Disclaimer: The Hunger Games and its characters are all property of Suzanne Collins. No profit is being made from this piece of work. No copyright infringement is intended.

7

Plutarch applauds me when we meet up in the conference room.

"If I'm honest, some of the Capitol's people were against the idea at first," he tells me. "But they came round to it eventually. The footage you shot around the world helped. Tell me, did you really enjoy it? Or was that all part of your job?"

I glare at him but keep my opinions to myself. Two guards still stand on either side of me as I sit facing the President who sits behind a large desk. They clearly don't trust me enough yet.

Plutarch walks around me, going over how well I did and how he thinks I've finally come around to their way of thinking. I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood.

"I did what you asked," I say eventually, wanting them to know they don't have full control over me yet. "And now I want to ask a favor."

Plutarch stops where he was in mid-stride behind the chair which President Plutarch occupies. "Oh, really?" he asks, tapping his lips with his index finger. "And what might this favor be?"

"I want a break," I say, annoyed at how desperate I suddenly sound. I need to get away from it though, away from the Capitol and their evil ways of thinking that I now know will never be changed.

"No rest for the wicked," Plutarch tells me. I shiver.

"I think the boy deserves a rest," Paylor speaks up for the first time. I look at her in surprise, I never had expected her to be on my side over anything. "We'll need him fully rested by the time the Games come around."

"He can't stay out of the media for six months!" Plutarch cries. I cringe as I realize how close the Games actually are. In six months some of the people I met over the previous weeks could be fighting to the death.

"Not the entire time," Paylor tells him, sounding annoyed. "But he deserves to get away from it all."

"Where would he go?" Plutarch demands, "A secret underground basement?"

"I have a suggestion," General Hawthorne speaks up. He is guarding the door in case I make a break for it. Apparently they must think visiting the Tribes has affected me deeply enough to think I have a chance of getting out of all this.

"What is it, General?" Paylor asks. She seems relieved though it's hard to tell through her hard stare. I think she didn't know what to do with me either.

"How about a visit to District 12?" the General asks. "I'm sure a few words from Katniss Everdeen can't do him much harm."

I freeze at her name. The leader of the Revolutionary War – Nurse Everdeen's daughter. I look to Paylor desperately. For some reason, Katniss is the last person I want to see. When we learned about her in school she had always struck me as a very frightening person. She had only been seventeen during the War which meant she had to be a very respected and strong character. I imagine her as Paylor only younger and worse.

"That might actually do him some good," Paylor mumbles as if she is talking to herself.

"No it wouldn't!" Plutarch protests. He looks panicked and I don't blame him. Katniss went against the Hunger Games. The very Hunger Games that he is trying to bring back. Of course he doesn't think it's a good idea. So why does Paylor?

"I am the authority here," Paylor fires at Plutarch, "And I say that Fin deserves to take a few days off to rest in District 12. He will return in two weeks and start prepping for interviews. Am I clear?" She looks at both of us. We are shocked into silence at her sudden anger but I understand. Plutarch is acting like he is President. She must feel like she's losing control. I know the feeling.

Still, I couldn't help but take notice in what she was saying. "Interviews?" I ask. "What more do you want me to do? I advertised the Games like you said!"

"But you're our mascot," Plutarch tells me, taking over. "You can't just stop now or it will ruin the flow. We need you to be commenting on everything that's going on during the Games so you'll be having an interview with Flickerman every night."

"Why?" I ask. This sort of thing was not done before.

"Most of the tributes don't speak our words," Plutarch explains. "That means we won't be able to have the tribute interviews so you will make up for that."

My face…on television…every night. It's not like I'm not used to it but it will be a different thing now. Instead of making people laugh I will be discussing the deaths of the Tribe's people like they are nothing.

Well, at least they're not from Panem.

Automatically, my hands clench into fists at that thought. No matter what the government or the people of Panem think, they are still people like us. Well, maybe they're not monsters like our government but I can't afford to forget that they are human beings. It's all I've got to cling on to.

"Go now," Paylor tells me. "You can catch the next train to District 12. I want you to report here in two weeks."

"Thank you," I find myself saying though, as I am escorted out the room by General Hawthorne and his soldiers, I wish I hadn't bothered.

(*)

People stare at me as the General and I wait for the train. An older woman dragging a heavy suitcase passed us looks disappointed, a man looks almost respectful as he catches our eye from where he waits by the ticket booth, and two young girls giggle shyly as they point at me and hurry by us.

But nobody looks repulsed. Everybody seems to have accepted what I now stand for. I don't know whether to be relieved or angry. At least nobody hates me but it also shows how accepting these people are of bringing back the Hunger Games. Maybe the young girls don't know what they are yet but surely the man knew of the pain they brought.

Our train comes to a stop at the station and I hurry to board it. We have three carriages; my room, the General's room and a dining and sitting carriage. Most people travel like this now. The trains that were once only used for escorting tributes from their Districts have been expanded thanks to District 3 and now carry hundreds of passengers all across Panem.

Instead of sitting in the sitting carriage, I pace the floor, anxious for the train to start moving. General Hawthorne sits reading the paper, watching me. "You need to calm down, Fin," he tells me, looking slightly amused. "All that pacing will wear a hole in the floor."

"How do you know Nurse Everdeen?" I demand. He looks as surprised as I feel. The question had been bothering me for the past month now but I'd never really found time to ask it. I want to know why the pair of them were so uncomfortable around one another.

"We told you," he says carefully. "We knew each other back in District 12."

"So you're both from District 12," I say. "Do you still keep in touch?" I ask.

"No," he says definitely. "After the war, she went her way and I went mine. Just like Katniss went her own way."

"You must have known Katniss too then," I say. "Why did Nurse Everdeen never tell me she had a daughter?"

"That's not my story to tell, Fin," he sighs.

"What happened to her other daughter?" I press.

"Again, not my story," he says, this time through gritted teeth.

"So what can you tell me, General?" I ask. "Because I'm beginning to feel like there's a lot more going on than I first thought."

We're both silent for a moment before the General indicates the seat opposite him over the table. I sit as he instructs and he takes a deep breath. "Okay, first of all, since you and I are going to be together for a long time now I'd prefer it if you'd call me Gale."

I cock an eyebrow in surprise. "Really?" I ask. "Isn't that disrespectful to all you military folk?"

Gale laughs a proper deep booming laugh. "We're still human you know," he reminds me jokingly, but his words remind me of the people in the Tribes.

"Why are you being nice?" I ask all of a sudden, thinking back to him helping to convince the President and Plutarch I needed a break. "I thought you hated me."

"I only hate those who are a threat," Gale corrects me. "And, let's face it; you're not much of one with those skinny arms." I don't say anything and he sighs deeply. "Besides, I owe it to Finnick."

My heart skips a beat at him mentioning my father's name. It's the last thing I expected him to say. Why would somebody like General Gale Hawthorne owe my father?

Gale sees my expression and cocks his head to the side, looking at me almost sympathetically he asks, "What do you know about your father, Fin?"

I swallow loudly and look at my hands clasped on the table. "Not much," I admit. "Nurse Everdeen didn't know much about him and it upset my mother to mention him."

"I don't think Annie would have known anyway," Gale mumbles almost to himself.

"Known what?" I ask.

"How he died."

I feel my whole body freeze and root to the spot. I never found out how my father died. It wasn't something I liked to think about and it certainly isn't now. I'd come to accept long ago that I might never find out. My father died in the Revolutionary War along with so many others. There was no need to go into specifics about their deaths. Until now.

Now I want to know.

"What happened?" I ask, surprised to find my voice a little choked.

Gale frowns and looks at me. I get the feeling he is trying to gauge my reaction, to see if I can take what he has to say. I feel the lump in my throat return. I grasp my hands together to stop them from shaking. I've never cried over my father but now I just might.

"We were on a mission in the Capitol," he tells me. I look at his face with the vicious scar running down the left side. He has the perfect look to tell this kind of story. "Circumstances had forced us to retreat underground, and that was when they found us."

I try to picture it in my head, being in the dark sewers of the Capitol. My palms sweat with fear just thinking about it. I've never liked the dark.

"The Capitol sent mutts after us."

I gasp. "As in mutations?" I ask, remembering covering the topic back in school. The images they'd shown on the board had been enough to give me nightmares for weeks.

"Yes," Gale nods grimly. "We lost most of the crew that day," he continues, his good eye glazed over as he remembers. "When it came down to it, Katniss, Peeta and a couple of others were climbing up the ladder to get out."

"What were they like?" I ask before I can stop myself, "The…mutts?" I don't really want to know but I'm scared of what else Gale is going to say if he carries on with his story.

"Like lizards," he answers, disgust written all over his face, "Lizards crossed with something that looked human." I swallow back vomit. "They were so strong," he mumbles. Blinking, he returns to the present and continues, still regarding me with sympathy. "I was left with Finnick at the bottom of the ladder," he sighs. "There was so much confusion and so little time that I can only remember him pushing me up the ladder. He wanted me to get out first."

I blink furiously. It's too much to imagine the kind of fear that must have been racing through both of them. I can't even think what that would have been like or I'll either cry or vomit.

"One of them snagged my neck," he continues, now lost in his train of thought. Absent-mindedly, he reaches up and traces the bottom of his neck with his fingers. I wonder if he can feel the pain there now. "Katniss managed to pull me up but…" He trails off.

"You couldn't save him," I finish for him, surprised at how steady and accepting my voice sounds.

Gale shakes his head. "They'd already gotten to him."

"What did they do?"

He looks at me, a faraway look in his eyes. I get the feeling he's not seeing me, but somebody else.

"You don't need to know that, Fin," he tells me confidently.

I take a deep breath through my nose and close my eyes, trying to absorb this information without having a total breakdown. My father had saved Gale's life but had lost his own in doing so. Part of me feels I should hate the man in front of me but another part tells me that maybe he hates himself enough for the both of us.

"I think my mother knew," I say out of the blue. Gale tears his gaze away from the corner of the room, no doubt lost again in some awful memory. "Not the full story obviously," I continue, "But whenever I mentioned the mutts she'd put her hands over her ears and starting mumbling to herself."

I remember being six years old when that first happened. I'd just begun learning of the evils of the Capitol and told her about my learning of the mutts in my recount of the day. She'd dropped the bowl of bread dough she had been about to knead. I remember the smashing of the clay as it hit the tiles, the eruption of dust which – when cleared – revealed my mother, rocking back and forth in distress.

"Annie was a strange one," Gale's words break me out of my memory. I look at him sharply, suddenly feeling the need to defend my mother. "I don't mean that in a bad way, Fin," he tells me quickly. "I mean, she was a good strange one. Finnick seemed to be the only one who could really keep her…sane." I try not to take offense at the truth. "When she lost him, we all thought she'd…well….she'd…"

"She did," I remind him, clenching my eyes shut in an attempt not to think of that fateful day on the beach.

"No," Gales says shaking his head. "She held on for eight years, Fin. I thought she'd…gotten over it." I grit my teeth at his choice of words but keep my opinions to myself. "When I found out she'd…done what she'd done, I couldn't believe it."

"I can," I say defiantly, glaring at him, "I was there."

He looks at me, sees I'm in discomfort and sighs. To say anything more would put what little comradeship we had obtained into jeopardy. So he says, "I'm sorry, Fin," and retreats to his carriage.

I watch him go, imagining what my life would be like had my father gotten to the ladder first. If Gale had died instead of Finnick then how different would my life be? My mother would probably still be here too. I might never have gotten into acting because she wouldn't need me to pretend to be my father so much. I'd be in District 4, perhaps married to a local girl and have my own stall in the square.

The government would never have gotten me.

But what if they had anyway? I know how relentless they can be. Surely, I not being in the Capitol would never have stopped them. They wanted me because I was the son of two victors and even having those victors alive wouldn't have changed that. They'd probably want me even more.

So I'd still be here, only without Gale. My parents would be alive and they would be so ashamed of me. They'd have probably disowned me by now.

Maybe it's for the best it worked out this way.

The next day, Gale and I sit at the table again. This time in silence as we eat the food we had delivered to our carriage. Gale had answered the door when she'd knocked, saying I'd make her faint or squeal and ask for an autograph. He was only joking but I'd still cringed when he'd brought it up. I'd never been a fan of that side of my job. I could never understand how someone could fawn over a person they didn't even know.

Eventually I can't stand the silence anymore.

"Do you have a family?" I ask. Last night, as I lay in bed, it struck me that Gale knew almost everything there is to know about me yet I knew so little of him. It annoyed me.

"I do," Gale nods, putting down his bread he was about to dip into his broth. "They're back in District 2 though save for my daughter – she's in the Capitol."

"When was the last time you saw them?" I ask.

"I saw my wife and sons a couple of months ago," he says. "But I managed to say goodbye to my daughter before we left for District 12."

"What's her name?" I ask. I don't really care but I want to know as much about Gale as I can. I want to hear all about his daughter whom, without the sacrifice of my father, would never even be here.

"Madison," Gale replies. "She works in the military."

"How old is she?" I ask, surprised.

"Nineteen," he says, looking at me suspiciously. "Don't go getting any ideas," he warns, half-joking – I think.

"I won't," I say, mildly offended, mildly relieved that we can joke together. "I was just surprised I hadn't seen her."

"She's in training," Gale tells me. "She's going to be coaching a tribute when they get picked in six months."

"Oh," I say. "That must be…difficult."

"It is," Gale says, slightly defensive. "She doesn't like this anymore than the rest of us."

"So who really wants these Games?" I ask. "Don't people remember the upset they caused twenty-odd years ago?"

"Of course they do," Gale nods. "But think about it. The Capitol people also remember how interesting and entertaining they were. They were like an annual celebration for them. The government needs a way to control the immigration issues. This way, not only will they greatly limit the amount of people coming into the country but the Games will throw the Tribe's people off, giving them time to set up more Guardians along the coasts of the country. And the District people are just happy that they're not the ones being picked. They're not really people you know."

"How can you say that?" I ask, remembering the feel of the little Tribe 1 girl in my arms as she stroked my hair. "You saw them."

"I also saw their lack of education," Gale says. "If anything, they'll think these Games to be a good thing; a time to show what they can do and earn a better life. If this keeps the government happy then by all means I'll take it."

I glare at him for a few seconds, contemplating what he has said. I can't help but find myself understanding – if not agreeing – with his viewpoint. Disgusted with myself, I abandon my food and Gale at the table. I spend the rest of the two days journey in my room with loads of time to think. I think of Nurse Everdeen alone in District 4, I think of Britney and how she betrayed me, I think how stupid I am for signing that contract, I think of Plutarch and how I once thought of him as a friend. But most of all I think of my father spending his last moments trapped in the dark underground. Did he know about me when he went off to fight? Did he know my mother was pregnant?

(*)

District 12 is a lot smaller than I had first thought it to be. Gale tells me they never expanded after the War. I knew from History class that the place had been bombed and so few had returned. But, walking through the streets, I can tell this is still a close-knit community. People have good jobs now in the medicine factory. Thanks to District 3 and their genius minds, coal is no longer needed and the mines are a thing of the past.

People stare as I walk past them with Gale on our way to Katniss' home. I don't know whether they recognize me from television or they recognize Gale from their community. I choose to keep my head down instead of asking.

Katniss lives in what was once known as the Victor's Village of District 12 just like I grew up in the old Victor's Village of District 4. Two children sit on the grass outside the house; a girl with dark hair and a blond boy. They are picking flowers off the bushes that line the garden and tying them together with string. I wonder if they will trade them at the market or if they just want them for decoration.

They look up when they see us. The girl gasps and runs inside. The boy watches her, a frown etched upon his face before he notices us. He grins up at Gale and me, getting unsteadily to his feet.

"Hello," he says, toddling over to us. "Who are you?"

"Martox!" a woman's cry erupts from the previously peaceful house. The little boy frowns and turns to look at the source of the noise.

A woman stands in the open doorway of the house; the young girl is next to her. They look almost identically save for the burns that cover the older woman's face and arms.

Katniss Everdeen.

"Katniss-" Gale begins as she marches towards us, trying to reason with her.

I stand rooted to the ground as she storms over to me, her face twisted in anger, and punches me in the face.