A/N: This takes place from Katniss' POV, in the first book of the trilogy, beginning at the scene of Rue's death. Everything from then on is an AU.
It's a complete work-in-progress as of now; the writing is nowhere near what I deem acceptable and yet I just wanted to put it out there while I'm still writing it. I think I got the vague idea for it months ago and wrote like a paragraph then left it alone. But this concept still intrigues me... what happens if Rue lives instead of Peeta?
"Rue!" I screeched, my voice shattering, tearing through the leaves. A horrible thunk, and a spray of scarlet. She was impaled through the stomach, an angry spearhead sticking out her back. My eyes turned to the boy who had thrown it. Terror fell over him; I hadn't realized that I'd armed myself, an arrow already loaded, my fingers taut on the bowstring.
But I didn't need to fight as much as I needed to save her. I slung the weapon back over my arm, and the arrow back into its sheath. Mind a blur, I was at her side in a flash, fingers scrambling at her jacket where blood was slowly oozing out and staining. Rue made no sound, her breath seemed caught in her throat.
"Stay the fuck away!" I yelled, not looking to see if the other tribute had more weapons. I ripped off my backpack, dumped its contents on the moss, at Rue's feet giving way. I held her knees with one arm so she wouldn't fall.
Shears… shears! I couldn't find them fast enough. Already the boy was behind me, and I felt a slash into my shoulder. Turning with the shears in my fist, I jabbed at him and caught his thigh. He yelled, and I stood, unlocking the bloody shears, my fingers strangely sure and unshaking. He came back at me, aiming at my neck but landing the gash into my upper arm instead as I dashed him away. I smashed his forehead with the blunt end of the tool, knocked him back a bit. The damn things wouldn't unlock!
Rue's knees crumpled. Her eyes gazed straight ahead, seeing nothing. "Hold on. Hold on!" I began shouting, and lowered her onto her side so that the spear was parallel to the ground. The boy kicked the spear shaft, and Rue gave a gurgling howl.
"FUCK YOU!" suddenly the pliers were loose. I snapped the steel arrowhead free and rounded on him. He ran, but stumbled on his wounded leg. I overtook him in a moment, and was plunging into his back until he fell. I rolled him to face upwards, then kneeled on his groin and struck again and again into his belly. Intestines started spilling out and he was conscious until I broke most of his ribs. The gory spearhead slipped from my hand and I couldn't find it again in his mauled chest, so I pried his hunting knife away and fell back from the steaming mess. A dull cannon shot just registered in my mind, as stones and dirt dug into my knees. I couldn't look at the tribute's body anymore, not at his dead eyes, not at his organs strewn all over the grass. Slipping the knife into my belt I crawled away, back to Rue.
"Hold on, I'm coming!" I came to her lying there barely awake. She was crying. "Shhh, shhhh. I'm gonna fix this. Stay awake, Rue. Stay awake, don't close your eyes." Almost imperceptibly she nodded. And I went to work, probing gingerly around the entrance and exit wounds. I found the shears again, and made quick work of her jacket, methodically removing the clothes from her wounded spot. I cut off her black shirt right below her chest, tossed the bloody fabric away.
"Shhh. I'll make it not hurt. You'll live. God, fuck this game! You have to live."
I managed to get a grip on the sticky wet spear, one hand where I'd cut off the head and one in front of her. I tried to push it out, and she howled.
"I'm sorry!" I snapped my teeth together, held my jaw clenched. I had to do this.
I repositioned my hand on the front around the wound, pressed firmly against her skin. I started to push on the shaft again, tried to ease it out between my fingers. Now it started to move. Rue only cried louder.
Quick like a band-aid!
I pushed harder. With the most grotesque sucking noise, it came out another few inches. The screaming was starting to die out and that made me much more afraid. "It's almost out! Hold on, you're going to live!"
A final shove, and I pulled on the front of the rod. It was clean out. Rue fell to gasping wetly, still coughing up blood. She was breathing, though. There was hope.
Without a word I shoved my more valuable things back into my bag, stuffed in the bloodsoaked rags of her jacket, strapped it on tight then scooped her up and set off running in the direction I'd come. She was bleeding all over me – I think she had finally passed out, because she'd stopped gasping. I can't run forever, I realized as I ducked under branches, my shoes pounding the dry earth. I have to care for her.
The first suitable clump of bushes I sighted was too far from the river for comfort, but I accepted the chance. We needed cover; before long the other tributes would be zoning in on the source of the noise. Under the shelter of ferns and twiggy branches I laid her softly, held up her neck and bent over her. Listened to her mouth for breathing. There were ragged, unhurried breaths, uneven, but definitely there.
No medicine, no antibiotics, no bandages. My options few. I bound her middle as tightly as I could with all the fabric I had, then took off my own pants and tied them on too.
Curled up with my bare legs to my chest, I lay next to her for an eternity. A few times I heard footfalls, but they didn't come too near. I'd left no tracks.
Her eyes stayed closed. From time to time I reached over and stroked her dark hair back, smoothed it down with my hands caked in blood. Raptly I watched the rise and fall of her chest.
Live. Live, goddamn it. You're all I've got left.
A/N: If you actually took the time to read, please review! I would appreciate it so much. ;D