My bad for not updating in like…a week. I was on vacation, and work has been so busy, and TS has just not been a priority. I'll try to sort of keep after it from now on!

I'm still not sure how I feel about this chapter, but I DO love when a chapter shares the book's title. As long as it actually makes sense. I just think this one was more fun to write than to read…and god forbid to edit. Editing your own work sucks.

I hate the better idea.

Prim thinks it's fun. Of course she does. Prim could charm the paint off a fence; I scare children away with my resting bitch face. And now I have to convince people to give me money? Without threatening them?

But this is the way it has to be. I'm the one who started this; I'm the one who goes onstage. If Gale can get through an interview in front of the entire nation, I can handle the market square.

At least Peeta will be with me. He might not care about Gale (slash Madge) the way I do, but he is infinitely better at talking to people. I think it's because he's spent so much time chatting with customers at the bakery.

The square is packed almost as full as it was on Reaping Day, but instead of scared children, now it's filled with various merchants and customers, buying and selling. This is the legal side of commerce in District Twelve, the side I don't usually participate in. Almost all of my business is done at the Hob or somebody's back door.

Peeta knows his way around the market, at least. And many people there seem to know him. As we weave through the crowd, he keeps pausing to wave or say hello, whereas I couldn't manage a polite word right now to save my life. This does not bode well for the impassioned speech I'm supposed to make.

The stage is not just empty, but roped off. This doesn't bode well either. The large screens on either side, which previously showed the Capitol seal and the film about the Dark Days, are tuned into the Games right now. They're not airing anything we can't interrupt- just Rue from Eleven and Ayda from Eight attempting to hunt together. I didn't know they'd formed an alliance.

Peeta and I duck under the ropes and take the stage. We're visible to everyone in the market now, but nobody is paying any attention to us. Peeta changes that. "Who here saw what happened in the Games last night?"

Standing on the stage= boring. Yelling on the stage= everybody is looking at us. I sincerely hope Peeta plans on carrying the team here because I don't know if I could even manage a single word right now. I like to think I'm pretty strong- I know I'm pretty strong. But my strength has always been my stealth and steady hand. None of that helps me for this affair, which requires an entirely different type of tough.

Again, I think, thank God for Peeta. He continues while I'm frozen up and useless. "Did everybody see Gale Hawthorne and Madge Undersee last night?"

That gets a couple whoops from the crowd. I'm not really surprised- everyone knows Madge, since she's the mayor's daughter, and the majority of people in District Twelve have traded with Gale at some point. They've always been somewhat popular, and putting them in the Games has made them just about famous, at least in our little town.

"How long has it been since someone from District Twelve went up against the Careers like that? Five years, ten?" Peeta asks. "For as long as I can remember, our tributes have been weak, underfed, and sent home in coffins within a week. Gale and Madge have rallied like I've never seen before."

"They're so brave," I say, trying my voice for the first time. I sound nowhere near as self-assured as Peeta, but memories of Gale and Madge's heist keeps me going. "They've fought so hard already, and I truly believe one of them has a chance at winning. At coming home."

I bite my tongue when I feel like I might cry. I never cry- much less in public. But the combination of complete emotional upheaval and lack of sleep is getting to me.

A deep breath. I continue. For Gale. "We're raising money for h- for them. If no one in the Capitol will sponsor them, we'll do it ourselves." Here, I hold up my mostly-full coin pouch for emphasis. "We've collected this on our own, but if anyone else wants to contribute, my sister Primrose will pass around the pot."

It is a literal pot, the one we usually use to make stews in.

"Anything you can contribute will make a difference," Peeta puts in. He sounds so friendly and warm. If I was in the crowd, hearing all this for the first time, I would definitely be pulling out my wallet. "As little as we have here, Gale and Madge have even less in the arena. Think of them! This is the time for a little district pride!"

A lot of people clap. I see Prim's little blonde head bobbing around in the square, and it looks like people are dropping coins into the pot. This is good!

Peeta nudges me. "Say something!" he hisses. "You know him better. It'll mean more coming from you."

Does it really mean much for me to stare out at the market like a frog and go, "uh" a couple times? Does he really think I'm capable of improvising? Any sensible person would know that I am not.

Say something.

I swallow hard. For Gale. I have to say something, for Gale. I clear my throat a couple times and force the words out, trying not to think about what I'm saying and instead let it come from the heart. Yeah right, as if that will work.

"Gale Hawthorne is my best friend." My voice trembles a little, out of my control. I never open up to people. There is nothing I want to share with the entire market square. But I'm not doing this for me. "He's- he's so strong. So brave. There's nothing Gale wouldn't do for his family. And Madge…"

I trail off, trying to think of something nice to say about Madge. I don't know or really like her that much, so luckily, Peeta steps in. "And Madge is one of the kindest people I know. She's never…"

He seems to be on a roll, but he stops in the middle of the sentence. I quickly see why. A quartet of Peacekeepers is moving into the square, and although their visors are mirrored, I can tell they are pretty pissed right now.

"Ummmm…"

"GET OFF THE STAGE!" thunders the lead Peacekeeper.

Peeta and I look at each other for a moment, deciding what to do. The guy sounded pretty serious. We hop off the stage. As we jump, Peeta yells, "SPONSOR GALE HAWTHORNE AND MADGE UNDERSEE IN THE HUNGER GAMES!" which will hopefully attract the right people's attention. Although it's not like we're not already creating a huge spectacle.

One of the Peacekeepers grabs me by the arm roughly, but I yank it away. For some reason it's easier to keep my chin up in a tussle with the law than onstage in front of a receptive crowd. Have I ever made sense? "Don't touch me."

"What do you brats think you're doing?" snarls the other, stepping closer to us aggressively. I step away and find my back pressed up against the stage: not good.

"We weren't doing anything wrong," Peeta says defensively. I know, instinctively, all eyes are on us right now and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not. "We didn't know we weren't supposed to be up there. We'll just leave now, and-"

A scream from the square. But not just any scream. Prim, Prim's voice. I react without thinking, shoving the Peacekeeper aside and bolting. I find her easily: she's making enough noise, and the Peacekeeper with the iron grip on her arm cuts a noticeable silhouette.

I'm aware that I'm on the smaller side, and this man is fully armed, but I plow into him anyway. Maybe it's just the element of surprise at work, but he stumbles back, and his hands come off Prim, which is really what I care about. The fact that the money pot stays in Prim's hands is a bonus.

"Leave her alone!" I order, with as much authority as I can muster. Prim steps behind me and a moment later I feel Peeta's hand on my shoulder. I don't need him for courage- I don't know if I've ever been so angry or brave in my life.

"Don't touch her. Don't ever touch her," I snarl, almost rabidly.

The Peacekeeper sneers at me and reaches towards the baton on his belt, but something stops him. I look back and realize I don't just have Peeta and Prim for backup anymore. The whole of the market has squared up behind me, a hundred people at least. That makes me braver. I sneer right back at the Peacekeeper, even though he's inches taller than me and geared for war. "We weren't doing anything illegal. We still aren't. Mind your own business next time."

He growls at me, like some kind of animal. "You have no right to talk to me like that."

He's right. I don't. I shrug it off anyway. "This is what it looks like when we play by the rules."

The Peacekeeper is unconvinced. One of his comrades yells, "CLEAR THE SQUARE!"

And we do. One by one, single file, and Prim, Peeta, and I are the last to leave. Every person who passes by us- everyone, that's everyone- drops at least one coin into the money pot until Prim can hardly carry it.

I have decided I like the better idea.

The plan is to lug the money pot home and hide it, but our plan is foiled as soon as we leave the square. I'm sideswiped into a hug by a person I eventually identify as the mayor. I do not hug him back.

"Thank you," the mayor says, muffled by the collar of my hunting jacket.

"You mean for sponsoring Madge," I clarify. It's the only thing that makes sense. I can't imagine he's thanking me for picking a fight with local law enforcement. "We haven't really done anything yet, though."

"You've done more than anyone else has," his wife puts in. She isn't going around randomly hugging people, at least. She just hovers and wrings her hands a lot. "And we're so, so grateful to see that people care. Take this."

She pours a sack of coins- about the size of the pouch I was using prior to the pot- into the money pot. Prim staggers under the weight and Peeta grabs the opposite handle to keep it steady.

All I can say is, "Thank you". I don't want to talk to Madge's parents. They definitely shouldn't be teary-eyed and thanking me. I'm not rooting for Madge. I had to practically be forced into including her in our sponsorship, just an hour ago!

…wait.

"...how did you know we were here?" I ask suspiciously. Until Peeta and I took the stage, no one else knew about my goal of sponsoring Gale. Obviously, the mayor and his wife are well-connected people (as well-connected as you can be in the outskirts of the nation with little-to-no technology) but unless the very first person to leave the square sprinted directly to their house…

"Well, it aired live!" says Mrs. Undersee. "They interrupted the Games for it and everything! Not during one of Madge's segments, luckily."

We were on TV.

I think I can feel the color draining out of my face.

"That's great!" Prim exclaims. She shares none of my worries. "Isn't it, Katniss? Now everyone in the district will know about this, not just the people at the market!"

"You mean they'll know about the sponsorship, or they'll know I yelled at the Peacekeepers in public?" I retort. I feel stupid. I knew there were cameras in the square- the same ones they use to televise the Reaping- but I hadn't considered that they might be running now. Obviously they were.

"I'm sure nothing will come of it." Peeta places a hand on my shoulder comfortingly. "Besides, you were right. What we did wasn't illegal."

In a corrupt system, it doesn't have to be illegal. My temper has put a target on me now, and while I'm on good terms with some of the Peacekeepers, this makes at least three that will bust me if they get the chance. I need to stop doing this.

"If they want to press charges, they'll have to take it up with me," the mayor says firmly. Which is comforting, I guess. Provided they do seek their revenge by pressing charges. It seems more likely they'll beat me to death in a back alley, in which case the mayor will be no help. "We're so grateful for what you're doing for Madge. With Gale protecting her inside the arena and you raising funds outside of it, well, maybe we will get to see her again."

I do my best to nod sincerely here. Peeta excuses us smoothly and we get back on the road. I storm on ahead, ignoring the fact that Prim and Peeta are awkwardly shuffling along with the pot held between them. "That was terrible. I hope they never talk to me again."

"You're not grateful for the help?" asks Prim.

"From them? No. It seems wrong to even take it." Accepting help has always been a weakness of mine, but this is something new entirely. "I could see it, how much they care for Madge. I don't think I can go through with this."

"What, with helping them?" Peeta speaks in such a rational tone that I feel comparatively irrational, which I guess is normal for us.

"But don't you get it?" I press. "I'm not really going to help Madge. I want Gale to win. And his win means her death.

"They talked to me like I'm a good person, but I'm not; I'm really not!" I cry, far too loudly for a public street. But I don't care. It's just rushing out of me now. "They can't be grateful to me. The bottom line is, I hope she doesn't survive."

To say it out loud is so cruel, and almost like a lie. I know I don't want Madge to die, but I do want Gale to live, and even in a best-case scenario, only one of them makes it out of the arena. It's not fair, I think, but the childish thought doesn't escape my mouth. Unlike the rest of the word vomit I've just produced.

"Katniss, it's not that simple," says Peeta. He sounds so sincere that I have to listen, even though I'm itching to run to the woods and scream my head off. "Only one can win. We all know that, and it's awful, but everyone has to make a choice. Everyone has a favorite. Everyone is taking sides."

He's right. He's always right about this sort of thing.

"And even the Undersees…" Peeta trails off. "Anyone who knows you knows how much you care about Gale, Katniss. They're not going to blame you for your choice."

"They may not ever even hear about it," Prim points out. She has a good point, but I'm still stuck on anyone who knows you knows. Do they really? Is my secret much less secret than I thought?

I hate the mortifying ordeal of being known.

"You know, we should be grateful that the Undersees like Gale," Prim goes on. "They're the reason Gale and Madge kept their relationship a secret, aren't they? But they didn't seem mad at all that Madge is with a boy from the Seam."

"I guess saving her life outweighs even the greatest of class differences," I say dryly.

"Do all the merchants think like that? Like being from the Seam is, you know, bad?" Prim asks.

The question is directed toward Peeta. I could answer too, but my jaded outside perspective is probably not what Prim is looking for.

"Some of them do think that, I guess. My mother does. But a lot of the merchants just know you can't make a very good living working in the mines, and they don't want that for themselves or their children."

"I guess I probably wouldn't either," she sighs. "It just doesn't seem fair, you know?"

"It's not fair," Peeta agrees. "But if it's any comfort, I'll be a part of it too someday. I'm the youngest of three; I'll never inherit the bakery. But even when I'm a poor coal miner, I'll still make you cookies, as long as I can afford the flour."

"Even if you have a wife and kids?"

"Even if I have a wife and kids," he promises.

"Maybe you can say I'm your sister. So they can call me 'Auntie Prim'!"

"You guys are weird," I say, holding the door open for them.

We hide the money pot and I show Prim my catch from the day. She divides it up then excuses herself to go milk Lady. Mom takes our share and starts cooking, and I convince Peeta to drop off the Hawthornes' share so Hazelle doesn't cry again and I take the remaining portion to the market- the black market, that is. After our shitshow of an afternoon, I will not be setting foot in the public market for a long time.

By the time I get home, dinner is on the table. Peeta is still there as well. Prim must have invited him to stay so I don't question it. I pull up an extra chair and sit down, but my hopes of a peaceful meal are ruined right away.

"I saw you kids on TV today," Mother comments. Her voice is neutral; I can't tell if she's upset or not. "Did you raise a lot of money for Gale and Madge?"

"Tons!" Prim replies before I can. "Everyone wanted to help; it was great!"

"Except for the Peacekeepers," I mumble, because I want to bring it up before my mother does.

"Well, I guess they were sort of unhappy," Prim concedes. She's always so optimistic. It wasn't that long ago she was screeching for them to unhand her. "But the mayor offered Katniss his protection, so it's alright!"

"Oh, Katniss," Mom sighs, as if this is something I knew was going to happen and actually did on purpose.

I know she means she's worried for me, and realistically I am worried too, but something about her patronizing tone makes me feel the need to contradict her. I shrug. "I'm already a criminal, for hunting. This isn't really any more serious."

She just shakes her head. Disappointed, I guess. But if she's that disappointed in me, she's welcome to take up the bow herself, be the one to put food on the table.

I eat quickly so I can watch the Games. Mom and Prim clean up; Peeta trails after me to the living room. "Do you mind if I stay awhile?" he asks quietly. "I want to know what's going on with Gale and Madge, but at home…"

He trails off and I don't press him. I know the Mellark household can be unpleasant. He doesn't need to say it out loud. "You can stay if you want to."

Peeta stays. Prim joins us a few minutes later, and Mother goes to bed early on account of a headache. Probably a good thing. We could not possibly fit another person on this loveseat.

The camera is on the Careers tonight. It annoys me. I don't care about them. Even though what they do is certainly relevant, I'd much rather see Gale and Madge, no matter how boring their evening is.

I realize we might see Gale and Madge after all. The Careers- all three of them; they've left their camp unguarded- are crashing through the woods, clearly on the hunt. With the narrow frame and the uniformity of the trees, I have no idea if they're close to Gale's camp or not.

Fortunately, Caesar Flickerman helps me out. His little icon appears at the bottom of the screen. "Look at that! They're finally on the right path!"

"I don't know if they'd agree with you, Caesar," replies Claudius Templesmith. "No doubt they'll be pleased to find a pair of tributes, but they're no closer to avenging Marvel's death than they were before. In fact, they're heading in the completely wrong direction!"

"Well, let's not get carried away," Caesar cautions. "Anything could happen!"

He's right about that. But this time, it happens exactly as everyone expects it to. With Cato in the lead, the Careers follow Rue and Ayda's tracks through the woods until they reach the knoll of trees that must be there camp- a thin trail of smoke all but announce their presence.

"Rue," Prim murmurs. "She's my age."

My gut twists at the reminder that this could have been Prim, hunted on live television. That's the only thing that could have been worse. To choose between Prim and Gale would have truly broken me.

I'm close enough to broken as it is.

The camera moves from the Careers and into the tiny clearing that is camp. Aside from the dying fire in the middle, it seems deserted. What? Caesar and Claudius were so sure that this was where the two girls were, and all the footprints had led to this clearing.

There's movement in the trees, and the camera finds Rue. She's nearly at the top of a huge oak tree, hidden in the leaves, slingshot ready to fire. She's smart. She has no chance of outrunning the Careers, but staying out of their reach might just work.

Ayda is in a tree too, but she's not nearly as high up as Rue is, and she's clinging to the bow with both hands. She's from District Eight- fabrics- so she has probably never climbed a tree before. Caesar notices too, comments on her apparent fear of heights.

Back to the Careers. They realize what they're looking at, and at Cato's signal, the three of them burst into the clearing. "Hey, what the hell?" demands Glimmer. "They're supposed to be here!"

Oh, but they are.

And Rue announces her presence by nailing her in the forehead with a rock.

Glimmer shrieks and falls to her knees, hands pressed to the wound. The rock has embedded itself in her forehead and is spurting blood- she won't last long. Cato and Clove don't waste time grieving; they spring into action. Glimmer's cannon goes off by the time Cato reaches the base of Ayda's tree.

"Did you kill him?" Cato growls. "Did you kill Marvel and raid our camp?"

"No! No! It wasn't us!" cries Ayda, trying and failing to scramble higher into the tree. She's not confident enough, not quick enough, and she picked the wrong tree. The maple has lots of handholds, which in theory makes it very climbable, but it's narrow enough that it sways under her weight. It also doesn't help that Cato grabs the base and starts shaking, throwing her off even more.

"I don't know if I believe her, Cato!" Clove calls smugly. She's locked onto Rue, the more difficult target. In addition to moving up, down, and all around the oak tree effortlessly, Rue is actually firing back at the Careers with her slingshot. Unfortunately, she misses a few shots, and then she's out of rocks. She hits Clove with a couple acorns, but that does little except make her angrier.

Clove isn't someone you want to make angry. She has a dozen throwing knives in her belt and she's very good with them. She nails Rue in the side, and that slows down her dodging. The second knife finds her heart.

I turn away, wanting to bury my face in the couch cushion, but instead I find Peeta's shoulder. I guess that works too. I refuse to watch her fall, but I hear the cannon and the sickening thud of Rue's tiny body hitting the ground.

I don't want to look, but I feel like I have to. Cato succeeds in shaking Ayda out of the tree. Her scream and thud is just as horrific. She doesn't try to flee- I don't know if she can move, but she whimpers when Cato sneers at her. "Did you think you could hide from us, Eight?"

"No, no!" she cries. "Just let me go. I didn't do anything, I swear!"

"That's the thing," he says, way too calmly for the heat of battle. "You didn't have to."

He unsheathes his sword and finishes her with a single swipe. A third cannon sounds.

I swallow hard. Try to shut off the part of me that feels. I remind myself that if Gale is to survive, Rue and Ayda's deaths, and many others, are necessary.

If only that made me feel any better.

WOW, that was a long-ass chapter. But honestly…kind of good? At this point, I don't even know.

I really love writing the Careers (not this scene specifically, there was no banter so it wasn't that fun I guess), especially Cato and Clove. If I was to redo the whole TS trilogy I would give them a much bigger part to play!

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