his demands. About sweetheart promising to calm the districts. About his threat to Prim and the rest of their families. The more he speaks, the angrier I become. I reach inside my jacket pocket for my flask only to find it empty.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me this sooner?" I press, glaring at him; if I had all the information, I wouldn't have been so adamant about them disregarding the cards; maybe.

"I— I meant to; I was . . . I was planning to stop by your house after I left the bakery, but I . . . got sidetracked. And then . . . there wasn't time."

"What the hell was so important to make you forget about something like this?"

"I um . . . I had a little run in with my mother," The boy explains contritely, but he doesn't need to say any more. I feel my features soften as I place a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry kid," is all I say.

Somehow, I find myself pacing back and forth as I try to wrap my head around everything. I wanted the kids to speak from their hearts, but I didn't imagine this happening. I didn't think their words would cause this much movement. This is good . . . and this is bad.

"This is all my fault . . . if I hadn't offered the money . . . if I had just read the cards like I was supposed to . . ." the boy begins.

"No, Peeta, it was my fault. I . . . I shouldn't have sung the song. Then, that man wouldn't have whistled, and then—"

"No Peeta, it was me, Snow told me—"

"STOP IT!" Effie thunders out of nowhere. She had been so quiet, I almost forgot she was here. "My apologies for the outburst, but the two of you are being rather fallacious," she says politely, inching herself a little closer to the kids.

"What?" They reply in unison, followed by a, "Huh?"

"President Snow would have found an excuse— any excuse to go back on his word to you," she turns to face Peeta and rests her hand on his shoulder with a gentle smile. "There is no way in Panem that he would allow the two of you to live your lives out of the Capitol's grasp. You're much too valuable to him. Not having the only pair of victor's at the Quarter Quell their first year as mentors would be like admitting you two had pulled one over on him. Trust me when I say not only will the two of you be at those Games, but you will also be the stars of the show."

She pauses for a moment, turning to Katniss with that same gentle smile. "First of all, Katniss, my beautiful girl, you sing like an angel. That was the most captivating thing I think I may have ever heard."

"Um . . . thanks," Sweetheart squirms in place, uncomfortable from the compliment.

"But Katniss darling, I know you are worried for the safety of your sister, but . . . hmmm," Effie humms, placing her hand up to her chin, thinking.

"How shall I phrase this? There was this saying, long, long ago, that says, "You don't make deals with the devil," and another one that goes, "We do not negotiate with terrorists." You cannot trust that man with any promises he has made, he was only telling you what you wanted to hear. Asking you to placate the districts . . . I fear he is just trying to keep you . . . us busy; with what, that is to be determined."

She turns back to Peeta, "And you; asking you not to be who you are is simply preposterous; as if asking the sun not to shine and Snow knows it. He is simply trying to play you against each other, and you cannot allow that to happen. Now, there will be no more secrets, is that clear? Secrets are a great way to get your loved ones killed." She affirms, taking a step back so that she can make eye contact with all of us and says, "Now, is there anything else we need to get out in the open?" She insinuates, glancing back and forth between me and the boy.

"Perhaps something pertaining to a prior obligation from the arena?" She finishes and I immediately know what she's talking about. Shit. She's not really going to bring that up, is she? Effie crosses her arms and taps her toe against the floor. And even though her shoes are still in my pocket, for some reason, I can still hear the condescending 'tap-tap' sound in my head.

The boy must know what she is getting at as well, because he's averting his eyes down to his shoes, which causes the girl to tense up.

"What about the arena? What did you do?" She demands, gritting her teeth and glaring into my eyes.

"Not Haymitch, me. I um . . . I made Haymitch promise me that if something happened . . . if anything changed and he couldn't get both of us out of there, to promise me that he would make sure you got out of there."

"You did WHAT?" Sweetheart yells at the boy, glaring daggers at him and the phrase, 'If looks could kill,' comes to mind.

"I'm sorry Katniss, I just wanted . . . I had to make sure you made it back home."

There is an uncomfortable silence and I wonder if the kids are doing their 'silent talking' thing again. Effie's eyes meet mine in a questioning glare and I wonder if she's beginning to pick up on their silent form of communication.

"Now, is there anything else anyone would like to get out in the open?" Effie chirps and then everyone is shaking their heads from side to side.

"Okay then, I suggest we get out of here before our absence goes unnoticed and they send a search party after us."

Just before we reach the trapdoor, Effie stops us and says in a hushed whisper, "It goes without saying that none of us saw what happened to that man today." Shocked by her words, the kid's eyes snap up to Effie's.

"Do I make myself clear?" She asks them, to which they respond with a sharp nod of their heads. "Good, let's go. Oh, and Haymitch, would you be so kind as to return my shoes to me once we reach the bottom of this contraption."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0

| Rye |

"Son, what are you doing here at this hour?" Dad opens the door to Peeta's house, his eyes wide with bewilderment. Rightfully so, since it's the wee hours of the night.

"Dad, I— I can't stay there anymore, I don't want to, I can't stand her!" I tell my father and he widens the door for me to enter. He invites me inside and I toss my bag in the foyer on our way to the kitchen table. Dad grabs some cups from the cabinet and pours us each a glass of tea.

"Of course, you can stay here, but what happened?" Dad is staying at Peeta's house while he waits for his dwelling to be ready, and for the divorce to get finalized. I add a few sugar cubes to my tea and stir them around while I think about where to begin. When I gave Dad the key to Peeta's, he invited me to stay with him. I should have just come right then, but I don't know . . . I guess I felt guilty for leaving my mother all alone in our house. I take a sip of my tea and wait for it to warm my body, and then I tell him everything.

I start with my run in with Madge the day she gave me Peeta's key. I don't leave a single detail out, including my suspicions about something larger at play here.

As I'm staring at the ceiling, trying to shut my mind off from the day's events, my head perks up when I hear voices downstairs. I already knew one of the voices belonged to Mother, but I wanted to know who she was talking to this late at night. So, I tiptoed down the stairs.

I didn't even need to place my ear against the door when I heard, "Why is it that all I ever seem to hear is Peeta, Peeta, Peeta? Peeta this, and Peeta that, and oh; let's not forget about that Seam tramp, Katniss he's always with."

That's when I heard a man's voice, and I immediately recognized it as my brother, Graham. It's been ages since he's been to the bakery, so to say I was shocked to hear his voice was definitely an understatement.

"I know Mom, I'm sorry. I still can't believe he said all that stuff to Katniss in that little 'love nest' of theirs in the games."

Their words caused my stomach to sour; my dinner threatening to come back up. I hate it when they trash talk Peeta.

"It's sickening, that's what it is. Your father and Rye— they're sucked in and believe that boys lies. Well, at least I have you." Mother says and I can just picture her pulling him in for a hug and kissing the top of his head. Graham: the golden son who, in Mother's eyes, can do no wrong.

I couldn't take it anymore, I was so sick of the two of them constantly ganging up on Peeta, not to mention Dad. I burst through the doors, catching them at the table with a platter of what looked like sliced French bread, and from the pleasant aromas wafting up my nose, there was no denying that it was fresh.

Narrowing my eyes, I glared at them accusingly, "The two of you should be ashamed of yourselves. First of all, every word Peeta said in that cave was true and you know it. The two of you are playing the victim and that's just despicable. Peeta was in the Games; you know, that place where you fight to the death. And instead of being proud and relieved that your son made it home, that 12 got not one, but TWO victor's for the first time, you are punishing him for things that were completely out of his control! Both of you sicken me— if you want people to stop gawking at you, maybe you should confess to your wrong-doings. And . . . and I don't doubt for a second that Peeta would happily share his wealth with you if you didn't treat him like a scab on your knee." I paused for a moment so that I could get right up in Graham's face.

"And you— how can you be so blind to this woman's abuse all these years. Where do you think Peeta got all those blackened eyes? The sprained wrists, the twisted ankles, and all those burns. He sure as hell didn't get it from being clumsy, or from wrestling. If you can't see what's right in front of you, then you're dumber than I ever gave you credit for."

"Rye—" Graham begins, but I hold my hand up to stop him. No, I didn't want to hear any more of his or Mother's lame excuses.

"No, I don't want to hear it. I'm outta here." I exclaim, racing out of the kitchen and into my room to pack up.

"And well— well . . . and now I'm here." I look up to meet my dad's eyes and he looks more worried than I've ever seen him before.

"Rye, I . . . come on son, let's take a walk. There is something I should probably tell you," Dad says, guiding us down the stairs.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0

| Katniss |

We find our way back to the Justice Building and it's as if we never left. No one seems to be looking for us, which I guess is a good thing. Peeta and I mingle with the important people of 11 at Haymitch's behest. We are swaying to the music in the middle of the dance floor when someone pulls us to the side. I think Haymitch said his name was Chaff.

"If you'll come with me, Mr. Mellark," the man says, dragging Peeta away.

"It's okay Miss Everdeen— Katniss, if you will follow me," the woman— she looks oddly familiar tells me, and for some reason I trust her. Her eyes are kind and her voice gentle.

My instincts should be emitting a "fear" signal, but I know that Haymitch trusts these people, so I decide to go with it. She leads us through a maze, unlike the one Haymitch took us through earlier, but somehow, we end up back at that same trapdoor; I wonder how Haymitch even knew about it in the first place? Did someone bring him here on his Victory Tour?

"KATNISS!" Peeta shouts my name the moment the door is shut and I find myself back in the safety of his arms.

Once we pull away from our embrace, the relief of laying our eyes on each other passing, I glare at Haymitch, seething with anger and demand, "What the hell is going on?"

"Sorry sweetheart, it was the only way to get you both out of there unnoticed, and at the same time. You guys remember Seeder and Chaff, my ole' buddies." Haymitch begins, placing an arm over Chaff's shoulder.

It all comes crashing back to me, Seeder visiting me in the hospital when I first woke up from the arena. "And this here," Haymitch pauses, placing a gentle hand on the woman next to Seeder, "is—"

"What a pleasure it is to meet you Katniss and Peeta, I'm Roberta—" She says, extending her hand out to Peeta.

"R- Ro— are y-you— Th- Thresh's mother?" I don't mean to cut her off; I am just . . . wildly astonished. Peeta accepts her hand, giving it a firm shake, followed with a bemused expression.

Can it— no, it's not possible, it must be a coincidence. I am half expecting Roberta to extend her hand to me, but she doesn't. Instead, she engulfs me in a hug, and instantly, I tense up even more.

"Yes, how did you know? Better yet, how did you know about my boy's favorite song?"

That's when I remember Haymitch saying the families requested an audience with us; this must be 'that.'

"I— I don't know. I had this dream, and then when I was up there— on the s-stage and I— I just . . . I don't know. I don't know how to explain it." I stumble through my explanation, confounded and bewildered; unsure if it even makes any sense.

Surprisingly, she nods as if she understands and then I notice Haymitch pulling Chaff and Seeder to the side to give us some privacy and for a moment, I wonder if Rue's family is somewhere nearby.

"Katniss, will you please tell me of your dream? What did my Threshie say to you?"

'She asks you as if he was really there; do you think—' Peeta silently inquires, amused by her persistence.

'I don't know, I mean . . . maybe?'

If someone had asked me this question a year ago, I would have written them off as certifiable. But Peeta and I talk to each other in our heads; if that's possible, then . . . maybe.

"I don't know, it was all so fast and confusing. We were—" I pause as I try to retain the memory of my dream. "We were in . . . it was like a meadow or something, but it smelled like—"

"Apples?" Roberta speculates with a hopeful gleam in her eye.

How does she know so much? I wonder and then force my attention back to Roberta. "Yeah, apples. And it was beautiful; so beautiful, it was . . . absolutely breathtaking. The trees were endless and seemed to stretch for miles and miles on end. And Thresh— he was so excited to see me and . . . he looked good. No, he looked better than good, he looked great; happy, healthy, almost glowing. He um—" I pause, placing my finger up to my chin as I try to recall what happened next, not wanting to leave out a single detail.

"He invited me to sit with him on a bench. He asked me to find you, and said it was really important that I find you and that your name was Roberta and to tell you . . . I hope this makes more sense to you than it does to me, but he said he found the rainbow—" I spit the words out dubiously, almost afraid that I sound insane. But Roberta's eyes glisten with so much hope, clasping her hands together, a smile on her face as a tear glides down her cheek; this obviously means something to her.

"H-he found the rainbow and it's more beautiful than he imagined— or maybe than you said, or described— I'm sorry, I wrote it down, but I left it in my other shirt." I admit to her apologetically.

Roberta closes the distance between us and pulls me into another hug. "And the song? Where do you know that song from?" She beseeches, soaking up my every word.

"I— I don't know. I just . . . after I said my thanks, I just . . . I don't know, it's like something else took over me. I don't think I've ever even heard those lyrics before in my life. Have you . . . do you know that song?"

Roberta nods, the tears still glistening in her eyes, "Yes, it was Threshie's favorite song as a little boy."

"And . . . my dream, it made sense to you? You know what my 'Dream Thresh' meant about the rainbow and its colors?"

"Yes, dear. You see, a long time ago, a time before the Dark Days, there was this thing called 'religion'," I nod, giving her my full and undivided attention. I recognize the word, remembering it being said in school a few times. "There were many different ones, but the basis of it was belief in a higher power; that once your physical body completed its journey on Earth,"

'Earth, Earth, where have I heard that word before?' I ask myself while trying to follow along with Roberta's words.

'It's what Panem was called before the Dark Days,' Peeta informs me.

"That your soul moves into a place called 'Heaven.' Heaven was believed to be a magical place, but more than that, it was perfect, divinity at its best. It was warm and inviting and everything you always wanted. There was no war, only peace and happiness. It was beautiful and miraculous. I used to tell Threshie, mostly to ease his fear of the games, that when a person died a rainbow would appear. The colors so beautiful, so alluring, drawing you toward it. You could not help but be compelled to walk into it, it's warmth so inviting. And once you made it to the rainbow, all of your friends and loved ones who have already made their own journey there would be waiting for you, inviting you to join them where you would spend eternity together. I used to explain the magnificent colors to him, so I think . . . I think it means that Threshie has found peace."

'This 'heaven' sounds like a really amazing place,' Peeta's words echo in my head.

"So . . . you think Katniss' dream was really Thresh?" Peeta asks, sucked into Roberta's story as much as me.

"Oh, I don't know anything for certain. Who's to say what we are able to know while our mind is at rest? The subconscious is a mysterious thing." Roberta says, smiling and wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Thank you, Katniss, for sharing this with me, I cannot imagine how difficult it must be for the two of you."

"I . . . I don't understand, how do you not hate us? If it weren't for us, Thresh might have made it back home to you."

"No Katniss, please do not think that way. If Thresh could not come home, I know he would have wanted it to be you two. You guys are special, you—" Roberta moves in closer to me and Peeta, "You guys are going to change Panem, you are, after all, the mockingjay and the jabberjay," she whispers to us.

"Hey guys, we need to start heading back," Haymitch tells us.

"There is one last thing I must say before we part ways; what you did for my boy in the arena Katniss, thank you. Thank you so much; Penny and I, we will never forget your actions, and there are many of us on your side," she pauses and turns to face Peeta, "And you too Peeta."

We split up on our way back to the Justice Building, I'm guessing it would look suspicious if we all returned at the same time. Peeta and I are still too shocked for verbal speech; having a conversation of our own where no one can hear us.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0

| Madge |

"What in the world are you doing, or do I even want to know?" I walk into the Everdeen's home to see Prim sitting on the sofa, her knees pulled up to her chest; sewing a . . . is that a banana?

"Practicing these sutures," she says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world; all the while, never breaking her gaze with the piece of fruit.

"On a banana?"

"Mmm hmm," she hums, nodding; refusing to allow my presence break her concentration.

"Why?" I ask her; my face scrunched up in confusion.

"Because, if you do it just right, when the wound heals it won't leave a scar."

"Okay, yeah. I was right, I didn't want to know. Is um . . . is your dad here?" I finally ask, hoping she is too immersed in her banana to question my presence, or why I am requesting an audience with her father.

"Yeah, he's in the den with Mom."

"Okay, I . . . I'll uh . . . let you get back to your banana."

"Oh— hey Madge!"

"Yeah?" I call out to her, tensing up. I pause in my tracks, almost afraid of what she is going to say.

'Please don't ask why I'm here, please don't ask why I'm here, please—'

"There is some goat cheese in the ice box for you; don't forget it when you leave." My body immediately relaxes, and I can breathe again at her sweet, kind and simple gesture.

The corners of my lips curve up, "Thank you Prim," I tell her, surprised that she remembered.

"Don't thank me, thank Lady."

Proceeding to my destination, I tap lightly on the door that leads to the den, "Come in!" Mr. Everdeen yells. Timidly, I slowly open the door and see Dylan sitting in his chair at the office desk while Lilly is perched on top of it. My body tenses up when I think it's another light enhancer, but then I realize it's a flashlight. One of the medical kinds and she's beaming the light into Dylan's eyes. Maybe it's an eye exam?

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting?"

"Oh, no. Lil and I were just talking. Is everything okay Madge?" He asks me with a quizzical lift of his brow.

"Um . . . Do you have a minute? I need someone to talk to . . . but it's kind of . . ." I stutter as my eyes meet the ceiling in hopes he understands that I can't have the Capitol privy to our conversation. "— sensitive," my eyes land on my hands by the time I finish, twiddling my thumbs and hoping he understands my unspoken message.

"I've got some things I need to take care of. But— we are not done," Lilly glares at Dylan, hopping off the desk and then plants a kiss to his cheek. "Come and find me when you guys are done," she says before disappearing out the door and waving me goodbye.

Dylan pulls his hand out of his pocket and my eyes go saucer-eyed when they land on the object pinched between his fingers, "OH MY GOD! Where did you get that?" I exclaim, noticing the similarities to the coin in his hand and the one my dad left for me.

Dylan places a finger to his lips, and I nod in assent.

I obey unblinkingly, followed by a brief moment of silence while he does something to the coin, and then he finally speaks, "Poppy gave me this coin . . . it disrupts the Capitol's surveillance. Why do you ask?"

"So, that's what it does!" I bellow with excitement. "I um . . . I found one that looks just like that in a box my dad left for me. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what it did, or if it even did anything. But I knew it had to be important if he left it for me."

"Yeah, that sounds like something Ric would have done," Dylan smiles at the memory of my dad and I pinch my forearm to quell the stinging behind my eyes. "The only drawback is you only have five minutes," he explains. Oh. If I only have five minutes, then I better get to the point.

"And you're certain it's secure?"

"Absolutely. What's wrong Madge?" He frowns.

"I um . . ." I tell him everything about the other day. The day at the mayor's house during Kizzie's piano lessons; the conversation between Poppy and Raven that I overheard. I omit the details of my new "Pen Pal," not sure if it's even relevant. I wonder if he is even aware of the 'book', and how many of us, 'rebels' have one. I'm guessing there are at least two in each district.

I skipped school today; not ready to face Rye. I wouldn't have known what to tell him and I feel like I need some answers of my own before I share any information with him.

"Goddammit! Raven must know something, but what?" Dylan jumps up from his seat and begins pacing, tugging on the ends of his hair as he mumbles something unintelligible to himself.

"So, you know what it means?" I ask him.

Judging by the dumbfounded expression painted on his face, he seems to have forgotten about my presence in the room.

"Not exactly. Madge, you can be honest with me; I promise I won't be upset. Have you told anyone what you've heard? Anyone at all?"

"No, I was too afraid," I tell him unblinkingly, shaking my head from side to side, "it's why I came over here to talk to you because it was driving me mad!" I leave the part out about my fight with Gale and how we haven't spoken in days, not that it would matter anyway.

"Good. Good. Madge, I need you to sit tight. You absolutely cannot speak a word of this to anyone!" He stresses, causing me to believe that the situation is much more dire than I initially believed.

I draw the curtains and lock my door as soon as I get home, grabbing a pillow and blanket from my room and settle in on the couch. Closing my eyes, I replay the events from earlier.

Just as my pen was about to meet the paper, the light enhancer began to vibrate, the signal of an incoming message. Clicking the top of the pen to activate the light, I began reading the words as they came in.

'Do you know where Nick is? I haven't heard from in hours and I'm getting anxious. He promised he would answer if I used this book. Oh, Mags, I am so scared; my heart is racing, my head is spinning; it feels as if tiny little bugs are crawling just beneath my skin. I see those little twinkling floating stars, no matter which way I look and when I close my eyes all I see is him, is Chiron when Kerigan took his head off, I see it rolling, rolling, rolling and the blood spurting and his eyes are open, blank and staring back at me, asking me, "Why didn't you save me? I thought we were allies, I thought you had my back!" Please, I need Nick, please tell him I need him!'

I read the passage three times before I responded, hoping it wasn't a trick. Who was this person writing in this book, and how was I reading their words? From the sound of it, it seems like it could be another victor. How many people have one of these books? Feeling a connection with the author on the other side, I click the pen again, touching it to the page and write:

'When you close your eyes, imagine a beautiful sunrise and think about new beginnings. Take a deep breath, fill your lungs up as much as you can and think about all those bad thoughts. Now, purse your lips and slowly release the air, breathing out the bad images. Imagine you're blowing a balloon up, but first, you're filling it up with all the bad. Then you can pop the balloon, or let it fly away; whichever you choose, think about it taking all the bad memories with it. That's what helps me,' I tell the recipient of my words.

'Who is this? Mags? Is that you?'

I'm seriously taking a chance with the next words I write, but something deep in my gut says it's okay; that this person is trustworthy.

'My name is Madge. District 12. May I ask . . . who are you?'

'I uh, I'm sorry, I thought this was . . . I'd rather not say my name, but I am in District 4. How did you know to do that?'

'How did I know to do what?'

'The breathing? The imagery?' The other person asks me, and for some reason, I'm picturing a girl. A girl my age, possibly a little older.

'It's called a panic attack. I um, I used to help my mom through them and that always seemed to work for her.' I don't tell her about my own 'images', or the nightmares that haunt me since the death of my parents.

'Thank you Madge, and my name is—'

0 – 0 – 0 – 0

| Prim |

"Mom, they're so beautiful! Look at Katniss' dress, I wish it was that warm here." I tell my mom, looking to the screen in front of us.

"Soon honey, soon," Mom says, dismissing me. I absolutely despise it when she does this; acts as if my thoughts and opinions are inconsequential. With a scowl on my face, I take a few steps to the left so that I'm standing next to Madge and Posie. When "soon" comes, it will be time for the next reaping, something I am not looking forward to. I still haven't confronted either of my parents about what I overheard before Katniss came home and I think it's for the best. Madge is the only one who knows that I know, and I intend to keep it that way. It's better to play the part of clueless, innocent, little sister; for now, anyway.

Peeta's speech is beautiful and elegant as always; but it's Peeta, so I wouldn't expect anything less from him. A few weeks ago, he was working on some of his speeches and asked me to listen; District 11 being the hardest of them all because of his and Katniss' alliance with their tributes.

"I know this in no way makes up for the loss of your children, but as a token of our thanks, Katniss and I would like for each of the tributes families of District 11 to receive one month of our winnings for the duration of our lives. Thank you." With a smile, Peeta nods his head and takes a small step back.

Our entire district gasps in shock; myself included. This is my first time hearing those words; this wasn't in any of the speeches I listened in on. I turn my head to meet Madge's eyes and see a replica of my befuddled expression plastered on her face. Which means that this is her first time hearing them too.

"Oh my god, can he do that?" Mom's eyes wide with shock, turns to Dad in a hushed, but shocked whisper.

Very nonchalantly, Dad just shrugs his shoulders; as if what Peeta just did was no big deal at all.

"Baker boy sure knows how to make a statement," Gale smirks from somewhere behind Madge.

With my hands on my hips I turn around to face him, scowling like my sister does, "Would you quit calling him that? My brother's name is Peeta." Madge smiles, turning around and gives Gale a look that immediately tells me she has asked the same of him too. And then, I wonder what Gale has against Peeta?

"Brother?" Gale snorts, furrowing his brows in confusion. "Like I'm your cousin?"

I'm about to say something crass when Madge's lips form into a straight line, giving me a look as if to say, "Don't push it," so I turn my back to him, ignoring his antics.

"He's in a mood," Madge leans in and whispers to me.

My eyes widen in shock when we avert our attention back to the screen and I see Katniss and Peeta being shown off the stage.

"Is she really not going to say anything?" I question, just as my sister pleads to give her thanks as well. And thank them, she does. She gives her thanks to Rue, and I can't help but feel a sense of pride when she compares the sweet young girl to me. She doesn't use my name, but I'm the only sister she has. Then she talks about how brave Thresh was and how she admired him for refusing to join the careers. And then she sings, which completely throws me for a loop because Katniss almost never sings, and especially not in front of a huge audience like there is in 11.

But it's the most beautiful song I think I may have ever heard from her. "Do you know that song?" I look up to meet my dad's confused eyes and know the answer before he speaks.

"No, but I wish I did; it's beautiful," he says, almost starstruck.

"I didn't know Catnip could sing," Gale mumbles to himself.

And then the screen goes black.

"Wh-what happened? Was it supposed to just turn off like that?" I ask, more than a little confused.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Effie

"I thought this is what you wanted, I thought you wanted them to speak from their hearts?"

"Yeah, I did, but . . . I didn't expect them to be so . . . effective." It's just like Haymitch to underestimate Katniss, given how spontaneous she is, especially when her emotions are involved.

"What do you think is going to happen, a-are their families in danger?"

"Probably," Haymitch tenses up and I wonder if something has already happened.

Haymitch and I are waiting outside for Katniss and Peeta, as it will be our only chance to speak freely for a while. The train has stopped for fuel and we will be in District 10 by this time tomorrow.

Conjoined by their fingers, Katniss and Peeta appear from around the corner; both of them with questioning expressions on their faces.

"What's going on?" Katniss is the first to speak up.

Haymitch looks over to me, his eyebrow twitching nervously. I reach into my pocket to retrieve the envelope I received earlier tonight and offer it over to Peeta. With a quizzical glance, Peeta's brows furrow with confusion and he says, "What's this?"

"Just open it," Haymitch instructs him.

Apprehensively, and with delicate precision, Peeta proceeds to open the envelope, unfolding the page and looking more frightened than I have ever seen him.

He does not read it aloud, but I have the letter memorized from when I read it only moments ago.

Orders from the Capitol:

'In light of recent events in District 11, the officials in the Capitol feel that it is in the best interest of all involved for the victors to address the remaining districts with strictly Capitol approved discourse. Enclosed you will find speeches that will not entice disturbances, which we are sure were unknowingly caused by the victors during their visit to District 11. Please follow the schedule we have enclosed and do not make any unnecessary stops. Do not leave the train unless approved by officials beforehand. Do not attempt to tour any official or unofficial buildings unless approved by the Capitol beforehand. And under no circumstances are Miss Everdeen and Mr. Mellark allowed to be left unattended in any district, other than 12, without peacekeepers to protect them from harm. We would hate for anything to happen to them prior to their arrival to the Capitol.'

"Wh-what does this mean; Haymitch, do you think— are our families safe?" The fear in Katniss' eyes is prevalent. But wait a minute, how did she— how does she know what the letter said, she did not read it yet and she was standing much too far from Peeta to view the words.

"Tell me exactly what Snow said to you," Haymitch demands.

"He said for us to prove that we're in love with each other, and that . . . that our actions in the arena were because of that love, and not to defy the Capitol," Peeta explains, trying to pull the memories from his head.

"So, how do we do that? How do we prove our undying love for the other?" Katniss questions, her face distorted with much confusion.

"If I may— um, perhaps I have a suggestion," I begin, and everyone cements their eyes on me.

"If the goal is to prove your love, what better way than the ultimate commitment?"

"Hmmm . . . now, that just might work." Haymitch says, rubbing his chin.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying? That we should get m-m—" Katniss stutters, unable to get the word out.

"Yes. A live proclamation of your undying love, during your interview with Caesar. Peeta proposes. Yes, yes, it's brilliant!"

"Sure! Let's get married!" Peeta shouts, spinning on his heels and marches back to the train.

"Peeta!" Katniss yells, about to chase after him but Haymitch stops her.

"Give him a minute Sweetheart. There's something else we need to talk about."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0

| President Snow |

"Damn those brats! Why the hell can't they just do as they're told!" I exclaim.

'Don't you know Coriolanus, mockingjay's have a mind of their own.'

The feed is cut in 11, but as the president, I have the capability to continue watching. A certain amount of pleasure rises in me from the execution of that man. And the two others that followed after him.

"This is what happens if you choose to follow the Mockingjay," I utter into the empty room, inhaling the fumes from the white rose in my lapel. The second the lovely fragrance hits the tip of my nose, I immediately relax; the effects immediate.

'You do realize you are dependent on your precious roses, Coriolanus. What ever would you do without the toxins that calm you so? What if you woke one day to find your rose garden extinct?' Lucy Gray's voice echoes in my head and I am instantly anxious. I click the button on my remote to view the live feed of my rose garden to find it intact; the relief flooding my senses.

"Shut up," I berate the voice in my head; I cannot decipher whether it is truly Lucy Gray or simply a figment of my imagination.

Shaking my head, I pick up my cellular device and place a call to my contact in 12.

"Peacekeeper Headquarters, District 12," one of the Peacekeeper's answers the phone.

"Push me through to the Head Peacekeeper," I demand.

"President Snow?" The man immediately recognizes my voice, "Oh, yes, yes, one moment please."

"Yes Sir; Head Peacekeeper Cray speaking, Sir; what can I do for you Sir?"

A sly grin appears on my face as I picture the idiot standing at attention, "Do you remember the favor that is owed to me?"

Cray gulps, "Yes sir," he says, his voice quavering and not nearly as confident as it was just a moment ago.

"I am ready to collect."

Xxx

A/N: The song Madge plays with Kizzie, "Heart & Soul" is a song my kids play on the piano (often) and was the inspiration for that section. If you have time, you should check it out. It's called "Heart & Soul" by Hoagy Carmichael & Frank Loesser.

The song Katniss sings in District 11 is "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" although I did change "blue jays" to "mockingjay's".

I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, I really, really struggled with it. I'm not sure how many times I wrote it, and re-wrote it, scratched it and started all over again! What did you think about the conversation Madge overheard between Poppy and Raven? What about Madge's new "pen pal"? Can you guess who it is?

If you have a minute, please leave me a review, it makes me super-duper happy! (((SmiLey FaCe)))

Until next time,

Amelia