Rating Notes – This story is conservatively rated M because I am an old fuddy-duddy that doesn't think children should read about sex and violence. But it really is tame comparatively speaking and any other author might have chosen T. Read at your own risk.

I am marking this as complete because it does come to a satisfying conclusion of sorts with Chapter 6. However, I do have more story in my head, so I reserve the right to come back and write more later. Enjoy!

As always, I don't own anything related to The Hunger Games. Just borrowing for a bit.

The Reaping, my final Reaping, would be my undoing. I didn't know it yet, as I stood stoically amidst the boys my age and pretended not to care about the inevitable death of two District 12 children. I always seemed to forget as the year went by that I was still a child. This event was a great reminder. I was the main provider for a family of five, hunting illegally so we didn't starve, but still only a teenager, technically a child.

I'm sure it wasn't this way hundreds of years ago. I wouldn't know for sure. They don't teach that kind of history at school. But surely, before the disasters and the war, teenagers were allowed to be children. Somewhere, there had to be a place where the biggest concerns were who is dating who and how am I going to pass math this semester. I suppose there was such a place in my day, too, but it wasn't District 12. It was the Capital.

As if on cue, our Capital representative, Effie Trinket, walked up to the microphone as quick as her ridiculous attire would allow. "Happy Hunger Games!" she trilled. The way she stuck out like a sore thumb in her bubble gum pink and glitter amidst the backdrop of hunched and dust covered miners would have been comical if this were funny. There was nothing to laugh at now though. Effie was about to pull out the names of one boy and one girl, tributes, who would fight to the death for the entertainment of the people, well...the Capital people. For the tributes, they simply fought for survival, to be the one left standing, a lone Victor among twenty-four young citizens of Panem.

I put on a believable mask of indifference about the whole thing for the sake of my family and friends. Its dangerous to succumb to the hopelessness of our situation. Better to be nonchalant about death than to feel its unbearable repercussions every day. If we did that, we would surely all suffocate under the weight. But standing here feeling the anticipation of death made me waiver in my commitment to not care. My eyes began to linger over the faces of my schoolmates, pausing briefly on those I considered my friends. I turned my head across the aisle and back several rows to find Katniss.

Seeing her did nothing to help me maintain my cool exterior. Her lips were pressed in a thin line, her brow furrowed, and her hands twisted the fabric of her dress. She did wear something pretty after all. She glanced backwards several times, no doubt looking for her sister, Prim. At twelve years old, this was Prim's first Reaping. You never forget the nauseating terror of your first Reaping. It looked like Katniss was reliving her own all over again. I didn't realize I was staring until she whipped her head back toward the stage and caught my eye. I managed a weak smile of encouragement before Effie grabbed my attention by saying, "And now, for the tributes! As always, ladies first."

Shit. Was it time for that already? While Katniss busied herself worrying about Prim's single slip of paper among thousands which was unlikely to be chosen, my thoughts were on her own twenty and my forty-two. Effie swished the slips around the bowls, as if that made a difference. She pulled one out, right off the top. She unrolled it and read it over several times, practicing the pronunciation of the victim and lengthening the morbid suspense.. The crowd stood unmoving, propped up by the hope that the name read would be a faceless kid from the Seam. If you didn't personally know the tributes you could pretend like it hurt a little less when they died.

We held our collective breaths as Effie spoke the name with impeccable precision.

"Primrose Everdeen!"

The wind was knocked right out of me. It sounded like a whispered "No." The boys next to me turned in my direction, offering looks of sympathy. Maybe they thought Prim was the girl they saw me with all the time, or perhaps they really knew it was her sister. It didn't matter either way. Prim was never going to be in the 74th Annual Hunger Games.

"Prim! Prim!" Katniss screeched. Her words like shards of glass hitting my chest. "I volunteer!"

I swallowed my sorrow and summoned enough courage to look toward the scene unfolding before my very eyes. Katniss, in her pretty blue dress, pulled up to her full height, looked straight up at Effie and said clearly, "I volunteer as tribute." She began her march up to the gallows, each step pressing all emotion into the dusty ground beneath her feet. Her jaw was clenched tight, but I could see her blinking rapidly, trying to will her tears to stay inside for just a bit longer.

Prim didn't make it easy on her. She ran up the aisle and threw her arms around Katniss, yelling her name. Katniss made a meager attempt to pry Prim's arms away, and when that didn't work, she just kept moving forward, pulling the poor thing along with her. Katniss was beginning to blink even faster and her lips quivered ever so slightly. She needed help if she was going to maintain her dignity through the rest of the Reaping and stand a chance at not being labeled an easy kill on her first moment in these Games.

I moved as fast as I could to the center aisle and scooped Prim up. In her surprise she let go of her sister's dress and I hoisted her onto my shoulder. Katniss turned around, but I didn't dare look her in the eye. "Up you go, Catnip." My steady voice betrayed the turmoil inside. I began to take a flailing Prim back to her section, but one of her teachers rescued me. I unceremoniously handed Prim over and wedged myself back into my own section. I concentrated on breathing and staring at the back of the head in front of me.

Katniss had managed to make it onstage and introduce herself. Haymich, District 12's only living victor, staggered close to her side, sloshing around a flask of liquor. I just missed what he had said to the crowd, but Effie seemed flustered so it must have been his usual nonsense. Katniss had regained her composure and was looking blankly toward the horizon, appearing bored by the entire proceedings, except that her hands were squeezed into tight fists at her sides.

As Effie moved to the boys' Reaping bowl, it finally dawned on me that this nightmare could still become a living hell. My eyes fixed on her hand as she reached into the bowl, plunging her talons all the way to the bottom and snatching out one slip. Was it one in forty-two? Effie stepped over to the microphone, and as she inhaled a breath to speak, I chanced a look at Katniss. Her eyes fluttered closed, like she was making a wish before blowing out the candles on a birthday cake.

"Gale Hawthorne!" Effie boomed. Wishes don't come true in District 12, Katniss.

My entire body suddenly felt like lead and I was underwater. I trudged my way up the stairs and onto the stage, each step on the wooden floor echoing in my ears like a drumbeat. Effie's voice sounded hollow and distant. She was asking for any volunteers. There was no one to volunteer for me, Effie. I'm no one's little sister. I think Effie was introducing us. I recognized my name again. She motioned for me and Katniss to shake hands. Not a chance, Effie. If we touched now, I wouldn't make it off this stage alive. Neither I nor Katniss moved an inch. Shaken by our refusal to play by the rules already, Effie turned to the crowd for applause. It was the dead silence that finally woke me from my trance and grounded my feet back in District 12. I shifted my gaze from the sky to the faces of my neighbors and friends. People started to move, kissing three fingers on their right hands and raising them high, a silent salute for their fallen brethren.

As Effie attempted to recover from yet another rebellious act in her otherwise flawless show, I caught two peacekeepers coming toward me. They meant to escort me into the Justice Building behind us where I would be allowed to say goodbye to my loved ones. Before they could take hold of my arms, I turned sharply away from Effie and Katniss and stormed into the building. I had to get off of that stage. Haymich fell in line behind me, with Katniss and her guards at the back. Effie would remain onstage to finish up her script. As the heavy doors finally closed us off from view of the cameras, I was led to a hallway on the left. Haymich loitered in the lobby while the guards guided Katniss to the hallway on the right.

It must have been realization that we would be separated that broke Katniss's tenuous hold on her brave facade. I heard a struggle behind me and she began to scream. "No! Gale! Let go of me! Gale!" She was panicking, and we couldn't afford that yet. I had about ten seconds to think about my reaction before my own panic would take over and I lost all control of the situation. I took a deep breath, turned on my heels, whipped past my two guards and bellowed across the cavernous hall, "Katniss!" My voice was deep and chastising, as if I was were breaking up a fight between my younger brothers. The tone caught her off guard, and she quit fighting the men holding her back. Our eyes finally met for the first time since Prim's name was chosen. The fear and sadness I saw would have brought me to my knees any other time, but right now, I needed to remain steadfast.

I crossed over to her, put a firm hand on her shoulder, and spoke to her like she was a child. "You have to stay calm, Katniss. You have to speak to your mother now. You have to speak to Prim. Do you understand?" She relaxed her body, stood up straight and nodded. Softening my voice, I said, "Good. I'll see you on the train, Katniss." The panic was leaving her face now and I knew she understood me. We had to be strong for our families when we said our goodbyes. We couldn't let them lose all hope. We would be their providers and protectors until the bitter end. And I would see her on the train, where the cameras were not allowed, where we could finally succumb to the harsh reality of the cards we had been dealt. Where we could be alone and together.

Author Notes:

Thanks for reading. This is my first fanfic, though I have been a reader since the good old days of The X-Files when fans were just called shippers or non-shippers. None of that Everlark/ Harmony/Fourtris stuff!