Ricochet

Chapter 11: I have this friend

Author: Carla, aka cali-chan
Rating: Most likely PG-13. Nothing worse than what's in the books.
Genre: Adventure/suspense/drama/romance... again, pretty much what's in the books.
Pairings: Peeta/Katniss, Rory/Prim... and probably others. You'll see soon.
Canon/timeline: Same-context AU- this fic still happens in the same world as THG, but the actual events in the books never happened. I'm adding about five years to the characters from the age they were at the beginning of The Hunger Games. Katniss is 21.
Disclaimer: Yeah, just let me go get my transfer laser and switch bodies with Suzanne Collins. Until I find it in the mess that is my room, anything you can recognize belongs to her.

Note: I've never really tried this before (and I'm sure it will eventually come back and bite me in the behind), but each chapter will be from the PoV of a different character. You should be able to tell whose PoV it is fairly easily, though.

Summary: "Primrose Everdeen." This can't be happening, Katniss thought. She desperately pushed through the crowd. I volunteer!, she wanted to scream. I volunteer as tribute! But she couldn't, because she wasn't eligible for the reaping anymore. There was nothing she could do.

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Normally, Gale would wait until after dinner to go visit other people's homes. There were many reasons for this.

Mainly, it was because his mother insisted it was impolite to show up on someone's doorstep while covered in soot from the mines, even if Gale was always sure to point out that everything in Twelve was covered in soot anyway. (It was quite the debate they had going about this back during his first few years of working in the mines. By now he just decided to go with it and save himself the trouble). There was also the fact that Posy got naggy if he didn't have dinner with the family, especially now that Rory was working past dinnertime.

Considering the circumstances, though, he thought this took priority. He was anxious, he'd been biting people's heads off left and right at work, and he was sure his family wouldn't appreciate his dark mood anyway. In order to be at ease, he had to know what was going on with Katniss. So as soon as he got off work, he made his way (soot and all) to the Mayor's house.

Because it was summer, it was still light out, and the sunshine reflected off the windows of the tall house. How nice it must be, he reflected, to have a house that not only wasn't falling apart, but also shone with the sun. He rolled his eyes to himself as he neared the porch. Funnily enough, this was probably the first time he'd walked up to the front door of the Undersee home. Usually when he and Katniss sold them strawberries, they handled their business through the back door.

He rang the doorbell, and it took about a minute for someone to get the door. It was the maid, of course. An older woman, older than his mother at least; her appearance indicated she was from the Seam- she had the dark hair and gray eyes- and he thought he might've seen her around a few times, but he didn't really know her. "Yes?" she asked him, somewhere between surprised and curious. He guessed it wasn't a very common occurrence to find a miner knocking at the Undersees' front door.

"Uh, I need to speak to Madge," he stated, more than asked, in a way he hoped didn't sound awkward. It felt weird to call the Undersee girl by her name; he always called her "the Mayor's daughter" but he guessed that wouldn't fly very well in her own home.

The woman's lips drew into a line, not like she was angry but slightly reproachful, and for a moment it reminded Gale of his mother when she would pull at his ear when he was a child whenever he forgot to say please. "She's not home from work yet," she replied, her slight disapproval melting into a kind of somewhat-amused neutrality. "Maybe if you come back later you'll find her," she suggested. "Or perhaps tomorrow morning," she added, probably implying that it wouldn't be polite for him to visit at nighttime.

Gale wasn't exactly concerned with being polite, and he simply couldn't wait until the next day to know what was happening. He would have to come back after dinner. "Fine. I'll stop by later," he let her know. As he turned to walk down the porch steps, though, he saw that Madge Undersee herself was coming through the gate.

"That's okay, I'm here," she said, quite unnecessarily as he had already seen her. She closed the gate behind her with her foot. She couldn't use her hands, because her arms were full of folders and files. She was carrying what looked like a heavy amount of paperwork. She looked past him and at her maid. "I'll take him from here, Grethel. Thanks." He could only guess the older woman had nodded, because he heard the front door close behind him a moment later.

"This may sound surprising but I work about the same amount of hours you do," she commented as she came down the path and up to the base of the porch steps. He almost snorted at her poor attempt to commiserate with him; sure, spending twelve hours sitting in a cushy office was almost the same thing as spending twelve hours inside a dark, constricting tunnel that could cave in at any second. He managed to keep the sarcastic remark to himself, though; he hadn't come here to argue.

He walked down the three steps to meet her; if she wanted to have this conversation outside that was fine with him, and he'd rather not stand on the too-pristine porch if he didn't have to. "My father's still at the office," she continued the same line of conversation. Gale wasn't really paying attention to what she was saying. "Now that the Games are starting, there's a lot more paperwork to go through. But I wanted to come home so my mother wouldn't have to eat dinner alone," she explained.

"But," she readjusted her hold on the mountain of papers she carried in her arms, "I still have homework," she added, with a small smile. A breeze blew by them and a few strands of her blond hair fell in her face; she was holding most of it back at the nape of her head with a pencil, he noticed, but obviously the hold wasn't strong enough. Since her hands were otherwise occupied she shook her head a couple times to get the offending strands out of the way.

Gale wasn't the type for small talk, nor did he really care if her hair was in place or not, so he just decided to ask what he came to ask and get it over with. "Have you heard anything about Katniss?"

For a second she seemed almost surprised he was asking. "No," she answered, frowning slightly. "But it's been less than a day," she hurried to explain. "It takes longer than that to get to the Capitol. They're probably still in the train." She shook her head. "I'd like to think no news is good news."

No news did not sit well with him. "Are you sure?" he insisted. "There's gottabe a way we can know something. I mean, if something went wrong, surely the Mayor would be informed. Right?" He had to know what was going on, if they'd been found out. He was going out of his mind with worry.

"Yes, he would," she said, very slowly, like she was being really careful about what she said. "But that would be classified information," she asserted. "I don't have access to that."

"Figures," he muttered under his breath. It wasn't a stretch to think that the Mayor's office routinely withheld information from the population. That was the Capitol's way of working, controlling every single piece of knowledge and editing every truth just like they edited the footage of the Games, because that's the best way to keep the districts inferior, subjugate, powerless. He knew all of that already. But having it indirectly confirmed by the Mayor's daughter still managed to leave a bad taste in his mouth.

She seemed to notice. "What?" she asked, a little defensive, lowering her voice as she took a step closer to him.

"There's gotta be something you can do, though," he said, reducing the volume of his voice as well. It wasn't safe to discuss this topic out in the open, any more than it would be inside the Mayor's house. They both knew they had to be careful. "Don't you handle all your father's documents and stuff?"

She looked up at him sharply. He'd never interacted with this girl outside their strawberry transactions, and even then Katniss did most of the talking, but this was an expression he recognized. Sometimes when he couldn't hold back a snide remark, she would look a bit unsure whether she should be alarmed or offended. And then she would issue a bland response, all politeness and good manners. This time it was anything but bland. "Are you asking me to break into my father's files?" she asked him, definitely leaning more toward the offended side now.

He thought that was rich. She was so concerned about looking into a couple documents when just yesterday she'd been giving out information about train schedules and Capitol visitors? He knew they couldn't trust her. "You wouldn't do it for Katniss? I thought you were her friend."

She pressed her lips together tightly, like she was trying to keep herself from blowing up at him. She was getting angry, but still wouldn't let herself show it. "Listen," she started, attempting to sound conciliatory, but still coming across a little short. "I want to help her as much as you do, but it's not as easy as sneaking a folder out of the office and reading its contents. Unless it's on the paper or they air it on the closed-circuit system, I have no way of knowing," she explained. Gale had no idea what "closed-circuit system" even meant. "And I haven't exactly been home to check if anything's aired," she added, once again pointing to the huge block of paperwork she was carrying that she had yet to put down because she hadn't even made it into her house yet.

"I'm sorry, but I just don't have access." She stressed the last three words noticeably. "The most I can do is keep my eyes and ears open around the office. If something happens, Dad might even let me know himself." She turned her eyes away from him and to the side, and it was only then that he noticed how close they really were standing. "And I'd appreciate it if you stopped trying to make my father into one of the bad guys."

Well, he works for the bad guys, doesn't he? the thought rose unbidden in his mind. But as much as he was in the mood to argue, he hadn't come here for this. This visit was about Katniss. "Fine, you do that," he snapped at her. "Meanwhile, we just sit here and wait for something to go wrong? There has to be something we can do."

Something in his words seemed to give her pause. She was still looking down, brows furrowing a little, as if in deep thought. "What?" it was his turn to ask.

Her eyes snapped back to him, a renewed energy in her eyes. "There might be one thing," she sentenced, then hurriedly walked past him and onto the porch steps. She signaled with her head for him to follow her, and he had no choice but to do so, since she wouldn't tell him what she was talking about. In fact, other than to tell him to take off his boots before he entered the house, she didn't really speak at all.

He took in the house as she dropped the files she was carrying on the dining table. The house was big; the living and dining room, which together were really one big room, were bigger than his entire house was. Everything was really well-lit, both by the light coming in from the big windows, and from a series of elaborate sconces in the walls that bathed the room in warm tones as the sun went down outside.

The floors were dark hardwood, polished, which contrasted against the white of the walls, and the furniture as well. Even the piano was white. Everything was so white, it almost seemed like whoever had decorated the place was protesting against coal. He kept to the foyer, almost afraid to touch anything. Admittedly the house wasn't as extravagant as he'd expected- it was orderly, spacious and nicely-decorated, but it couldn't compare with images he'd seen of the Capitol- but everything was obviously expensive, and he didn't want to mess anything up and have to pay for it.

To the back of the room, behind the dining table where Undersee was standing and to the side of a big cabinet where they stored fancy plates, there was a door which, he guessed, led to the kitchen, and maybe a laundry room; he'd never really bothered to see what was back there when him and Katniss walked up to the back door to sell berries. To the left there was a set of stairs leading to the second floor. That's where the family's bedrooms were, probably, and maybe even in the third floor as well. They had to have a few extra bedrooms; he knew people from the Capitol sometimes stayed there when they visited Twelve.

He saw her walk around the table to the back door and take a peek on the other side. Then she made her way to the stairs and glanced up, like she was trying to see if anyone was walking around up there. She was acting like Rory and Vick used to when they were younger, and would play spy games. It made him wonder what the heck she was doing. Besides wasting his time, that is.

She motioned for him to follow her as she went up the stairs and he did, still feeling irritated that she wouldn't tell him what she was up to. When he made it to the second floor he noticed there were four doors, all closed. She stopped in front of one of the middle doors and reached into the right pocket of her gray pants to pull out a small set of keys. She used one to open the door.

She led him into a room that was obviously a study. The back wall was floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, filled with books and folders of all shapes and sizes. In front of it was a sturdy cherry wood desk, with a stiff, dark chair Gale thought would probably be uncomfortable. Beside the one window there was a potted plant, some sort of tallish leafy thing he was pretty sure was not natural to the area. Right beside the door there were three file cabinets, and to the right, in the wall directly opposite the desk, there were a few more bookshelves, and a flat television screen mounted on the wall.

She closed the door behind the both of them as he inspected the room. "I thought you said you weren't going to do this," he said, referring to his previous idea of her snooping through her father's secret Capitol business. Considering her previous paranoia, she was probably worried someone in the house might overhear, so he decided to be careful with his wording. Walls were thin in District Twelve.

She shook her head. "I'm not," she told him, seeming to understand what he meant. "We're going to use the phone." She walked up to the desk and started opening and closing drawers like she was looking for something. "I was just thinking that there's nothing we can do while they're on the way, but maybe we can prepare things for when they get there." She finally found this elusive object, which she lifted so he could see it: a small, forest green, leather-bound address book. "We're going to call Mr. Abernathy."

Gale had to admit he was caught off guard by this. He would bet there was not one person in the district who would think of Haymitch Abernathy as someone to go to in case they needed help. The man might be their only living victor, but he was sullen, reclusive, disgusting, and a drunk. It was a miracle he hadn't yet died of some sort of liver condition after almost thirty years of seemingly living off nothing but booze.

Still, he was the tributes' mentor, and would be directly responsible for Prim during the course of the Games. If Katniss wanted to save Prim from the Games, chances were high she would have to make contact with Abernathy. And only the Mayor could communicate with Abernathy without suspicion; it was his office that handled money transfers to the Capitol whenever the people in the district actually managed to raise a little something to help sponsor the tributes. He didn't say it aloud, but it was a good idea on Undersee's part.

He leaned against the edge of the desk, trying not to touch any of the Mayor's things, as she readied the phone for the call. He looked at the things that were on the desk. The Mayor didn't leave anything sensitive out: there was a calendar, two empty trays (labeled "in" and "out"), a pen holder with three pens in it, and a few picture frames. The one closest to him held a photo of Madge at around five or six; her blonde hair was up in two pigtails, and as she was smiling widely at the camera, he could see she was missing her two front teeth. He could see why the Mayor would like that picture; part of him wanted Posy to always remain that energetic five-year-old who thought clinging to his leg was the best way to move around the house. He could relate.

Finally the phone started ringing. She had set it up so the sound would come out through the speakers instead of the earpiece, that way they could both hear what was said on the other side. "Don't say anything," she warned him to stay quiet.

The phone rang three, four more times before someone finally picked it up. "Starting early this year, princess?" The voice on the other side of the line was clearly male, and from the slurring there was no doubt in Gale's mind it was indeed Abernathy. "We just got here a few hours ago."

He saw her roll her eyes- whether that was because of the nickname or the fact that the guys was obviously drunk off his ass, he didn't know. "Actually, I'm not calling about sponsorship this time," she started. The familiarity in the conversation told Gale she had probably been handling sponsorship calls in place of her father for the past few years, just as she'd been overseeing train schedules. "I was just wondering if maybe there's a way someone could observe the mentoring process. Maybe even help?" she input, a little hesitantly.

The direct response on the other side was a snort. "You vying for an internship?" Abernathy asked, sarcasm clear even through slurred words. "I'm afraid we're not offering this year. Even for the daughter of the Mayor of District Twelve." He said this last phrase in the tone one would use to say a very, very important title. It made Gale frown; as many scornful remarks as he'd thrown Undersee's way in the past, he'd never quite made "the Mayor's daughter" sound that much like an insult. Hearing it from Abernathy now almost made him feel bad for being rude to her.

She didn't seem to have a problem with it, though. Maybe she was giving him a pass because he was under the influence, or maybe she was just that focused on getting the message across to the man. Either way, she continued on as if he hadn't said anything. "No, see, I have this friend," she said. A second later she seemed to realize how weak that sounded and she looked at Gale with a cringe. He couldn't help but agree. But it was done now. "She really wants to help. If she could..."

Before she could make anymore arguments, Abernathy's gruff voice came through the line again, interrupting her. "Listen, I have two kids to mentor and a lot of free liquor to drink, so I don't have time for this." There was a loud click, and then the dial tone. The jerk had hung up on them.

She stared down at the phone, openmouthed. In any other situation he might've found her expression hilarious. "Well, that was helpful," he muttered, conveniently forgetting that just a little while ago he'd thought it was a good idea.

She seemed absolutely dismayed when she raised her eyes to his. "I- I'm sorry," she stammered, a bit wide-eyed, halfway between disbelief and embarrassment. "I really thought it could work..."

"Yeah, well, I'm just gonna go now," he said in a final tone, signaling to the door. It was true that he'd been the one to come here to begin with, but she was the one who pulled him into the house, and now he'd hit his daily quota of standing awkwardly around while other people took action. He had to get home, anyway; his family was waiting for him.

She nodded and mutely led him out of the study, once again repeating the routine of checking the hallway and stairs to make sure they didn't run into anybody on their way out. All the doors on the second floor were still closed, and it seemed the maid was still busy in the kitchen, so they made it down to the front door with little fanfare. To him, that was strange; at his home, you couldn't even take a step without stepping on someone. He briefly wondered if it was just that this house was so big you could walk from side to side without coming across another person, or if the people who lived here just weren't interested in interacting with each other.

She stood to the side as he laced up his boots and reclaimed his hard hat and gloves. He walked down the three porch steps in only two, and standing on the path to the main gate he turned to look at her. She seemed distraught, brow furrowed, arms wrapped around her torso. Truth be told, he wasn't feeling too good himself at that point; this whole enterprise had been a bust, and all he was left with was the distinct feeling that there was nothing they could do from here to help Prim and Katniss. But he could recognize it wasn't her fault.

"Let me know if you hear anything at the office," he told her, remembering her offer from earlier about keeping her eyes and ears open for any information.

She looked at him, seemingly surprised he'd spoken, but then she nodded. With nothing else to say he turned back to walk down the path and out the gate, his feet automatically leading him in the direction of the Seam. He could only hope Posy wouldn't be too mad at him for being late.

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Author's notes!-

So I'm trying to do this thing where Gale, because he's a little older and presumably more mature, isn't as snippy with people (in this case Madge) as he is in the books. But he's still supposed to be... curt. If that makes any sense. -sigh- Is it working? I don't even know. =/ Oh, Gale. I wouldn't love you half as much if you weren't so hard to write...

Also, I've taken a bit of liberty with the timeline of the Games, as you'll start to see in this chapter. In the books, the trip from Twelve to the Capitol takes less than a day, because they have super-duper technology and whatever. Because of plot demands, I need to make it a little longer than that in this fic.

The Amtrak website helpfully let me know that a trip from Charleston, West Virginia (which is close to where D12 is located in my headcanon) to Denver, Colorado (which is where the Capitol is) takes about 40-ish hours at our current level of technology. Recognizing that technology has advanced by the time Panem rolls around, I'm going to say for the purposes of this fic, the trip is going to take about 30-34 hours, depending on whether or not there are stops on the way. A day and a half, if you want to round up.

If you liked this chapter, or just want to laugh at me for my ridiculous nerdy tendencies, please leave a review! Actually, the best reason to review this time is that it might make me update sooner- the next chapter is FINALLY a Peeta PoV, you guys! You've all been asking for that! =D LOL. And believe me, it's one you don't want to miss. Stuff happens. -totally unsubtle hint- ;)