An Unlikely Pair

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By: DarkGiggle

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I make no profit so please don't sue me.

Warnings: Un-beta'd and looking for a beta. Rating and violence level will go up.

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PART 16

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"You can come out now Rue." Gale calls softly and she does. Oops. I forgot all about her. "You need to say away from us for the rest of the day Rue, we've angered some Careers and you would make an easy target for them."

She frowns unhappily; I'm reminded that she's just a child in this horrible situation and we were the only ones giving her company. I smile my friendliest smile at her, "It was nice having lunch with you, you're good company." My fellow tribute nods to agree.

It's only a slight comfort and her smile is proportionately small. "Okay," she murmurs.

"Good, we're going to go in, I want you to count to 20 before you do and sneak in if you can."

Tiny 11 nods and we leave then split up when we enter. He's off to whatever and I go to the unpopular First Aid Station run by a single old codger. He seems happy to have me; well I won't be getting sponsor gifts so it's best to learn this now. With both of them away my head divides into two things. One part is all the things the trainer is telling me which are somewhat familiar from patching myself up (learning the hard way), from what Prim did to fix me or familiar from the things Prim would babble about healing to me as she fixed me up. That girl loves healing and to talk but when not in action her mother's mind is barely there and Catpiss can't handle more than a sneeze (paradoxical for a huntress no?).

The other part is a mess of too many things: Gale Hawthorne's bizarre behavior, my hope that it doesn't come down to us as the last two, the truth that Mr. Abernathy is a stubborn drunk (he might drink at night to escape his dreams but if so then why all daytime drinking back home?), my near brush with death that made me admit I don't want to die, our spilling the beans to the Head Gamemaker (since he is still watching us from above it's likely he heard the whole shebang), our being too nice to a 12-year-old tribute that has to die and of course most recently, this Career bitch whose freaky peepers I can feel on my back!

I let out guttural growl a without meaning to and the trainer looks at me sharply. I shake my head to refocus but I can't; D2f in particular is distracting. So two Careers and counting are lusting for my blood. They are both distance killers but D1m is the threat up close too, Gale says he can fight and his size is no joke. He is second only to D2m and my best defense against him will likely be to run (zigzag) the hell away. She on the other hand, if alone and if I could survive getting close to her, I think I could take her down. Yet how to do it without killing her? She would just come after me again, next time prepared for my strength.

"Careful now, girly. My you're a strong thing. You want to set the bone, not crush it." Says the old instructor.

I look at my hands around the very realistic dummy, I was so lost in my thoughts I was not holding back as much as I normally do. As I observe the limp thing in my grasp an idea hits me. "How much force does it take to break bone?"

He raises one bushy eyebrow and asks, "Do you really want to know?"

I wouldn't have asked if I didn't but I just nod instead of vent my impatience.

He smirks but asks in his kindly tone, "Can you keep your face straight, girly?"

I set my face and nod; what's the big deal? Just answer my question! In the next moment he does and well… I walk away an hour later dazed, nervous and more than a bit traumatized. He grumbles that I'm just like some Cresta girl but the honeyed sweetness of his voice is still ringing in my ears with graphic, gore-riddled stories of violent deaths of tributes in games past. His information will be useful, he is some sort of medical specialist and knows the simplest ways to damage the body but he is also a sick fuck that got off on my horror. My legs are a bit unstable as I leave but my face is still blank. That vile man did give me a vivid crash course in all the weak points of the body; I never realized how amazingly fragile I am. Most of it (the parts I will try my hardest to forget) is overkill but there are a few things I could implement.

I go to the Stealth & Tracking Station hoping some physical activity will help me clear my short-term memory. The instructor this time is normal and after a few minutes of lecturing about knowing where your prey is comfortable, how intelligent is your prey, how long their stride is, the good and bad surfaces for tracking and what counts as a clue or not the trainer has me try. I fail miserably at this; I'm not used to the woods/forests, tall grasses or even mud and once I explain this we switch to stealth and covering my own trail. The later comes easy, the former… Well… Apparently I have iron blocks for feet and make a thunderous noise. I do not get 'walking softly' and I try to avoid the leaves, trigs and branches (I really do!) but the trainer insists I'll scare every animal away with time to spare and attract any tribute within forty paces from me. It's not good news to hear and to reassure the distressed instructor I know what silence sounds like I have to demonstrate tiptoeing and walking soundlessly on the solid, clutter-free gym floor.

Tiptoeing is something my Madge and I are great at. Mrs. Undersee's headaches can leave her absolutely noise intolerant sometimes so I learned to move silently in my friend's house. It was either learn or give up hanging out with Madge; the choice was clear.

The flora is still foreign to me so I'm still making a racket and the idea of surviving in the woods is more daunting. What the hell do I know about surviving a walk through the forest, let alone a stay? I've only seen the forest beyond the fence a few times; it's dangerous so it's not a place to visit. I'm kind of hoping for a concrete jungle now or something more artificial for an arena because straight nature may kick my ass. I give the station a little less than an hour then move on; hopefully to something I have a chance at mastering and will ease my mind.

The Edible Animal Station I try to see if it's not a waste of time, it's not. This trainer goes over what is in season, where/how to find it, what are signs of it, what eats what, what animals could come after us and some general cooking guidelines.

I do try to get the details, but my head is still not okay so I go to the Hand-to-Hand Combat Station. If the thoughts won't go away may as well put them to use. The difference is evident to Mr. Anton and me. I use what he taught yet I'm much more defensive than I ever was before. I dodge lots, block a ton and keep our distance greater which actually is a disservice as he has reach on me. We spare for five minutes prior to him calling it quits and lecturing me for another five. It helps however it's not until I finger the pin that I feel… more myself. For the next twenty minutes of fighting I cement the lessons of Mr. Anton, still defend more but attack up close, very close. I don't use the attacks the medic described or what I thought up for two reasons. One, I don't want to give them away to the other tributes. Two, I can't hurt this kind instructor like that, doubt I'll even be able to practice on Hawthorne later.

For my last hour I choose the Navigation Station but Gale cuts me off just before I arrive. I raise an eyebrow instead of bothering with words; wasn't he against the check in with each other plan?

"Do the Knives & Dagger Station next, you need to be able to fight back from a distance." He orders.

I blink, since when is he the boss of me? Also any rock, stone, hell even my shoe can be my distance weapon, what do I need knives for? And the dagger is more deadly than I want to deal with. I almost shake my head to disagree however it clicks that this is a bargaining chip. "Only if you agree to go to the First Aid Station. If you really don't think Haymitch will help you'll need to learn it and you should ask the trainer about some of the body's weak spots." This will help him in the long run and if it unnerves him like it did me, well that's what he gets. He nods without further word and leaves for the old codger. Wow, that was easy, especially with the mood he seems to be in I expected him to fight back on principle. I feel a bit guilty for not saying more to prepare him though I don't know what could possibly ready a person for that trainer.

Again, like with the spear, the proportions of the weapon and the attentions of the Careers (D1m & D2f) are something to get used to. The instructor has me train on correct grip and throwing technique with a target board just 6 feet away from me first; it does not take me long. The knives are easy, too damn easy. My first practice throw at a blank wall 15 feet away makes me realize I'll have to hold back a lot. The knife sunk in half way up the blade (I barely put any muscle into that) and exactly in the wall where I aimed it. Next the trainer has me target a bull's-eye 25 feet away and I have to practice not hitting the center and the very specific spots I pick. Soon enough hitting the center every once out of eight tries gets dull and frustrating so I demand the instructor throw some small moving targets. He doesn't want to but it's good for me to practice with things in the air instead of the ground; maybe I can hunt birds like this in the arena? Some I hit close to center, some I miss by large margins, some I nick and some I miss by millimeters but always on purpose. I switch to the mannequins and have the nervous trainer just throw the dummies at me, too afraid of the "misses" to do more. It's much harder to miss vital spots on a moving doll than I'd like but at least thanks to the First Aid Station I know where they are.

A lull in the ambient racket of the gym accentuates the whistle of the blade cutting the air. I focus on that for the rest of practice since that whistle could well mean death in the arena. With each throw the noise becomes more distinct to my ears. With each knife the sound becomes something I can isolate in the air. With each release of the weapon the whistle informs me direction and speed of the thing.

I think 'maybe I can get my ears to learn it well enough to survive an encounter in the game,' and immediately feel a bit of anger flare in me. No one should ever have to be listing for that particular noise and it's only because of the fucking Capitol that I'm having too. I glare at the superior metal in my hand, that if not for the cruelty of sadists would not be anywhere near me. For a second the temptation to hurl it away from me, hard and fast is crushing. I just sigh, reign in my temper and realize the day has taken more out of me than I thought.

Too soon it is 7 o'clock but it's almost a relief when Hawthorne and I are escorted to the medical room to be checked again, it lets me avoid a stared down with the Careers and thankfully the Head Gamemakers is not in attendance this time. The exam is quick this time and we the catch elevator by ourselves. It's the only pause we get because after that Mr. Abernathy and Ms. Trinket are all over us once they learn about my launch-n-rescue, the thing with Crane and that tiff with the careers don't help any. After dinner, they split us and push harder than ever, Ms. Trinket especially, as she believes now that we have been noticed we should have perfect mannerisms to impress him. (Tomorrow night I start with heels! Feh, I'm so looking forward to it!)

Our mentor dismisses us to spar but at the last moment lazily adds in, "Yes, it was a draining day for you Sweetheart, a night in your own bed will do the trick." Oh I catch the orders in his words; if I wasn't so damn tired and just irritated in general I'd be tempted to bull-headedly at least provoke the damn bastard.

As it is I have more important matters to deal with, like my fellow tribute. We meet in the bathroom again, but this time I'm determined he won't be nailing me in the chest! There will not be a repeat of that, ever. The hunter stands across from me, his mercurial mood is hard to read so tonight I wave my fingers to invite him and stay on my guard. All that caution is for not because what happens next can only be labeled as pathetic; the first aide instructor must have gotten to him as he is ridiculously defensive, slapping away, dodging, ducking and hopping around like a mad bunny to avoid my attacks, even going so far as to pinch his way out of one of my holds. Holy bagels, I sincerely hope I was not this glaringly bad with Mr. Anton; that would be so embarrassing!

At the third hard pinch to the back of my hand I have to suppress a growl; it's not like that will work against a Career! And he can likely handle the other district tributes so why practice it? When he backs away this time I don't pursue him to continue the spar, instead I try something different. I get into a defensive stance that is also perfect for springing into a kick and ask, "Is this how Mr. Anton showed us or am I missing something because it feels off."

Seam grays observe me for a long minute then he inches closer to answer, "Your left foot isn't out far enough and you need to turn your toes out."

I adjust, it does feel better, with more flow and I practice the kick and the retreat a few times to get it down then switch to a new stance. "What about this one?"

"He said to bend more at the knees and you need to un-hunch your shoulders."

Again I obey and we are off from there. We go over all of Mr. Anton's moves, correcting each other and practicing only a specific move at a time. He eases back into his normal confidence in his fighting ability and strangely enough this becomes kind of fun. Gale really is a natural fighter and a surprisingly clear teacher. Soon we are both comfortable enough to go back to sparring but we don't stop talking, instead now we are comparing notes on the different things we learned at the different stations.

This is the longest I've ever talked to him and even if we are just sharing information it's nice. He really does have a clever mind because he has already thought of lots of scenarios in the games where this lesson could help him or where not watching out for a certain situation could hurt him; it's interesting and insightful to hear. When my leg goes numb from pins and needles it's only then that I realize we stopped fighting to sit on the floor with a towel so he can show me the finer points of knot tying he picked up.

In stretching my leg and trying to ignore the tingling in my limb I stupidly ask, "Where did you learned to be so good at explaining things?" Even before the slight smile on his handsome fades away I'm mentally kicking myself for asking. I already knew that answer.

His gaze is pointed across the room but is very unfocused. His voice is distant but tinged with a painful longing when he responds, "I teach Rory and Vick how to fight and Posy is always full of questions."

I'm caught completely flatfooted by his answer, both awed and unsure of why he would share that about his life with me. So Gale's youngest brother is named Vick and his sister is Posy? In a way, I'm happy to learn their names, the names of the young lives that are counting on him to return but the subject of them has hurt him and now he it getting up to leave. I feel like I need to say something of matter back to him, something that acknowledges the importance of what he shared. Impulsively I grab his wrist before he can get away and blurt, "Tell me about the forest back home!" I cringe the instant the words are out. Damn it! I'm so not used to talking (real talking and not useless polite pleasantries) with people! Of course he won't want to talk more about home right now.

The Seam male's striking orbs glare down at me but surprisingly he lets my hold on his forearm stay. "Why?" he demands.

"Because I don't know the forest and you do and the stations suggest there will be some type of forest and maybe you can handle that and maybe I can too but I've never even been near the fence and we were always told to stay out of the woods and now I have to know and now that I've failed the stealth station I'm feeling-" I halt myself before I can say scared but I'm sure the long rambling tells him anyway. I inhale deep after that huge mouthful, finish with "apprehensive" instead and sheepishly pull my own hands away.

The expression on his face is the same as it was on the train, looking at me as if he is trying to look into me. It is unsettling but the intensity in his attractive face is something that can't be brushed off. Finally he decides, "It's late, we'll talk in the morning" and walks to his shower.

All I can do is pull my foot out of my mouth and comply. It's fifteen to midnight but it takes me less than that to be ready for bed. It's some kind of twisted when this place and beauty creams of sort become familiar to me. For a split second the disappointment/ residual hope in Mr. Abernathy makes me think about at least checking on him but every part of my body is just too damn tired to make the trip to his room. Whatever energy I had while talking to my teammate is gone without him. I collapse into bed, thank the stars for this bed and go out like a light a second later.

Hands shake my shoulder vigorously and sleepily I roll away to the comfy safety of the other side of my bed. I don't want to wake up because there is no way it's time yet, for one I'm still exhausted as all get out and for another my internal clock is blaring that it's still well into the night. My blankets get pulled off me however I don't give a damn and just curl up. I'm not leaving this bed before I absolutely have to. The small hands are persistent though, this time they alternate between shaking my arm and trying to pull me off the bed. Whoever this jerk is they aren't very strong as I'm not sliding an inch no matter the tugs. Yeah, the only thing these slender fingers are doing are preventing me from sleeping and making me angry.

Finally I decide to wake up enough to tell this a-hole to piss off, as I open my lips a loud 'BAM!' rips through my room. I lurch up and awake to see the redheaded Avox girl pulling me, distress in her light eyes and a nasty swelling puffing up her left cheek. A scream goes off and I leap from the bed. Gale! That is Gale! I dash to his room in time to see him tossing and turning wildly on his bed, enough to slam his elbow on the headboard with a sickening smack and still keep going. Shit! Diving on the bed I go for his limbs to restrain him, I miss the first attempt and get a knee to my crotch for my failure (if he weren't in the middle of a nightmare right now I would so return the favor!). After some of the strangest struggling and wriggling ever (he's shirtless, sweaty and smelly, ew!), I get the upper hand manage to wrap my body around his so at least he won't hurt himself. In response to this he rolls us over, pinning me under him.

I freeze and flush at the same time. His breath is hot on my ear and side of my face, his weight is pressing into me and most of all the length of his muscled lean body is running the length of mine. I can feel his taunt flat chest squished to mine, restricting my air some with the pressure. I can feel his long, strong legs run the distance of mine and surpass them at my feet. I can feel his ripped abdomen against mine and subtle undulation of his breathing. I can feel the thickness of his limp arms along both sides of my torso. I can feel his pubic bone dig into the very tops of my thighs with his dormant genitals perched just between them. All these feelings make me light headed as most of my blood is infusing my blushing skin, which just makes the sensation of him all the vivid.

It is irrefutable that I am aroused by this gorgeous delicious body, an awkward dampness in my shorts makes it so; however, this is Hawthorne and he surely would not want this were he awake. Guilt for taking advantage of him like this and shame for being such a pervert hasten my release of him. It is an ordeal getting him off me without more of us pressing or rubbing against each other and it is hindered by this sleeping idiot. Thankfully the nightmares seem to have calmed but in their absences he is actively clinging and grabbing at me. I don't know how often he sleeps with company in his bed back in 12 but after five attempts to escape him while he is still amazingly fucking asleep I'm guessing more often than not. At last I at least maneuver to my side with him flush to my back, now if I could only unwind his arms from my middle and get his leg off mine I'll be able to leave. Suddenly he presses his face to the back of my head, nuzzling into my hair and breathes out, "Katniss."

Abrupt pain stings my heart and for some indiscernible reason all my strength and energy leave me. I should yell, I should smack him awake to flee, I should run to my bed to enwrap myself in my covers yet my body won't move and no sound will leave my throat. A few seconds of immobile cluelessness pass before I remind myself there is no reason for the pain. Of course he would want her, out of everyone back home it would be her to bring him out of a nightmare. What was I thinking? Trading survival trips does not make us close. The tightness in my chest does not ease but I focus on his warmth, his peaceful breathing rhythm and his heart beat against my back. Unfortunately it does more than shift my attention, I relax into him, into his comfy bed and before I realize it I'm gone before I think to get up.

Part 16 End.

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Side Note: None.