Disclaimer: The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. This is a parody fanwork by fans for fans. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.

Note: This is Gale's side story which takes place in the same universe and runs concurrently to my story "Spectator." You will likely want to read that fic first since I will be making reference to the events that take place in it. This chapter takes place during the events of Chapters 34 through 36.

Forgotten

By Fanfic Allergy

oOo

Chapter Eight

Where are Katniss and Violet Everdeen?

That's the main question on everyone's lips.

The Mellarks all have the same answers to that and other questions. The Everdeens are still in the Capitol. No, they don't know why. No, they don't know why they were sent back. No, they haven't seen Peeta. The Capitol was very nice. The food was excellent. Caesar Flickerman's teeth are even whiter in person.

And on and on.

I'm able to hear most of the responses as soon as they're answered since I'm accompanying the Mayor to welcome them home. I can see that Mrs. Mellark is slowly losing patience with the crowd and that Bing, their oldest son, is distracted and clearly looking for someone.

Finally someone notices the Mayor standing there and starts calling for the crowd to make way. I'm grateful to the man since I'm hoping to hear more about Katniss.

"Matz! Muffy! It's good to see you and your family back in Twelve!" the Mayor greets them with a smile. "Things haven't been the same without you here! I think everyone would like to hear about your adventures in the Capitol-"

"I don't know why!" Mrs. Mellark interrupts with a huff. "The whole experience was absolutely dreadful and I never want to go through that kind of shame and degradation again!"

I don't wonder why the Mellarks were sent home so soon after the Games anymore. Whoever was minding them in the Capitol probably got sick of dealing with Mrs. Mellark's tongue.

"Now, dear, it wasn't that bad," the baker tries to soothe.

But his wife is having none of it. "Not that bad? Not that bad! It was horrid. Awful! Absolutely ghastly! I never want to set foot there again as long as I live! The citizens are absolute morons without a speck of taste, decency, or sense. Why they think the Everdeens are as sweet and as lovely as flowers! They can't see just how grubby and deplorable those Seam trash really are!"

"Mother..."

"Don't you 'Mother' me, Bing Mellark! You know I'm right! That older Everdeen girl is nothing but a harlot who seduced my dear, sweet, innocent baby boy!"

At her words I can feel my blood start to boil and I know if I don't get out of Mrs. Mellark's presence I'm going to do something I might regret later, like punching her in the mouth.

"Orville," I lean forward to whisper in the Mayor's ear. "I think I should go check on the train to see if there's any other surprises on board."

"Good idea, Gale," he murmurs back. "I'll do my best to diffuse the situation before Muffy's ill-advised words are overheard by the wrong ears."

I try to make my escape but the baker stops me. "Gale!" He glances at his wife and then walks over to me. He motions for me to lean down so he can speak without being overheard. "Do you think I might be able to request a squirrel or two from you? The Capitol food is delicious, don't get me wrong, but I'm really craving something that tastes like home. I can pay extra."

I think about it for a moment then say, "Yeah, I can do that. It's not going to be until Saturday though. I've got work during the week now." There's no need for me to tell him that I have my mornings off because I tend to stick to trapping and fishing during the week because it's quicker and less bloody.

"That's fine," he tells me. "I've got to get the bakery back up and running. We left in such a hurry, I'm sure there's a huge mess to clean up and I won't be able to pay you until we get the ovens going again."

I nod and bid him goodbye, citing a fictitious errand. I've had just about enough of the Mellarks.

oOo

Three days later, we get the first hint that there's trouble brewing in Panem.

Orville receives a call informing him that our power, already off more than it's on in the Seam, is going to be curtailed even more. Even merchants and Peacekeepers will be feeling the hardship. A damaged generator coupled with a drier than usual year in Five is what he's told. I'm not sure I believe it.

Additionally, because of the shortages, television screens may not turn on for Mandatory Viewing every day. Instead, on those 'brown out days' everyone will be required to go to one of three communal broadcast locations, the square in front of the Justice Building, the school cafeteria, or the Cumberland Mine mess hall. There, they'll need to sign in with Peacekeepers on duty indicating that they were present for any and all required viewings.

Orville tries to work out a way to notify everyone in Twelve of the changes and to make all of the proper arrangements. And his other two assistants Ronnie Milliner and Carrick Hatfield and myself are forced to run ragged trying to coordinate everything. For the first time since I started working for him, I understand what being on-call means.

The Victory Ceremony is tomorrow and it's required that all of Panem watch the three hour event. District Twelve only has a little over eight thousand citizens, but it's almost impossible to make all of the arrangements for screens, chairs, and speakers. The Reaping Day ceremonies take a week to set up. We have a little less than twenty four hours to make this happen.

I don't go to bed that Thursday until midnight and am up again at four. I have to help Ronnie set up the Reaping Day screens in the mess hall while Carrick and Orville negotiate with Cray to be lenient on stragglers. The change is going to take time to communicate and some people may not get the message right away. Orville's got Madge, Delly, Rory and Vick out posting notices on each household's door but there's no guaranteeing that they'll get read in time.

The whole thing is a mess.

By the time the recap rolls around, I'm about ready to drop. But I can't, each of us have our stations to make sure that everyone's present and accounted for. The Mayor and Ronnie are stationed in the town square since it's the largest location. Carrick's at the school while I have the mine.

The mess hall is an old coal dust blackened structure that's long and thin with several long tables lined up along the walls. There's a screen and speakers that we've set up at one end and a small table and chair for me to check people off as they come in.

People start showing up early, around five, and soon there's a line going around the building. I struggle to keep up with the influx of people but it's chaos. I have a list with eight thousand names on it, there is no way to find one name in that many quickly. Madge comes by at five thirty with a couple of sandwiches and a thermos of tea. I am so relieved to see her.

I split the list with her, giving her the first part of the alphabet and the process goes smoother but it's still woefully inefficient. We're still checking people in when Mandatory Viewing starts.

I'm grateful that I'm in the back of the hall away from the speakers, because Caesar Flickerman is in rare form tonight. He's so effusive and excited that I can't stand it. All I want to do is get something to eat and go to bed. And I'm willing to just skip to the latter.

Handing my list to Madge, I stand up to count how many people are left in line. Twenty three. "Do you think you can handle the rest and any stragglers?" I ask her, sitting back down in my chair.

"Yeah, eat your dinner. I've got this."

I don't need to be told twice. I slip out of my chair and lean against the wall, stretching my legs out in front of me. I am so tired. I can eat later. Nothing interesting happens until the end of the recap anyway.

With that in mind, I fall asleep to the sound of Caesar Flickerman introducing the winning stylists.

oOo

"I still can't believe you slept through Peeta's proposal!"

"Will you shut up about that!"

It's Saturday morning and Madge and I are out in the woods. I need to get the squirrels I promised the baker and I want to try to get some fresh meat for my family. I've got a hunch that I'm going to be busy at work for the foreseeable future and I don't want to start hitting up my family's winter stores if I can avoid it.

"You've got to admit," she continues. "It's pretty funny." She bumps me on the shoulder affectionately. "Everyone turned around to see your reaction to the news and there you were, snoring away, blissfully unaware of it all."

The picture she paints is pretty amusing, if I weren't the butt of the joke. I grumble but don't reply. There's really nothing I can say.

"Seriously, though," she says, her tone changing from playful to concerned, "how are you handling the news?"

"I'm handling it."

"Uh-huh." Her tone is flat. "Clearly you are the paragon of noble suffering and unrequited love and you shall mourn your true love marrying another nobly and silently for the rest of your days."

I turn to face her. "Will you stop that! You're making me sound like the hero from one of those stupid Capitol dramas!"

"Give me a straight answer and I will," she counters.

I stop, sitting down on a fallen tree. "Fine. I'm not happy about it but I can't say I didn't expect it." I look up at her. "You've been preparing me for this from the moment the Capitol took Katniss away."

"Okay, better," she says, sitting down next to me. "But there's more to it, isn't there?"

"Yeah. As much as I'm upset that Katniss is marrying him, I kind of feel sorry for Mellark."

"Oh?"

"I mean, how messed up is that?" I lean back and stare up at the summer sky through the canopy of leaves overhead. "This merchant boy gets to marry my girl and claim my kid as his own and I'm feeling sorry for him."

"It's not what I was expecting, I'll say that much." She pauses. "Why do you feel sorry for him?"

"Because Katniss doesn't want to get married. To anyone. I've finally figured that out." I scrubbed my face with my hand. "It's messed up that the moment I stop pressuring her to marry me, the Capitol goes and forces her into an arranged marriage with Mellark. She's gonna resent the hell out of him. He can be the best guy in the world, hell, he might be, but she's gonna hate that she's married to him."

"Ah." Madge bumps my shoulder. "Yeah. That might be a problem."

"Yeah." I stand up and brush off my hands before extending one out to her. "We should get going. The day's not going to last forever and I want to check the strawberry patch again."

Her face lights up as she takes my hand. "Did you say strawberries?"

"Yep!"

"Lead the way!"

oOo

The news continues to get worse as the week goes on. On Sunday, I get called into the office.

There has been an incident in District Eight: insurgents have destroyed one of the textile factories there, killing several people including some from the Capitol. The general public can't know the truth, but the effects are going to be felt. Especially here in Twelve. Apparently Eight borders Twelve and there's concerns that the rebellion will spread here. Particularly considering that the figurehead, Peeta Mellark, hails from here. Orville will have to do something to reassure the Capitol that rebellion won't ignite the district and he's looking for ideas. Which is why Ronnie, Carrick and I are called in.

"We could have the school kids perform a reenactment of the Dark Days. I think there's some Capitol approved plays we could use," Carrick suggests.

Orville nods. "It's an idea. Any others?"

"Just what kind of gesture is the Capitol looking for?" I ask. "I mean, if it were me, I'd want to see happy, content people. Happy people don't rebel. Downtrodden ones do."

"That's a good point. So how do we show the Capitol that we're happy with them?"

I consider it. "People were excited when Peeta and Prim won. They're still excited. I hear there's been a whole slew of new marriages that the clerks at the Justice Building are getting backed up and the baker's starting to run low on toasting bread. People are looking forward to the first shipment of supplies, which come from the Capitol. I think if we request a camera crew to come out at the same time, it'd go a long way to showing just how content District Twelve's populace is and how unlikely we are to rebel."

"I like it," the Mayor says with a smile. "And it puts the burden of proof on them. We don't have television cameras to document this and if they try to short the shipment it'd lead to just what they don't want, a riot."

"Are they going to short the shipment?" Ronnie wants to know. He's younger than Carrick and has three small children and a sick wife who can't work. He's probably relying on the supplies to help him make it through the year.

"There's been talk of it," the Mayor admits. "In addition to food, they typically include a few yards of cloth. Now, with the problems in Eight, that cloth might not be included."

"It wouldn't be the end of the world if we didn't get the cloth," Carrick points out. "Most of us don't remember what's typically in the provisions since it's been so long since we've gotten them. The food is what most of our people are looking forward to not some of the Capitol's castoff fabric."

"That's true. But I'd rather not let them start shorting us," Orville says. "It creates a dangerous precedent."

"Oh," Carrick says. It's all that really needs to be said.

Things get worse on Tuesday night. One of our other neighboring districts, Eleven, had a riot that morning. It happened when the bodies of their two tributes were being interred in the tributes' graveyard. The father of the female tribute, Rue, attacked District Eleven's Escort when the man said something, I'm not sure what. The riot spread across the gathering, with people attacking Peacekeepers and anyone affiliated with the Capitol.

The riot was put down quickly but not without casualties. Rue's father, District Eleven's Escort, and five other people including a five year old boy who was trampled in the commotion are all dead and there are hundreds more that are injured.

Again, this news isn't to be shared with the general public for fear the sentiment would spread. I can't help but feel sorry for Rue's family, they'd already lost a daughter and sister and now they've lost a husband and father.

Still, part of me is excited. I've wanted for so long to rebel against the system that forced me to become a man at the age of thirteen. That led to my father's death because of unsafe work conditions. That required me to increase my chance of death in a blood sport for the Capitol's amusement just to make sure my family didn't starve to death.

I've long thought about just running away. Slipping under the fence one day and never coming back. And I would have if I didn't have my family to consider. It's still a dream of mine to live without the rules and restrictions that the Capitol has placed on us. To never have my siblings or child know the fear of being Reaped and then sent off to the slaughter on national television.

But now that I work for the Mayor, I can see just how difficult pulling off a rebellion here in Twelve would be. We are the smallest district and, worse, we're the least important district to the Capitol. Most of the coal we produce is sent to other districts to power their industries or heat their houses. Six gets the majority of the coal we mine since they produce the majority of Panem's steel, followed by Eight and Eleven to power their factories and greenhouses. Four surprisingly gets the next most, I suspect for their fishing fleet. Some of the coal stays in Twelve to heat our homes and power our ancient generators. The Capitol gets almost none.

What's even more disturbing is when I see the census numbers for the last fifty years. Twelve is shrinking. People are dying faster than they're giving birth and even scarier the average life expectancy is only forty five. Starvation, disease, and the Games have been eating away at our population and nothing is being done about it.

Because the Capitol doesn't care. In their eyes, we're almost unnecessary and they wouldn't care if our entire district was wiped off of the map like Thirteen was. It wouldn't affect their lives or their comforts, at least not permanently.

Rebellion would be suicide. Unlike Five, Eight, and Eleven, the Capitol doesn't rely on us. They'd just wipe us out and move on to their next amusement.

Now I understand why Orville is so insistent that we placate our oppressors. We have so much more to lose than other districts. Most districts, if they rebel, will get stricter punishments, harsher restrictions, and more Peacekeepers stationed there. A few people could lose their lives. We could lose our whole district.

oOo

Because of the stress of this week and the previous one, I ask the Mayor if I can have Thursday off. It's the last day before the new Head Peacekeeper is supposed to arrive and I'd like to spend it in the woods.

I don't know when I'll be able go back under the fence after the new head arrives. I have to admit I'm worried. Especially since two of our neighboring districts have been revolting. I suspect that this new head is going to be less lenient than Cray. It's almost a given. Cray only enforced the laws when he had to, if he or one of his people didn't see it or if someone didn't report it to him officially he didn't care. In fact, he broke just as many laws as he enforced. There's no way that's going to continue. We need to do something to get on the head's side early. I don't know what.

As she had before Panem went to hell, Madge meets me at my house with breakfast: flaky crescent rolls with bacon, egg and cheese inside.

"I stopped by the bakery," she explains as she pulls them out. "I've missed Mr. Mellark's experiments."

I take a bite and the roll is delicious. "I can see why. I could get used to eating these. Does he experiment often?"

"As much as his wife lets him," she says with a smile. "I'll let him know you like them." She hands me another then puts the bag on the kitchen counter. "I bought enough for everyone."

"You didn't have to." She knows I don't like charity even now.

"I know I didn't, but I wanted to." She looks over at me. "I also brought stuff for lunch so we can spend all day out in the woods if you want."

It's very thoughtful of her. She knows the woods are my sanctuary and my salvation. I'm grateful for everything she and her father have done for me, but I'm still not comfortable with the role I've been thrust into. It's better than the mines, but that doesn't mean it isn't a tough job in and of itself.

"We should go," I say. "I want to set up the nets and snares, then go berry picking."

"Strawberries?" she asks, her eyes bright.

"We'll see. My mother wants to make preserves for the winter and berries make good preserves."

We grab our gear and get on our way. The day is grey and overcast which is great for hunting but not as good for foraging. Still, it's been a relatively dry summer and our gardens can use the rain. I just hope it holds off until the afternoon.

We slip under the fence and into the woods. There we split up, Madge to set out the nets and me to set the snares and retrieve my bow. We meet back up at the rocky overhang with the blackberry bushes that used to be Katniss's and my spot.

It's getting toward the end of the blackberry season, but the bushes are still covered in berries, attracting birds of all shapes and sizes. I take advantage of this to bag a turkey and a pheasant but I miss the wild chicken. I'm still not as good of a shot as Katniss is, but with this many targets I don't need to be.

I field dress the birds while waiting for Madge to join me. When she does, I leap to my feet in surprise. With her are three people: a man, woman and teenage girl. Probably a family, and from their clothing and appearance, definitely not from Twelve.

"What's this?" I ask, my eyes trained on the three behind her.

"What's it look like?" Madge shoots back. "They're refugees from Eight."

My eyes narrow, taking in the three's appearance. They're travel stained and starving, but the woman's dark eyes are bright with hope. The man is carrying a pack, probably of supplies, and the teenager looks about ready to drop. "Why'd you bring them here?"

"Where would you have liked me to take them? Into town?" Madge rolls her eyes. "They surprised me when I was setting out the nets. I didn't have a choice."

The man steps forward. "I'm sorry to put you in danger like this. My name's Miller Paylor and this is my wife, Patina, and my daughter, Taylor." The man is paler than me with light blue eyes and sandy blonde hair.

I see Madge's lips twitch at the daughter's name but she manages to keep her amusement mostly concealed.

"What are you doing out here?" I ask.

"We could ask the same of you," the woman shoots back. Her skin is darker than mine, but her hair, what little I can see peeking out from under the cloth she wears over it, is brown.

"What does it look like?" I ask, pointing to the berries. "We're gathering food."

The woman lifts her chin. "We're doing the same."

"This far from Eight?" I can't keep the incredulousness out of my tone. "Try again."

"We're trying to get to Thirteen," the girl says. She's a pure mix of her two parents with skin the color of milk flavored tea and light brown hair and her mother's eyes.

"Thirteen's destroyed," Madge says. "We've seen the films."

"The films are all repeats of the same shot," Patina tells us. "Sure, they use different reporters, but it's all the same shot."

"How do you know?" Madge's voice is intent.

"Toward the end of the loop, you can see the same mockingjay flying out of the shot. It's always in the same place and at the same time," she answers. "A lot of us think it's because the Capitol can't go to Thirteen and the only reason they couldn't is if Thirteen still exists and has been in hiding this whole time."

"And you're just going to walk there?" I ask.

"Unless you've got a hovercraft we can borrow, yeah, we are," Miller answers. "We can't stay in Eight. The Capitol's after Patina for the bombing of the silk factory."

"Did you do it?" Madge asks.

"You're better off not knowing the answer to that." That means that yes, she was one of the people responsible.

I shake my head. These people are suicidal or nuts or both.

"Look, we don't want to be any trouble," the man begins.

I don't let him finish. "Then you should go. Twelve's in enough hot water because of the Games this year. We don't need more. If word got out that we were helping fugitives, it wouldn't be good for us."

Miller makes a face but nods.

Patina is far less understanding. "It's sentiment like that that keeps you under the Capitol's thumb!"

I glare at her. "You think I don't know that? But I've got a family to keep alive and I'm not gonna be able to do that if I'm dead or my district is destroyed because we pissed off the wrong people. Twelve isn't as important as Eight, so until the rebellion can keep us safe, I'm gonna look out for me and mine."

Patina seems stunned and frankly so does Madge. I'm not going to back down though. The man I used to be, the man who didn't see the big picture, might have been eager to help or join the rebels. But now I know just what I have to lose and the risk isn't worth the reward. Not now at least.

I sigh. "Look, I don't mean to judge. You've got to do what you've got to do. I get that." I look over at Madge. "We can give you the food we brought for lunch and I can give you one of the fish from our nets and you're welcome to follow us around while we gather food. But other than that, you're on your own and if you get caught you don't know us. Got it?"

The Paylors share a look, communicating silently with each other in the way that long married couples do. "Got it," Patina says after a moment.

"Good."

Madge fishes out the food she brought for lunch: four jam sandwiches, a hunk of cheese, and two apples, and hands it to Taylor.

The girl gives it to her father who takes one of the sandwiches and divides it up into thirds before distributing the pieces to his family. The rest he wraps up and shoves into his pack. Smart.

The family follows Madge and me, staying out of the clearings and keeping to the woods. They don't try to engage me in conversation, which suits me just fine. I'm already guilty of aiding and abetting a wanted felon, I don't want to add to the charges already against me.

Madge, on the other hand, keeps drifting back to talk with Patina and Taylor. I want to tell her that it's a bad idea, but I can't. By all rights, she shouldn't have spoken to either me or Katniss and she has. Madge, I guess, just has a thing for seeking out people who others would shun.

Still, the rest of my day is ruined. The stress of having three fugitives following me around keeps me from enjoying the day as much as I would have. And to make it worse, around eleven, the sky opens up into a cold downpour.

That's the last straw. I signal that it's time to go check the snares and nets. I don't want to get caught on the other side of the fence in the rain if for some reason the power decides it wants to come on.

There isn't a lot in my snares, we weren't out long enough and the weather didn't cooperate, so there's only one rabbit. The nets fare better, with three trout and two carp. I give the carp to the Paylors, deciding at the last minute to be generous. Then I lead them back to the blackberry cave.

"You can stay here until the weather clears. I wouldn't try to come into town," I caution. "Our new Head Peacekeeper is arriving tomorrow and I just bet they'd love to make an example for all of Panem if they caught you."

Patina inclines her head to indicate she understands. "Thanks."

"Look, I hope you're right about Thirteen."

Miller smiles. "I hope so too. Otherwise it's going to be one hell of a walk for nothing."

Madge holds out her hand. "Good luck. I hope you make it."

There isn't anything more to say and so we leave the Paylors at the cave and make our way back to Twelve.

I hope I never see them again.

oOo

AN:

Written: 11/10/14
Revised: 11/12/14
Beta read by Rosefyre

So there's been an encounter in the woods and it's not Bonnie and Twill. I decided to go with Commander Paylor and her family because she had to escape at some point and join up with Thirteen and it needed to be pretty early on.

Gale has changed a lot from the hothead that he was in the books. That's almost entirely due to the fact that he's now seeing what's going on behind the scenes and the giant chip on his shoulder got knocked off. In a very real way, Gale's going through just as many changes to his character as Katniss and Peeta are. But those changes aren't coming easily and because he's too close to some things, he needs someone to guide him.

Okay, geology lesson time. At our current rate of consumption, the world's natural gas reserves will be gone in about 45 years, the oil reserves (and this includes oil shale) in 45-60 years, and coal in 225-275 years. So of the fossil fuels, only coal stands any likelihood of still being around. Most likely everything else will be gone within our lifetime. Think about that and think about how it takes millions of years to create oil and gas and coal. Even if the Cataclysm that created the world of Panem takes place tomorrow, the dwindling supplies are still a reality and it's also a reality that the majority of crude oil is not located in North America. There's also a very real chance that said Cataclysm was likely caused by the very real struggle over who controls these very dear natural resources. Wars break out over natural resources all the time, even today.

So no matter what happens, the dependency on a non-renewable resource like coal is just bad planning, even with a small population like Panem. So I suspect that Five, who is in charge of power in the books, mostly concentrates on hydroelectric, solar, wind and nuclear energy. Which is why I place Five in the southwest of the United States and part of northern Mexico. Those areas have the facilities in place and the natural resources and weather to power Panem. But it also means they're the farthest away from District Twelve and District Eight. So coal is used to power those districts and in other industrial processes. The districts closer to the Capitol and the Capitol itself are all powered by Five. Which is why the rebellion being in Five is going to be a big deal.

... I really need to publish the map of my head canon...