Heeey, guys~! Sorry I haven't exactly updated anything in…half a year. I've kind of left the world of fanfiction behind for original work, as I've discovered it's much more satisfying, and in many regards. The only depressing part is that I can't get reviews and critiques anymore. T~T
Aaanyways, I just finished reading Mockingjay last night, and the ending was horrible. I was so into it up until Gale was completely written off for pretty much no reason at all. I can understand all the deaths—it's war, and I admire that Collins would actually kill off so many people, because that's how a war really is, and not everyone makes it out. But when Katniss can't forgive Gale because, at that time, she thought he might've, unintentionally created the plan that killed Prim, and then again when she's thinking, AND I QUOTE, "Sorry excuses for hunters and friends. Both of us." I just can't get over that. I mean, up through the entire book she was thinking Gale was the only person left she could trust, he was the only person who could understand the way she thought, and he was the only person she'd trust to have her back in battle. It wasn't even a gradual change—all of a sudden, she just considers him an outsider. Through the entire series, I would've been happy with whoever Katniss ended up with—Gale or Peeta—but not this way. Not just forgetting someone who you spent an entire four years with, sharing all your secrets and everything you thought and, and…ugh. Just ugh.
-sighs- Okay. Enough with the rant and onto the oneshot (finally, right? XD).
She walks through the rubble that was her old house, far down below me, close enough for me to see her blank pain, but too far away for me to hold her. For a long moment, she just stares at her feet, ashes swirling past her. Ashes of memories from a past life. I turn my eyes on the rest of District 12's remains with difficulty, trying to place where each store, each house, each place filled with the better part of my life had once stood before being reduced to smoky rubble.
When my gaze returns to Katniss, I'm alarmed to see her crouching down, cradling her head as if she's afraid what little is left of her mind will fall apart if she removes her hands. "Katniss," I say, silently cursing myself for looking away from her for even one second. "Should I come down?"
She stands as if she's still not really aware of what's going on, and says, "No. I'm fine," in a voice that clearly portrays that she isn't. Or maybe it only sounds that way to me. The others in the hovercraft don't comment, just tap, tap, tap away at their controls and pretend nothing is going on. I can tell she doesn't want me with her for this, and something tells me that I'd wish for the same if I were her. There are some things you have to face on your own, demons of the mind that can only be seen by the person who harbors them.
As she makes her way down the main road, I can tell her mind is wandering again. Regretful, self-decaying thoughts that squeeze through the cracks of the shields I've been trying so hard to build around her since her return, thoughts that I can never share or ever hope to understand. I realized that when I saw Katniss sleep without the sedatives one night, screaming and thrashing around as the nightmares stole over her once more. I think she prefers that I don't understand.
My eyes follow her path as she stops in front of where the bakery once stood. Of where Peeta's home once existed. She looks away after a few minutes of just staring at it and backs up into a melted hunk of metal that's hard to discern from this distance. She sits there for a moment, appearing to puzzle over what it is, and seems to recognize it because she stands shakily and starts running to the one place that wasn't destroyed by the fire.
I lose sight of her briefly as she enters her house in Victor's Village, then flip on the switch for the heat radar. I can see her outline blossoming with colors on a screen in front of me as she moves silently through the rooms, picking up objects that I can't make out. When she reaches the kitchen, I can't help the smile that spreads across my face as she finds her old cat, Buttercup, practically waiting for her.
"We have to go back soon," I tell her after a word with one of the others from 13. She replies distractedly, making her way to her old bedroom. I don't stop her. She goes straight to the closet once she gets there, taking out what looks like a jacket on the screen. I vaguely remember her telling me about it once, if it's the one I think it is, and it's the only one I can think she'd go back for.
Then she seems to freeze, tensing in a way that's painfully familiar to me. It's the stance of a hunter that knows something is wrong and is standing very still in order to find out what it is. Her eyes catch on something, but it's just a misshapen object that looks like it might be a vase or jar on my screen. I can't understand what's wrong, but Katniss bolts out of the room, grabbing the bag she'd put everything else in from earlier, and waves down the hovercraft frantically as soon as she's outside.
Once she's been pulled up by the ladder, I grab her hands and help her onboard. "You all right?" I wonder if she can hear the worried undertone beneath the question that holds more than concern for just this one moment.
"Yeah," she replies, wiping her forehead with the sleeve of her sweater. She looks exhausted, but more than that, scared. I'm about to ask her what's wrong when I catch that look in her eyes. It's that of an animal being chased, knowing there's nowhere left to run and just starting to succumb to the realization that there might not be a way out after all. I decide to leave whatever had frightened her behind us as we head back to District 13.
For a long time, Katniss just stares out the window as if she thinks the Capitol will suddenly appear and start shooting at us. Heck, for all I know, who's to say they won't? After a little while, she calms down and I decide it's time to take her mind off whatever it is that's nagging at her.
I nod at the writhing bag she's still hugging tightly to her chest, improvising and saying, "Now I know why you had to go back."
"If there was even a chance of his recovery," she replies, dumping the bag unceremoniously onto a seat. An obvious lie. She hates that cat, and even if she's only bringing him back for Prim, I bet she had forgotten about him until today. "Oh, shut up," she says tiredly as the bag begins to growl, only further proving my unspoken point. She sits down across from it, and I join her after a brief moment.
"Pretty bad down there?" I ask needlessly. I'd been able to see the damage well enough from my vantage point in the sky. No, it wasn't damage so much as absolute annihilation.
"Couldn't be much worse," Katniss answers. I wonder for a moment if I shouldn't have asked as we both collapse into silence, thinking over our own private losses. We don't speak again until we get to 13, me because I don't want to upset her even more and her because she's probably lost in whatever thoughts occupy her mind these days.
Once we reach the launching pad, we head over to her room. Katniss skirts the path to the elevators in preference of the stairs, another of the many effects that the Hunger Games had on her. I don't comment, but follow dutifully after her. She pauses once she reaches her door, asking, "What am I going to tell them about Twelve?"
"I doubt they'll ask for details," I assure her. "They saw it burn. They'll mostly be worried about how you're handling it." I press my hand lightly against her cheek, taking in everything about her in this instant. The tired, ever-present hunted look in her eyes, the strands of hair sticking to her forehead that I itched to push behind her ear, the way she was slumped as if she could no longer put forth the effort to stand straight. I wanted to tell her right then how un-like Katniss she was being or ask if there was anything I could do to help. Instead, all I add is, "Like I am."
She leans into my palm for a moment that's all to brief before she pulls away, saying, "I'll survive."
I don't see her again until we're both headed to the dining hall. We're stopped, though, when my communicuff goes off; I scan the message quickly before telling her we're needed in Command. I can tell by the look that instantly passes across her face that she'd rather not have another session on being the Mockingjay, but something in the back of my mind says that this isn't right. There's no way those in Command who were so fixated on clockwork timetables would call a meeting that wasn't already scheduled. Something was wrong.
When we first walk into Command, nothing seems too out of place, except for the fact that everyone's gathered around the television screen at the far end of the room. Katniss hesitates, looking like she's about to make a break for it, but Plutarch urgently waves her forward as he sees us lingering in the doorway. I follow Katniss to the screen, half-dreading what I somehow knew I was already going to see.
Peeta.
Katniss lets out a sound that seems to catch somewhere in the back of her throat, a sort of gasp somewhere between pain and relief. She pushes her way forward and rests her hand on the screen, eyes hungrily absorbing her former partner in the Hunger Games. The one I know haunts her waking nightmares. I hold back, knowing that my being with her right now was the last thing she'd want.
Watching her now, seeing how obsessed she is with the boy on the screen who isn't even standing here in person, I know I can't compare with him. The realization hits me so hard it hurts, making me back up a few steps as the program ends and Katniss's face falls. She still watches the screen as a woman comes on and announces the shortages the Capitol will be facing, trying her hardest to stay out of the argument about Peeta's betrayal that's building up behind her.
Once the woman disappears, Katniss backs out of the crowd and heads toward the door. I'm just about to follow her when Coin's voice says, "You have not been dismissed, Soldier Everdeen."
One of the 13 soldiers, I think his name is Boggs, places a hand on her arm gently, but she reacts like only someone who's survived the Hunger Games would and jerks away, taking off like a startled rabbit through the hall. Boggs makes as if to chase after her, but I quickly placed myself in the doorway to let her get away. His elbow lands squarely on my nose as he tries to come to a stop before actually running into me, but we both end up falling to the floor.
"Soldier Hawthorne," Coin snaps as we get to our feet. I can feel the blood running from my nose, but I don't make any move to stop it as the president faces me, irritation gleaming in her cold gray eyes. She holds out her hand and I know without her saying anything what she wants. I take off the communicuff and place it in her hand; we stand for a few more minutes, silently observing each other, before she nods her head in dismissal.
I instantly know where Katniss will have gone. I slip into the closet for school supplies that never seems to be in use and find her curled up against one of the crates, taking deep lungfuls of air as if she hasn't been able to breathe since she first got here. She looks up as I close the door, relief flickering across her face as she realizes it's me. I slide onto the floor beside her, close enough to be there for support but not so close that she'd feel as if I was trying to win her over from Peeta again. She doesn't need that right now.
"What happened?" she asks.
"I got in Boggs's way," I answer with a shrug. Her hand reaches forward and she starts to wipe away the blood still trickling from my nose. I want to grab her hand in both of mine and just hold it to my cheek, feeling the blood pulse through her wrist, and whisper to her that she's still alive. But I don't. "Watch it!" I flinch as the stiff fabric of her sleeve rubs too hard against my skin.
She instantly lets up a little, doing little dabbing motions instead of just smearing the blood away. "Which one is he?"
"Oh, you know. Coin's right-hand lackey," I answer, trying to go for sarcasm. At her blank look, I add, "The one who tried to stop you." I lightly push her hand away, saying, "Quit! You'll bleed me to death."
"You fought with Boggs?" she asks, not attempting to argue my statement.
"No, just blocked the doorway when he tried to follow you," I say. "His elbow caught me in the nose."
"They'll probably punish you," she says dejectedly.
"Already have." I hold up my wrist to indicate the missing communicuff, but she just stares at it, uncomprehending. "Coin took back my communicuff."
Katniss at least has the dignity to try and look serious, but fails miserably. Well, at least one of my attempts to lighten her mood has finally worked. "I'm sorry, Soldier Gale Hawthorne."
"Don't be, Soldier Katniss Everdeen," I reply, grinning. It's been so long since I've seen her smile. "I felt like a jerk walking around with it anyway." We both start laughing, unable to keep it in any longer. "I think it was quite a demotion."
We talk quietly for awhile, about District 13, the war, finally getting around to Peeta's betrayal. It kills me to say the words that will clear up Katniss's confusion, but I know I have to. "Katniss…he's still trying to keep you alive."
For a long time, she seems to fall in on herself as she relives her own private memories before she suddenly springs up, scattering pencils all across the floor. "What is it?" I ask, surprised by her sudden outburst.
"There's can't be a cease-fire," she says, bent down to pick up the pencils, but her shaking hands can't grip them steadily and she can't fit them back into their box. "We can't go back."
"I know," I tell her, gathering a handful of pencils off the floor and straightening them out.
"Whatever reason Peeta had for saying those things, he's wrong," she goes on, and I can't tell whether or not she heard my words. The pencils snap as she impatiently begins to shove them into their box.
"I know. Give it here. You're breaking them to bits." I take the box from her unsteady hands and neatly put the pencils back in, carefully stacking the broken pencils one on top of the other as I try to get my thoughts in order. But it's hard.
"He doesn't know what they did to Twelve. If he could've seen what was on the ground—"
"Katniss, I'm not arguing," I interject. "If I could hit a button and kill every living soul working for the Capitol, I would do it. Without hesitation." I slide in the last pencil, and close the lid with a certain quality of finality to it. "The question is, what are you going to do?"
I already know her answer. I knew it would come to this when she first set eyes on Peeta's face in Command. And as long as I'd been waiting to hear her say it, how much I'd desperately wanted her to finally accept it, I hated it now. Because what I'd been trying to get her to see for the past month was accomplished by Peeta in only five minutes, and not even in person at that. It wasn't me that had helped her reach her decision; it was him.
"I'm going to be the Mockingjay," she tells me.
Okay, so I think this is as good a place as any to stop. What started out as a oneshot has kind of become like a string of certain events told by Gale's perspective. Sorry this one was so boring; I wanted to start at the beginning, just because it's, well, the best way to start.
I think the next chapter thing-a-whatever-you-call-it will probably be when Gale goes to rescue Peeta, Annie, and Johanna, but not the entire operation; I suck at action scenes. Hopefully it'll be more interesting because I won't have to stick so closely to the guidelines in the book.
Speaking of the upcoming chapters, let me know if you've got a request for a certain scene and I'll try and fit it in, if I can. :3
R&R~