This takes place in Catching Fire. It replaces the ending, starting before the breakout attempt. In this instance, the breakout attempt fails, and the games continue on as they were supposed to.
It's Okay
Beetee's plan with the wire is in motion. It's late, and every second brings us closer to the storm of lightning.
"Come on, Peeta," I urged. "We really should leave, it's time to break off. There's only a few Tributes left now." Eight in total. Peeta and I make up two. Then there is Beetee, Finnick and Johanna, Haymitch's friend Chaff, and Enobaria and Brutus from District 2. Again, I can see the hesitancy in Peeta's eyes, and he refuses again.
"One more night, please," he says. "We'll take off in the morning." I stare at him, eyes wide with concern, and I bite my lip. I'm tempted to leave him on his own, and play the rest of the game individually, but I remember my vow: Peeta will be the last one out of here, and it will be the last thing I do. The resolve in his eyes is clear. I nod slowly, but I regret it. Oh, Peeta, I think, bad move. Over by the trees Beetee is going over the finer points of his plan with the wire and the trees with Johanna and Finnick. Looking at them critically, I try and suss out how their alliance with us feels. I don't see any shifty looks. No one is watching someone's turned back. It really does seem like the alliance is still going strong. Nevertheless, it is getting late in the games, and seven of us still have to die. It's also getting very late in the night; and the lightning storm must be soon.
Beetee, Johanna and Finnick join us. It is time for us to split up, including Peeta and myself. We protest obviously, but eventually agree. We're about to turn away in our separate groups; myself and Johanna, and Finnick, Beetee and Peeta, when at the last second I run at Peeta. I kiss him briefly, strongly and sweetly, and then turn away, double checking my quiver of arrows and bow are firmly attached to my back.
"Come on, Johanna," I whisper, trudging in the sand. Her face is calculating as she looks at me, but she shrugs and follows me, the coil of wire Beetee just handed her tight in her grip. I can sense Peeta's eyes on my back, and I know we're both wondering if he's made the wrong decision. We hurry to the sector on the clock arena pointed at by the tail of the cornucopia. We find the tallest tree and are about the initiate the plan when we notice the wire is broken. I have just enough time to worry about Peeta when my head is smashed by something hard. Johanna has struck me with the wire coil. She forces me down roughly to the ground, sits on top of me, and stabs my arm deeply with a knife she'd had concealed. I cry out with the pain and kick with my legs wildly, trying to dislodge Johanna. Johanna is suddenly gone and so is the knife intrusion in my arm. I can now painfully feel the tracker in my arm. "What?" I actually say in confusion, looking at my arm. It looks as though it has been struck on an artery. I look up in time to see Johanna disappearing into the shadows of the forest. Almost immediately I can hear the sounds of battle occurring. Obviously someone more threatening than me has come along. I stagger to my feet, knowing the alliance is over, and rush back to where I know Peeta should be. I hear the cannon boom once, and pick up my pace. The stretch of sand seems ridiculously long as I run, clutching my profusely bleeding arm, seeming to not get anywhere. The wind suddenly picks up, and I know it has struck twelve. The storm is beginning. "Peeta!" I scream as loud as I can, still running. I let go of my injured arm, and utilise both in my running. The sand is being whipped up by the harsh winds, and I'm forced to squint my eyes for protection. I can hear sounds of humans not far off, and I run to them, hearing another cannon. I trip over a still body as I run, falling face first in the sand. My heart stops. Peeta? I scramble back to it, sending sand flying. I practically fall on the body looking for a familiar feature. It's not Peeta, but Chaff, Haymitch's friend. I look around again, searching but I can't see through the sand. "Peeta!" My throat feels like it rips I yell so loudly. Still no response. I lurch upwards again, leaving the body, and sprint forwards again. He must be here somewhere. Beetee is suddenly next to me, gripping my arm. Automatically, I try and wriggle free. His poor old fingers let me go, and I jump back defensively, raising my hands, prepared to fight.
"The plan!" he cries. "What are you doing?" He gestures back where I came from, where the wire is not hung.
"Johanna attacked me! The alliance is over! She ran off! I'll let you go once, now go!" I yell, and turn to leave. Beetee grabs me again.
"No, this is more important – ach!" he cries out as sand hits his eyes. Using this distraction I run rapidly, yelling for Peeta, unashamedly giving away my position. Finally, I hear a response.
"Katniss!" He's close; less than a hundred metres away, seconds away. I can see his silhouette now through the sand, then it is flung into clear relief as lightning strikes, illuminating the whole arena for a split second. He's injured, but okay. We reach each other, and embrace briefly, then examine each other hurriedly. "I killed Brutus! He killed Chaff. I ran from Finnick the second I heard you."
"Johanna attacked me, and then ran off. I guess to attack Enobaria. Beetee's around somewhere. We have to go." As one we run off to a random section of the woods, one 'safe' for a few hours. We stop when our lungs are struggling. We clutch each other for support as our breath returns to normal.
"I'm sorry," gasps Peeta. "I should never have agreed to one more night." I shake my head, in a dismissal of his apology. He grunts in annoyance. "No, I could have lost you." He grabs me again, pulls me forcefully against his chest and kisses my cheek roughly through the hug. "It is not okay!" His hands fight for purchase on my body, seeming to check if it's really there. He pushes back enough to kiss my lips once, twice, a third time, before pulling me back to the rib-cracking hug. This is why Peeta must survive; like Finnick implied: he is one of the truly good people left in these games, and the world needs good people. The joy of reunion is wearing thin, and we must find some more weapons, as we only have my arrows, and we need to find water. Unfortunately we've lost the tool to gain it.
"These games won't last much longer," I say grimly. "Hours." Peeta looks at me, and I meet his look. Defiantly, we both turn away as we can still see that we're determined to make the other survive. A kind of stalemate has occurred. Neither of us will leave the other, but if we make it to the end, neither of us will kill each other. Peeta picks at something on the ground. I can only think of one way to proceed, even if for a little while. "Final two?" I say, holding out my hand for a deal. The cannon fires again suddenly, and we stand, warily. Peeta grips my hand, but I'm not sure if it's for support, or agreeing to the deal. I shut my eyes emotionally, inhaling deeply, tears threatening to leak. I shake my head, clearing it again of conscience.
"Let's do this," says Peeta. We hold hands as we walk, back towards the sand. "The spear Brutus tried to throw at me should still be there." It's not too long until we're back, but we're significantly weaker. Ten metres from the edge, I pull one of the few remaining arrows, of a total of four, from my quiver, and prepare it. The storm is still going surprisingly. Good. It is good cover. We begin the search for the spear. The body of Chaff is long since gone, leaving us no clues. We walk blindly in the storm, until we luckily come across it. Peeta salvages it from the sand where it protruded at a 45 degree angle.
"Peeta, Katniss!" A voice calls. We instantly recognise it as Finnick. I pull my bow back, taking aim at the direction of the voice. Peeta raises his spear across his body. Finnick slowly comes into view, and the sand dies down. It's a new hour. He raises his hands in defensiveness. "Whoa, guys. Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you. We have to talk." He keeps stepping forward with slow deliberated movements. I pull my arrow tighter.
"Stop right there!" I yell warningly. "Alliance is over."
"No, it's not," splutters Finnick, clearly stressed. "You don't understand, something was supposed to happen."
"Yeah, you guys were going to double cross us," says Peeta. Peeta turns side on, spreading his legs, his spear poised and ready for offensive or defensive movement. Finnick glances around shiftily, and lowers his voice to a conspirator's whisper.
"No, we're supposed to be out of here by now." His eyes emphatically try and explain without giving up the story to the Capitol. As if to explain this, Caesar's voice suddenly booms over the arena to announce a new rule.
"Greetings, remaining Tributes, due to the attempted rescue of the Tributes by a rebel alliance, we decree that these Hunger Games shall persevere for a maximum of two hours. If within these two hours only one Tribute remains, that Tribute will become the Victor. Any more than one Tribute remaining at the end of the two hours will result in all Tributes being killed by default. This is the only announcement." Peeta and my eyes grow wide in unison. Finnick shrugs his shoulders.
"That's what I was trying to say. We were supposed to destroy the arena force field, and we were going to-"
But what else we were going to do, we did not find out. My arrow flew swiftly from the bow, and lodged itself directly and entirely through Finnick's brain. He falls to the ground with a gentle thud. A trickle of blood oozes out from the wound and the cannon fires. Peeta turns to me in horror.
"What did you do that for?" He yells while gesturing wildly to Finnick's splayed corpse. I say nothing, but kneel next to Finnick's body. His eyes are wide, and his expression has not changed. A low moan escapes my throat, and I cradle his head to my chest. I gently pull the arrow from his head, rest his head lightly on the sand and close his eyes. The tears brim in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Peeta stares at me, his anger has deflated.
"I did that for you," I mutter, wiping Finnick's blood from my arrow on my tattered clothes. "You heard the man; two hours left. Two tributes other than us left. Now, anyway." I stand up, stoic, arranging my shoulders squarely, replacing the arrow. I walk away, and Peeta follows. He squeezes my hand.
"What if the rebels can get through? We should wait before we kill everyone." Always the optimist, Peeta.
"No." I say. I know he's about to say 'why not?'. "They won't have enough time. Speaking of time, we're running out." I can feel my resolve solidify all over again. The two other Tributes will die, and then I will find a way to kill myself. I'm just wondering who remains when the Capitol logo shines in the sky. Brutus from District 2 shows up first, Peeta's kill. Finnick follows, District 4, my handiwork. Johanna Mason, District 7. I audibly gasp; I felt for sure she was alive. Last is Chaff, District 11, Brutus' work. Peeta and I are doing the mental working out. Just Beetee and Enobaria to go. Peeta's hand finds mine and he clutches it. We know we've got very little time left. I can feel my heart start to panic, pumping rapidly, threatening to break through my ribs. I return the squeezing of my hand. I have less than two hours to live, it dawns on me. Two hours left with Peeta. I jump on Peeta, knocking him to the ground and the spear from his hand and I rapidly deliver kisses to him. I'm impatient, as if I'm trying to get a lifetime's worth of kisses out in two hours. Peeta grips me tightly, his hand threading through my hair. I clutch Peeta's face with my hands, probably too roughly, but I don't care. I realise his face is wet, my fingers slip repeatedly. He is crying. I open my eyes to look at his tear stained face. My own tears, usually held back so successfully, finally break free. His hands find my face, and we stare at each other, tears falling silently, kneeling on the sand. There is nothing else between us now, no confusion of our relationship, no hard feelings. We know one of us will be dead shortly. His eyes are sad, but resolved. So are mine, I'm sure. One last calculated kiss between the two of us; soft and sure, longing and grieved. We know that underneath, we are truly enemies, working deliberately against one another's cause. We nod, and the panic in my heart stops. It's time.
We survey the trees around us, looking for a sign of an enemy. No doubt Beetee is hiding. Enobaria on the other hand, might be waiting to ambush us at any moment. I pull an arrow out, and hold it at the ready; my arm is not as steady as it usually is. What an annoying injury Johanna gave me. Peeta picks up his spear and we walk forward as one. Since the Reaping, we really have been one. One being wrapped up in two entities. Soon we would have to split. Maybe we can kill the others quickly, and spend the rest of the time together. Maybe. I become aware of my arm thumping painfully. The blood loss is seriously affecting it, and I'm beginning to feel a little woozy and tingly in my extremities. Peeta on the other hand, though bruised and battered, is strong. I don't let Peeta see my deteriorating condition. The woods aren't far from us, and we use them for cover. I keep my arrow poised at all times, and Peeta is constantly looking around. We don't have to wait long. Enobaria manages to surprise us, jumping from one of the larger trees, knocking me to the ground. I land painfully on the bow and I accidentally release the arrow far off into the trees. Damn. I look up. Peeta is locked in physical combat with Enobaria. Enobaria, though a woman, is definitely strong, possibly stronger than Peeta. Peeta has her locked in a headlock, but can't seem to find much else to do with her. Enobaria stamps hard on Peeta's remaining foot, causing him to relinquish her. She punches Peeta in the throat, and he gasps, and hacks. He coughs up blood. I realise I am standing completely still. Forcing myself to action, I jump on Enobaria, wrapping my legs around her waist from behind, wrapping my arms, constricting her breath, around her neck. She rasps loudly, trying to shake me off, but I hold tight, squeezing harder and harder. She deliberately falls backward, so that she squashes me. She's quick to recover, and jumps on me, returning the favour of strangling me. Peeta's spear is suddenly thrown directly through her ears. Cannon fire. I kick her immobilised body off me and run to Peeta, who is still coughing up blood.
"Are you okay?" I yell. Peeta nods, and attempts to respond, but can't. It appears his vocal cords have been damaged. "Can you breathe properly?" Again, he nods. The action seems to cause him pain. "Beetee left," I say. Beetee was going to be difficult. Old, but cluey. I take Peeta's hand and pull him with me as I walk, in no particular direction. It's dull in the woods, and with the threat of Beetee around, Peeta and I can't relax and enjoy our remaining time together.
It's been at least half an hour, maybe even forty five minutes, when I think I see something. I can see a struggling form walking. Towards us? My bow is ready in a second. It is Beetee.
"Hold it," he murmurs. He is obviously injured. There is blood caked down his face and he has many wounds all over his body. I hold it, as instructed. I can tell he doesn't have much time left anyway. I struggle to concentrate on him, now that I'm less worried. Some fuzziness comes over my vision. I keep forgetting I am slowly bleeding to death, a fact Peeta hasn't noticed. "I'm sorry you guys. We tried to get you out. We really did. You could both be safely kept away by now, but…" He trails off. "Finnick and Johanna were good people. Whichever of you is left, don't forget them. Me either, if you could." Peeta and I can only stare at him, Peeta in particular since he cannot talk. Beetee continues. "So you got Enobaria, huh? Good job. I managed to get away. Not for long, heh." He points to his bleeding head. "Listen, kids. There's only about half an hour left." Peeta and I join hands again at this news. "I won't bother you, I promise." Beetee struggles to lower himself to the floor on the woods. I help him down, risky, I know, but I feel like he's being honest. He does nothing to attack me. "I'm as good as dead, anyway. You two enjoy what's left of your time." I see a single tear leak from his bruised eyes. Peeta is also tearing at his generosity. I stay strong, but my voice cracks.
"Thank you, and good luck." I shake his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. His skin is soft and feathery, the way peoples' skin get as they age. I turn to Peeta, who encircles his arm around my shoulder. We walk back to the sand, the safest part of the arena.
We choose a random spot to sit down in. I place my head on Peeta's shoulder. "How's your throat?" Peeta shrugs. No better. I feel my arm go fully numb, and I realise I probably have even less time than half an hour. The sand is cold beneath us, and even though our time is dwindling away, we just don't know what to do, what to say. I look at Peeta's expressionless face, staring out at the water. His lips are dry and cracked, his skin is sore and shiny in parts, but he is still Peeta. I gently kiss his cheek. I let out of a hearty sob from my chest, and I turn away, ashamed. There is a great pain in my chest and the sobbing helps it. I throw my arms around Peeta as gently as I can, and the sobs uncontrollably wreak havoc on my body. Peeta grasps what he can of me. I feel his tears leak through my hair, and I have to look at him. He will be the last thing I see. The cannon fires over the arena. Beetee has succumbed to the blood loss. I am reminded of his sacrifice; he could have killed the both of us, and then received treatment and survived. I am reminded that this is my last chance to do anything. I think we both realise it.
Simultaneously, we lock each other in a fierce embrace, kissing aggressively. This is it. This is all we have. The Capitol and all of our Districts are watching as the famous star-crossed lovers give them their final performance. I ignore my growing hazy state. If I'm going to die, I'm going to know everything about the moments before I do so. Peeta hungrily grabs my body and I return the gesture. He rolls on top of me, and I encircle my legs around his hips. Suddenly a sponsor gift floats down next to us. We look at it, confused. Why would people send us something now? I reach out my good arm and open it. It's a blanket. Two, actually. Peeta understands though. He climbs off me, unfolds one flatly on the beach besides us, pulls me over to it, and unfolds the second one over us. It dawns on me. The sponsors are giving us as much privacy as we can have in this particularly instant. I turn to him. We're both laying down, considering our options. A silent agreement occurs between us. This is all the time we have left; we can't waste it. Peeta brushes his hand on my face. I close my eyes, relishing the feeling. A tear leaks out, and falls down my face, catching on my lip. Peeta kisses it away.
"I love you," I say miserably. Peeta is speechless…well, I suppose he already was. His eyes are nearly closed, the tears stream almost freely down his face. How it must hurt to only hear that before one of us will die. He turns to the sand above our heads, and traces his fingers through the soft grain.
I love you too, he writes.
"I know," I say hysterically, "I know, Peeta, I know!" And we're kissing again. Urgently and as if on fire. There is no time. Very little time. Ceaser's voice rings out again.
"15 minutes…" he says. I think I can hear the sadness in his voice. Of most Capitol people, I've found him more bearable than others. I cry loudly, and Peeta tries to kiss my tears away. I could practically hear his thoughts: "It's okay, Katniss. It's okay. I love you." We're both very wet from tears, but the kissing is not enough. I tug at his pants desperately. If I'm going to die, I'm going to have Peeta in every way I can. He understands what I'm doing, and he helps me. He kicks them off, with his underpants, and they slide out from under our blanket. I reach for mine, but again I'm little help with my next to useless arm. He does it for me, removing my underwear simultaneously. I spread my legs and Peeta pushes our hips together.
"Peeta," I moan, scared, full of lust, and sad. He nods. Again: "I know," the nod says. There's no preamble. His right arm holds my back, pulling my torso forward, and the other supports his weight. He pushes into me partially, and I gasp. He kisses me forcefully and then pushes himself all the way in. I clench my teeth in pain, but it's okay. My mouth hangs open, as Peeta starts to move rhythmically. He manages a guttural moan through his damaged throat. I moan with him, and pull him back for a kiss. I can feel the desperation between us to share this moment. I can tell that for both of us it is the first time; Peeta is blushing, I can feel the heat in his face. "It's my first time too," I say to him. Yes, cat's out of the bag, Capitol, I think. I'm not pregnant! That's right! Jerks! Peeta nods to tell me his affirmation. I squeeze his hips with my legs, and I find myself bucking my hips to meet his. I can feel the desperation increase, as well as the pressure in my body. I gasp and moan his name, and he manages a few responses. After a few minutes, Peeta begins to increase his speed, and I can feel an odd sensation occur in me. "Peeta," I gasp, but I can't form any other words. I cry out in pleasure, and Peeta tries to. My eyes have white twinkling lights behind them, and I can feel the aftermath of the explosion tiring me. Peeta holds very still, and I can feel him pulsing. It's over. He kisses my shaking lips, a small amount of sweat on them. He pulls out, and I'm left feeling empty and shallow. He lies beside me, and he is shivering a little. I put my arms around him, and we slowly pull our pants back on.
"Five minutes…" Caesar reminds us. Peeta looks at me. His face tells me everything I need to know; he's about to kill himself. Using the last of my strength, I scramble up, and grab the spear lying near us. I throw it as far into the water as I can, and I follow it with my bow and arrow. Peeta looks confused, and he stares at me trying to grab the answer from my mind. A thought occurs to him. He turns back to the sand.
Together?, he writes. I nod, though I'm lying. My vision is flickering before my eyes, and Peeta snuggles down beside me. He seems more content with this arrangement. Peeta is ready to simply wait for the end of the five minutes. I squeeze the last of my tears from my eyes.
"Peeta, I love you. Don't ever forget that. I'm sorry it's only just come out, but it's the best I can do. I love you, forever." He nods at me. He is returning exactly what I'm saying. He kisses me again, holding us together. My brain hurts, and my throat is dry. I lay my head on his shoulder, as I have done so many times before. Yes, this is how I would like to die. I rest my good arm over his stomach, and he intertwines our fingers. My heart rate picks up. I can feel I'm close to death. Sparkling lights break out in my vision. What do I want my last words to be? Peeta inhales sharply, and I can tell he's nervous. He grips my hands. How long is left? Not long? But the time still moves on. Surely I'm running out of time for my last words. I know for sure I'm running out of nerve, and strength to hold on to life.
"One minute." Caesar sounds defeated and emotionally moved. I smile, for here is the moment, and I pull Peeta as close as I can. I can't help a few more tears come, and let a sob come through my throat. Peeta kisses my hair.
"It's okay," I whisper to Peeta. "It's okay." My chest constricts nervously, and my throat feels blocked. My heart pumps rapidly, as if it knows the struggles are almost over. It's okay. My vision fades almost entirely, and my body feels prickly and painful all over. I close my eyes, content against Peeta's arm. He rests his head on mine, tightening his grip. Just seconds left, he thinks.
The cannon fires.
Peeta flinches, shocked, and then stares to look at Katniss' body. Her eyes are closed but a smile lingers on her face. Peeta's fingers fly over her face, her body. His face is panicked and pained.
"No," he rasps through his crushed throat. Tears flow freely from his eyes. He attempts to perform CPR on Katniss' body, but she is already pale from her blood loss, and she grows cold quickly. "No, no, no, no, no," moans Peeta. He picks Katniss up and holds her body desperately to his chest. He looks up the artificial sky, and the realisation crushes him.
"With thirty-two seconds left…the winner of the 3rd Quarter Quell and 75th Hunger Games is Peeta Mellark…" Caesar announces. The Capitol's hovercraft appears above him, and he is picked up. He drags Katniss' body with him, clutching her, sobbing erratically. He lands in the aircraft on his knees, Katniss' body splayed across him. Haymitch is there. He's managed to escape detection as a ploy in the rebellion. He crosses to Peeta, who is hysterically crying and touching Katniss' face.
"Let go," coaxes Haymitch. Peeta swipes at him unsteadily in defiance. Haymitch has tears in his eyes too, and kneels helplessly beside Peeta. Peeta is trembling. He kisses Katniss' lips, and their stillness breaks his heart further. The doctors have come to fix him. They grab his arm and pull him to a stand, forcing him to let go of Katniss. Haymitch catches her before she can hit the floor. Peeta yells and protests as much as he can with his wrecked throat. The doctors drag him through a clear windowed room, drag him from the love of his life, and place him on a white sterile table. They work on his body, healing his wounds. But they can never heal that wound. The wound that is lying, dead, in her mentor's arm. The wound that will never hug him again, never kiss him again, never smile at him again, and never validate his existence again. The wound that is Katniss Everdeen, the most inspirational person he would ever meet. She is gone, and with her, all of Peeta's world, except a hard stabbing pain in his heart.
(A/N) Hi guys. Wow, this story has received way more views than I ever thought it would. Only 1 review though, haha.
So, I actually came up with what I think is a totally awesome plot to follow this. If I receive a certain amount of interest, I will start it, continuing on in this story. So, please Review or PM your interest in the potential story. I promise it will be written to the same standard.
Otherwise, just review your thoughts on this regardless! ;P
For anyone interested, I'm currently writing a set of gap fillers for the Hunger Games. It's called The Eye of the Beholder and it follows the story of the Hunger Games in sections, but through a different character's eyes. For example, the Reaping and the first night of the Games in Peeta's perspective have been done. I'm taking requests for scenes.
Love,
R-COTA.
