A/N: I'm back, and so are regular updates! Sorry for the hiatus, I was traveling most of September. But now the AU canon-divergence can begin. :)
Finnick wakes up, then regrets it. His chest throbs with pain, the skin on his hands and arms burns and itches at the same time, and when he sits up, he's light-headed. But adrenaline has him on his feet, feeling for a weapon, looking wildly around for a threat.
"He's awake!" a masculine voice calls.
Sluggish and stupid, Finnick is slow to find the face that goes with the voice, and match it to a name. Haymitch.
He has to struggle even harder for the man who comes at Haymitch's call. Plutarch.
First you take stock of your situation, Mags' voice says, then you react. Don't move until you know what you're going to do.
Finnick forces himself to look around quickly, and grab for elusive words. Hovercraft. Hunger Games. Katniss. Lightning. Beetee. Cashmere.
Is this what it's like for Mags, being able to understand speech but not produce it?
But no, it's coming back to him quickly. Just a little disoriented, that's all. When Plutarch asks how he's feeling, he can answer "Fine" without needing to think about it, and "Four" to the number of fingers Haymitch is holding up. When Haymitch jokes that he was actually holding up twelve, Finnick snorts reflexively.
Then he remembers that Mags is dead, and he sits back down heavily on the bed.
"You were electrocuted-" Plutarch begins, but Finnick interrupts him.
"Where are we? Where are we going? Who's still alive? Can we talk freely? Where's Johanna?" Finnick pelts him with questions, hunting for problems to solve. That's all that kept him going in the arena, with Mags dead, and Annie-
Annie. Annie! Memory is coming back.
Plutarch's shaking his head. "Not with her here, we can't. Come fore; we'll talk there."
Finnick glances around to follow Plutarch's line of sight to Cashmere, lying on her own bed. "She's with me," he says briskly. Then he takes in the whole scene.
"What the fuck?!" Cashmere's lying bound to the bed with rope. Eyes wide, she watches the scene between Finnick and Plutarch play out.
"She'll make a useful hostage," Plutarch explains, even as Finnick is swinging his legs over to the other side of his bed and crossing the distance to Cashmere. "Finnick!" he snaps, more sternly, as Finnick starts untying her. "She can't be trusted."
The burns on his hands and arms make him fumble, but it's only knots, he can do this. "I told you," Finnick insists, unwinding the rope, "she's with me."
"Her district is at war with ours. This isn't a game."
"Were you watching in the arena?" Finnick asks. "When I stood between her and Katniss's bow? You can have Cashmere as a hostage over my dead body."
Cashmere is free now, but she lies as unmoving as if she were still bound.
"Regardless of whether she's free or a hostage," Plutarch decrees, "I'm not leaving her alone with an unconscious Katniss and Beetee."
"So brief me here," Finnick tells him.
"Not happening. If you want to be surprised when we land, you can be surprised. No briefings where she can overhear."
"Sedate her," Haymitch suggests. "After two days in the arena, she could probably use some rest."
Plutarch shrugs, thinking about it. "Sure."
Finnick's eyes narrow, but they're not getting anywhere, and he desperately needs to know where Annie is, who's still alive, what the plan is. Plutarch knows he has the upper hand over Finnick. And Haymitch is right. Cashmere's been through a lot.
Finnick turns away from Plutarch and back to the woman lying on the bed, waiting for her fate to be decided. "Honey, would you mind taking a sedative? I won't force you, but you can see how complicated everything is, and I need time to convince them we're on the same side. When you wake up, things will be better." He hopes he can keep that promise.
Outnumbered, trapped, Cashmere plays along in hopes of buying time. A strategy Finnick knows well.
"I'll do whatever you tell me," she whispers. Her eyes never leave Finnick, pleading with him to believe her. "I've always been loyal-"
"Sedate her before she incriminates herself," Haymitch urges.
"Oh, please. Like I wouldn't say the same if I thought I were in the hands of the Capitol. I said it all the way up until the forcefield came down. You shoot enough people, even Katniss'll read from the fucking cards."
Finnick stretches out a hand imperiously, demanding a syringe. Haymitch passes one over, and Finnick holds Cashmere's gaze reassuringly while she administers it to her upper arm. "It'll be better when you wake up," he repeats as her eyes close.
Then he has to fight to keep his concentration on what Plutarch and Haymitch are saying, and not on the jolts of grief every time he remembers Mags or the crippling panic when he thinks of Annie being tortured. He's as woozy as if he'd taken a sedative himself, and everything's a little distant.
They're on their way to District Thirteen, so at least that much has gone according to plan. Plutarch won't give too many details on what to expect there, which Finnick can understand if he's worried about surveillance.
Communications with Four are down. That's good and bad. Shutting down outgoing transmissions until they're fully in control was part of Pearleye's plans, but it means that until and unless Annie shows up in the Capitol, nobody has any idea where she is, much less any details about the rebellion in Four.
No sooner does Finnick have the chance to start wrestling his emotions into waiting mode than the next blow comes. Peeta, Johanna, and Enobaria are in the hands of the Capitol. Plutarch is going to try to get his people to extricate them, but so far nothing.
His heart sinks, and he doesn't know who it aches for most, the prisoners of war or him and Katniss, left behind.
And that's it, the briefing concludes, everyone else is dead. Finnick half envies them.
A long silence follows.
Then, with difficulty, Haymitch turns to the problem at hand. Getting Katniss, still the most important piece in the game, to cooperate.
As if to prove his point, she barges in with an energy that Finnick, still sluggish, could envy if he didn't know that she's in more pain than he is. At least I signed up for this, he tries reminding himself after she's carried away, unconscious.
He wouldn't have sedated her without at least the nominal consent Cashmere gave, but everything happened faster than he could process. He's left staring after her, trying to think of one reason Johanna won't hate him as much as Katniss after this.
When they've reformed, Finnick knows he's got to pull himself together. "How safe is it to talk here? I can give you a rundown on what's going on in Four."
"The 'craft may be bugged. Don't tell me anything the Capitol won't already know. You said you were planning to make your move Reaping Day?"
Finnick nods. "If they fire on the civilians in the crowd, we have propaganda; if not, we have numbers. I could hear the gunfire as the train pulled out, and they met me in the Capitol with an armed escort. They know."
He gives a brief overview of the militia, Pearleye, and Mags' careful planning. Plutarch knows some of this after Finnick connected with him last year, but it's all new to Haymitch.
"Oh my god," Haymitch blurts out. "All those years, all eyes on the Careers and their academies, and no one suspected."
"Once we land, I can start giving you the information I collected. I've got blackmail material, floorplans, passwords-" Finnick flounders, suddenly realizing he's got to sort out what will be useful to Plutarch rather than Pearleye. A map of the Capitol, Plutarch's presumably already got. What else?
He's gripping the edge of the table, trying to power through and use the discomfort of his reddened and blistered palms to keep him alert, when Plutarch interrupts him mid-sentence.
"Finnick, please get some rest. Stop and take stock for one minute, and you'll see how much you need it. And I need you sharp when we land."
Finnick wavers. Plutarch's right, but he doesn't know how badly Finnick needs work to do. "We haven't talked about Cashmere," he says at last.
Plutarch sighs. "Her district isn't in rebellion. We can't trust her."
"The Capitol put her in the arena with her brother and made her watch him die," Finnick points out. "There's no way she's with them."
"I can't risk our entire war by trusting someone who volunteered for the Hunger Games."
I rigged the draw! But explaining that would take more than he's capable of right now. "She defected publicly. The whole country was watching. You use her as a hostage, we'll never get another defector as long as we live."
"Boy has a point," Haymitch interjects.
"Listen," Finnick says, taking advantage of that opening, "I'll vouch for her good behavior myself. I'll give her the same terms I gave her in the arena. She stays with me at all times."
"The same terms," Plutarch decides, reluctantly. "If I see her and you're not around, I'll assume she's making a break for it."
"Deal." It's a start.
Back in the compartment where he woke up, Finnick ignores his empty bed and instead lies down with a still sleeping Cashmere. The bed is so narrow that he has to pull her into his arms to make room for both of them. At least this time, if the others try anything on her, it'll wake him up. And he'll have someone to hold onto while Mags' voice tells him everything is depending on him and Annie's voice screams his name.
Katniss doesn't feel like talking, and Finnick can't blame her. He doesn't have much comfort to offer.
He has no one to offer him comfort either, but Cashmere's hair under his face grows very damp before he finally falls asleep.
When he wakes up, he remembers that Mags is dead. It doesn't take so long this time. Believing it is another matter, but, well...
Exhaustion is hitting him like a tidal wave. Not even the driving curiosity about where they are, when they're going to land or whether they already have, and how long he's been out, is strong enough to make him sit up in bed.
After lying motionless for some time, trying to summon up the will to move, Finnick puts his hand on Cashmere's shoulder and begins stroking with his fingertips. He doesn't want to wake her, but she lifts her head as soon as she feels the first twitch.
She may be as quick to wake as he is, but Finnick has a suspicion she's been awake the whole time, afraid to budge.
"Hey, Cashmere," he whispers, when she doesn't say anything. "It's all right, you're safe."
No response, but she's listening, hanging on to every word.
"You're out of the arena, and you're never going back. I couldn't tell you, but I was trying to get as many of us out alive as I could. That's why I wanted you with us."
"I didn't know," she whispers in horror.
Finnick remembers that Gloss is dead.
"I'm sorry I couldn't save your brother. I only ended up getting you, me, Katniss, and Beetee out alive and free. Johanna, Peeta, and Enobaria are prisoners of the Capitol. Everyone else is dead."
"I thought you were going to kill me." Cashmere is dazed. "I only thought you'd be quicker about it than Brutus."
"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you. There's no way we could have saved anyone if word had gotten out."
"But even if I knew," and here she grows more agitated, "I couldn't have left my brother alone in the pack!"
"I know. You're incredibly loyal and brave. I'm sorry. I will say that until I die. I'm sorry I couldn't do more."
He strokes her hair and murmurs apologies until she relaxes a bit.
"So that's why Brutus and Enobaria kept falling back and regrouping." Cashmere nods to herself.
Finnick's glad to see her analyzing the situation again, even if he has to correct her. "Uh, well, actually...they weren't in on the plan either." Cashmere looks confused, so Finnick continues, a little wrong-footed, "Only about half the tributes were. And District Two is still supporting the Capitol. We tried letting you and Gloss know, but we didn't even bring it up with Two."
Cashmere's still frowning like she doesn't quite believe it. "I didn't understand why they let you go in the first place, and then why they backed off twice, at the Cornucopia and the tree."
"Well, they were both playing to win." Finnick shrugs. "I know Brutus talked a lot of smack, but so did I. It was practically obligatory. And I know District Two has a reputation for being reckless and never backing down from a fight, but the victors are, by definition, the ones who didn't do the stupid shit that got them killed."
He can see Cashmere accepting what she doesn't understand. "Okay."
"I'm sorry we couldn't tell you. I really am. But you're safe here now."
Encouraged, Cashmere shifts enough to look at him. She doesn't ask, but there's a question in her eyes.
"If you ask Plutarch," he answers, "you're on parole as long as you're with me. If you ask me, you're under my protection. Stay with me, and I'll keep you safe."
She nods. "I'll do whatever you tell me to. I'll stay with you."
Cashmere's true to her word. She stays with him when the doctor onboard-disguised as a Peacekeeper-comes to inspect their injuries before they disembark, and she's at his elbow when Plutarch ushers them out into District Thirteen. It's night when they set foot on land.
"Katniss, come on!" Plutarch calls while Haymitch opens the hatch.
Katniss turns her head to the side of her bed and refuses to move.
"I thought she was tougher than this," Plutarch mutters, but he cuts himself off mid-word when Finnick casually shoves him up against the side of the craft with one arm.
"You haven't lost anyone in the last forty-eight hours," Finnick snarls.
Shocked more by Finnick's willingness to lay a hand on him than by the actual assault, Plutarch jerks free. "You have. And never touch me again."
"Lay off Katniss. I had ten years to prepare for this. She found out about Peeta in the same minute she found out about the revolution. Let's go." Finnick jerks his head toward the outside.
"If this were an army, you'd be court-martialed for that."
"Cut them both some slack for a few days," Haymitch suggests mildly. "They've just come from the arena. They'll be jumping on everything in sight until it wears off."
"Keep a sedative on hand," Plutarch says to him with a meaningful glance at Finnick. "Now let's go already."
Even though he's the one who's given his word to protect Cashmere, Finnick finds himself glancing over to her for reassurance that she's here, as they step out of the 'craft into this unknown land. With Johanna gone, she's the only one he trusts to have his back.
The first thing Finnick notices is that after the jungle and the mild climate of the southern coast, October is brisk in District Thirteen. He shivers in his light outfit.
A guide whom Plutarch seems to know leads them, but they have to be silent as they walk. Finnick takes advantage of this to try to take in as much as possible of his surroundings. He looks up quickly at the stars to get his bearings. All he can tell is that they're moving east.
Finnick loses sight of the stars when they enter a wooded area. The trees are unfamiliar, and he blames the cold wind when he has to blink back tears after he catches himself wanting to ask Johanna. She'll be all right. She knows too much, a crueler voice taunts.
But she's smarter than they are.
Mags' voice reminds him that the intelligent ones break as easily as anyone else.
His bleak thoughts are interrupted by Plutarch speaking in a soft voice that Finnick has to strain to hear. "Talk to Katniss privately if you need to," Plutarch orders Haymitch, "but I'll need her here by dawn. We're destroying the hovercraft."
"You don't think we should keep a 'craft around that we can use?" Finnick wonders, pitching his voice similarly low.
Taken by surprise, Plutarch turns to look at Finnick over his shoulder. He shakes his head. "Too likely to get shot down. We had one free flight by seizing the element of surprise. Now they're looking for that particular 'craft. Besides, it might be bugged."
Makes sense, but Finnick is still reluctant to surrender a potential weapon. Then Mags nudges him in his head.
Don't get tied down. Stay on the move, stay alive. Nothing is irreplaceable except your life.
As much as it hurts to hear her so clearly, he's scared that he may someday forget what her voice sounds like. Mags!
Throughout their journey, Finnick keeps giving himself assignments to observe his surroundings. Anything to keep himself focused and functional.
He's not surprised to see nothing but wilderness. District Thirteen is a scattered set of underground shelters dating back to the days when they were safeguards against accidents in one of the nuclear power plants. Anything that was aboveground has fallen to ruin.
Their new home, when they reach it, is architecturally elaborate, with meeting rooms, a dining area, an infirmary, and so on. Even private sleeping quarters. "It's two to a room," their guide explains. "We haven't had time to furnish all of them. Only got word you were coming at the last minute."
"I'll keep an eye on the Mockingjay," Haymitch volunteers.
Plutarch nods his thanks to both and proceeds to outline orders. "We've got one wounded we'll need help transporting. Katniss can walk. The three Peacekeepers on board are in disguise. They're with me."
After introductions are completed, Plutarch asks someone to show Finnick to a room. "You're still in shock," he says briskly. When Finnick opens his mouth to protest, Plutarch overrides him. "I'd think less of you if you weren't. Get some sleep and report for duty in twenty-four hours."
Finnick tries to push out words into a convincing argument, but he can't even summon up his trademark smile. Plutarch has already turned to someone else and is making arrangements for Beetee's care. It's easier just to comply. He can start contributing tomorrow.
The room they're led to has two mattresses on the floor. Finnick thinks about letting Cashmere choose, but she's hovering behind him, with her back pressed against the door jamb, not making the first move. Finnick has to put himself in her shoes and see himself as an enemy before he can understand why: tactically, whoever lies down first is at a disadvantage.
So he falls onto the mattress further from the door, thinking she'll prefer not having him between her and the only escape route. Ideally, he'd ask, but words are stuck thick in his throat right now. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he'll be himself again.
Finnick's asleep before he even sees how Cashmere chooses to position herself.
A/N: Not the most exciting chapter, but now that the pieces are in place in Thirteen, interesting things can start to happen. :)