Chapter Four: Catching Fire

Summer break begins soon after the Games end, and I don't see much of the Mellarks. All of them disappear into the woods from dawn until dusk to harvest the wheat. I keep an eye on them intermittently between my own prolific hunting. Summer is when you store up for Winter. Everytime I see them, they are hard at work. Jet and Peeta do the scything. Colleen and Cole bundle, and the youngest two rake. That's just the beginning of course; they also have to thresh and winnow what they've gathered. After that, they'll have to prepare the land to plant the corn. Whenever I catch them working, I invariably think of Thresh, and how skills like this had helped him survive. He knew how to handle a scythe; he knew how to survive in the forest of grain they provided for him. I wonder if the Gamemakers had planned to have an outlier win this year, to keep things from being too boring. It seemed a bit of an advantage for anyone with farming experience, like people from Eleven raised in fields of grain. I wonder if they're regretting it.

Thresh has been a difficult victor to say the least. His shout, "For Rue!" when he made his last kill has been taken by the District as something of a rallying cry. I've seen the phrase graffitied everywhere. During his victor interview, much like his tribute interview, he really made Caesar work for every word. There was seething resentment in him, and tears that shone hatred in his eyes when he saw Rue die. He made it clear he thought anyone who participated or enjoyed that kind of thing was monstrous. It didn't matter how much the Capitol tried to edit his interview. There really was no salvaging it. I worry all the time about the consequences for him, but so far he's still around. I can't imagine what the Victory Tour will be like.

Gale is thrilled by what he's seen. Ever since he's started down the mines, he's been even more of a ticking bomb than ever. Resentment spills out of his every pore. He was made for more than back-breaking minework in unsafe conditions for which he gets a pittance.

"Don't you see, Catnip! This proves that the other Districts feel the same way we do!"

"Maybe they do, Gale, but we're all still trapped by fences." I wish he would be rational. "Do you even know how you'd communicate with them? Let alone ally with them?"

"Thresh is coming here on the tour, isn't he? We can get him a message then."

"How? How are you going to get close enough to him?"

He rolls his eyes at me. "All we need is a signal. Someone to shout from the crowd we support him."

"And get us all killed."

"They can't kill all of us, Catnip. Where would they get their coal?"

"Didn't save Thirteen." I point out cynically.

"Look, we're all on camera. Maybe they'll edit it out in post-production, but maybe other Districts will see what we did too." He looks down at me in frustration. "I don't know why you're fighting me on this, Katniss."

"I'm not! But there's no point in having this rebellion if it doesn't work. I'm not risking my life, let along my sister's and mother's on some fool's scheme!" My chest rises and falls with each rapid breath. "When I'm sure you've thought this through, maybe I'll consider joining." He internalises this. His eyes are watching me in a manner that is calculating, and, for once, I can't fathom what's in the recesses of his mind. Do I know him as well as I think?

"Alright, Catnip. I will. I'll give you a plan. It's simple. We get to Thresh. He gets word out to the other districts, other victors, maybe. We make bows, weapons, grab the tools from the mines, take the Peacekeepers. The miners are angry, Katniss. We'd do it. If we can coordinate that with the other districts, we could take the Capitol."

"They. Have. Bombs. Gale!" I spit through gritted teeth.

"We have a victor who is an ally in the Capitol."

"And?"

"Maybe he can cripple them somehow."

"It's a bit much to hope."

"All at once, maybe, but if we plan this over a few years. It could work."

It might. I reluctantly concede to that. We spend the rest of out time in the woods in silence, but I can tell from the distant look in his eyes that Gale is scheming. Right before we leave, he shocks me with that he says.

"Your friend, Madge, the mayor's daughter."

"What of her?" I ask cautiously. Gale's never liked her.

"She'll be at the banquet when Thresh comes here, won't she? She could get a message to him, discreetly. Could you talk to her about it?"

I muse over it a bit, but Madge has mentioned her Aunt Maysilee a few times. I know she has a rebellious spirit in her, it's evident if only in who she choose to befriend. And, in truth, as careful as I've learned to be, I want to end these Hunger Games. I want to rebel. I tell Gale I'll talk to her about it. Something this simple is small, not likely to hurt anyone, but could have impact.

I broach the subject with Madge when she joins me gathering in the woods. She looks intrigued.

"I'll need to be able to tell him what kind of support to expect." She muses. "You'll need to know how many miners are involved, how far they're willing to go, but, yes, I'll certainly do it. Actually," she adds hesitantly, but I see pride in her eyes as she raises them to mine. "My family has been rebels for ages." Then she bites her lip, before adding something that confounds me. "Just tell Gale to be careful about running his mouth in the mines. New shafts should be fine, but I'm pretty sure the Capitol bugs them to make sure there isn't anything treasonous that might translate into action. I can't be sure, but I've heard it speculated that that's why there was that accident years ago. The one your father died in."

"You mean…?" Could it be possible? My father poached. He was hardly a law-abiding citizen, but I had never considered he might have been a rebel in the revolutionary sense. I suppose it could explain the lack of support we received afterwards. I still don't doubt it was because my father's marriage was so unpopular, because everyone was too wrapped up to care, but now there might be another reason as well.

"Yeah." Madge nods. "I don't know much, but my aunt and your mother were friends. I think that's what got your mother into it, when she saw Aunt Maysilee die."

My mother, a rebel? I can hardly imagine it, but then again, she did leave everything she'd ever known to marry me father. She'd been brave once, rebellious. I feel a stirring of desire to know her again burning up inside me warring with the urge to keep her at a distance to protect myself. A war that has been going on in earmest since she held me after Gale kissed me.

I'm going to have to talk to her.

"Yes, it's true."

"Seriously?" She says it so casually. Yes, it's true. I feel my mind spinning, but at the same time it's like it's falling into place, being screwed on right, because it makes a bizarre sort of sense.

"You were rebels?"

"Yes," my mother nods again. She sips her tea before she elaborates. We're both sitting at the kitchen table. Prim is out with a friend. Despite the fact that we are talking about Dad, or perhaps because of it, Momma seems more animated than ever. "I grew up thinking, if not nasty things, than superior things about the Seam." She explains. "I never imagined I would ever visit here, let alone live here. But one day, your father showed up, asking to trade meat for antibiotics. A boy had been horribly whipped, and needed help. My father refused him, but I admired his courage in coming there. There was something shining in his eyes. It was well-known that my family believed in doing business only with those who had the coin. Your father went on about how the young boy was the only child left to a widowed woman. Something about the entire scene touched me, so I followed your father out. I got him the medication. That started everything."

"You said you met when he came to trade plants with you?"

"I did. The whippings back then were terrible. After Haymitch won, new peacekeepers were brought in, and the punishments were absolutely barbaric. My parents said we shouldn't help; the people involved were criminal, and it would only cause trouble. The truth is, I wanted to cause trouble. I watched my best friend die a horrific death on live television. Haymitch tried to help her; they were allies. I thanked him for that once." She quiets as she becomes lost in a distant memory. She shakes herself out of it. "I was angry at the Capitol for what they'd done, and I was sixteen so sneaking out to heal the backs of those who were whipped for defying them seemed a terribly grand idea." I can see it now. My mother, before grief diminished her, sneaking out to help those in need. I'm proud of her, I realise. "I told your father I couldn't help him with Capitol-grade medicines again, so I looked through the Plant Book, and told him which herbs to gather. I suppose I realised interacting with all these Seam families that they weren't so different, the depth of the unfairness. It's not often someone from Town is Reaped, but now that I knew how devastating it was…I couldn't imagine what it must be like to face that all the time." She shrugs, takes another sip of her tea, and concludes. "So that's how I fell in love with your father, and, yes, eventually, we joined organised rebellion."

"I don't know what to say." I mumble. I twist my head trying to process what I've just heard. Momma reaches out to grasp my hand.

"It was nothing I meant to hide from you," she says softly, "but first you were too young, and then…"

"And then…" I conclude, knowing exactly what she means.

"When Jack died, I feared it was my fault," she whispers. "Did I get him killed?"

For the first time in years, I go up and wrap my arms around my mother. I love you, I think to myself, because I do. My mother has never turned anyone away, has always healed everybody, and I know, once she came back, she did all she knew how to do for us. Slowly, haltingly, those words cross my lips, and as we cry together, our tears intermingle.

Afterwards she lifts a trembling hand and wipes my tears away.

"I understand why you're so reticent to have children, you know." She says tremulously. "Your father and I waited years to have you, until things were safer. I knew better than most do how to avoid a pregnancy. But, sweetheart, I never regretted marrying your father, or having you and your sister. There's things I wish I'd done differently, but I've never regretted it. And if I hadn't done it, I know I would have always wondered, and that would have been worse. I don't know what happened between you and Gale, but if he isn't for you, then he isn't. I rejected men too, but if you're afraid…be honest, and consider if it's worth the risk. I'd never take back what I had with your father for the pain of his loss. And you're not alone, not like before. Prim and I will stand by you, if nothing else." She closes her eyes and I touch her hand, the one that wiped my tears. "If you do want to talk to me about that, Katniss, I can listen." Then she moves to wash up the dishes, and I help her dry. Momma's like me that way. She says what she has to say, but she's not wordy. The silence between us communicates what we cannot. It is not shards of ice that let in a chill wind, but a warm chord that hums between us.

I warn Gale about talking in the mines, and about what Madge says, and it fires him up. In light of what I now know, I also try to corner Peeta to talk to him, but even past the harvesting and planting season, he's hard to find. When I come over with some clothes Prim has outgrown, Colleen greets me at the door, and encourages Sarai to try them on. As she excitedly does, Colleen confides in me that Peeta has been distant ever since the Games. He throws himself into his work, and barely surfaces at the end of the day. He's gone early in the morning.

"It's true," Sarai confirms as she gathers up the clothes that don't fit her anymore. They'll likely one day be Posy's. "He doesn't tell stories like he used to." Colleen brushed back her little sister's hair comfortingly and something rends in my chest.

I go home and stew for hours before marching into the woods to find Peeta. He's there, sure enough, and I storm up to him hissing at him to come talk to me.

"What do you think you're doing?" I reprimand as soon as we are out of Jet's earshot.

"Farming." He replies blandly, although I detect shock in his eyes at my dressing down. I suppose it's true I've never dared talk to him like this, then again, have I ever had to?

"I've barely seen a peep of you in weeks," which hurt more than I want to admit, "and now I have to hear from Colleen and Sarai that you've been all checked out?" I fight the tears forming in my eyes, because it brings back uncomfortable memories. "I'm not your daughter, and even I haven't appreciated not being able to talk to you, how do you think they feel?"

"I'm sorry." He stammers. "I-"

"I really don't care." I throw my hands up in the air. "Just stop. Do better."

I storm off, but he follows me, and grabs me by the left forearm twisting me around.

"I am sorry," he speaks earnestly. "I hadn't realised I was hurting you or them. I just…I don't know. Whenever I'm upset, I work." He runs a hand through his hair. "I have ever since I was a boy, kneading bread is a good way to work out anger. It's always worked before, and it means things get done that…appease people, I guess." He shakes his head. "It doesn't work now though. I hurt all the time. It never goes away, and now Maria's pregnant, and-

"Maria's pregnant?!"

"Yes. And I can't help wondering what's going to happen, and if maybe I've screwed up, and my brother won't look me in the eye, or talk to me, or accept anything from me, and then I go home, and wonder if I haven't condemned every single one of them. I just…" He looks skyward and blinks rapidly. I know he's trying not to cry, and I don't know what to say.

"Is it true you're part of the rebellion?" I blurt out instead. He looks gobsmacked again. It seems to be a day for it.

"Yes. Did you figure out from the art?"

"Partially," I admit, "but Mom told me today about how she and Daddy were in with the rebels, and you said you knew him, and you said he taught you about art. You said he used to sing. It reminded me of the Hanging Tree, and how he used to sing that, but Momma would tell him to be careful. So, I just wondered if…"

"If that's how we met?"

I nod.

"No. We met because he traded with me, but he was the one who brought me into the Rebellion. I felt like I had to get involved."

"Why?"

"Because of Jude, I suppose, and the others when they came. So many children starving, I can't feed them all. Even with the new bakery, I can't feed them all. Then, I realised I was a father, and how could I be a good father, if I turned a blind eye to something threatening my kids?" He sighs and looks deflated. "My mom used to hit me. My dad did nothing. The Games are worse than being hit, and I couldn't do nothing the way he did." He shrugs his shoulders. "That's how I got in."

"Just tell them that then." I say. "They'll understand that you're fighting for them. You're all in too deep now."

"Do you think they'll forgive me?" He whispers, and in the curling of his torso I can see what it had cost him to admit this. The family he was born into turned against him. Does he expect the one he created will as well?

"I wouldn't worry about it. I forgave." I pause. "And I'm not always good at that."

He smiles. "Thank you."

"What for?"

He laughs. "Yelling at me. I guess, I needed it."

I lean up on my tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek and head home.

Rebellious sentiment spreads quickly. The idea of trying to make contact with other districts proves popular, and while not everyone is willing to join in actively now, they do say that if the Districts unite, they'll fight. Our district is small so we'll need a lot of the population to fight, but with the addition of Peeta's farming, there's more self-sufficiency, and that means more people who see hope. Which means there's a shot. I tell Madge everything and she dutifully promises to relay the information. Gale's ambitious and he hopes that maybe if they show something on camera, it'll get through during the mandatory viewing, reach more than just Eleven. I don't know who organises it, or how it's decided, but when the Victory Tour finally comes, a recording goes off during Thresh's clearly scripted speech of Rue's four note tune, and someone shouts For Rue! And gets carted off. Thresh nods in solidarity. We are all put under curfew.

Regardless, Madge is able to get her message to him, and Thresh tells her District Eleven had an uprising after Rue's death, and are chomping at the bit for freedom. And having been on Tour, he can confirm that other Districts are angry too. Word is quickly spread through the mines, and soon people are whistling various four note tunes in solidarity.

Gale is extremely eager.

"Don't you see, Catnip!" He exclaims. "It's closer than ever!" He crows in the woods, and I let him. In spite of myself, I am excited too. "Maybe a couple more years, and we'll have them. We'll have them." I smile at his enthusiasm, even if I think it's a bit premature. "And what about us, Catnip?" He turns around and looks at me with shining eyes.

"What about us?" I hedge. All the delight in his exclamations dies.

"I know you're worried about having kids, Katniss, but if we built a whole, new, better world, it would be different." He says it so hopefully, almost confidently that I can't bring myself to crush him. Besides, I don't know if he's wrong. Without the Games, with access to food and Capitol-grade medicine, I really wouldn't object to having kids, but the idea of opening my heart like that hurts. I do consider it though, I already care about Gale, care about a lot of people, maybe there's no stopping it. Momma's right too, we aren't nearly so helpless now. So I say,

"Maybe I can be different."

And maybe I can, but when I dare to dream, since I'm dreaming anyway, I dream of blonde hair and blue eyes. Even though I know it's as likely to happen as pigs flying.

It's Peeta who first tells me about Thirteen. It is Madge who confirms it. It's a game-changer really. Weapons are an issue for us. We don't have a whole lot to fight with. Knowing someone could supply us with arms helps. If every district, or even of most districts, can take their Peacekeepers, we'll have a shot at the Capitol. It's sensitive knowledge though, and not something we can blast around which makes recruitment difficult. I don't do much of any of it, but Gale rales in the mines, and Peeta is working on it in Town with a friend. I provide a listening ear to them both. One thing everyone is nervous about, riled up about, is the upcoming Quarter Quell, and both Gale and Peeta are using that to their advantage.

But Winter is difficult, even more so than usual. Most people become so intent on heating their homes, and overcoming illness, we know we'll have to wait until spring to really start the conversation up again.

Eliot drags home another girl from the Community Home. She's three years old, adorable, and her name is Crystal. She's recently orphaned. After a couple months, she's one of the many who fall ill. She's still far from the last. Mom and Prim are gone all hours of the day and night for weeks trying to keep on top of it all, but there's not much they can do. It drags on and on. There's speculation it's punishment, biological warfare from the Capitol, but we don't know and it doesn't matter. Either way, it changes nothing of our reality. I spend a lot of time at the Mellarks for support. Crystal coughs and sputters and tries to breath. We feed her as best we are able, and hold her head over steam to help her breath. We try to bring her fever down, and soothe her cough. Nothing works. Finally, I hold her and sing. It's all I can do. Peeta stands in the doorway as she falls asleep. I see tears stream down his face.

She is in the ground come March.

"This is why I don't want kids." I mutter to Prim as we both cry in bed.

"That's stupid," she mumbles. "You cared about Crystal; she wasn't yours. If you stop caring, I don't think you'll like yourself very much."

I don't know how to answer her, but I still feel a bit validated in my opinion when there is the Reading of the Card for the Quarter Quell.

"As a reminder that they only endangered their most vulnerable by rebelling, this years tributes will be Reaped from only the twelve year old population."

My mother gasps. Prim cries. I stare.

Gale storms up to me and tells me to meet at the Mellarks for an emergency meeting. There I see Gale and Thom, a couple of other miners I know by sight and not name, and Peeta and his friend Melissa Donner. I gather these must be various cell leaders.

"We need to start the uprisings in May, before the Reaping." Gale starts off the conversation, "People are furious about this. It's perfect timing. They want to stomp us down, but we'll rise up." The conversation spirals from there. People are only just starting to recover from the harsh winter; we don't have the numbers yet. It's hard to organise a community of thousands. That's why next year was more feasible. Just because Twelve was ready, didn't mean all the other Districts were and so on. I agree to wait and Gale glares at me, but I don't see and alternative.

Things don't really fall apart until Gale and Peeta get into an argument. Peeta makes a reference to offering the Peacekeepers the choice to surrender, and Gale says it would endanger lives.

"Not all the Peacekeepers are bad, Gale." He points out. I think of Darius and agree.

"If the White Shirts want to join us, that's fine by me." Gale growls back. "But I'm not giving them another opportunity to get one over on me." He is met by enthusiastic agreement. "It's Us v. Them."

"How are they going to know to side with us, if we don't offer them a chance?" I can see by the tenseness around Peeta's eyes that he is angry, but his voice is carefully modulated and even. "We shouldn't kill without mercy."

"It's war. Sacrifices have to be made. They'll shoot with us or against us. That's their choice, but I'm not taking any kind of risk that loses this for us. Anyone who sides with the Capitol is the enemy."

"I'm so grateful to know, Gale, that anyone who even looks like something you don't like is the enemy. It's a wonder you'll talk to us Townies at all. But, of course, it's because you get something out of it, allies. I wonder what you'll do when being allies with the Capitol benefits you more than not."

Gale swings a punch and the meeting is quickly ended as we break the two men up.

"Are you alright?" I ask Peeta as he sits back down. He seems to need more from me than Gale.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You didn't seem to be at your best."

"I think Dad's sick." He whispers and I walk over and hug him tightly where he sits. "It's no surprise. Dad's getting on anyway. He's almost sixty. It was really only a matter of time." Releasing my hold a bit, I card my fingers through his curls trying to soothe him. When I'm done I caress my hand down his jaw. He stops my hand and looks up at me. There's a focus in his gaze that's raw, even new, and I immediately become aware of how close he is, how fast my heart is beating, and how my breath started for just a second. I don't know who does it. I think I do it. But it's the easiest thing in the world to press my lips to his. Slowly, oh, so slowly, our lips move, part in a gasp of pleasure, so light and tentative, like dragging your finger against a flower petal. Then closer, I press closer, feeling his hands on my hips. I change the angle of my head, and he bursts away. Footsteps pad down the stairs.

"Dad, is it over? Is everything okay?" Cole sidles up to us rubbing at his eyes, and we burst apart.

"It's fine, son." He ruffles the boy's hair. He bounces his eyes past me, and I know we won't be talking about this today. "Just a disagreement in method. You should be in bed."

I take that as my cue and awkwardly say my goodbyes.

Peeta doesn't meet my eyes at the door, and I wonder if I've ruined everything.