Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am affiliated with any of the Hunger Games—character, or real life. I do not own the plot of the Hunger Games trilogy, merely my own twists to it. I do not know Suzanne Collins. I only wish.
A/N: I do want to make it known that I am a Peeta-Katniss shipper. It looked like there may be some questions in the reviews as to whether this was going to be K&P or K&G (despite the statement in the description). I'm also really sorry it's been so long in between updates. I got a promotion at my job, got married, and had to sleep in there somewhere…
A/N: Also, I wanted to make it clear that I will be using both movie and book lines and references. There are some small things I love about the movie, and some things the movie didn't have. Obviously.
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Gale Hawthorne
I'm in shock, and awe.
Mostly awe.
The baker's daughter is standing in the middle of the square, having just shouted that she volunteered for my hunting partner's little sister.
Volunteered to take her place in a fight to the death between 24 teenagers from different parts of society, kept apart due to the government that claims it is for our well-being and safety.
She doesn't know that merely hours ago, I was complaining about how there are no decent people left, really, and how it's ridiculous to even hope for a rising. How Peeta and I could live off the land in the woods, if not for our families. We could become a regular couple of hermits, he and I.
We're nearly close enough as it is.
I let go of his shoulder with one hand, looking at his face. His cheeks are tear streaked, and he is staring at the baker's daughter, too.
Her eyes flit to us, and she looks down immediately.
The Peacekeepers move Primrose Everdeen back to where Peeta and I stand, and she clutches Peeta. I don't blame her.
"A volunteer," Effie Trinket coos, with her powdered wig off balance due to Haymitch Abernathy's drunken topple a moment ago.
It's amazing, how minutes can flee so quickly.
Less than three hours ago, I was telling Peeta this whole thing was absolutely ridiculous, and wondering aloud what would happen if everyone in the nation stopped watching one year.
"They won't."
"What if they did?"
"They won't, though."
"They wouldn't have a game anymore. It's sick. You root for your favorites, cry when they die."
There hasn't been a volunteer for another in District Twelve for decades. Here, being in the Hunger Games is synonymous with being a corpse. A murmur has gone through the crowd, shocked at what just happened between two people that do not know each other.
They know of each other. But they've never interacted, that I've seen. I know Peeta drops squirrels at their home, because he can exchange them for breads—hot, and sometimes completely fresh. That's a real treat.
I'm watching the Peacekeepers attach themselves to Katniss Mellark's arms and surround her to move her to the stage.
"What is your name, dear?" Effie Trinket asks her when she's reached the area Effie stands at. Katniss looks both scared and numb. They look absolutely ridiculous next to each other—Effie in her pink wig, looking completely from the Capitol with their insane fashion; and Katniss next to her, wincing, wearing a nice dress with her hair pulled up… one of them looks out of place, but because of all the lights and cameras, it looks like Katniss is the one underdressed.
"Katniss," she says. "Katniss Mellark."
Effie chews this over for a moment, trying to figure out what to say next.
"I take it that may be your sister?"
Katniss looks at Effie, suddenly realizing where she is again, that this is not a dream as she may have thought it.
"No. A friend's."
I am frozen in place, my grip on Peeta so tight I'm sure it's hurting.
He isn't struggling against me any longer, and the grip my other hand has on the back of his shirt is not strained. He is as surprised as I am and his eyes are glued to her.
There is no statistical reason that Prim's name should have been drawn. She has never had reason to draw tesserae, because Peeta and I have made it so. She has always been completely safe, and this is her first year with her name in the draw.
One slip, out of hundreds. How is it possible?
Furthermore, how is it possible that of all the people we know, trade with, respect, and help… that Katniss Mellark would be the one to volunteer in her place, suddenly… without any prior knowledge of the person she was volunteering for?
It's known that other persons, such as siblings, may take the place of younger ones in the hope that they would survive perfectly fine… but this was completely different. Completely.
Really, it started with my mother—Hazelle—off to the side. She presses her three middle fingers of her left hand to her lips, and lifts her hand to the sky.
It's a sign, in District Twelve.
It means admiration, thank-you, and good-bye. Peeta's the last to do it, and her eyes are locked on him before Effie says in her annoyingly cheery voice "Now for the boys!"
Her shoes clack to the other side of the stage, the other bowl. She reaches in deeply, and pulls out one slip.
Not me, I beg silently. Not me. Not me. Please, not me.
I have four people to take care of in my family. This is the last year I have to worry. I just have to make it past this, and I am set as a coal miner for life.
The feelings of fear and pity rush through me so quickly, I fear I will be ill.
Effie takes her time walking back, for dramatic effect. Really, there's no need for dramatic effect at this point. Katniss Mellark provided all of the dramatic effect that the Hunger Games host Caesar Flickerman will need until the actual slaughter begins.
She smoothes the strip out, and nods at the name before nearly pressing her lips on the microphone.
"Gale Hawthorne," she says clearly.
I take a deep breath, and look at Peeta. His eyes are wide and glassy again, and I know that no matter what happens here, he will take care of my family. It's an agreement we've had for years—since the first time I saw him hunting on his own, and we decided neither of us were stealing from each other.
I trudge to the front. The Peacekeepers are around me as well, and I look back to find my mother. She is standing strongly, shaking slightly, her nose beginning to turn red from the strain of not crying.
My feet carry me to the top of the stage, and I stare at Katniss for a moment. We look like we could be related. She has the coloring of a Seam girl—olive skin, dark hair, grey eyes.
"Well, go on, shake hands," Effie Trinket urges. I both despise Effie, and applaud her efforts to keep things as normal as possible during this Reaping.
I know that this is a huge change of pace for her, and everyone else thinks she will probably be moved to escort a more exciting district next year.
Katniss Mellark's hand is warm, and her shake is firm. She is a fighter and will be known as such. I nearly smile at what this simple action told me of her.
We are escorted toward the building, and then I hear it let loose: a bone-chilling, screaming howl of pain that makes me start to turn back until I realize who it is.
My mother.
"You have three minutes," the Peackekeeper states as he lets my mother and siblings in to see me.
Three minutes hardly seems like a long enough time to say good-bye to each family member properly. Three years would not be enough time, and I smile down at my brother Rory, who is the next of eldest to me.
"Peeta will bring you game. You will all be fine," I say to them, forcing a smile. "Do not take the tessarae from them—it isn't worth it. The Everdeen family will help out as much as they can. Prim can sell cheese from her goat. Peeta and I already have everything figured out…"
I trail off at the look on my mother's face. It's the look I remember being on her face at my father's funeral.
"Try to win," Vick pipes up. Posy gurgles from my mother's hip, and Rory nods.
"Win, and come back home," Rory agrees. Mom says nothing, just stares at me like she is memorizing my features. Like I'm not coming back.
"I will," I say. Just to prove her wrong. Just to prove that she doesn't need to worry about me not being there for her and my brothers and sister. Then, it dawns on me: I am entering a death match, with a vow to attempt to actually win this thing.
"I do know what I'm doing," I say. Rory nods, understanding. He would be the only one to know what I meant.
"Time's up," the Peacekeeper says, yanking the door open and pulling my family out.
"I'll be back!" I try to be earnest, but the door closes in my face.
I turn back to the window I was looking out before their arrival.
The door bursts open again. This time, it's Peeta.
"You can do this. You can hunt. Show them how good you are with snares. Show them all what a trap you can set. Come back."
He grips my shoulder, and I meet his steely gaze.
"I won't let them starve," he states. I nod.
"Thank you." We don't need to say anything further, and he leaves, the door shutting behind him tightly.
I silently wonder if Peeta went to go see Katniss. Mostly because I don't know what he would say to her.
"Thanks for volunteering for my sister, even though we don't really know each other!"
It seems like he should see her, but I just can't bring myself to figure out why.
I won't let them starve.
The promise echoes through me, and I don't know whether to be scared for Peeta or scared for me.
So many mouths to feed in that… I snort.
How many times had Peeta and I gone hungry so the rest of our families didn't have to? How many times had he and I vowed that we would always help one another? How many times did this scenario enter our minds—and out of that, how much did we think this situation was actually possible?
So many names, so many papers, and Prim's name was drawn.
Mine was less of a surprise to both of us. 42 times, my name was in the bowl. But yet the actuality of my being Reaped was eluding me.
I'm not nervous for the fight to the death. I'm nervous for the fact that Peeta is a strong hunter… but it always took both of us to feed everyone.
He can take Rory and start teaching him, I tell myself, but the nervousness of no longer having any control over the food situation for my family haunts every part of me.
Is this what mothers feel, when there is no one to speak for their twelve year old? Utter helpless nerves? Is it more despairing?
What would have happened, if Prim had not been volunteered for?
I would have had to destroy everyone. Including myself, for her to return home. I don't know that I would have been able to protect her.
For the first time, I allow myself to be relieved that the baker's daughter volunteered. It's accompanied by the dread of knowing I will get to know her… and eventually, she will be killed.
I just hope it's by someone other than me.