Reprieve
Today Katniss might lose both of them.
BEFORE Haymitch can grab her wrist, she is already sprinting down the windowless corridor and into the above ground. She does not stop, not even while people stare at her. She is once again the bedraggled damsel in the hovercraft, but softer this time. That other one had been violent, snarling with rage as they tried to revive Peeta. She is not snarling now. What can it do?
No, she is not snarling. She is sobbing with desperation. With fear, because it is Gale this time and it scares a lot more than anything she had felt before.
Because this time Snow might not spare Gale any degree of tolerance.
ooOoo
SHE shoves a passing Finnick aside without looking back to apologize. Her desperation escalates the longer it takes her to see the sky. This time is unfortunately one of those moments where District Thirteen appears to impose its vastness.
"I'm sorry, Miss Everdeen," the guard says.
"Please."
God, this isn't her.
They cannot do this now. Her nerves are unraveling because of dread and she does not want to break down in front of anyone. And the adrenaline rush she is hoping to kick in does not come. Instead, her telltale knees begin to kiss the floor.
She has never wanted anything so badly than to make sure Gale is locked up here with her.
Haymitch catches up and talks the guards into letting her out for a few minutes. She does not wait. Her heart is running ahead the rest of her body. So it is not at all surprising when what remains of her chest slams hard into her heart because the thing stops.
She is late. There is no one in the field.
ooOoo
IT takes a long time for her to decide that no one is coming for a while so she drags her wounded feet back underground. She cannot think straight but she finds her sorry ass taking the route to Finnick's room.
Finnick is making knots. Again. His skilled hands do not stop when she comes in. On and on, Finnick weaves the thing into something intricate and beautiful. Finally, he lifts his head up as he ties the last knot, his eyebrows creased upon seeing how wretched she is.
"I'm tired of saving Peeta," she blurts out before any coherent form of guilt occurs.
For some reason, Finnick understands.
ooOoo
THEY are slumped on the floor in the corridor outside Special Defense making knots. People pass by with pity on their pockets for the two Victors but they can take it back straightaway because Katniss is busy tying those ropes. She never bothers to look up, why would she?
She stares at the noose once she finishes it. Then to Finnick, whose face is painted with that familiar, twisted sadness.
"You know anything good about snares? You perfect it. Leave it in one place. And then come back to get the victim."
Finnick smiles. "Maybe that's what's good about it, Katniss. You come back."
ooOoo
IT is not until midnight, when a hand taps her shoulder, that Katniss realizes she and Finnick are in Thirteen. For the past hours, Finnick has taken her to Four, to the sea. Has taken her to Annie.
"They're back." Haymitch's face is unreadable.
There's a two‒way reason why she let Finnick talk. For one, Finnick needs it. For another, she needs it. He should talk; she should keep her mind off the rescue mission.
Haymitch holds her hand and pulls her to her feet just as Finnick stands. But she does not run or even walk. Her eyes search Haymitch's, begging for answers.
"Peeta's alive but he's different," he says.
She waits.
Tick tock.
Haymitch hesitates. "He's injured. That's all I know."
Her arm scrapes Finnick's as she runs toward the hospital wing.
ooOoo
HE is sitting on a hospital bed, shirtless. Sweat flows down his face as the medical crew puts something on his back. She can see his pain as they touch the skin just below his shoulder blade.
Reason and emotion collide, just as it was during the Games. Take back! He is not the victim, her brain seems to scream. But her heart is a more vicious opponent. It's taking control of her body. It wills her eyes to gaze beyond the wounded man only enough to see her hunting partner. It constricts, taking with it her entire being so intensely that her remaining resolve vanishes with all her desire to see the other boy.
Slowly, she takes a step.
His eyes, the promise of a brewing storm, find her even before she makes another move. For a second, they are guarded. Then his lips curve into that annoying, self‒satisfied smile.
"Hey, Catnip."
She cannot take it anymore. She nears him in a few strides and buries her face on the crook of his neck. The smell of the medicine on Gale's back reaches her quick.