Changing the Game Chapter 11: Checkmate, a hunger games fanfic

A/N: Hello all! As always, I want to give a huge, huge thank you to everyone who is reading this story, as well as those of you who bless me with kudos and fill my inbox with your questions/feedback/opinion & concerns. (Especially my dedicated readers who put the effort to comment at the end of every chapter, even just to say 'great/good chapter) It truly makes my day, encourages me to write more and helps me grow as a writer. If something doesn't make sense, or if I've contradicted something, please let me know! With such extravagant chapters, it is difficult to catch every misspelled word and typo.

I wanted to reach out to Gracie (Guest reviewer from last chapter) and say thank you for your review. I try to respond to everyone, but FF doesn't allow you to respond to guest reviews, so THANK YOU Gracie!

One last thing….Thanks to everyone (religious or not) for praying/keeping my father in law in their thoughts as he battles this nasty cancer…He came to pick my son up yesterday, so I take that as a good sign.

Okay….I'm done with my rant…now go read…I hope you enjoy

Changing the Game

Chapter 11 : Checkmate

Madge

"Olive, have you seen The Undersee girl anywhere? She promised me an interview to kick off this mandatory viewing tonight and I can't find the dear anywhere!"

"Did she say that she promised, or did she just nod her head and brush you off?" There is a brief pause as Tangie fumbles through her memories trying to recall our previous conversation. I meet my mom's eyes and we both grin at each other. I have to cover my mouth with my hand to stifle my giggles.

"I'm almost certain she promised." Tangie states uncertainly.

"Well, if she promised then she'll find you. She's fickle that one, but she keeps her word. Just give her some time, it's still early yet." Olive assuages her.

I've been in mama's room for the better part of my afternoon spending some quality time with her. She's been oddly lucid the last few days, and without the excruciating pain that she's normally in, so I'm taking advantage of this time with her while I've got it; I never know how long these coherent moments will last.

Mama eyes me suspiciously as we are both privy to Tangie and Olives hushed whispers. I shrug my shoulders, letting her know I'd rather be in here with her than off giving interviews. I know that eventually I will need to leave the safety of her room and grace Olive and Tangie with my presence.

"Can you feel it Madge?" Mama is looking straight at me with the clearest blue eye's I've ever seen on her. The insane amounts of morphling The Capitol supplies her with usually causes her eyes to appear cloudy and distant. But today, it's like someone has removed the mask from over her head.

"Feel what?" 'I don't feel anything except hungry.' I think to myself just as I feel the rumbling of my stomach.

"It's changing; things are changing, I can just feel it in the air. Close your eyes Madge." Her voice has never sounded clearer than at this moment as she speaks to me. I scoot closer to mama and follow her instructions, closing my eyes.

"Now, take a deep breath—" I inhale deeply through my nose, following mama's instructions "— and you can just feel the energy in the air, it's different. I can't quite put my finger on it, but something is definitely different. Something big is about to happen that will change the world as we know it Madge." I exhale through my mouth and relax my shoulders, trying to feel whatever mama is talking about. But I don't feel anything.

"Yeah mama, I feel it. What is it?" I decide to placate her, realizing there is nothing to feel.

"It's change." When I open my eyes a few seconds later, mama has closed her own eyes and fallen back to sleep. Maybe the drugs The Capitol supplies her with is making her crazy after all. I've never heard her talk like this before.

Or maybe...could it be? No, nothing is different about the air, it's definitely her medicine. There is no way you can actually feel change in the air, right? I shake my head, pushing the thoughts down, realizing that my mother/daughter bonding time has come to an end, and I pull the blanket up to mama's chin and switch the light off before quietly slipping out of her room and into the bright fluorescent lighting of the hallway and run smack into Tangie.

"Whoa, I'm sorry, didn't see you there!" I apologize for not paying attention as I await her instructions.

"Oh Madge! There you are, I've been looking everywhere for you! I was worried you forgot about the interview you promised me tonight!"

"Of course not, I'm much too excited to simply forget about it!" I apply my game face and try to summon all the strength I am capable of. If Katniss and Peeta can be in the arena dealing with everything that they are currently going through, I can suck it up and supply The Aliens with an enticing interview to keep their attention focused on my friends.

"Olive is already in the square, I told him once I found you, we'd meet him out there. Are you ready to go? Uh...maybe you should change clothes first." She cringes at my plain dress that I still have on from school.

"Oh, this silly thing? I was just about to change; just give me a few minutes and I'll be ready to go."

Rose yells at me for running in the house as I make a beeline to my room. I give her an apologetic glance as I change into one of my nicer dresses, something appealing to The Capitol Citizen's eye.

Tangy and I meet Olive in the center of the square; at a taped off section reserved for these purposes. Tangy fluffs my hair up and squeezes my cheeks in her attempt to add some color to my face. She tried to talk dad into letting her apply some make-up to my face, but he strictly forbid her to do any such thing.

Olive gets the camera rolling as Tangie grips the microphone in her hands. "This is Tangie Tatum, your favorite Games Insider, reporting all the way from District Twelve. As you all know, there is a mandatory viewing tonight; the word on the street is The Gamemaker's have a big surprise in store for us. And tonight, I have the beautiful, alluring, Madge Undersee with us." Tangie speaks into the camera as she begins her spiel. Then, she turns to me, shoving the microphone into my face, mere inches from my mouth.

"Miss Undersee—"

"Madge." I correct her, irritated because this is the third time in less than two days.

"I'm sorry, Madge...So, is it true that you are friends with this year's tributes?"

I push my shoulders back, jut my chin out and hold my head up high, summoning as much confidence and capitol persona as I can before choosing my words carefully. I plaster the biggest ear-splitting grin on my face that still allows me to speak while talking, "Yes, but I must make a slight correction; Katniss and Peeta are not only my friends, but my best friends! I just can't believe that me; the daughter of District Twelve's mayor, has the privilege of knowing BOTH of District Twelve's tributes this year! I'm so jealous that it wasn't my name that was selected this year!"

I can't ignore the evil glares Gale sends my way just as those last words slip out of my mouth…Oh boy. I am going to be so exhausted by the time this is over, I'm not sure if I'll even have the strength to make it back home.

"Oh, look, it's starting!" I am no longer of importance to them as the big screen in the square flickers on with the image of The Capitol seal. We see the cornucopia that has been blown to bits just as the blaring of trumpets fills the square. Sensing a distraction, I manage to escape undetected as I go in search of Gale to explain myself.

"Attention tributes, attention! There has been a slight rule change. Two winners will be permitted if they reside from the same district. Again, two winners will be permitted if they reside from the same district. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

The entire population of Twelve is gasping in shock as they take in this surprising rule change. I mimic those around me even though I am not the least bit shocked. I wasn't sure when it was going to happen, but I knew that it was coming soon.

. . . . . . . .

0o0o

. . . . . . . .

~ Katniss ~

'Peeta?' It's been a while since I've heard Peeta's voice, he hasn't said a word since Haymitch sent him that compass.

'I'm coming Katniss Peeta is out of breath, panting as if he is running.

Suddenly, the cave walls begin to rumble followed by the blaring of trumpets.

Was that real? Did Claudius Templesmith really just make an announcement? THE announcement? Or am I hearing things again?

'Peeta? Did you—'

'I heard it too, Katniss.' Peeta confirms for me.

A few minutes later I hear movement outside of our cave and then Peeta bursts in looking no worse for the wear. The dried blood caked on one side of his face doesn't scare me, it's the scrapes along his neck and the deep gashes covering his arms that send me into a panic. He carefully stows my bow and arrows in a corner of the cave, and then removes all of the knives from his person and then takes me into his arms.

"I'm okay." He reassures me.

We remain locked in each other's embrace for a long time, I almost can't believe he's actually here. The warmth of his body feels heavenly, and not just because I've been freezing cold without him here.

"I'm so glad you're okay, I was so worried that…I can't lose you Peeta, I…just—" I bite my tongue to prevent the tears, refusing to give the audience any real bit of me, at the same time I can't seem to prevent the flood of emotion that overwhelms me at the thought of losing Peeta.

The thought of his death looming above me forces me to pull myself closer to him, hugging him even tighter.

"It's happening Katniss." Peeta whispers so quietly into my ear I'm certain no microphones are capable of picking it up.

"We're going to go home Katniss; we just need to get you some medicine. Speaking of, how are you feeling?"

Should I be honest with Peeta or try to appease him? I go with honesty, deciding that avoiding the truth will get me nowhere. I need to prepare Peeta for the possibility that I won't make it out of here, not with the condition I am currently in. "Peeta…I—" He must notice the look in my eye because he slams his mouth onto mine to keep the words from coming out.

I wonder if, like Madge, he believes speaking the words aloud makes them more real. Oh, Madge. I really miss my friend; I wish I could see her and give her a hug and tell her how much I love her. I would tell her what a wonderful friend she's been to me all of these years. How strong she is to constantly put up with my stubborn attitude, and constant indecisiveness. I wanted to tell her some of those things when we were in The Justice Building saying our good-byes, but she refused to allow me to speak, insisting that I could tell her when I got home. Am I going to make it until then?

"Peeta, medicine is really expensive. What if Haymitch can't get it?"

"Then we'll figure something out Katniss. I'll go into the forest and forage for some medicinal plants and berries to hold you over until we get to The Capitol. All you need to do is outlast the others. Something will come through, I promise. I am NOT leaving this arena without you by my side." I've always loved his positive attitude and his ability to see the best in any situation. But I also worry about the extremes he's willing to go to uphold his promise.

If I were to succumb to my injuries and Peeta was left as the last one standing, I don't doubt that he would...no, I can't think like that. Peeta is right, something will come through.

"For now, we rest. Let me take care of you. First, let's get some food into your body." He spreads the sleeping bag out and balls up his jacket, motioning for me to lie down in his make-shift bed. I lie down, tucking the jacket under my head feeling overwhelmed at the prospect of going home. Peeta hands me a bottle of water and I take it, drinking eagerly. He takes his place next to me and opens his hand up, offering me a handful of berries.

"Rue?" I ask as the memory of Rue sharing her berries with us resurfaces. Peeta averts his eyes, looking down to his feet as he shakes his head. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really, not right now anyway. What I do want is for you to eat. You can't get better if you have no strength." Just as quickly as the words slipped from his mouth, a parachute floats down, landing next to us. Peeta excitedly opens it; I'm sure he believes it to be my medicine. However, he is more than disappointed to find a pot of steaming broth. He removes the lid and I notice the greedy way his eyes light up when the aroma flows up his nostrils. I wonder when the last time he ate anything substantial was.

By the look in his eyes, I would have thought he would have dug into the soup, instead, he dips the spoon into the canister and brings the spoon to my mouth. I shake my head, the thought of eating causes my stomach to churn, and not in a good way.

"I'm not hungry, you eat." I insist

"Katniss." Finally, I open my mouth, the stern tone of his voice tells me he will not take no for an answer. Besides, he's right; I will have no hope of recovery if my body has nothing to fight with.

After each spoonful he offers me, I insist that he has one too. For the next hour or so, Peeta and I share the broth while I fight the sleep that threatens to undertake me. Peeta was gone for at least two days, I'm not really sure how long it was; this fever has caused me to completely lose track of time, but it's the reason I don't want to sleep. I'm afraid that when I wake up from sleep, I will find that Peeta being here with me was but a dream, a fantasy even.

With my stomach content with the fullness of the soup, I lose the battle and succumb to the darkness wrapped in Peeta's arms.

. . . . . . . .

0o0o

. . . . . . . .

~ Haymitch ~

"Haymitch, I need you to give me your word." Me and the boy are headed back to the training center from our meeting with Seneca Crane.

"What are you talking about kid?"

"I know the plan is to get both Katniss and I out of the arena…together, but if something were to happen…if anything happens to prevent that from being possible, I need you to promise me that you'll get Katniss out of there." Of all the things I expected the kid to say, this was not one of them. Chill out on my drinking, sure. Work my ass off getting them sponsors, no problem. But this…No, I'll get them both out, I have to.

"Stop worrying so much kid, you're going to make yourself old before your time. You're both coming out of there with your lives intact." The kid stops, halting us in our tracks to stare me in the eye.

"Haymitch, we both know that in the arena anything can happen. Katniss lives; she is the victor if anything changes. If you guys are unable to pull this off, you save Katniss. Do I make myself clear?"

I don't want to say it out loud, don't want to think about a situation that forces me to choose between them, but the boy needs some assurance. "Sure kid. But it ain't gonna happen, you're both coming outta there."

"Say it." He demands.

"You have my word, kid."

"The whole thing Haymitch." Damn, he's not going to let this go.

"I swear kid. You have my word."

"Your word about what?" Damn him.

"Katniss wins. But—"

"Thank you Haymitch." We walk the rest of the way to the training center in silence as I stew over my promise, wondering if I have the strength to follow through if the situation were to arise.

"Oh, there you are! Haymitch, I have been looking everywhere for you!" Effie bounces over to me with a man I've never seen before, her arm linked with his. For some reason, this bothers me. "Haymitch, I'd like you to meet Raven Kadinski, Raven, this is Haymitch Abernathy, mentor to District Twelve." Effie introduces us.

I repeat the name in my head, thinking that it sounds familiar. Where the hell have I heard that name before? Just then, it hits me, "Kadinski? As in the Kadinski Empire?" Even us 'District Folks' know who the distinguished Kadinski's are. They are one of the wealthiest families in The Capitol, their prominent lineage dating back to even before the dark days.

"The one and only!" Raven chuckles.

"Nice to meet you, Haymitch Abernathy." I stick my hand out and he accepts it, giving me a firm handshake.

"It's a pleasure, Haymitch. If you have a moment, I wanted to speak with you privately about the possibility of taking on your kids. You see Haymitch, I am a betting man who relies solely on my gut. And my gut is telling me that you're the mentor that will be bringing home a victor this year." I can't ignore the fact that he referred to my kids as 'your kids' and not 'your tributes'. Strange.

'Just one?' I think to myself. "Your gut told you all of that?"

He nods his head and offers me a sly grin. "Indeed, it did. I know it may sound crazy, but it's never failed me, not even once as of yet, so I intend to heed its advice. So, Haymitch—" Effie excuses herself, signaling that she's going to grab us some drinks and she'll meet us at the table. Raven and I make our way to the sponsor's dining area where he has reserved a private table for us to chat.

"—You're girls a fighter, I can tell by how well she maintains her disposition, even in agonizing pain. If she were to say...have some medicine to heal her up nicely, I bet she'd be a force to be reckoned with." Is he offering to purchase the medication for her? What's his game, I find something suspicious about this, since ninety-five percent of sponsors go straight for the careers, yet here he is, trying his damnest to talk me into giving me his money.

"Why do you want my kids? Why not Two? Both of them are still going strong."

"I've got roughly Thirteen Coins riding on your pair." Thirteen coins? What the hell does that mean? I wonder if it's 'sponsor talk' referring to a bet he placed. Still, I find the way he says 'thirteen coins' rather peculiar.

"Don't get me wrong, I'll take your money and get my girl some medicine, because you're right; once she's healed up, none of the others will stand a chance." He chuckles at my admission just as Effie joins us with the server on her heels carrying our drinks.

"Tell me Haymitch, your kids...is their plan to remain together...all the way to the end?" What the hell is this man's problem, why is he acting so strange? Effie must notice my momentary befuddled expression because she strikes up a conversation with Raven, allowing me to size the man up. I stare off into space replaying our conversation in my head for several minutes before I figure out who he is.

Or should I say, 'Who he's with'. Thirteen. District Thirteen. Thirteen Coins. President Coin of District Thirteen. 'All the way to the end,' Has been the phrase Katniss and Peeta have heard coming from so many of us. He's a rebel. He's a Capitol Sponsor disguised as a rebel, holy hell.

My face lights up in a grin as I finally assemble the pieces, and Raven doesn't miss a beat, even as he is intently immersed in his conversation with Effie.

As soon as the gamemakers added a variety of medications onto my list of potential sponsor gifts, Effie and I went straight to The Green room. The medication the girl needs is exorbitantly priced, but not unattainable; hence, the purpose of wheedling in these greedy sons a bitches.

"So, about that medicine..."

. . . . . . . .

0o0o

. . . . . . . .

~ Bing ~

"You can do this Esther, just one more push and then you can hold your baby girl!" Fern, our nurse-midwife cheers my wife on just as Esther is ready to give up. After being in intense labor for almost twenty-nine hours, followed with nearly three hours of pushing, Esther is past the point of exhaustion. Fern must have said the magic words, as Esther seems to have gotten a second wind, eager to meet our new baby.

About halfway into our third pregnancy, Fern informed us of an old wives' tale that can predict the sex of your baby. She claimed it wasn't always one-hundred percent accurate, but implied that it is a fun way to get ready for the baby. Already having two rambunctious boys, Esther has been over the moon preparing for the birth of our daughter.

Suddenly, my wife's body goes slack, and she is no longer screaming out in pain. "What's going on? Is she okay? What about the baby?"

"Mr. Mellark, we need to operate. You'll need to wait outside while we perform surgery, and someone will be out as soon as we know more." Olivia, Fern's daughter and assistant informs me, ushering me out of the make-shift delivery room.

I am shown to the 'waiting room' which just happens to be her living room where my other two boys are running around with Violet, Fern's youngest daughter.

"Where's mommy? Is baby here? I want to see baby sister!" An excited three-year-old Rye runs into my arms with a six-year-old Graham on his heels.

"No, not yet big man. Mommy um—" How do I tell my sons that mommy might not be okay? What if she doesn't make it, what will I do? I can't lose my wife, I can't...This isn't happening, it can't be. 'Get a grip, Mellark.' I internally scold myself, returning my focus to the children in front of me who require my attention.

"Miss Fern had to take special care of mommy by herself and we're just going to wait out here until they come and get us." There, not completely a lie.

An hour later, Fern enters the living room with an unreadable expression plastered on her face, causing me to assume the worst. I stand up, my heart plummeting into my stomach as I prepare myself for her words. Realizing her mistake, she places a reassuring hand on top of my own, "Congratulations Mr. Mellark, would you like to meet your son?" Mere seconds later, Olivia comes out holding my swaddled baby, placing her into my arms.

"She's beautiful!" I ignore the tears that escape my eyes as I look into the brightest blue eyes I've ever seen.

"Mr. Mellark, um…I'm sorry but we were incorrect in our gender assessment, it's a…you have a brand-new baby boy!" I can almost feel the tension in the air as she holds her breath in anticipation, expecting me to be angry.

"He's the most beautiful creature in the world!" I gush over this new life I'm holding in my arms, not caring whether my child is male or female, only thankful that he is healthy. As I look into his eyes, I don't think there is anything on this entire planet more perfect than my son.

"Mr. Mellark, there are some things I must inform you regarding your wife's surgery. There was a substantial amount of bleeding, which resulted in an emergency hysterectomy. I'm so sorry, but we didn't have a choice, had we not removed it, she would have bled to death. I'm so sorry, Bing."

I never take my eyes off of my son as I listen to her and nod my head in understanding. Fern has delivered all three of our children and I trust and respect her judgement. If she says there was no other choice, I whole-heartedly believe her. "But she's okay? She's going to be alright?"

She nods, forming her lips into a firm line. "Yes, I want to keep her here for a few nights just to keep an eye on her bleeding, but she should be just fine, just no longer able to have more children. Once she gets home, I don't want her lifting anything heavier than the baby for at least six weeks. I'll write everything down for you, so you don't forget. I know all too well how overwhelming having a new baby can be." She says with a sparkle in her eye as she looks at her own daughters.

"I think three is plenty…thank you for everything." I sit down, still holding my new son to introduce him to his brothers. They are more than pleased that their sister turned into a baby brother as they ooh and aah over him. Rye giggles when he places a finger in the baby's hand, and he squeezes it. They refuse to believe me when I tell them that they too, were once this small.

We spend the next hour lavishing in the beauty of this baby, counting his fingers and toes and checking out his reflexes until I am able to introduce our new baby to Esther. I wait by her bed cradling our baby in my arms until her eyes slowly flutter open. I offer her a bright smile and place a kiss to her forehead.

"You did great Esther, how are you feeling? Are you in any pain? Fern said—"

"Where is she?" Esther immediately scans the perimeter of the room in search of our baby. I hold the baby up for her to see.

"This is your mommy—" I introduce our baby to his mother. "—Esther, meet your beautiful baby boy." Her face sours at the word 'boy' and she turns away.

"They said it was—"

"Honey, they told us their prediction wasn't foolproof, it's just an old wives' tale. But Esther, look at him, he's just beautiful. Wait until he's awake so you can see his eyes, they are the most beautiful shade of blue, bluer than even the sky!" I feel the pride soar through me at the mention of my son's eyes.

"We'll try again right?" My stomach drops realizing that no one has informed her of the medical procedure needed to save her life. I sit down next to her and place my hand over hers.

"Esther honey, there was a lot of bleeding. They had to perform emergency surgery….and….this perfect baby is to be our last." She holds her face in her hands and sobs. She pushes away every attempt on my part of consoling her. My heart breaks for her because I know how badly she wanted a daughter, but that isn't this baby's fault.

The following weeks proceed in much of the same fashion, she refuses to acknowledge our newborn son and stays in bed hiding from all of us. I am left to name our son, to which I give him the name of my favorite grandpa, Peeta. Instead of enjoying the last baby we will ever have, Esther resents him for his gender and blames him for the loss of her uterus.

She refuses to hold Peeta or care for him, while continuing to love and care for our other boys which is what initiated the wall between us. Our marriage was never perfect, but we loved each other, and we were a family.

After closing the bakery up, I took The Everdeen's a loaf of bread and I even snuck in a few iced cookies for Primrose. They're the only people who can relate to my fear and anxiety; their daughter being in the arena with my son. They've been good friends as well, including me in the nightly viewings of the games, all too aware of Esther's pessimism and condescension towards Peeta.

It was rather dark on my way back home, making it difficult to make out the people I pass by. But the voice I heard was unmistakable. Esther. I walk toward the sound of her voice, keeping myself hidden from view as I'm curious as to what she's saying; certain that I heard her say Peeta's name.

"He was never useful for much at home, I'm shocked he's even made it this far. Wouldn't surprise me in the least if his picture lit the sky up in the next day or so. I just can't believe he professed his love for that brat on national television, I mean, what an embarrassment! I don't understand why he would do this to me, I mean, I'm too afraid to even imagine what everyone is saying!"

As I get closer, I see my wife gossiping with Cindy, one of the townies. As far as district hierarchy goes, Cindy's husband Bill is the editor of the newspaper, putting them pretty close to the top. Esther is more concerned with status and popularity than the potential loss of our son; it doesn't surprise me in the least but doesn't stop the rage I feel simmering just under my skin.

"ESTHER! But he's your son, don't you have any faith in him? Don't you want him to come home?" Cindy sounds truly appalled by Esther's comment, causing me to believe she isn't nearly as bad as I've previously thought her to be.

"Please Cindy, he's an embarrassment, has been from the moment he was born. I guarantee he'll be dead by the day's end."

"Well, the girls and I are all very impressed with him. Didn't you see how well he disguised the entrance to the cave? You couldn't even tell it was a cave. Or how about when he shot that bow and arrow? That was a pretty impressive shot if you ask me, and then to blow the career's supplies up! That was brilliant, just brilliant. Who cares who he's in love with, you need to get over yourself Esther!"

This conversation seemed backwards with Cindy trying to convince Esther of Peeta's strengths.

"AGGHHHEMMM" I show myself and Esther meets my eyes guiltily. The sight of her causes me to feel sick but I couldn't allow her to continue trashing our son.

"Let's go, Esther. Rye's waiting at home for us." I glare at my wife, letting her know that I heard every horrible word she spoke to her friend. She doesn't even bother to feign shock or embarrassment at being caught bad-mouthing our son. She waves good-bye to Cindy and catches up with me as we make our way to our home just above the bakery. Once we are out of earshot from Cindy, I turn to face her.

"How could you say that Esther? He's our son for God's sake! You know what, never mind. This petty resentment you have towards him needs to end. I am only going to tell you this once; so, listen carefully. You will not speak another negative word about him again. And when he comes home, because yes Esther, I'm choosing to believe that I will see him again, and when he comes home, you will treat him with the respect he deserves. I won't ask you to love him because we both know you are incapable of such emotions unless it has todo with Graham and Rye, or your petty little friends. Do I make myself clear?"

"Bing, you have no right to speak to me this way. You've always babied Peeta, that's why he is the way he is. He needs to get his head out of the clouds and grow up."

"Esther, I'm warning you…"

"Or what Bing? What will you do to me? There's nothing you can do to me, and I will do whatever I want." She retorts with just a hint of superiority.

"I'll leave you. I'll go to the Justice Building and file a petition for divorce. Maybe Graham will let you live with him and Holly, oh no that won't work because she can't stand the way you treat Peeta either!" The shocked looked on her face is blinding; she is rendered speechless. No one in our district ever gets divorced. She'd be the laughingstock to all of her friends, the town joke. She turns on her heels marching into the bakery and slams the door in my face.

Had I not run into Dylan the other day, that conversation could have gone much differently. Before the other day, there was no doubt in my mind that when I said good-bye to Peeta in the Justice building on Reaping Day, it would have been the last time I would see my son alive.

Before that conversation, I knew that Peeta intended to sacrifice his life for the girl he's been in love with nearly all of his life. Peeta has been through so much pain in his life, and when he comes home, I will make it my life's mission to ensure that he never suffers again at the hands of his mother.

. . . . . . . .

0o0o

. . . . . . . .

~ Peeta ~

Lying on the ground with a sleeping Katniss in my arms leaves me with nothing but time to think about the events of the last few days. My mind immediately wanders to Rue. She saved us from the career's by cutting the tracker jacker's nest down, saved us from the effects of the tracker jacker's, nursed us back to health. She even saved me from Marvel's spear and what did I do? I didn't do a single thing to show her how much her sacrifices meant to me. I just let her die, there must have been something I could have done.

Deep down I know it wasn't my fault. Deep down I know there was nothing I could have done. We are in the hunger games after all. So many times, I was certain I'd never see Katniss again, which makes me all the more thankful that I am here with her, holding her in my arms. No matter what shape she is in, the fact remains that she is still alive. And if I have anything to do with it, that is how she will remain.

Haymitch made me a promise, and he better uphold his end. Once I'm sure Katniss is completely asleep, I carefully remove myself from her, placing her down gently, as to not wake her. I wonder if she's changed the bandages on her wound in the days since I've been gone. Concluding that she probably hasn't, since she's been overcome with a fever, I grab the bag that houses the first aid kit.

I pull down the sleeve of her shirt to inspect the wound and my stomach nearly turns at the discoloration of the bandage itself. Realizing there is no way for me to properly clean the wound without removing her shirt, I fumble through one of the backpacks looking for the extra set of clothes. I place a blanket over Katniss' torso, keeping her covered at all times as I remove her shirt completely, leaving her one arm exposed.

I remove the contaminated bandage, holding my breath to prevent the putrid smells of the infection to waft up my nose. It does little to ease my stomach, for the amount of puss and drainage causes the contents of my stomach to threaten to be expelled.

I fill the squirt bottle with clean water and begin rinsing the wound clean. I repeat this process until I'm satisfied it's as good as it can get. Then, I apply some of the antibiotic ointment I found to the wound, topping it off with a clean bandage. Finally, I go to redress Katniss in the extra shirt that we have; it's not completely clean, but it's better than what she was previously in. As difficult as it was, I manage to keep every part of her exposed skin covered, not wanting any of those creeps from The Capitol to get a look at her.

Exhausted after the entire process, I clean my hands the best I can and leave the confines of our cave to refill our bottles of water. Since I'm already out here, I decide to inspect the trees surrounding the cave in hopes of finding something, anything that might help Katniss out. I did tell the gamemakers that I knew which nuts and berry juices to mix together to create an infection antidote. That was a boldface lie; even if it weren't, I'm sure they would have made certain to remove anything medicinal from their arena. I manage to collect a decent amount of nuts and berries before returning to the cave.

When I return to the cave, Katniss is sitting up looking around confused. "Hey there. You sleep okay?" I ask her.

"Oh, sorry. I couldn't figure out where I was for a minute." I remember her telling me this after a sleepover at Madge's once. Anytime she wakes up and isn't in her own room, she freaks out for a few seconds trying to figure out where she is.

"Where did you go? You can't leave without telling me where you're going Peeta." Her voice is stern, her tone demanding with a hint of fear.

"I just went to refill our water and brought some snacks on my way back."

"Just come lay with me. I missed you." I can't deny her anything, especially when she admits to missing me; it's so unlike her. I do as she says and settle in next to her, pulling her into my arms.

After a few minutes of silence, she finally speaks. "Peeta, will you tell me a story?"

I pull my brows together in confusion, "A story?"

She nods her head, "Something to distract us from being here."

"Okay. A story. Do you want a real story or a make—"

"Make-believe, definitely make-believe. Show me what will happen when we win this thing."

I take a minute or two to think about a story to concoct. Living through the games eradicates so much of your hope, so much of your dreams that it's hard to fathom a life outside of it. But it's Katniss who is asking; so, a happy story is what I shall give her.

"Okay, so Claudius Templesmith has just declared us the winners…"

. . . . . . . .

0o0o

. . . . . . . .

~ Portia ~

I was destined for great things from the time I was a small child. My parents were some of the most prestigious sponsors in The Capitol, celebrating the games year-round and throwing the most extravagant parties. Not just anyone could attend their parties, you had to receive a special invitation just to enter the grounds. No one would have guessed them to be rebels. Maybe 'rebels' is the wrong word.

Growing up, my parents instilled the importance of appearances. I can still hear my mother's words in my head, 'Remember Portia, even in times of great despair, always put your best face on, for you never know who is watching you.' Maintaining my game face and coming off as a snobby Capitolite who relishes in the gore of the annual hunger games was how my family best portrayed ourselves.

However, in the privacy of our home, they suffused their strength and wisdom into me and hoped that I would someday have the courage that they lacked to make a difference in the word; to one day help put an end to The Hunger Games. They stressed the importance of keeping my thoughts private, for if spoken to the wrong person, it would lead me to my imminent death.

I cruised through my life always feeling as if something were missing. Although it was looked down upon, early in my freshman year of college I visited a seer; an oracle if you will. She foretold (as I'm sure she does to everyone) that I would achieve to do great things. She spoke of an artistic partner that I would meet and together, we would incite a change in the nation. She warned me a young boy who emanated an orange, red and yellow aura which would be thrown into my life and saving him would make all the difference. The difference in what, she could not confirm.

I thought her to be a fraud until a few months later when I met Cinna at a freshman mixer for fashion majors. With just a bit too much to drink, Cinna and I hit it off, talking about anything and everything under the sun. When Cinna went on his tirade about the games, with a little help from the alcohol, I was more than shocked beyond my wildest dreams when his truest thoughts came to surface.

"It makes me sick you know? I just can't seem to wrap my head around how anyone could possibly enjoy it...The games I mean."

I stood there staring at him, dumbfounded by his admission. If anyone other than I had witnessed his confession, he could be tried and hung for treason.

When Cinna realized what he thought was a mistake, he began to retract his statement, claiming ignorance due to the alcohol until he noticed the sparkle in my eyes and the way my entire being seemed to emanate a certain glow. I thought, 'I have finally found a kindred soul, someone to speak freely and openly about my truest thoughts.' Finally, I no longer was forced to keep my feelings packed deep inside. Finally, I met someone who shared my views, who believed The Hunger Games to be atrocious and had a strong desire to become a part of something bigger, a part of something to aid in the genocide of the games.

Cinna and I remained the best of friends all throughout college and graduated at the top of our class. Straight out of college, we began our own fashion line, co-owning a boutique in the city in hopes of getting our name out there. Our line of clothing was such a hit in The Capitol, (which was our hope all along) and neither of us was surprised when we received the phone call requesting an interview from one of the top prep teams for the games.

It didn't take us long until we secured a position in The Capitol as prep team assistants. We started at the bottom and worked our way up until finally, we were offered the position of head stylist. By this time, our clothing line was out there, and it was the hottest thing on the street.

Spencer Sodderman, the man in charge of placing stylists to a district was dumbfounded by Cinna's rejection to his offer of securing us with District Four. "Any other stylist would be thrilled at the prospect at beginning in one of the career districts!" Were Spencer's exact words.

"Spencer, you know how I so loathe repeating myself. How am I to excel and grow as a stylist if there is no challenge to elicit my creativity?" Cinna had perfected his conceited, narcissistic manner of speaking as he asserted his self to Spencer.

"What could possibly be more challenging than fish?" Spencer retorted, perturbed by Cinna's refutation.

Cinna and I had already decided to which district we belonged, but still took a moment to ponder Spencer's question, as to not rouse suspicions. "Why, coal of course." Our position as District Twelve stylist was secure: however, not without Spencer believing us to be idiots for our choice.

Just as preparations for the 74th Annual Hunger Games was to begin, Cinna took an emergency leave of absence, claiming a distant relative was ill and required care only he was able to provide. Unbeknownst to me at the time, Cinna's travels took him straight to District Thirteen, leaving me to take charge of our final preparations for our upcoming tributes. We had an inkling of an idea as to what we would do, but it would all come down to our tributes. What they looked like alone, what they looked like together, their willingness to present a united front and their personalities.

Upon his return, Cinna radiated light and positivity as we awaited the arrival of our tributes. It wasn't until later that he informed me that his trip was to the supposed demolished and obliterated District Thirteen, where he met with their leader who plans to bring Snow down and abolish The Hunger Games.

This was exciting news, but something was still wrong. Cinna was more than elated to be a part of ending the games, but was not all too thrilled with this 'Presidents' way of making it happen. He later informed me that she orchestrated a rigging of the reaping ball in Twelve, causing a domino effect, inciting a young girl named Katniss Everdeen to volunteer for her sister, in which she would eventually become the face of the rebellion, setting everything into motion.

"Don't you dare tell her I said this, but that woman is brilliant!" Haymitch rushes into the control room, flashing Cinna and I a most radiant grin.

"I won't tell if you won't." Cinna reciprocates his smile and I close the cover to my sketch pad.

"What'd she do this time?" I ask Haymitch as his face takes on a somber expression.

"Are they okay?" Haymitch has changed so much in the last few weeks; since knowing Katniss and Peeta. I believe that he genuinely cares for the duo.

"About the same." I reply.

"Well, that's about to change. Effie worked her magic in The Green Room, and we finally got enough money to send the medicine." Haymitch announces as he walks to the 'Sponsor Gift' monitor and punches in his credentials. I observe his facial expressions, as it metamorphosizes so many times that I lose count. It begins happy, excited even, followed by confused, concerned and finally, he's downright outraged.

Haymitch kicks the trash can that sits next to the monitor, sending it flying across the room. I flinch, startled by his outburst as I wonder what happened this time. "Those goddamn piece of shit mother-fuckers! I should have known better! FUUUUCCCKKKK!" He screams out before slamming his fist into the wall.

"Haymitch, whoa man, calm down. What happened?" Cinna hands Haymitch a glass of scotch to calm his nerves. Haymitch accepts the glass, falling back into the couch and tossing his drink back. He pours another, tosses it back and then goes to fill it once again before looking at me and Cinna.

"Effie and I work our asses off in securing what was already an outrageous amount of money for MEDICINE, then when I go to send it to the girl….OH MY GOD, I'M SO PISSED OFF…THOSE MOTHER FUCKERS!"

"Haymitch, what did they do?" Cinna insists that Haymitch focus and tell us the reason for his outburst. "Did they take it away again?" It wouldn't be the first time Haymitch has gone to the monitor to send a gift to one of the kids, to have it spontaneously vanish.

"Pretty much. They increased the price by four hundred percent. Getting her any kind of medication is completely out of the question now."

. . . . . . . .

0o0o

. . . . . . . .

~ Effie ~

It would be considered cavalier to boast of ones achievements, but I can't deny the euphoric feeling of success that consumed my every being once Haymitch and I had acquired the necessary funds we needed to send my darlings the medication that would heal Katniss' wound. Once the funds were deposited into Haymitch's account, he excused his self from The Green Room, claiming to run straight to the control room to send the medication. Meaning that by the time I get home and turn my television on, Katniss should be as good as new.

As I walk into the door of my home, I'm eager to turn the television on and see a lively Katniss up and moving about with Peeta by her side. The sight before me renders me speechless and unable to move as I stare at my pair of lovebirds.

They are lying down, Katniss' head in Peeta's lap as he speaks gently to her. Realizing she's fallen asleep, Peeta carefully moves her out of his lap and fetches one of their backpacks. He peeks into the sleeve of her shirt to inspect the wound on her shoulder and gasps in shock at the sight of it. The look of pure hatred; for what, I'm unsure as of yet, but it is there, nonetheless.

Peeta removes Katniss' shirt while keeping everything concealed, I'm sure The Capitol is just eating this up. He retrieves some kind of squirt bottle from the backpack and proceeds to clean the festering wound. At times, his face turns green and he appears as if he may yack but holds his self together all the same. His movements are steady and gentle but deliberate as to not wake a sleeping Katniss.

Peeta spends over an hour cleaning and redressing the oozing wound. Once he's satisfied with his work, he redresses Katniss in a spare shirt. Again, preserving every bit of her dignity before exiting the cave.

This simple act hits me like a shock to my system and I am out the door before I can even turn my television off. I rush to The Training Center; my intention is clear; I will let Haymitch have a piece of my mind. How dare he make them suffer this way when he has the ability to fix this. What happened? Did he get so drunk that he simply forgot about his tributes?

From the moment I laid eyes on my children, my anger slowly began to fester; it is now a boiling pit of lava on the precipice of eruption. Once I reach The Control Center, I storm up to the control room reserved for District Twelve mentors, escorts, and stylists and barge into the room and walk straight to where Haymitch is sitting on the couch.

I whip my hand across his cheek, resulting in a stinging pain radiating through my palm. This is definitely considered bad manners, but I don't care. He deserves it for refusing to send the medicine.

"What the hell Trinkie?" Haymitch demands. I reach for the remote and click the button to switch camera angles until I get to a sleeping Katniss.

"You see that Haymitch? That is our darling girl who is hanging on by a thread." I click another button to show a close up of Peeta's worried face. "And this, do you see how utterly terrified he is of losing her?" I place the remote back on the table and snatch Haymitch's glass from his hands, throwing the glass back and finishing off the liquid before slamming it back on the table.

"What is wrong with you? Do you enjoy watching them suffer? I thought you cared about them, but clearly you are more concerned with your alcohol consumption that you couldn't take the time to simply press a few buttons to alleviate some of their pain in that arena!"

"Effie, it's not Haymitch's fault, it's not what you think." Cinna comes to Haymitch's rescue, placing a hand on my shoulder and then guiding me over to the monitor meant for sending sponsor gifts in.

"Here, let me show you." Cinna instructs me to look at the screen while he navigates through the different screens. I am growing impatient as Cinna clicks on the final buttons. I look at the screen in utter disbelief at the outrageous increase in not just the medication Haymitch would have sent in, but anything that could possibly be of value to our tributes.

"Is this accurate?" Cinna nods his head, confirming what I already knew.

"How can this be? I mean…it's true that as we near the end of the games, the value of certain items are expected to increase, but this….this is just preposterous!" I turn to face Haymitch and offer him an apologetic look. "I apologize for slapping you into next week, but given your history…"

"It's not actually an apology if a 'but' is implied." Haymitch wines, rubbing his reddened cheek.

I begin pacing the length of the room talking to myself out loud, I think best this way.

"What could warrant an increase to the sponsor gifts to this extreme, I wonder if any other sponsors are faced with this same dilemma?"

"Cinna and I will take a walk and see what we can find out." Portia informs me as I continue my rant.

"The gamemakers are deliberately keeping the sponsor gifts just out of our reach for a reason. Haymitch? Do you have any thoughts?"

Minutes later, Cinna and Portia return with a smile on their faces. "Everything for every district is unattainable, they're not picking on just us." Portia confirms, slightly short of breath from her jog back to our room.

I stop pacing for a moment and face Haymitch as I ponder my thoughts. "Haymitch, do you play chess?"

"Uh…yeah…Why?"

"When you play chess do you simply move your little figurines around the board and hope for the best? OR…Do you try to get into your opponent's head? To anticipate their next move?"

I begin pacing again, not really expecting an answer. "Not only have the gamemakers backed us into a corner but have done so to the remaining tributes. What does this mean, what are they planning Effie?" I'm certain to the outsider, I must appear like a mad woman, as if I have finally lost my marbles. But then an idea comes to my mind.

"We're nearing the end of the games and everyone is off in their corners of the arena in hiding. Normally when the games draws nearer the end, the gamemakers take matters into their own hands and add a little excitement; to assist in bringing the games to its finale…Normally I would think they plan to invite everyone to a feast. However, not everyone is in need of food, so no…that won't w—"

"What'd you say?" Haymitch interrupts me.

"I don't know, to which part are you referring?"

"About the feast?"

"Yes, I did mention that, but Katniss and Peeta have food as well as access to obtain more, they wouldn't be foolish enough to go to a feast."

"Effie Trinket!" Haymitch picks me up and twirls me around, smacking his lips against my own. "Have I ever told you what a brilliant woman you are!" Haymitch sets me down as Portia, Cinna and I question his sanity with our worried glares.

"They're planning a feast alright, just not for food. Whatever each tribute needs most, that is what the gamemakers will be supplying. They're withholding the thing that each of them needs to live, making it impossible not to attend the feast. By opting out, they are choosing death."

Just as soon as Haymitch finishes his sentence, there is a knock at the door. Haymitch opens the door to a fine tailored man holding an envelope.

"Good evening. I am Envoy Quigley Cardoza here to deliver a message. Head Gamemaker Seneca Crane requests that you read this. You must inform him of your choices no later than—" He looks at his watch, "—Now."

"What is this?" Haymitch opens the letter.

Mentors, Stylists, and Escorts alike,

This is to inform you of an upcoming feast for the 74th Annual Hunger Games. Fill in your top three requests to supply your tributes with.

Thank You,

Gamemakers of The Capitol

Happy Hunger Games

And May The Odds Be In Your Tributes Favor

. . . . . . . .

0o0o

~ Peeta ~

"Okay, so Claudius Templesmith has just declared us the winners…" I begin as I try to imagine what would happen next.

"The hovercraft picks us up, and waiting for us is Haymitch and Effie of course, and Cinna and Portia. They ride with us back to The Capitol where they fix us up nicely. No more cuts, scratches, perfect hearing…" I wonder if they can really do that.

"Then we do our interviews together, and it's a huge celebration because we'll be the first of our kind. Two winners instead of one. Of course, they have to make special preparations, but everyone loves us. Finally, it's time to go home and we board the train for District Twelve.

When we step off the train and are back in Twelve, Prim runs into your arms, so happy to see you! But she's not surprised because she knew all along that you could do it. Prim gushes over how much she's missed you and fills you in on everything that you've missed since we've been gone.

Oh, and we see Madge! Madge is so happy and thrilled to have her friends' home. But then you remember that she told me your secret, so you give her a glare, not really meaning it though. You pretend your mad for a few seconds, maybe a minute and then you pull her into a hug, thanking her for spilling the beans. Then we all walk together as our families show us to our new homes in Victor's Village."

I pause my storytelling as our cave begins to rumble, followed by the blaring of trumpets; reminding me too much of the rule change. For a moment, I'm afraid they've revoked the change.

"ATTENTION TRIBUTES, ATTENTION! COMMENSING AT SUNRISE TOMORROW AT THE CORNUCOPIA THERE WILL BE A FEAST IN YOUR HONOR!" I turn my head, shooing them away. I am not risking my life for their stupid food.

"Now, hold on just a second! I know some of you are hesitant to accept our invitation, but this is no ordinary feast. For, some of you are on your last leg. Each of you needs something…desperately and we plan on being uh…generous hosts. Think hard about refusing to accept our invitation. For some of you, this will be your last chance.

~ Effie ~

"Checkmate."

So, there is Chapter 11. I hope you guys enjoyed it 😊 I truly am in awe at the amount of feedback/reviews I've received for this story of mine. I know it's a huge deviation in the actual story, but most of the time my characters just write themselves, I am just the must typing away. Also, any of you who fear that Peeta has stolen Katniss' role as the defiant/fierce mockingjay, all that I ask is that you trust me. Katniss is currently incapacitated due to her injuries, but once she's healed, she will come back with a vengeance! Prepare yourselves!

Our sneak peek into next chapter comes from anonymous…. "I am Maysilee."