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 19

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Aside from her name being Euphemia (Ha! Ha! Ha!), I've learned never to think of Ms. 'Effie' Trinket as harmless and unarmed, as long as she doesn't have laryngitis. That being the case I am trying my hardest not to laugh or even crack a smile. Hawthorne must be of the same mind because he is sitting ridged, perfectly still (is he blinking at all?). We must over play our hand because in the next second a heated lilac gaze is on us. The funny looking scowl is back and pushing the limits of my restraint.

Suddenly her face takes on a patronizing look and in an even tone she says, "You two truly do not understand the gravity of this punishment do you? This hurts you much more than it hurts anyone else."

Punishment? Okay, now she has my real undivided attention however it's my fellow tribute that asks, "What hurts us?"

She looks us over to see if we're serious then answers, "Every other district has two mentors, only one is needed so they can split the time and they will. They will because now is too important. The real sign ups and donations begin once the first tribute is requested before the Gamemakers. As soon as the boy from District 1 is called money can be transferred from your sponsors to your accounts for use in the arena. This morning and the days prior were times when Haymitch and I could coax promises of sponsorship from potentials, nothing is for certain. Usually promises are kept without problem and usually the mentor, in your case Haymitch, can be there to sign for the transfer yet now that won't happen."

A very bad feeling starts to sit on my shoulders and I want her to stop but my mouth doesn't seem to work.

She frowns and her words become more clipped. "Now he will have to wait here to tell you, District 12, the last ones to go, when each of you is being called. He, at this very moment, is missing the opening sign ups, sponsors that we have lined up, worked so hard to get, are either watching others sign up or being approached by other districts. Add to that the rumors going around and you may not have sponsors left by the time Haymitch can get out."

No. NO. NO! Tell Me I Did Not Just Ruin Gale's Chances With The Sponsors! Externally my body freezes and pales but internally my mind swims, my heart sputters, and my guts clench so hard they might implode if I don't puke first. NO! NOO! NOOO! I gag and gag again.

Older grays glance at me once before stepping forward to snag Effie. "Which is why you are needed to make sure that doesn't happen. You need to keep them to their words, pacify them and keep others from poaching them. We've worked hard at this Effie but they are your contacts, you can do this! The duty is yours, escort. Now's the time to show your capabilities!"

Lilac eyes go wide and she nods, shakily at first, then with determined vigor. "Yes. You are right! I will go do that! Leave it to me!" She makes for the elevator but our mentor follows her and even pushes the button.

"Actually now that we know the facts I think you could turn the rumors to our favor, you know how they love every detail that comes out of the games." He says as the elevator opens, "This certainly spices up the situation. And adds to the anticipation? They-" The closing doors cut him off.

He's going with her? What about the new rule? And what are we- I look to my teammate but he is half watching the doors and half deep in thought. Crap, crap, shit, shit, fuck, fuck! I might have taken away his chances for sponsors! If not I've definitely hurt them! No! Nooo! I'm supposed to help not hurt him. And now I've hurt him even before the games begin! A heavy feeling of guilt and shame sinks into me going from the top of my head, through my body and down to my toes. No, this wasn't supposed to happen. If Gale can't win, if home can't be helped then what is this for? What are our lives for? A lump forms in my throat, on instinct I cough to try to clear it and the sound causes the remaining grays to turn to me yet he quickly turns from me. Shit. "I'm sorry Gale. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen."

"It's fine. I'd have done the same." He says but he won't look at me. Un, I feel as low as sludge.

He is angry at me and has every right to be. I knew, out of common sense, not to give the finger during training, in front of people. Yet I lost my temper and I did it anyway. Arh! I'm angry at myself too. Angry, guilty, ashamed, down right stupid and more than a bit helpless. I have to make this right, I have to make this loss up, somehow. We sit in silence just stewing, Gale in thought of some sort and me in turmoil. I don't even know how to fix right now, when he won't even look at me, let alone later when it counts.

It seems like hours before Mr. Abernathy returns (thank frosting he returned at all!) and he tells us to hold a bit more. He doesn't seem mad anymore, if anything he is strangely upbeat which is just great for my still clenching gut. He goes quickly to his room and comes back with a flat box. In the blink of an eye his hand dives into the box, something metal glints and a whistle starts in the air. I dive, out of my chair and roll away, a second whistle sounds. I'm well away and on all fours by the time the first hits my seat and my ears can tell that the second isn't heading towards me. There is a scraping sound, a smaller noise then the 'thunk' of the blade.

"What The Fuck Old Man?" The younger Seam shouts, already standing, table knife in hand. Glad he at least has the presence of mind to ask because I simply blink and rise as I realize what just happened.

Our mentor just grins crookedly and relaxes into his usual lazy stance; all he's missing is something to lean on. "No more dropping your guard now boy, not for a moment of thought. She was faster than you. A second volley would have actually giving you a run for your money."

My teammate just scowls, clearly unpleased by the words and lack of answer. I'm still wondering what the hell he did that for but I won't ask yet. I'm not breaking my focus on him until he's unarmed.

"You know, I saw a few interesting things on the way up here, as I stopped at all the floors. Every single tribute is training or napping for their time to come, and a lot of the outer district mentors are squeezing in last minute tips. Course they weren't too happy to be intruded on…" He trails off.

For a second my jaw can't decide if to drop or let me smile then the smile wins. If he is saying what I think he is saying, then Haymitch Abernathy you are gold!

"Since we find ourselves in this unique situation, you two need to come out the other end with high scores. We are going to take a gamble and do a long session."

What? I thought he was actually going to train us some. Also, weren't we only to do one thing before the Gamemakers?

"Instead of doing one station you're both going to do four, like the Careers do. It takes that many, usually, to score like they do. You need at minimum an eight but it would be better to get higher. Before this you two would have gotten there easily but now since Crane has cooled to you…"

My shoulders stiffen on their own. An 8 or higher? No one from 12 has ever gone higher than a six. We could have scored like the Careers but now because of my finger we might not? ARH!

"The key to this is doing each station perfectly. The Gamemakers won't like that you're doing four each so you need to impress them. Skill, brutality and bloodlust impress them. Also- ah, here it is," he turns to the red haired Avox that snuck up on all of us (maybe not the guys but how the hell is she so quiet?) and looks over a few things on her tray. "This will work, now show me your hands."

He means us, in a flash he is wrapping our wrists, knuckles and hands in gauze and some weird sort of tape.

"They won't allow this for the games but they let the Careers do this before their private session. This will protect your hands so don't hold back, especially you sweetheart. If you want any chance at all you don't hold back."

My wrists and hands are squeezed and stiff. Now my range of motion has been limited. The gauze over the knuckles feels strange though not as much as the tape between my fingers. Thankfully I can still make a tight fist but does he really want us to fight, here, now? The question is moot when Haymitch flips the lid on his box and shiny knives twinkle menacingly at us.

"You expect us to throw with our hands taped up like this?" Gale asks.

It's with a slow grin that our mentor answers, "Throw and dodge, you are each other's target." He straightens a bit, "It will get you ready for the stations."

WHAT? Dodging wasn't part of any station! "Just what do you want us to do for them?" I half shriek.

I'm sort of in a daze after hearing what the obviously brain damaged elder Seam says he plans and it's the only reason he gets away. Well that and his claim that he needs to make calls to support Effie. The daze can also be blamed for my not resisting when my teammate drags me off to his room, replenished box in hand.

Without delay he goes up to the single plush wall in the room, makes marks on it in several places with a blade and returns for half of the remaining knives. The quiet whistle of his first throw (though horribly off target, shit!) snaps me back to myself. Is he crazy? He's really going to go along with Haymitch's plan? When he's been absolutely faithless in our mentor from the get-go? Still the hard line to his brow and the determined look in his eyes shows he means it.

Well, that's that. I'll follow his lead, whether this is a good idea or not, I owe that to him at the least. After all, it was my short-tempered finger that made this mess. I grab the four remaining weapons, get to practicing, and damn do I need it. The wrappings on my hands really get in the way! It takes a while for me to compensate for it and Gale even longer, but it does happen. Soon the original points are obliterated and pale stuffing is hanging out.

We both pause to realize it's pointless now (literally, target obliterated); before either of us says anything and more importantly before I can loose my nerve (though I will Never admit it!) I go to stand before the wall. "I'm ready." The look he gives me is so full of disbelief and incredulity that it pisses me off. What? Did he think I'd wuss out? "I'm ready and waiting, unless you're nervous?" The glare that inspires is much better.

"Two at a time, first one's coming on your left, second on your right." He says and then without further preamble throws a pair of knives, one after the other.

I don't have time to scowl at him for such insulting information, like I couldn't handle. I prove it by dodging the two incoming he sends. It's too easy so we move it to four at a time. It's still effortless with him telling me which blade will go where but for now I focus on the sight and sound. We trade places when I'm doing all nine trouble-free and with minimal movement. With him we encounter the first problem, if the knives hit the floor or don't stick in the wall they have this terrible habit of bouncing in nerve-wreckingly random ways, sometimes with the pointy end still coming. It occurs to us then that we should try practicing getting in close, as we would if someone were really after us in the games. That, plus no longer knowing which directions the knives are going for makes for many unpleasant close calls and more then a few expletives and profanities. When his room is ruined and we start tripping over torn up carpet we move to mine. I get the steel I stole out from under my pillow, ignore the lift of a dark curious eyebrow and we proceed to wreck my room with all ten of the set.

At 5 Haymitch comes into stop us, telling us to eat and rest up. He's just about to go back to smooth talking sponsors on the phone when he catches sight of our hands. "Damn it," he swears and comes closer to inspect us. "How loose are the wrappings?"

"Both still pretty tight." I reply.

"Left one's fine, the right is coming apart." Gale answers.

Our mentor sighs and says, "Take them off and go shower, come see me after and I'll re-tape them. Oh and don't change into your uniforms just yet, you'll need to look unrumpled and as good as possible later."

I move to comply instantly but my teammate hesitates for a fraction of a second then leaves to go to his room. His silent departure does not go unnoticed by either of us, though we say nothing about it. The hunter is suddenly on board with the elder Seam and who are we to look a gift horse in the mouth? Though I can't help to wonder why now?

In short order we are clean, wrapped and fed and with nothing to do but sit nervously at the table. I don't like sitting here, for one it is boring and two the food in front of us is the same from lunch. Not that it's bad that they finally stop wasting food; however, now it's likely part of our punishment and thus a reminder of my fuck up. I could get up and go, yet my fellow tribute has chosen this moment/ this spot to get lost in thought and I don't want to leave him. Not that he needs me, certainly not when I'm making his chance of survival slimmer. I sigh and glance at his face if only to gage his mood and receptivity to conversation.

He really is so handsome, even like this, with his dark brows kinked in thought, the slight tension in his strong jaw and his pink lips pressed thinner than the full thickness that they are. This is a face all of Panem will see and it is the face they will all hopefully love. At the very least it is the face that will be noticed, the hunter is the best looking male tribute this year... Actually best of the last three years. He-

"You're being creepy, Mellark. Quit staring."

Wow, it's possible to blush and flinch at the same time, and to think I would ever miss him calling me 'Panty.' At least that tells me where we stand. Shit. To divert the topic I blurt, "You should go nap, you need to be fresh for the Gamemakers and not be here stewing over it all."

Gale snaps open his mouth, likely to retort something hotly yet it dies before he gives it voice and ends up a sigh of his own. "Yeah, maybe." After a beat he nods and adds, "Should is right, just sleep is not likely to come. What about you?"

"Think some time on the roof would be nice, just feel like some space and air would be good." Maybe I was wrong about us. Anyway his admission makes me realize just what a day of highs and lows it's been for him too, he needs to unwind a bit if just to break up this monotony of stress being put on him. "You should try sleeping in my bed, it's softer."

The long look that inspires is uncomfortable and totally uncalled for.

"What?" I demand. I'm attempting to be nice here, bridge the possible distance between us and aim for his good graces. His bed is as hard as a stone compared to my fluffy, downey goodness. I mean it is a nice bed but somehow he ended up with the short end of the stick because mine is paradise.

He gives one last measuring look then questions, "If I do will you be joining me like you did last night?"

Heat blasts my cheeks and my vocal chords seem to freeze so it's up to my head to shake vigorously.

The amused smirk that pops into place seems less mocking than usual. He rises, proclaims he is fine without it, takes about five steps towards his room then pauses to look back. "Just why were you there?"

I blink. He really wants me to say it? Say I care enough about him being okay to try to help. I could write it off as just making sure he slept enough last night but then why did I stay? His grabbing aside I'm still not sure why I wasn't smart enough to wake him up and get away. Instead of honestly answering I deflect with, "Nightmares are perfectly normal to have occasionally."

He frowns, "You had... Well they are normal but that's a big problem. You can't afford to get one again in the arena, Peeta. If you scream in your sleep the Careers will find you."

How I don't gape at him is a miracle in and of itself. Me?! He thinks I had the nightmare? He thinks I went to him for comfort?! I almost laugh at the very idea, almost. The concern for me in his beautiful gray eyes and my desire not to worry him further turn my reply to, "So I'll keep a sock in my mouth. Go sleep."

He throws, "You should start practicing that now, while you have clean socks," over his shoulder as he leaves.

I think he was trying to be funny. He failed, but more important he is trying to be friendly and that I'm more than happy for. I know this isn't forgiveness yet, it's a good step towards it though. Hopefully telling him later it was him having the nightmare won't piss him off too bad. I wouldn't at all; however, he is right about the danger it could cause in the arena and I'd rather he hated my guts than get cornered by Careers.

The roof is nice and the weather has much improved. It is perfect for cloud watching and I have to wonder if my little big brother is doing so back home since its his favorite 'activity'.

Crap on a cake, should not have thought that, now home is on the mind. This won't be like the last years, when we all (except the witch) worked a little extra to send money to the tributes. It won't even be like the year Will was taken. From the moment she was hauled out of the justice building to the train my family was all hands on deck and at full power to try to make extra money to send to her. Any time we weren't being forced to watch my father ran the bakery by himself, my mother did all the deliveries while my brothers and I did any odd job we could find, no matter how nasty. Her family also slaved at anything for coin yet they did something extra. It's bias, but when a merchant child is taken the tribute's family can usually pull small donations from friends, neighbors and associates, sometimes it's enough to buy something meager at the beginning of the games, before the prices increase. For Will, through my mother's use of her many well connected gossipy friends, we were able buy her water once in the beginning of the game and put up half the money for a second water later in the games. Seeing as that arena was a burning desert that was trying to dehydrate her into jerky, water was a wise gift.

I don't think they'll have anything to do this time, they know my plans (for sure the witch blabbed by now), my odds and more saddening they know gifts aren't going to get me back. They might still try to work for extra money, might ask around or just send what they can however I hope they don't. I don't want them to be tight on funds because of me. I especially don't want them to have to go door to door again and receive the looks of pity. It was bad enough when it was Will, they will get it far worse for me. Nothing kills hope or happiness faster and harsher than pity. Sigh. It would be easier on my family if I die the day, it will be over and not dragged out, but that's not my plan. I'm sure by the end of this my family will be drowning in enough murky, thick suffocating pity to resent me.

These thoughts should not be in my head and they are probably making me look like a stupid broody statue too. If I should look like a statue it should be of a serene one because this maybe as peaceful as the Capitol gets. The warm air is sweet with the scent of garden flowers and the sounds of gentle chimes. The sky above is bright and lazily sailing puffy white clouds. I don't feel connected to anything. Yeah that pity thing, or as the case is self pity. I tell myself to suck it up wimp and leave the roof. With all the tension looming inside every inch of the building and without the hunter to focus on I don't trust my mood to stay neutral. My bed fixes that, too bad it can't fix more.

My ears are so trained my head moves before I'm even slightly conscious the result is only the arch of said ear gets the tip of what otherwise was sure to be a hard flick. Creaking one blue orb open to glare at Mr. Abernathy just pulls an amused smirk from him. If he gets drunk tonight he won't find it so funny when I flick both of his. "Is it time for Gale?"

"Nah, he's gone already," he says as if it's nothing.

I don't bolt up yet my guts try too. Damn it! I didn't even get to wish him luck! A low groan of annoyance slips out of my mouth unbidden.

"Come on, get up kiddo," he orders lightly even as his eyes watch, judge and measure me. My mentor is looking for something obviously, no clue as to what it is. "Stretch, dress and make yourself presentable to the prisses. Come on, up, I don't know how much time you have."

That last part does the job of starting a fire under me, but it turns out it's more of a hurry up and wait situation. Wait and endure the torturous agony of anticipation, anxiety and questions. It's been twenty minutes since I woke and he won't tell me how long ago my teammate went down. My body can't stop fidgeting as we sit on the living room couch, gaze trained on the elevator doors. It's either for mercy sake or impatience of his own (likely a mix of the two) that in between his now fewer, shorter calls and his sipping some throat syrup, he tells me what to expect. Nearly all but Crane has been on the Gamemaker panel for years and like they've been showing tributes the same attention they have for the last two and a half days. They are more into their own chatting and the endless feast than us tributes. I have to say I hadn't noticed such, I've been watching my competition not them and besides they always seemed to be looking just fine whenever I did something embarrassing or stupid. At that, my mentor shows he can call me 'idiot' with his face too. Is this a Seam thing?

"The point is, sweetheart, after half a day of watching all of you, then so many tributes before you and you being the last, they don't want to pay attention to you. They want to be done and over with you. You more than any are going to have to be worth watching and command their attention. I wasn't just saying brutality and bloodlust will impress them, they're about the only things that will get most of them to notice you." Here he pauses and does the unexpected. Haymitch leans over, puts his hand on my head and tells me, "You're a good girl, Peeta but you can't be one in there."

I stare, unsure if to remove his hand or to respond. I'm not sure if he just means in the session with the Gamemakers or in the arena or both. It's also unclear what brought this action on. Until a second ago it was assumed he was irritated with me, possibly with some lingering resentment towards my actions. Before I can make a decision about anything the elevator dings and the doors slide open. In the very next heartbeat I'm there.

Gale is filthy, covered in sweat, dirt and speckled in glistening blood. His cheek is red and swelling, there is blood both on his lower lip and creeping down his forehead from somewhere under his hair. His Seam grays are unfocused, his stance is tired, his breathing shallow and he is favoring his left leg. I've seen him worse but I never expected it to be so bad! The day after tomorrow we go into the arena! This is horrible! Just absolutely horrifying!

The words 'are you okay' lodge in my throat because he is obviously not and my brain is so stunned I can't think of better ones. It doesn't matter anyway because in the next second a bloodied, bruised and swelling hand grabs me, yanks me into the elevator just in time for it to close after me. The grime covered man, leaning back heavily into the wall, is even worse! On one side his cheek and brow are so dark and swollen he must hardly be able to see, the other side is caked in mud and bits of grass. One corner of his mouth is ripped and bleeding a crimson little stream down his chin and heavily bruised neck. When his hand releases me it goes to his other, already cradling his ribs and hisses a curse at even his own pressure.

"Mr. Anton?!" I yelp in recognition. I step forward to… to… I don't know what… What could I do to help him now?... and halt.

"Relax Peeta," his low voice is weary, slightly altered with roughness and nothing like the up beat cadence of yesterday. "Gale will be fine."

A knot in my stomach I was unaware of suddenly releases and nearly makes me sag. Don't know why I believe him, didn't really get to inspect the hunter and judging from his tension level he doesn't want me touching him. Perhaps I just really want to believe him, believe Gale is not as bad as he looked. "What about you? Will you be alright?" I ask, incredibly sounding calmer than I am.

He tries to smile however the swelling and the torn part of his mouth won't let him. "I'll always be fine. Don't worry about it. You just focus on you and do your best, no…" He trails off to level his stare on me. "No holding back Peeta."

Just then the inkling that he held back for Gale and took a beating to make him look good blooms and all I can say is thank you, mean it from the bottom of my heart and smile for the both of us. When we reach the basement we part and he hobbles (something is wrong with his left hip and back) away toward the medical room. If he really did help my fellow tribute so much, then this is a breath taking moment and he is a far kinder man than I thought the Capitol was capable of having. Hopefully, someday Gale can repay this man.

The training room is guarded by a pair of Avoxes (noted by their clothes and desolate expressions), one opens the door for me and I step through half expecting a spear or a knife to come flying. Instead what I get is:

"Ah, my fellow Gamemakers, here is Peeta Mellark, twelve's fiery volunteer." Loudly announces Seneca Crane, his aqua orbs fastened to me. Around and behind him is a wall of the purple robed assholes and each seems locked on too. Some are scowling, some are smiling, some are bored, a few are clearly inebriated but only Crane's face is a creepy mixture of perverse enjoyment and bloodlust.

This isn't in the least what I am ready for; never the less I nod deeply and respectfully to him as Effie mentioned last night.

"And you wish to do four stations for us?"

"Yes, Head Gamemaker Crane." I say evenly, again trying to come off as respectful. I can't let what I do hurt Gale again.

"Hn, that may change," he declares then chuckles. It causes a few more laughs from the scowling ones.

Haymitch Abernathy was so wrong…

Part 19 End.

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Side Note: So super sorry for so long with out an update but I've been rethinking the plot of this story, finally decided I do want to deviate quite a bit from the book and had to re-outline this sucker. I thought of taking it down and starting over but that's just too much. Now if I have the skills to truly deviate from the original and let alone well, is another matter. So this is more a heads up warning if you want to continue reading, than a hello and sorry. As to the updates, well they will be slower, but I will let you know if there is to be another huge gap in posting. Again, so sorry for the long wait and oh still looking for a beta! Please!

Oh and happy V-day to all! Have a happy day and a thrilling night! (Yes this counts as my V-day gift. Sorry if you prefer chocolates, flowers or toys.)