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.

13. To Hell with the Rules

Another Way Out

Chapter 13 – To Hell with the Rules

– Haymitch –

On this, the third Quarter Quell games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from its existing pool of victors. President Snow's words play on a loop in my head.

"Well, shit!" I chortle, slapping the arm of my chair as my mind catches up and fits the pieces together. I can't believe the son-of-a-bitch did it. I had my doubts, but Plutarch actually…he actually pulled it off. I just hope everything else goes according to plan.

I'm suddenly reminded of my own Games…the Games that cost me the love of my life. I remember the reaping as if it were yesterday. Like this year, it was also a quell year, and the card required double the tributes to be sent into the arena. As if that wasn't torture enough, they slipped the rug from under our feet with some stupid ass, last minute rules.

I get the sudden urge to call Effie, desperately wanting to find out what she knows, if anything, but then remember I ripped the phone from the wall ages ago.

I look over my shoulder, glancing at the clock and can't believe that only three minutes have ticked away since the reading of the card. It feels like a lifetime has gone by since our sorry ass president read the card that has likely sent the entire nation into a tailspin. My grip tightens on the bottle in my hand, then I check to make sure my backup bottle of spirits is within reach. I swivel in my chair so I'm facing the front of the house, wondering which of the kids will be the first to grace me with their presence, or if maybe they'll show up together, demanding answers I'll pretend to not have.

I silently count down from ten, and when I reach four, it's the boy who enters without so much as knocking. He's got a quiet about him, an unexpected calmness that unsettles me. He swipes a chair from the kitchen and plants it in front of me before taking a seat. He leans back, relaxed—too relaxed for my liking as he just sits there, scrutinizing me. I take a swig from my flask while I wait for whatever harsh words he's gonna throw at me, but they never come.

I've never been known for my patience, and tonight is not any different. I'm about to ask him what the hell he came here for when he finally speaks up. "How long have you been a mentor, Haymitch?"

I turn my flask up once more and narrow my eyes at him. "Too long," I reply. "What are you getting at?"

"Twenty-four, right?" He nods, as if answering some internal question before he continues. "I'm assuming last year wasn't your first time dealing with the Sponsors, right? I mean sure, it's probably been a while since your head was in the game, no pun intended. I guess…what I'm getting at is that you know how the game works in the Capitol, yeah?"

I just stare at the boy, trying to follow his train of thought.

"I will be Katniss's district partner in the arena, and YOU, Haymitch" he pauses, his eyes narrowing into a hardened expression as he pokes my chest with his index finger, "will be our Mentor. You will take a vow of sobriety, keeping your head in the game, all the while, breaking the Capitol's record for most Sponsors earned in the history of the Games." He exhales a defeated sigh and his eyes soften. "You're the only one who can do it, Haymitch. Playing the Sponsors…with Effie by your side…that's where you're most useful. And…I think we both know Snow won't make the same mistake twice. Katniss and I won't be coming out of the arena together…well, at least not alive. So…Katniss lives."

The boy rests his elbows on his knees, hiding his face in his hands. Then he blows out a desolate breath of air. "That's where you're most useful, Haymitch," he says this for the second time, running his fingers through his hair. "If I was the mentor, I wouldn't know where to even begin. Knowing my luck, I'd get you guys killed in the first hour." The defeat in his voice pains me, and I'm tempted to tell him what I know.

But I don't. Instead I stick to the plan and take another swig from my flask then nod. The boy perks up in his chair and glares at me. "Are we clear? If they call your name, I will volunteer and take your place. If my name is called, you keep your mouth shut and stay put." I nod again, afraid of something terrible happening if I open my mouth; like, the truth spewing its way out.

"Okay good. I'm going to get Katniss, she's run off to the Seam," the boy announces, standing up and making his way to the door. Just before he's about to walk out, he spins on his heels to face me.

"Enjoy that," he says, pointing to my hand…or rather, the flask in my hand. "Because you'll start tapering down tomorrow. I need you clear-headed; we can't afford any drunkards on our team."

I want to tell him I never agreed to shit, but before I can open my mouth, he's out the door, slipping into the night.

– Katniss –

"This is such fucking bullshit! What the hell! There has to be something we can do!" My world is spiraling out of control, so I don't understand how Rye is able to walk and shout at the same time. My thoughts are dizzying, bombarding me faster than the speed of light. Yet somehow, it also seems as if Rye is moving in slow motion as he walks across the room to join Mr. Mellark, who hovers worriedly over Peeta, who is consoling a tearful Prim.

Once my world steadies on its axis, the realization that I am not everyone's sole focus hits me. The moment my eyes glance at the door, I make a split-second decision to bolt. I'm so overcome with my own emotions that I don't feel the least bit guilty about using their distraction to my advantage.

I chance one more glance at everyone and then I'm on my feet, slipping through the side door and out of the house. I need a minute—or a lot of them, and I need them alone.

Even bundled in Cinna and Portia's engagement gift of heavy-duty winter gear, the icy air still breaks through the lavish barrier and slaps me in the face. I clutch my arms to my chest and grit my teeth, refusing to let something as inconsequential as cold weather stop me from getting to my destination. To distract myself from the arctic chill, I focus on the rhythmic pounding of my boots against the pavement as I run blindly through the narrow and winding path. I don't need sight to get where I'm going, my body just…knows, as if it's second nature, having traveled this very path more times than I can count.

It's not until I'm home, my "real" home in the Seam that the finality of everything hits me. Like, really, really hits me. Snow is sending me back into the arena. Peeta and Haymitch have a fifty-fifty chance of being called, but me, I'm just…screwed.

"Don't kid yourself, Katniss!" An almost demented chuckle escapes my lips at this notion. Because let's face it, there is no world in which Peeta would ever leave me to face the arena without him.

I peel my coat off and let it fall to the floor as I find my way into my bedroom. For a moment, I crave the security of my previous life, longing for the days when I shared this tiny, cramped, and dilapidated bedroom with my sister. I would gladly give it all up—my winnings, the giant mansion…hot water, and even electricity if I could just have everything return to the way it was before Peeta and I won.

"Peeta," his name echoes off my lips. But what about Peeta? Could I give him up?

I don't have to think about the answer because it was never really a question. I couldn't. Never. Not in a million years.

I crawl to the furthest corner of the room, pressing my back against the wall and squeeze my legs as close to my body as I can manage. From the corner of my eye, I spot a forgotten pillow lying on the floor and quickly snatch it up. I suck in a deep breath and hold it while hugging the pillow tightly against my chest, hoping it will somehow keep the tears from coming. Finally, I release my breath and smother my face against the pillow.

It's no use. I cry and I sob and I wail. I pant and I gasp, choking for breath. Even a dying animal writhing from pain, begging for his final moments could not sound as tortured as I. You could wring my pillow out with the ocean of tears I've just cried. In all my life I don't think I've ever cried this hard, not even when my father died.

"This can't be happening, this isn't right. How can they do this?" I lament through my sobs. "Peeta and I are victors, VICTORS!" I scream the last word at the top of my lungs, though no one is listening. Victors are supposed to be out of the Games for the rest of their lives. Because those are the rules. Until now.

Victors are the very embodiment of hope where there is no hope, and now, this all too perfect card will send twenty-three of us to our deaths, to show how even that was an illusion.

"Written seventy-five years ago, my ass. More like…last month," I sniffle through my tears. I do not doubt the rules for the Quell were written in the last six months, tailored specifically to Peeta and I. It's just…too convenient.

I imagined Snow doing a great many things to torture me, but nothing that resulted in facing another arena. Dragging me to the Town Square and having me publicly flogged, or even executed - sure. Deporting me to the Capitol, forcing me to live out the rest of my days shackled to their torture chambers - absolutely.

Snow forcing Peeta and I to have children is a recurring nightmare of mine. Each dream is its own horror, and they rarely differ by much. It usually begins with Snow changing the requirements for the Reaping, extending the age of eligibility to begin at eight years old. One particularly atrocious night, I woke up screaming after he instigated a game of tug-o-war, prying my infant son from my arms and tossing him into the arena with Cato.

No matter the dream, my child never fails to take his place on the stage and accepts his role as Tribute. I know the nightmare is headed in an ominous direction when Snow's lips curl up, claiming to have a way for me to save my child. He laughs at me in the most deleterious of ways as he tells me I have two options. I can either see if the odds will be in my child's favor and let them take their chances in the arena…

"I'm sure the country is dying to see what the spawn of two victors can accomplish," he will say, just before he catches my attention. "Or Miss Everdeen," he always pauses here for effect before continuing, "I will declare their full exemption…for a price." When Snow says this, I never fail to get my hopes up. But I should know better. I really should because…this is Snow we're talking about.

"Your child's freedom from all Reapings…in exchange for…hmm," he pauses for a second, pressing his finger to his chin. "A single bullet in Mr. Mellark's skull. That is my best offer, and a fair one, at that. A life for a life. There's just…one stipulation." These words cause me to feel as if someone has punched a hole through my chest, clutching firmly on to my heart and squeezing…literally, the life out of me. "It must be youwho puts it there."

Like I said, I'd imagined a million-and-one ways Snow could torture me. But this…returning to the arena…not once had it ever crossed my mind.

How many times could this have been avoided? How many times did I nearly escape death by the skin of my teeth? At the cornucopia, if I hadn't raised the backpack then one of Clove's knives would have embedded itself into my skull. Or later…if I had just kept walking; if I hadn't dropped to my knees and found the pile of mud that led Peeta and me to water. If Thresh had killed us right then instead of just threatening us. If I'd been stung by more tracker jackers. If Peeta hadn't gotten me the medicine. Or…if Peeta had just killed me when the Gamemakers revoked the rule change.

Tears begin free-falling from my eyes, because the notion of killing Peeta is inconceivable. The idea of never again holding my husband in my arms causes my body to be wracked by sobs. I would rather have my heart ripped from my chest, sever all my limbs and face decapitation, rather than lose the other half of my soul.

There are few things in this miserable life I am certain of, and Peeta Mellark is one of those things. I would never be able to live with myself if I was the cause of Peeta's death, intentional or not.

But…none of this changes the fact that we wouldn't be in this mess if I had just died. I don't understand it…I don't get it. Why was it so wrong for Peeta and I to want to live? That's all we wanted. I promised to try for my sister. All I wanted was to survive the arena, so I could tell Prim I kept my word. To come home with Peeta and live. To be left alone, here in 12. We never intended to cause any problems, we didn't mean to what..inspire the nation? I mean…they killed my father, wasn't that enough? I didn't even get to tell him goodbye. Wasn't that enough? Why wasn't that enough? When will it ever be enough?

"I should have just died, why didn't I just die?" I wail into the air.

I'm startled when I feel a large hand stroking circles on my back. A very warm, large, and familiar hand. I look up from my pillow, and staring back at me are the most beautiful, yet sad pair of sparkling blue eyes.

"Please don't say that. Don't ever say that," Peeta pleads with so much pain in his eyes. Then he lowers himself all the way to the floor, adjusting his prosthesis and wriggles his way behind me. Then he pulls my back to his chest, resting his chin in the space between my shoulder and cheek.

"But it's true. None of this would be happening if I had just died."

"Listen to me," Peeta says firmly, turning my face to look at him. "Nothing would be better if you were dead. Yes, the arena was a living nightmare and I'm not thrilled about going back in. But I still don't wish I had died. Do you know why?"

I shake my head from side to side.

"Because of you," Peeta puts every bit of emotion he possesses into these words before adding, "Because of this," pointing to me, and then back at himself. "I didn't have you before our Games. Sure, we were friends, but it's different than the way I have you now. Maybe it would have happened anyway, I don't know. But I do know that I wouldn't change a single thing I've been through, just for the chance to love you and be loved by you."

'I wouldn't be able to call you my wife,' he adds silently.

"I have counted my blessings each day since we made it back home. Because for all these days I've had the privilege of being able to show you how much I love you; how much you mean to me. And I don't know about you Katniss, but I would gladly face a hundred arenas if it means I get to share the rest of what was left of my life with you."

Tears are streaming down my face again, but this time they're a whole different kind of tears. These tears are filled to the brim, bursting with joy; physical proof of my love for this man.

Only Peeta could be faced with going back into the arena and somehow still see the brighter side of things.

Peeta has rendered me verbally and mentally speechless, so I focus all my feelings into my eyes and hope that he can see it, feel it—or in some way sense it. Because there are no words powerful enough to express the depth of my love for this man. Peeta's right, of course. Besides, wasn't this what I was just…not minutes before Peeta arrived, having an internal debate with myself about?

I tell Peeta the only way I seem capable of at the moment, and pull his face to mine, kissing him with the greatest sense of urgency, which he reciprocates evenly. Our kiss is frenzied, desperate and rough, and I don't think we've ever shed our clothes so fast. It's like we're both trying to prove our love to the other.

His lips attack the flesh of my neck, and my body arches into him, just as a pleasurable moan escapes my mouth.

For this one night, for this one moment, we need this distraction.

We don't last long. The pace we set is far too heated and frantic. We cross the threshold together, and Peeta collapses on top of me. The weight of his body, the pressure of his bare skin on top of mine has never felt more glorious.

"We should probably head back, everyone is going to start wondering what's taking me so long to find you," Peeta says after a time, disrupting so many perfect moments of silence.

"So…" I begin, slipping my shirt over my head. "How did you know where to find me?" From the moment I left my house, all the way until I noticed Peeta was next to me, I can't recall a single time he was in my head.

"Lucky guess," he answers with a shrug of his shoulders. "And…I kind of saw it," he adds almost…guiltily.

My eyes narrow in confusion, so he explains further. "I just…I don't know, I closed my eyes and concentrated…then I just…recognized the floor."

"Oh," I say, surprised. We haven't done this since the arena. But then again, up until tonight there has been no need to. Part of me wants to be mad that he's invaded my privacy, but the truth is, I needed him. Even if I didn't know it.

Together, and in the dark, we make our way back to my house, ready for whatever challenges face us.

– Madge –

"There is nothing we can do about it. Attempting to sway his decision will cause him to question our allegiances. On Reaping Day, each Escort will be supplied with the additional card to read aloud. It will add a twist to this year's Quell, stating that each "Tribute" will be accompanied by a sibling into the arena, but only if said sibling is of reaping age."

I bite my bottom lip—and hard when I hear Poppy's words, so as to not give myself away on the other side of the door. I had a looming feeling something like this was going to happen…but I was foolish and was hoping…against all odds, that it…wouldn't.

"So, what you're telling me, Plutarch," Raven's voice is filled with ire, and I can almost picture Poppy placing a comforting hand on his arm. "Instead of twenty-four Victor-Tributes, there'll be what,—"

"No honey," Poppy's pained voice interrupts him.

"What?" Raven blurts out in confusion.

"There will only be one additional tribute."

"I don't—what…OH!" Raven exclaims after a moment, finally getting it. But I don't.

And then I do.

I keep replaying the conversation I overheard at the mayor's house in my head.

Over and over. Over and over. But it's always the same. It never changes. And I don't know what to do about it. I can't tell Katniss or Peeta. There is nothing they can do to stop or change it, and it would just freak them out. I can't tell Gale. Maybe I would feel like I could tell any one of these people if there was something we could do about it. But there's not.

I wrack my brain all day and night, walking the entire perimeter of 12 in the small space of my living room before I finally pass out on my sofa.

"You will come to a fork in the road, and you will have to choose which path to take. The choice will not be an easy one…but you must remember that the simplest path is not always the easiest one."

I bolt upright from a deep slumber, my Aunt Gracie's message having made its way back to the surface.

I don't know if it was her intention or not, but everything is suddenly clear. Crystal clear.

And…I know what I have to do.

– Effie –

"I know you must be upset, Effie, but I am certain you will understand if you just allow me to explain"

Plutarch's brows furrow into a befuddled expression as I remove my glove, one finger at a time. When my glove is fully removed, I narrow my eyes before retracting my hand, keeping it palm-open, swinging it forward to make contact with Plutarch's cheek.

Upset does not begin to describe the blood-boiling, simmering, festering, pent-up, red-hot rage bubbling in my veins.

"Ow," Plutarch winces, reaching up to soothe his reddened cheek. "Okay, so maybe I deserved that."

"That," I state firmly, reapplying my glove, "is for keeping me in the dark about the reading of the card."

Behind me, I hear a faint chuckle coming from Cinna and Portia, so I turn to them with a raised brow. "I find this current predicament no laughing matter, so if there is something humorous, please, do enlighten me." I give Cinna and Portia my best impression of a 'Katniss scowl' as I tap one toe against the floor, both of my hands resting on my hips.

"No, no. Nothing's funny. I just…I can't believe you just slapped him!" Portia admonishes.

"Well, yes, I suppose that was in poor manners. Now, do you want to tell me what in crimney's sake is going on? Why are my precious children being sent back into another arena? Please tell me you have a plan."

Over the last several months I have had to keep my distance from the people in this room. All my…everything has been redirected to Proctor. Gaining his trust.

"Of course, there's a plan, Effie," Plutarch says.

"Fine. Please, enlighten me," I say.

"Okay, but first, promise you won't hit me again." Plutarch holds both of his hands up in surrender.

"I shall make no such affirmations." I cross my arms over my chest, keeping my eyes narrowed in on Plutarch. "And please do start from the beginning."

"Okay, okay, well, you see, we needed to get them to the Capitol. That's where the idea for the card came about. The plan is to sneak them into this very room after the interviews."

"Hmmm," I ponder Plutarch's words, pressing a finger to my chin. "That actually may work. Snow would expect them to run back to 12, or find safety in another district outside the Capitol. He would never dream they would actually hide in the Capitol."

"He doesn't mean just Katniss and Peeta, Effie." Cinna says, which causes my forehead to crease with confusion.

"After the interviews, the Tributes…well, certain ones will be brought here, instead of back to their rooms. It won't be long before their whereabouts will be in question. Snow will immediately send Peacekeepers by the dozen to scour the districts for all who are unaccounted for."

"Okay…and then?" I say, following his train of thought so far.

"Well, as the Peacekeepers get further and further from the Capitol, we will inconspicuously sneak the Victors into a Capitol hovercraft, where we will whisk them safely to 13.

"And…how will you obtain use of one of these hovercrafts? You are aware the security codes change daily." I am privy to this knowledge thanks to my association with Proctor. As Snow's right-hand man, he oversees all Capitol Security.

"That, Effie, my brilliant, brilliant Effie, is where you come in. Bickerdyke has access to all the security codes. So, we were hoping…er…I was hoping…I know it's asking a lot, and by saying yes you would be putting your life in grave danger, so if—"

"There is no one closer to Proctor than I. He will not suspect me. I'll get what you need." I cut Plutarch off, happy to be able to help. "Now tell me, what of this 'Coin' person? What are her plans exactly?"

"Don't you worry, she wants nothing more than to have those kids arrive safely in 13."

"I do not doubt that. It is what she plans to do with them once they are there that bothers me so. Tell me Plutarch, what safety measures are in place for Peeta and Katniss? I refuse to hand my children over to a female version of Snow."

"Effie has a valid point. Having met the woman, I too, am leery about her motives." Cinna comments, and I jump from the sound of his voice. I had almost forgotten he and Portia were here.

"Coin wants to begin fighting immediately. She believes that's the best way to bring the Capitol down. 4, 8, and 9 are on board. They will initiate the fighting and the other districts will follow in line, which will create a domino effect. Once she has all the districts behind her, we'll storm the Capitol. She'll take over and end the Games. Voila," Plutarch snaps his fingers and says, "Just like that. Easy peasy."

Nothing about what Plutarch has just shared with me sounds easy peasy. And I fear that…if they follow through with this Coin's plan, it will surely result in disaster.

"Come on Plutarch, you're a Gamemaker. Head Gamemaker. And even though you come from a long line of Gamemakers, you still didn't get there by accident. Tell me you at least see the fault in this plan. Jumping headfirst into fighting without even an idea of a plan will result in the most catastrophic amount of deaths. Deaths that could so easily be avoided." My lips curve up into a smile at Portia's words. I have always admired Portia, but after hearing these words, my respect for her grows tenfold.

Plutarch takes a deep breath, and for the first time he looks defeated. "Listen guys, you're right. You're completely right. But she's our ticket out of here. Out of Snow's clutches. She's…she's the one calling the shots. We just need to appease her…at least for the moment. Our goal is to get Katniss and Peeta to safety. They are the faces of this rebellion, not her. Once we get them out of harm's reach, we can deal with the likes of Alma Coin. Until then…I think…well, I just don't think we have any other options."

– Rye –

"Okay, I think that's the last of it," I tell my brother, dropping the last box to the floor with a loud thud.

"Thanks Rye, I really appreciate this. I owe you…everything," Peeta says, and I narrow my eyes in confusion.

"It's just my bench press set, Peet. It's not like I'm giving it to you. So, you can fully expect to see my happy ass over here using it…whenever the mood suits me," I tell him cheekily with a wink.

"Yeah, but if you hadn't offered to let me use it, then I never would have realized…"

"Realized what, Peet?" My brother's eyes sparkle in that devilish, mischievous way…the way they always do when he's up to no good.

"That we're going to train like Careers."

"B-but…isn't that against the rules?" Peeta's face immediately hardens at my words.

"Sending us back into the arena was supposed to be against the rules, so I say to hell with the rules."

"Fair point, baby bro. What can I do?"

– Peeta –

"Katniss…Katniss, it's time to wake up." I gently nudge my beautiful, sleeping wife, then roll over and engulf her in my arms.

"But I'm tired and my legs still hurt from yesterday," Katniss whines. Then she squints one eye open and glances toward the window. "And it's still dark."

I pull her back to my chest and trail kisses along her neck. "I'll make it worth your while," I mumble against her skin, swooping her hair to the side and then lightly suckling at the nape of her neck.

"Unghh," Katniss moans. "You don't play fair, Mr. Mellark," Katniss says, flipping onto her side to face me. Then she slides her hands under my shirt and begins digging the pads of her thumbs into my back.

"Only with you, Mrs. Mellark," my words send a shudder vibrating through her body.

"Say it again," she begs.

I lift a brow in question. "Mrs. Mellark?"

"Mmm," she croons. "I like the way it sounds."

"I like the way you sound," I tell her, pressing my lips to hers.

(A little while later)

"What took you guys so long? You're over an hour late!" Madge fumes with narrowed eyes, throwing her hands in the air.

"We had uh…a private workout session this morning. Sorry," Katniss tries her best not to smile as she apologizes to our friend.

"Ugh, gross. I don't want to hear about your extracurricular gymnastics. Now, come on, we've already lost almost two hours.

'Geesh, what's her deal? You'd think she was the one going into the arena,' Katniss silently exclaims.

I just shrug my shoulders and motion for Katniss to keep up. Clearly, there is something going on with Madge we don't know about. Katniss and I fall in line with Madge, making our first lap around the district. If I could forget the reason we're training, I can almost pretend we're back in school, practicing for track.

We half-run, half-jog to the train station, which is the landmark for the edge of the district, and then we turn around, heading back to Victor's Village. Like always, Prim is waiting for us by the gate. She passes out cups filled with water, just as a sleepy-eyed, sluggish Rye finally graces us with his presence. Waking up before dawn was never my brother's favorite thing to do, and since he quit helping mom at the bakery, he is even more adamant about not rising until after the sun makes its appearance.

Typically, this is how every morning begins since the day I came up with the plan.

As soon as my father was eligible, he applied for a temporary dwelling. He and Rye moved in as soon as it was approved, but more often than not they either stay with me or crash at the Everdeen's. Technically there are enough rooms in my house alone for all of us to live comfortably under one roof, but I have to admit that I definitely appreciate having Katniss to myself in an empty house. Especially on days like this morning.

Without fail Prim is always at the gate of Victor's Village, providing us with water to rehydrate us, towels to dry us, and high-protein snacks to refuel us before sending us on our way again. After two-to-three laps around the district, we're allowed a thirty-minute break where Mrs. Everdeen herds us inside to feed us a hearty meal.

Lily puts us on a special diet to gain weight. To strengthen our muscles we exercise, nearly running ourselves into the ground every waking moment of the day. Prim uses her knowledge from healing, combined with things she's learned from the "Capitol Medicine" journals Cinna has sent, and creates a salve to soothe our aching muscles (with help from the leftover medicines Effie sent).

Every other day we utilize Rye's bench-press set, combined with an intense exercise regimen that Rye himself came up with. We fill the opposite days learning other skills.

My father talks to the other shop owners, and they agree to let us load and unload their supplies. If anyone needs help with any heavy lifting, they also agree to call us, whether it's moving boxes or rearranging, every little bit of work serves to strengthen our muscles.

I don't find it surprising when Gale joins us only one day after Madge started training with us, though I am confounded at how he has the energy or stamina after his shift in the mines. If you ask me, I think he just doesn't like the idea of Madge walking home in the dark.

There is a huge difference in the Gale we see on the weekends, and the one who shows up after his shift in the mines. "Weekend Gale," as I like to call him, is vibrant and almost, dare I say…gregarious. He gets a certain gleam in his eyes when he explains about trapping and setting snares. We tie knots. A LOT of knots. I even caught Gale kissing Madge one Saturday, when he thought no one was looking.

A few days ago, Katniss walked into what she called a 'war zone'. Rye wouldn't shut up about Suzie Carmichael, one his 'frequent-flyer Slag Heap' girls, and it was getting on my nerves. In my defense, I gave him fair warning. But Rye being Rye never knows when to shut his mouth, so I kept my word. Katniss came home to find the house torn apart: the sofa had been pushed sideways; a lamp had fallen on the floor. And me, well, I had my brother trapped in a headlock.

"Ugh! BOYS!" I remembered her saying.

We simulate different scenarios at hand-to-hand combat. At first, we paired up according to weight. When it was Rye's turn, he kept an arm crossed over his chest and his face was scrunched up in thought.

"What's up, Rye?" I asked him.

"Well, it's just that…I think we gotta mix it up."

"Come again?" Katniss asked, arching her brow.

"Well, it's just that…well, having an opponent proportionate to your size in the Arena…well, let's just say the odds probably won't be in your favor."

I could see the fight in my wife's eyes, so I quickly jumped between them before Katniss took a swing at my brother.

My brother's heart was in the right place. Rye just isn't very good at being serious. He can make a joke out of anything, something I hope Katniss learns to love as much as I do…hopefully, in time.

We heeded Rye's advice and mixed everyone up.

The first time I pinned Katniss to the ground, my legs locked on either side of her torso, and we ended up in a heated make-out session, so Madge forbade us to spar against each other ever again. I can't say I blame her.

Gale, on the other hand, adamantly refused to fight Madge. That is, until she ran full force into him like a charging bull and knocked the wind out of him.

– Katniss –

One week ago, I woke up with the mother of all headaches. Haymitch called it a hangover. I didn't mean to get drunk. I was…just…really stressed out. Peeta had fallen asleep on the couch watching reruns of previous Games that Effie had sent, and I was wide awake. I didn't want to wake him up because I knew how utterly exhausted he was. So, I geared up and made my way to Haymitch's house.

** ( one week ago ) **

I was immediately thrown off kilter when I walked into Haymitch's house to find it clean. Instead of the usual stench of vomit, alcohol, and moldy food, it reeked of antiseptic and disinfectant. Apparently, he had taken Peeta's advice and hired Hazelle as a housekeeper.

I had long since stopped knocking and let myself in where I joined Haymitch at the kitchen table, not exactly sure why I had come in the first place.

"What brings you over here, Sweetheart?" Haymitch asked, retrieving a bottle of spirits from his pocket.

I reached out and snatched the flask from him, unscrewed the top, placed it up to my lips and turned the bottle back.

My throat felt like it was on fire as the liquid slid down my throat.

"Blech! How do you drink this crap?" I shuddered.

"Nobody forced you to drink it," Haymitch retorted, pulling another bottle of spirits seemingly out of thin air.

Within minutes I started feeling relaxed. I was smiling…no, grinning like an idiot. And then I took another swig. Before I knew it, the bottle was empty.

"Peeta has to live, Haymitch," I finally blurted out.

"He is," Haymitch spat, pointing in the direction of Peeta's house.

"I'm serious, Haymitch," I fumed, narrowing my eyes at him.

"I know," Haymitch replied despondently, fumbling with the bottle cap.

"I think we both know they're not going to let us make it out together," I began. "So, you have to promise me Haymitch, promise you'll save him."

"Sweethea—"

"NO HAYMITCH!" I shouted, pounding my fist on the table. "I can't…I can't live without him," I continued, shrinking back in my chair. "I'd never survive without Peeta. But Peeta…he'd be okay…eventually. He's strong." And then I straightened up in my seat and looked my mentor dead in the eyes. "This district can't handle two drunks."

"I think you've had enough of that, come on, let's get you home," Haymitch said, removing the flask from my hands.

And that was the last thing I remembered before waking up the next morning.

That was a week ago but I'm still reeling from the effects. I shake my head and force myself to get out of bed. I freshen up in the bathroom and then make my way downstairs. I hear the sound of sizzling, just as the aroma of bacon wafts up my nostrils, which sends me hightailing it back up the steps and into the bathroom.

"Geez, what is wrong with me? I love bacon!" I question myself as I expel what little is in my stomach.

Once the room stops spinning, I try again, this time making it all the way downstairs.

"Hello Beautiful," Peeta turns to me with a smile, but it quickly transforms into a frown. "What's wrong, are you okay?" he asks, dropping his spatula and rushing to my side.

"Remind me to never drink again," I say, rubbing circles against my temples in hopes of alleviating this stupid headache.

"Katniss, maybe you should have your mom check you out?" Peeta says, his lips tightening in a straight line as he scrutinizes me. "I don't think the effects of alcohol usually last this long."

"No, no. I'm already feeling better. If the headache isn't gone by the end of the week, then I'll have her check me out."

Peeta doesn't look convinced.

"I'm fine, I promise," I plaster a giant smile on my face and shove a piece of bacon into my mouth to prove my point.

'You don't need to lie to me Katniss. But okay,' Peeta says silently.

"I'm okay Peeta, it's just an annoying headache. And it's my own fault."

"So, earlier this morningI went to Haymitch's house and dumped all the liquor down the drain."

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. "And how'd Haymitch take that?"

"Well, he wasn't thrilled, to say the least. He said he'd just go buy more. I wished him luck. Told him I paid Ripper off, threatened to report her if she sold it to him. Or you."

"Me? What! That was the only time I've ever been drunk. And trust me, I have no intentions whatsoever of doing it again."

"I know. But I also didn't want to take the chance of you buying it and sneaking it to him. All of us, all three of us need to have a clear head. Besides, I warned him about this the night they read the card."

"So, um…not that I'm complaining, but why are we having breakfast together instead of training? Are we taking the day off?"

"Yes…and no," Peeta says, filling the sink with the dirty dishes. "I thought we could both stand to sleep in, and…Madge is coming over."

I'm more than thankful for this day of rest; I think it's just what I needed. And I'm sure Madge and Peeta are relieved to skip a day from my delayed hangover, heat-exhaustion-retching. But I can say, without a doubt, that I've got the best husband, and the best friend a girl could ask for. Each day since my one-time bender with Haymitch, I have found myself behind a tree on all fours, literally puking my guts up. Peeta, the ever-perfect husband rushes to my side, holding my hair back while rubbing soothing circles on my back. And Madge will be on my other side, pressing a cold compress to my forehead, urging me to drink more water.

They are the best.

"Hey guys, can I show you something?" Madge asks when it's just the three of us.

"Okay, sure," Peeta and I oblige. Then, as if this is Madge's house and not Peeta's, she leads us downstairs, into the basement and to a door I never knew existed.

"Where are we—" I begin, but Madge turns around with a finger pressed to her lips.

Peeta and I follow her, and I know something is amiss after we've been walking for close to five minutes. There is no way we could still be in Peeta's house.

After what feels like forever, we finally reach another door. Madge opens it to an ascending staircase. The three of us walk single file up the narrow passageway and are faced with yet another door. Madge swings the door open, and my eyes nearly bug out of my head as I gasp at the sight before me.

– Prim –

"Mom, should Katniss still be sick? Shouldn't all that alcohol be out of her system by now?" I ask my mom.

"She's still getting sick?" Mom questions with a raised brow.

"Yes."

Mom opens her mouth to ask how I know, but I continue. "Yesterday, mid-morning. I was in the kitchen preparing their breakfast. Hard boiled eggs and fried liver mush. As soon as Katniss walked into the kitchen, I swear she turned a little green before covering her mouth. Then she bolted to the hallway bathroom. And she'd been inside for hours, so it couldn't be from the heat."

"Hmm," Mom says, looking concerned. "Maybe she should take a break today and I'll give her an exam when she comes over."

I chuckle at Mom's words, who then raises a brow in question.

"Peeta actually said they were taking the day off."

"Good," Mom says. "They've been working themselves to the bone lately."

Mom and I walk down the stairs to find none other than my sister scouring through the pantry. And in her wake she has left every single cabinet wide open.

"Katniss, what are you doing?" Mom questions.

"Have you guys seen the ketchup? I could've sworn I saw some the other day."

"No honey, I don't think we have any left. What do you need it for?"

"Peeta made these delicious sausage and cheese roll things, and I thought they'd taste even better with a little ketchup."

"Katniss sweetie, why don't you come upstairs with me?" Mom asks her when she finally climbs out of the pantry.

– Gale –

"How come you've never invited me to the Slag Heap?"

I instantly freeze at Madge's question as I stare dumbfounded at her.

"I mean, it's not a secret you've taken other girls there. Is there something wrong with me? Do I embarrass you?" I could tell Madge had something on her mind tonight, but this…is the last thing I ever expected.

I had our date planned out for days. I would invite Madge to the Meadow, and we'd share a romantic dinner under the stars. A meal that I had actually prepared myself…well, mostly. The only thing left to do was get Madge to come. So, I did the corniest, most un-Gale-like thing. I wrote her a note on a piece of paper, folded it, then had Posie deliver it this morning. My sister came skipping back with the widest, toothy grin, nodding her head so hard her chin whacked her chest.

I've been so nervous about tonight, my palms are still sweaty. And now…Madge's question.

"Madge…how could you…no, of course you don't embarrass me. Why would you think that?" I ask her, tilting her chin up with my thumb so that she's forced to look me in the eye.

"Then why? Why do you always pull away? Do you not…want me?"

"Oh God," I release an exasperated sigh, then fall onto my back, covering my face with my arm.

I peek through my arm and see Madge wiping something from her cheek. And now, I feel like an ass for making her cry.

I immediately sit back up, rushing to her side. Then I pull her into my lap, adjusting her legs on either side of me. Then I wrap my arms around her, pulling her to my chest.

I inhale deeply, taking in her scent. God, she smells amazing.

"Of course, I want you. All I ever do is want you."

"But then…why do you always pull away from me?"

"First of all," I say, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You are too good to be taken to some sleazy…Slag Heap. And…I–I'm so sorry if I've made you feel like you're not wanted, that's never what I meant to do. It's just that…Madge, there's never been anyone like you in my life before. And I never want you to feel less than you are and I don't want to screw this up. I don't ever want to do anything that's going to send you packing. But I guess…in trying to avoid that, that's exactly what I've done."

She doesn't look quite convinced, so I continue. "I respect you too much to take you to the Slag Heap, and I don't ever want to hear you talking about going there. You deserve so much better, and I want…I want our first time together to be perfect."

She runs her fingers through my hair and it sends a shiver up my spine. My cock twitches in time with the movements of her hands. Then she leans in, pressing her lips to mine and grinding herself against me. And whatever self-control I've managed to maintain up until this point instantly evaporates.

I flip her over onto her back and ravish her with kisses. I run my tongue along her neck and suck on the flesh at her collar bone. She moans into my ear and I can't take it anymore.

"I want you Gale," she whispers in a husky voice. "I…I want you to make me yours."

"Are you sure?" I ask her with a heavy breath.

She nods her assent, her blue eyes darkening with lust. "Please Gale, take me," she begs. "Touch me," she says a moment later, her voice soft and raspy.

I look longingly into her eyes and obey her command. I pull her dress over her head and lay it to the side. My cock twitches to its full size when I see she is completely bare underneath her dress.

I take a moment to just look at her, to memorize her perfect features. I can't help but admire how perfect and beautiful she is. How flawless her porcelain skin shines, shimmering under the stars. I cup her breast in my hands…and they fit so perfectly, as if they were meant for my hands alone. Everything about Madge is perfect. My eyes never leave hers as I lean in and flick my tongue over a beautifully pebbled nipple before enveloping it into my mouth.

Her body arches with pleasure from the sensation and the moan that escapes her lips electrifies my senses. She reaches down and begins undoing the button on my pants. I help her, then climb out of them. And then it's just us, lying under the stars, naked, and together. I press my body against hers, savoring the feel of her skin against mine.

It's true, I've been with other girls, but I never loved them. Sex was always just that: sex. A distraction…a means to release. Nothing more, nothing less. I never knew that having sex—making love to the person you're madly in love with, the person you can't imagine your life without could be so emotional. So deep. I never realized how burying yourself inside the one you love connects you, it bonds you in the most intricate of ways. That is, until now, until this night, until this moment. I love this beautiful, amazing girl with everything I've got, and I can't imagine being without her. The thought of losing her…it's just…unimaginable.

And so, in the Meadow, under the stars, the night before the Reaping, I show Madge Undersee just how much she means to me.