Katniss was not surprised that she had slept so poorly the night before, but she was surprised to see Haymitch Abernathy sitting on her rock in the early dawn light. Instinctively freezing like prey contemplating flight, Katniss decided to creep soundlessly away like she had done with other predators she had met in the woods. Her soft pivot was soundless to Katniss, but Haymitch immediately turned towards the tree behind which she was standing and looked directly at her less than ideal hiding place.
How did he hear me? Not even Gale can hear me…
"Are you gonna come out, sweetheart, or are you gonna stand behind that tree forever?"
Scowling, Katniss crept from her hiding place and walked tentatively towards the rock and the strange Mentor. She had no idea what his game was, but Mentor Abernathy was not the kind of man on which you turned your back—especially when he was waiting at her and Gale's secret rock and looking remarkably sober.
"Katniss gotcher tongue?"
Katniss rolled her eyes.
Like I've never heard that one…
"Effie Trinket would be appalled at your rudeness, sweetheart. 'Such a complete and utter lack of decorum shown to a Mentor. Absolutely shameful. You'll be a perpetual caelebs spinster with high taxes and no husband…'"
"What are you doing here?"
"She speaks!"
"Why were you waiting for me?"
"Who says I was waiting for you, sweetheart? Do men normally meet you here? Should I be worried about interruptions?"
Katniss speared Haymitch with her fiercest glare, but to her dismay, Haymitch only grinned wider.
"I don't have time for this crap. I've got a family to feed."
She whirled around to leave, but all of her froze at Haymitch's next words.
"That's right, sweetheart; your family. The family you are risking while trying to save."
An arrow was nocked on the string of her bow in an instant, ready to end the threat this Mentor obviously posed to her and her family.
"Wait a minute, sweetheart. Don't you ever think about anything you do before you do it? And you actually thought you had the ability to fool all of Panem. That stupid impulsiveness of yours will get you and yours killed if you don't have someone to help you along the way."
"Someone like who?" Katniss asked, not lowering her ready bow.
"Someone like me—assuming I'm alive by the end of this conversation."
"What can you do for me? And why would you want to help me?"
"Well, for starters, I can set you up with a better disguise than whatever sorry get-up you were planning on wearing—assuming you've actually planned anything at all."
"Of course I've planned…a little."
"Right, sweetheart. You were going to hack off your hair, bind up your boobies, hope no one noticed you bleeding once a month, and, what? Perform a striptease to distract the doc giving the physical? That's a great plan."
"Okay, so I hadn't worked out all of the details yet. Why do you care anyway?"
"Because I'm such a caring man, of course. I'm just overflowing with the milk of human kindness—or I would be, if the milk of human kindness were white liquor. Basically, because I can help you, sweetheart."
Katniss lowered the bow slightly, stepping forward.
"You still haven't said what, exactly you can do for me. Or why."
"I already told you I can get you a good disguise. In the Capitol, they make nearly-full-body suits that can make a woman look like a man to the point of being able to bleed fake blood and simulate fake bruising. These suits have the full works—hair where it's supposed to be, no boobies where they're not supposed to be, working…equipment."
Katniss's brows furrowed in confusion until she realized what Haymitch meant; then she blushed and scowled.
"That's a pretty dark blush for someone who lives with a brother and helps Lavender treat wounded miners."
"I haven't spent much time analyzing that sort of thing."
"Well, sweetheart, we're going to have to change that. If you are going to imitate a man, you gotta understand how a man walks, talks, acts, and thinks. You're gonna hafta put aside your feminine objections to sex jokes, slobbiness, and butt-slapping. You're gonna need to learn to walk like a man, talk like a man, punch like a man, and curse like a man. And how to pee standing up; that's very important."
The realities of what Haymitch was talking about started to settle in; Katniss struggled to remain focused.
"So what about the other issues? The suit will make me look like a man, but what about my blood? My identity? My…monthly problem?"
"I don't want to get into the details right now, but the suit allows for the insertion of blood underneath its fake skin. What we'll do is make blood, assign it to your new identity, and replace it as necessary. As for those other issues, the Capitol has shots and pills to take care of those problems."
"And you can get me those Capitol things? How?"
"I'm a Mentor, sweetheart. We have a bit more…latitude in these situations. The Capitol likes to pretend that we belong to them, so that often means introducing us to elements of their lifestyles, of trying to remake us in their own twisted images…but their tastes serve our purpose here, so more power to 'em."
The Capitol already has all the power; that's the problem. And that's why I don't really have a choice, even though I don't understand…
"Why? Why are you helping me? What's in it for you?"
Haymitch smiled coldly, and Katniss knew that she was looking at Mentor Abernathy for the first time.
"Revenge."
Katniss waited for more of an explanation, but none was forthcoming. Given her own taciturn nature, Katniss respected that—and, of course, she was desperate. So she shrugged, lowered her bow, and held out her hand.
"That's as good a reason as any."
As they clasped hands and stared each other down, Katniss suddenly realized that Haymitch had never explicitly confessed to eavesdropping on her conversation with her family and that she had never required such a confession to understand his meaning entirely. And she finally began to appreciate just what Haymitch Abernathy could do for her. She turned around to leave, but Haymitch's voice stopped her.
"If you're still interested, come by my place around noon in 2 days with a bucket of fresh-picked strawberries. I've developed a sudden craving."
Katniss did not realize just how much of this plan Haymitch had kept her in the dark about until she was well into her morning hunt.
"I just love the pitter-patter of little stylist feet," Haymitch groused.
Cinna smiled patiently, well accustomed to both the noise of his prep team and Haymitch's frequent complaining. He had been Haymitch's stylist for several years now and no longer flinched at the Mentor's abrasive manner. In fact, Cinna had come to value the man's friendship over the past couple of years and could thus tell that Haymitch was anxious despite all his blustering.
A knock sounded at the door, and Haymitch loudly cursed his enforced captivity while sitting on a chair as the stylists worked on him. He tried to stand up, but one of the stylists laughed shrilly and pushed him back down.
"Do you want me to get that, Mentor?" Cinna asked, a sparkle in his brown eyes.
"Hopefully those are the strawberries; them and the promise of liquor are all that's keeping me from committing mass murder."
Cinna strode to the door and opened it, smiling at the uncertain scowl on the face of the teenage girl holding a bucket of strawberries. He smiled at her and gestured her in; she crept in reluctantly as if she were a forest animal ready to bolt at the smallest sign of danger. A couple of members from the prep team saw the strawberries and squealed, descending on the young girl like muttations on an unwatchful soldier.
The change in the girl's posture was instant and striking. Her chin came up, her eyes blazed, and she held the bucket of strawberries protectively to her breast. The scowl on her face was replaced by a fiery glare, and her words were hard and cold.
"These are Mentor Abernathy's strawberries. I don't think he'd appreciate you eating them for him."
"Oh, don't be ridiculous, girl," one of the stylists said. "Mitchie loves us and would never want us to go hungry in this barbaric place."
Cinna inwardly winced at his coworker's insensitivity but had to admire the girl's poise. She did not waste many words, but firmly refused to surrender the strawberries to anyone but Haymitch. Right on cue, Cinna heard a colorful stream of swear words emanate from the room he'd just left. Haymitch came barreling through the door and greedily seized the bucket of strawberries.
"Thanks, sweetheart," he slurred. "Money's on the table through that door; clear yourself a space and rest for a bit if you want. In fact, I wouldn't mind stepping in here for a few seconds myself. I can hardly hear myself think."
Haymitch suddenly raised a finger to his lips and then withdrew it, using both hands to count up to ten. He waited a couple more seconds before looking at Cinna and the girl and gesturing them to sit down in the 2 chairs seated around a cluttered table on which he placed the bucket of strawberries.
"You have one hour of Capitol silence; make the most of it."
With that, Haymitch left the room, presumably to return to his prep team. Cinna silently observed the girl Haymitch had recommended as a possible candidate for what their people had in mind, trying to see exactly what Haymitch had seen in her. He had seen her fire, but it was not like he and Haymitch had never seen fiery young women before.
"I'm sorry about my prep team," Cinna began. "How horrible we must all seem to you."
Katniss awkwardly fidgeted, the fire from several minutes ago all but extinguished. Now she looked like a nervous 16-year-old girl who felt in over her head.
And she is, more than she knows…
"No matter," Cinna said into the silence. "Let's get started. Please stand up so I can measure you for—Haymitch told you about the suit, right?"
"He told me enough. He said that it'll make me look like a man and that it's very…realistic."
Cinna smiled at the girl's hesitation; such innocence was refreshing.
"Don't worry about that yet; let's just get you measured so we can make sure everything fits properly. It's my job to make you look like a teenage boy, and it would not do for your muscles to fall off during training or for your hairy feet to slide around."
Katniss flashed a small smile, and Cinna thrilled at the victory. Haymitch had his work cut out for him, but he understood—at least to an extent—what Haymitch saw in the girl. He wordlessly pulled out a wand-like device with a fat handle at the end; the trepidation on Katniss's face was easy to read.
"This is a body scanner that will capture your size and shape so that I will be able to work with your body without having you physically present."
"Will that work with all my clothes on, or do you need me to take them off?"
Cinna admired Katniss's forthrightness and hoped it meant she was warming up to him a little bit.
"I was going to ask for you to take your clothes off next so I could get a base scan to ensure a perfect fit of the suit, but I wanted a clothed scan first so I could better judge how fabric rests on your frame."
Katniss nodded and stripped off her clothes without complaint once Cinna indicated it was time for her to do so. He was surprised at how willing she was to do such a thing given her earlier reticence in regards to talking about the anatomy of the suit. Her posture was closed off but grudgingly permissive, so perhaps she disliked the proceedings more than she let on.
"Did you get everything you needed?" Katniss asked.
"Yes; with these scans, I'll be able to bring up a three-dimensional rendering of your form and will be able to tailor clothes to fit you that way. I don't normally like to work with these scanners as I prefer the personal touch, but these are unique circumstances."
Katniss said nothing, so Cinna filled the silence as Katniss pulled on her clothes.
"What you're doing is very brave."
Katniss shrugged.
"I don't feel brave; I'm just doing what's necessary."
"Some of the greatest feats of bravery are accomplished by people just doing their jobs, doing what they think is necessary."
Plutarch isn't going to like her at first; he's always wanted a well-spoken woman who will wow Panem with her words. I think Katniss could do so if given the chance…
"Maybe. I'm not planning on being really brave, though; I just want to go to war, do my job, and maybe come back alive at the end. I don't want anyone to notice me."
Cinna smiled softly.
"I will do my best, Katniss, but if someone threatens your strawberries—or anything else you consider your responsibility—and the cameras catch your reaction, everybody is going to notice you."
"I'll have to make sure to hide my strawberries, then."
"You could always stuff them down your suit, although I wouldn't be able to guarantee a perfect fit with the addition of organic padding."
"Then I could have strawberry jelly mixed with sweat to go on my delicious tesserae bread. Maybe military life won't be so bad after all."
See? She does have a sense of humor. She just needs someone to draw her out a bit.
"We still have a bit of time before our hour is up, so do you have any questions about the suit?"
"When will you have it ready? I'm supposed to be on the train for training in about a week and a half, so I know I'll need to get used to moving in it before then."
"We're going to be back here in 2 days to deliver Haymitch's new wardrobe and to do some more cosmetic work. We'll bring all of your supplies as well; Haymitch will be responsible for teaching you how to use the suit, but we'll probably do an initial fitting here where we can hear ourselves think—unless, of course, Haymitch thinks even unveiling the suit here would be too large a risk."
"How much of my body will it cover? Will I even have a different face?"
"We didn't want to use the completely full-body suit since those tend to wear out more quickly than their nearly full-body suit counterparts. The suit itself will stop under your jaw, which will also have the helpful effect of enlarging your face a bit."
"Can these suits take a beating?"
"Definitely," Cinna said, smiling dryly. "That's pretty much what they were made for."
Katniss scowled in confusion, but shrugged Cinna's meaning off as unimportant.
"You will, however, have to change suits weekly as the blood will not pass a test after that time and the wear and tear will really start to show."
"How will I change suits?"
"We have a doctor on our side who will be assigned to take care of your company. He will also serve as the unit's head doctor, so you will have to meet him weekly to deal with your mental issues."
Katniss scowled at Cinna's description of the fake reason behind her suit-changing meetings but obviously decided to not waste any time protesting.
"Will I be able to use my hands and feet? Training and combat will be nearly impossible if I can't move well."
"These suits are designed with mobility in mind; their wearers often value the ability to grasp and wield things and to move quickly."
Cinna dreaded Katniss's next question, but they were saved by Haymitch opening the door. He held out his hands and counted backwards towards zero before loudly walking into the room.
"Finally; I don't understand how the hell a friggin' dye job can take so long…What are you still doing here, sweetheart?"
Katniss stared wide-eyed at Haymitch but managed to stammer out an excuse.
"I'm…sorry. I, um, must have fallen asleep at the table."
"That's alright, sweetheart; no harm done."
He pulled of the leaves and popped a strawberry in his mouth, smacking his lips in delight.
"Those are delicious strawberries; I don't think one bucket is gonna be enough. You know, sweetheart, it's not really fair that you have to walk all the way out to Victor's Village to deliver these strawberries."
"I don't mind, Mentor Abernathy—"
"Nonsense, girl. In a couple of days, I'll meet you at your place like before and we can eat our weight in strawberries. In fact, you might wanna tell that oldest Hawthorne boy that if he wants to make some extra cash, I wouldn't mind buying a bucket offa him, too."
Katniss's brow furrowed as she processed all of what Haymitch had told her, but Cinna was impressed that she appeared to know what he was talking about.
Not that I actually understood any of that…
"That's very generous of you, Mentor Abernathy. We'll have the strawberries ready two days from now around…noon?"
"Sounds good, sweetheart; I expect I'll need lots of plump, juicy strawberries and some liquid courage to make it through the next week or so."
As if on cue, Cinna's prep team burst through the door and descended on the bucket of strawberries. Cinna was able to escape the room without making any noise, but he still winced at the sound of Haymitch's swearing at the prep team.
I don't know if Katniss will be the spark we're looking for, but I'm determined to help her protect her family.
Gale scowled as Katniss and Cinna headed into the lake shack, knowing she would be stripping naked before putting on the suit for the first time. Haymitch was staring out over the lake, looking as if he hadn't a care in the world.
Yeah, well, Haymitch is a Mentor, after all. He might trust that Capitol hack, but I don't, at least not completely. Although I do have to admit he did better than I expected him to on the hike out here.
He and Katniss had waited for Haymitch at the rock around noon as Haymitch had cryptically told Katniss to do. Cinna had accompanied him to make sure the suit fit properly and that Katniss could move everything without losing the suit. According to Cinna, the biggest risks of suit failure were that the suit would separate at the neck or that the padding inside the suit would shift in unnatural shapes.
Not that those Capitol freaks would necessarily know the difference…
Granted, Gale had never spent meaningful time with many Capitol people, but he had seen enough recordings and images of them during various mandatory viewings to know how unnatural they were. Their…Remakes, they called them, made them look grotesque and distorted; as far as he was concerned, none of those Capitol flakes could hold a candle to his Katniss in her hunting gear.
Katniss slowly and carefully stepped out of the shack in her man suit, her face tight with concentration as she adjusted to the unfamiliar body shape and weight. A memory of he and Katniss walking on strapped-on tin cans they'd raided from some merchant trashcans came to mind, the heavy, jerky nature of Katniss's motions reminding him of those innocent children long ago. Katniss tripped over her hairy feet and landed in an undignified heap, glaring at Haymitch as he snickered.
"I'd like to see you do better, old man," she grumbled.
"Watch it, sweetheart; I'm all that stands between you and certain death."
"Effie Trinket said something similar about me and the caelebs when I failed to impress her with my man-snaring abilities. I was equally afraid."
"That woman has been a pain in my ass for years; she asked me to talk to 'those darling, backwards young men of District 12' about 'proper courtship rituals,' so I helped her out once; surprisingly, she never asked me back."
Katniss struggled to her feet, gaining better control of her movements the longer she wore the suit.
"Thanks for your help, Mentor," she grumbled.
"You gotta learn to work that thing on your own, sweetheart. A man's gotta be able to pick himself up off the ground when he falls down."
Gale barely contained his own laugh at Katniss's retort about Haymitch's "wonderful words of wisdom," but he knew from experience the painful results of being on Katniss's bad side. Besides, he was proud of Katniss; he wasn't quite sure when he had stopped mentally referring to her as "Catnip," but the boy standing awkwardly in front of him wasn't her.
"Right," Haymitch said, turning once again towards the lake. "Now that we've gotcha on your feet, we gotta get you used to really moving in this thing. You run one time around this lake as part of that training your old man taught you, right?"
Katniss nodded, squaring her masculine shoulders as she braced herself for Haymitch's next words.
"Then we're gonna walk all the way around it, and you're gonna be able to put one foot in front of the other several times without falling on your ass."
"I'll try my—"
Katniss tripped over her feet again, beginning what would turn into the least fun Gale had ever seen Katniss have at the lake. Haymitch was merciless, refusing to allow Katniss time to recover from her falls and telling her she had to move faster. Between falls, he quizzed her about her information and backstory, insisting that she had to be able to know it like the backs of her hairy hands.
"What's your name, tribute?"
"Fletcher Everdeen, Mentor Abernathy," Katniss said as she tripped over a rock.
Katniss struggled to her feet, Abernathy hovering over her.
"Come on, tribute; faster. You think some career's gonna wait this long for you to get back on your feet during sparring? Now who are your parents?"
"My parents were Archer and Lilly Everdeen; they died about a month ago from a sickness we all got."
"What type of sickness, tribute?"
"I don't know, Mentor. That month or two is nothing but a blur. I remember Mom looking ill one night, and the next thing I remember is waking up in bed feeling weak and tired. All I heard was silence all around me, and nobody answered my calls. When I opened the door and looked out, I saw three freshly-filled graves near the edge of our clearing."
"So if I go out to where you tell me you're from, I'll find an old house and three graves, right, tribute?"
"Yessir."
"Of course you will, tribute; they've been there for years. But what the Peacekeepers don't know won't hurt 'em."
Katniss was distracted from Haymitch's commentary by a large log she almost cleared. Unfortunately, she made it over the log but fell into a tree instead, scraping her arm. Gale winced in sympathy, knowing that scrapes like that often hurt worse than cuts. Katniss didn't seem to feel too much pain, though, so they continued their death march around the ever-growing lake.
"Why didn't you go to the authorities as soon as you realized what had happened, tribute?"
"I didn't have the strength. We live near the edge of District 12, and it took me awhile before I could even walk out to my family's graves. A friend came by to check on me, told me about the war, and helped me into town. I did what I had to do and legally became a member of Aunt Everdeen's family."
"How well do you know the Everdeens?"
"Well enough, but not that well. We kept to ourselves mostly; my parents didn't take too kindly to Dad's brother marrying a merchant. When I got old enough to make my own decisions, though, I made a bit of an effort to at least get to know my kin better."
"How do you feel about taking Sage Everdeen's place?"
"I'm glad to do it. Sage is a good boy and a skilled healer, but I am more suited to fighting. While Sage has the potential to become a great healer someday, I think I can be a good soldier now."
"You know, sweetheart, you're not that bad at this."
"That's practically a declaration of love coming from you."
"Yeah, well, don't let it go to your head, Everdeen. We still have a long way to go—at least figuratively."
All four people sighed in relief when the Hanging Tree came into sight, signaling the end of Katniss's stumble around the lake. She had actually gotten decent at walking and had only stumbled a few times during the final few minutes. Gale smiled at the familiar look of determination on Katniss's face; he knew she'd be able to move in the suit perfectly come leaving time no matter how hard she had to work.
Cinna began examining Katniss's suit while she rested; he seemed satisfied with the way the suit was wearing so far and did not indicate that he saw any signs of separation or shifting padding. He suggested Katniss do some minor exercises next, so Haymitch set her to doing some of the basic stretches and exercises she'd done since she was a little girl.
Gale watched Katniss struggle through the exercises, although he was proud that she kept fighting her way through them in spite of the extra body weight. Her mind and body weren't the only ones that were confused; Katniss's face and braid on a boy's body scrambled his brain—and other things. Gale was in love with Katniss, and no Capitol-made boy suit would ever change that, but those broader shoulders and all that coarse hair…
But those eyes! And the braid! And…Ugh!
Katniss slowly twirled in a circle with her arms out, wobbling on her still-awkward feet but not falling down. The small smile on Katniss's face was priceless; Gale knew that the Capitol idiot who came to lecture all of the teenage boys every year about courtship and marriage would not likely consider her moves to be ballroom quality.
That clueless Capitol pretty boy would probably faint from shock at my "courtship methods." He tried to train us for dinner parties and fancy restaurants, but he never said anything about cross-dressing twirling dances or helping the girl you love train for war. He—and many other guys—would not even understand why I'm encouraging the girl I want to marry to rush head-long into a dangerous situation. They, of course, don't know Katniss—or Fletcher—Everdeen and, if they do, would never be man enough to approach her, let alone get anywhere with her.
Katniss tossed a palm-sized stone up in the air, catching it most of the time before it hit the ground. She got to the point where she could toss it easily from one hand to the other and could catch it after tossing it a few feet up in the air. Her scowl never left her face during these exercises, and she only ever permitted herself small smiles after successes. For Sage was written in every plane of her body, every flash of her eyes.
And that's why I'm doing this. Katniss is only ever going to marry the guy she can't survive without, the guy she knows will help provide for her family and keep her from having to pay that ridiculous caelebs tax. She's not going to fall in love with some pretty boy who always says the right thing, who gives her beautiful jewelry and pretty flowers. She doesn't care about those things because she doesn't value them. All she values is survival. Getting by. Making ends meet. And fighting for what she believes in, although she doesn't necessarily say it like that.
The burlap sack filled with sand Haymitch was holding took a pounding as Katniss got a feel for punching in her body suit. She was tentative at first, not wanting to damage the suit's hands irreparably. Abernathy called her "sweetheart" and taunted her about the Northern soldiers that were going to fall over from a sissy punch. Katniss's eyes flashed, and she accidentally made contact with Haymitch's chin.
"Sorry, Mentor; I guess I just don't quite have the hang of these manly fists yet."
"The only way you're gonna get the hang of 'em is to use 'em, preferably on someone other than me. Now I'm gonna sit here with these strawberries and you and the boy are gonna show me that self-defense stuff you talked about earlier."
Gale smiled; sparring with Katniss was easily one of his favorite things to do. When Katniss fought, she became her true self, the girl that only Gale ever got to see. He was mildly upset that he'd have to share her in that form, but he could not begrudge the men to whom Katniss—and he—owed so much.
Besides, I want to show these guys who they're dealing with, to make sure they don't decide to stop helping Katniss because they can't see beyond her scowl.
They started off slowly, lazily throwing and blocking punches. Katniss seemed to enjoy the bulk her suit gave her once she got used to it; she blocked all of Gale's obvious punches easily. Gale tried to fake her out, but she swiftly brought up her bulkier arm and stopped the punch, working in a soft jab of her own.
She also practiced kicking, nailing Gale with a well-placed snap kick. Katniss never kicked that hard; they each knew the other's limits so they rarely hurt each other when sparring. Gale knew Katniss would lose some of that control once they got more into the body contact part of the drills, but he always felt those bruises were worth the experience.
Gale grabbed Katniss from behind, reveling in the feeling even as she launched a larger elbow than he was used to from her into one of his ribs. He held on longer, giving her the chance to run through her self-defense possibilities. Heel kick to groin. Stomp the instep. Rake the calf with a foot. Reverse head-butt. All of these she did—half as hard as she would do with an enemy, of course.
They continued their fierce dance, Gale grabbing her from the font. Once, he pinned her arms to her chest; once, he left her arms free. Gale lost himself in Katniss and their routine, her fire fueling his, and, he could tell, vice versa. As she twirled and punched and kicked in his arms, she was his fire girl, all hardness and fierceness and determination. He'd been to the slag heap with more than a few girls, but none of them had ever made him feel this type of fire.
Their sparring ended when Katniss nailed Gale's nose with a reverse head-butt that was a little more powerful than normal, causing Gale to cry out and clutch his nose. He quickly figured out that no damage had been done, and Katniss's sweaty, disheveled form chased all thoughts of pain from his mind.
Well, almost all…
They both stood there panting, Katniss's eyes darkened to the same nearly coal-black he figured his to be. Haymitch was eyeing Gale speculatively, perhaps trying to figure out Gale's feelings for Katniss. The Mentor shrugged, seeming to reach a decision.
"Good job, tributes. Sweetheart, you've come a long way today. You still have a lot of work to do, but I think I'll make a man outta you yet. Hawthorne, you did good, too. My people told me they could get you into Everdeen's unit so she would have her best friend from boyhood to back up all her stories—and, of course, so she would have someone to watch her back. You in, boy?"
Who are "my people"? What will their help cost us? Who—and how much—are we going to end up owing?
"It would be an honor, Mentor Abernathy."
What choice do I—do we—really have?
As they hiked the several miles back to the fence, they discussed the tentative schedule for the rest of the week. Gale paid attention to their plans for the rest of the "I'll make a man outta you" training, but his mind wandered as they discussed getting rid of Katniss Everdeen to make room for Fletcher Everdeen.
"You'll hafta disappear, take all your hunting stuff, make sure nobody sees you leave."
"…need to talk to…"
"…can't tell nobody…"
"…don't want them to think…"
"…can't think nothin' if you're dead…"
Gale listened to Katniss and Haymitch argue back and forth; Cinna looked as serene as ever and wisely stayed out of the conversation. The stylist had finished his job, after all, and was likely anticipating heading back to the Capitol as soon as possible.
Back to the Capitol, where freakish liaisons sit at desks and think up ways to teach barbaric district boys about how to get the girl. As if they understand Katniss, understand me. This is exactly how you woo a girl like Katniss Everdeen. You spar with her, you support her protectiveness, and you feed her fire with your own so that neither flame ever goes out. You take care of her family, or—more importantly—help her be able to take care of her family herself. You fight in front of her, beside her, and at her back, and when the time comes, she'll remember who had her back, who never thought twice about helping her survive.
Because that's what it'll come down to, Gale thought as he crawled under the fence. Survival.
Making dough was second nature to Peeta; he was pretty sure he could mix the ingredients in his sleep. This batch of dough was the last he would have to make before quitting for the day; after a little bit of tidying, he would be home free.
Well, as free as I can be in a home that houses my mother…
He cleared his mind and allowed the monotonous quality of kneading dough soothe his mind. His moment of peace was interrupted by the bell ringing over the door and a loud, shrill voice calling out to his mother, who was running the till. It was almost closing time, but Macella Mellark would never close up shop early like some filthy commoner—or let her least favorite son leave the bakery kitchen before quitting time.
"Have you heard the latest?"
Peeta rolled his eyes. Aunt Tabby always began her juiciest gossip stories with that line said in that particular tone.
You know, that tone that reminds me of the pigs at their suppertime…
His Aunt Tabby (or "Tabitha," as he was always required to call her—to her face, at least) chattered on, but Peeta ignored whatever lascivious tale she was surely spinning for her older sister. Whatever it was was surely unimportant and was almost certainly none of his—or anyone else's—business.
No, wait; don't tell me. Old Talmadge's daughter ran off with that coal miner she had her eye on. Or perhaps Lizzybeth Braintree was spotted walking with Duke Detrick after dark. Or maybe President Snow grew a brain and called off the war…What is this? A fairy tale?
"…that Everdeen girl. What was her name?"
Peeta's musings screeched to a halt as he was rudely jolted out of them by the mention of her name.
"Katniss?" his mother hissed.
"Yeah, that's the one. Rumor has it she up and disappeared. Just took her stuff, climbed the fence, and ran off into the woods. I've heard a couple of different stories; maybe it depends on what you want to believe of the girl."
Peeta knew exactly what his mother wanted to believe of "the girl," and it was the exact opposite of what he wanted to believe. What I do believe.
"Well?" his mother said impatiently.
"I'm getting there, Macy."
Only she could get away with calling Mother that…
"Most everyone knows of her…illicit activities…"
Peeta envisioned his mother nodding and wearing a pinched expression.
"So some believe she simply suffered an accident while breaking the law, that she…got what she deserved or paid the ultimate price for trying to feed her family, depending on who you ask."
"And the others?"
"Well, they think…you remember her mother, the apothecary's daughter?"
Aunt Tabby's slightly malicious tone told Peeta that she knew her sister would have no trouble remembering the woman who had once—and who maybe still—held his father's heart.
"Of course I do, Tabby; I'm not a moron."
"Of course you're not. You remember how she got when her husband didn't return from the war, right?"
"She was even more empty-headed than she was when she left."
"Some said she ran away in her mind. Well, now, some say her daughter followed in her footsteps, except this time, the girl physically ran away rather than mentally. She just couldn't face the possibility of losing that weak brother of hers to war and being left to care for her out-of-it mother…"
"Not that I could blame her for that; I wouldn't want to put up with that airhead, either."
"So what do you think? You know her better than I do."
"I most certainly do not! Just because she trades with the boys at our back door does not mean I've actually gotten to know the brat."
Peeta's hands kneaded the dough more roughly than was necessary.
"I know you'd never actually spend time with such a rough girl, Macy, but surely you observed her enough to figure out her character. So what do you think? Did she have an accident in the woods or did she run out on her family?"
The instinct to burst through the door and give both women what for almost overwhelmed Peeta, but he knew that he would never actually have the guts to do such a thing. He wanted to yell at them about how they knew nothing of Katniss, that she'd never abandon her family—especially Sage—and that she was so brave and loved so fiercely that he knew she would volunteer for her little brother if she could.
"Well, whatever the girl's faults, she does seem to know her way around the woods. And she always seemed overly indulgent of that boy; she always let him press his face and hands up against the display window as if he could actually afford anything he saw. But I always noticed a hardness in her eyes, a sort of angle to her jaw that spoke of doing whatever was necessary to survive."
"So you think she ran, chose to save her own skin and to live free?"
"Once a Seam slut, always a Seam slut," Peeta's mother said. "In fact, if I were the Peacekeepers, I'd watch out for that oldest Hawthorne brat as well. It wouldn't surprise me if they'd formed some licentious plan to run away into the woods together and to live in sin, just the two of them."
The metal mixing bowl clattered to the countertop by the door, but Peeta grabbed it just before it would've fallen over the edge. He froze in panic, afraid his mother was going to storm through the door and beat him.
How will I ever survive war when I'm terrified of my own mother?
"That? Probably just one of my stupid sons. You know how clumsy they are…Oh, no; I doubt he overheard us; you can't hear anything through that door, anyway."
Dread pooled in Peeta's stomach. His mother had just lied to her sister, but for what purpose? Would she really just forget about him interrupting her conversation, even by accident? Or would she…?
He hurried through the rest of what needed to be done, tidying up the bakery itself and setting things out they'd need early in the morning. Peeta kept waiting for his mother to punish him for eavesdropping on and disrupting her conversation, but the anticipated confrontation did not come.
He had taken off his apron and was about to make his escape upstairs when his mother walked through the door. The look on her face told him she was angry, but for some reason, she made no aggressive moves towards him. They stared each other down before she sneered derisively.
"What's wrong, Peeta? Are you afraid I'm going to hurt you? Why would I punish you when you're going off to war in a few days? I wonder what the Northern troops will think of your clumsiness."
She brushed past him without another word, surely thinking the crestfallen expression on his face was due to her cutting insults.
Like I would be thinking about your insults when Katniss…
Peeta trudged up the stairs, confusion and sadness and fear roiling inside him not for himself, but for his girl with the bow who was obviously in some sort of trouble. When Aunt Tabby came in a couple days later bursting with gossip about this long-lost Everdeen cousin who had taken Sage's place as oldest male in the Everdeen household, Peeta was more confused than ever.
The Meadow wasn't exactly an herb garden, but with the fence electrified all day and all night in order to prevent potential deserters, Sage was grateful that they could come here and at least get some wild mint for Mrs. Willow's headaches. He knew the mint would not make them go away, but he figured it would at least help lessen the pain. Katniss (Fletcher, he firmly reminded himself) was with him, supposedly helping to gather mint and anything else the Meadow had to offer.
Kat…Fletch seemed far away, her…his eyes focused in the direction of town as if her…his…oh, forget it…her eyes could already see the doctor that was going to have her life in his hands the next day. Few women ever made it past the physical, but they did not have friends like Katniss did. Sage didn't understand exactly how Haymitch and his friends were going to get Katniss through the physical without being discovered, but he trusted the determined gleam in Haymitch's eyes.
His pouch full of mint, Sage looked at Katniss. True, her hair was cut shockingly short, her body was larger, and her face was wider, but she was still Katniss in her eyes—and in her heart. Part of him felt like a coward for letting his big sister go off to war for him, but another part realized that Katniss would always make a better soldier than him—boy or girl, older or younger.
I hate pretending she's not Katniss. I hate having to pretend like I think there's a possibility my sister abandoned me and Mom. I hate that she's going to war because of me even though I know in my head she's really going because of he Capitol. I hate…
Hatred wasn't generally Sage's style; as much as he loved his big sister, he realized that she had a greater capacity for anger, hate, and such than he did. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing; those feelings might just keep her alive, although their cost...
Sage pretended to gather a few more plants, wanting to stretch out this moment with Katniss, even if she wasn't saying anything. The upcoming physical clearly weighed heavily on her, as did the potential for being discovered and betrayed by someone from District 12. Sage wasn't blind, and neither were their neighbors. He was pretty sure that Leevy had recognized Katniss right away, but she pointedly greeted "Fletcher" with warmth and welcome when they were "introduced."
Sage had noticed a few other curious stares from other people in their neighborhood, but all of them were Seam through and through and would never betray one of their own to the Capitol. The merchants, on the other hand, were less trustworthy, but Katniss had stayed out of town altogether. Some of them are less trustworthy, anyway; I tried to convince Katniss to get us some bread with the last of her game, but...
"But…Fletcher, Mr. Mellark is a good man. I'm sure he'd help us."
"Well, I'm glad you're sure, because I'm not. I'm not sure of him or any other merchant right now," Katniss said in a strangely deeper voice. "And if his wife answers the door…"
Sage had conceded that point, knowing that Mrs. Mellark would've turned Katniss in on the spot had she recognized her. His heart swelled with love for his sister; he startled her by suddenly walking over to her and embracing her in a big hug.
"Thank you," he said, looking up at her lovingly. "For giving me a chance."
"A chance to live, Little Duck," Katniss agreed, holding Sage close.
No, Sage thought from Katniss's arms. A chance to do something.
The small, dingy doctor's office located in the Justice Building was not, Katniss suspected, up to Capitol standards. The dirty white walls and aging equipment would not have filled her with confidence had she actually wanted an in-depth evaluation, but she hoped Haymitch had been right in his assessment of the benefits of coming in for the physical while most people were eating supper or working.
"The most important thing you can do is to not attract attention, sweetheart. So you're gonna go during suppertime, after most merchants have already checked in but before the miners finish their shifts. This way, the doctors will be tired and unobservant after a full day of checking over merchants and will want to get you outta there before they are neck deep in miners."
Katniss's doctor did not seem to be too attentive; he walked up to her with a bored expression on his face and asked for her name.
"Fletcher Everdeen," she said nervously in her unnaturally low-pitched voice, her hand instinctively reaching up to fiddle with a braid that was no longer there.
"Hold out your hand, please," the doctor said, reaching for a small, circular device.
Katniss hesitated, realizing that the dreaded blood test was finally happening. Fortunately, the doctor misinterpreted her nervousness.
"Young man," he said, sighing, "you're going to experience a lot worse than a finger prick where you're going."
"Um, I know," Katniss improvised. "I'm sorry. I don't like sharp objects. I didn't even like it when my mom used a needle to patch my clothes."
"Well, you aren't the only one. This won't hurt much; processing the blood will take a few minutes thanks to this decrepit blood tester. The Capitol has ones that can tell you whether you're related to President Snow and whether you've ever been sick, but this one will just identify you and label your blood as human—believe it or not, we've had some people try to use fake blood or animal blood—and healthy or unhealthy."
The doctor held out his free hand, and Katniss extended her right hand with dread. She didn't feel the gentle prick from the device, but she flinched anyway. The device pinged in acknowledgement, presumably telling the doctor it was processing the sample.
"Now that we've got that out of the way, we can do the rest of the physical in the several minutes that hunk of junk takes to analyze blood. If this were, say, District 2, you'd have 30 minutes of testing to look forward to, but since this is 12…"
Katniss would've been at least mildly insulted at the doctor's obvious disdain for her district if she weren't staring at the metal oval that held her life in its electronic hands.
"Take off your clothes; we have to prove you're a man."
Katniss flinched, but immediately complied. She blushed at standing naked before the doctor even though she knew he wasn't seeing her real skin. Not that the doctor appeared interested; only 2 areas merited his scrutiny, and then only for a few seconds.
I guess he's been seeing naked men and boys all day, after all.
"Everything appears to be in order, Everdeen. Let's do a few exercises to make sure you're fit."
This part did not concern Katniss; she trusted Cinna's design and Haymitch and Gale's teaching to see her through fine.
"Jump up and down a few times. Good. Now reach up and touch the sky. Great. Put your hands on your hips and twist around to the right and then to the left. Excellent. Run in place for a few seconds. Okay. Now pick up that dummy rifle, pivot around, and pull the trigger. Looks good to me."
The machine pinged again, and the small feeling of triumph Katniss had felt at doing so well on the physical part of the examination melted away. She waited for the doctor to tell her the blood wasn't real and to rip off her disguise; she could practically hear the rap of Peacekeeper boots approaching her mother and brother to take them away and execute them.
"Everdeen, Fletcher," the doctor read out, and Katniss exhaled the breath she'd been holding.
His brows furrowed, and Katniss at first thought he'd heard her exhalation and was suspicious. She once again prepared for disaster.
"Your blood registers as human, but is listed on here as 'unhealthy.' Do you know anything about that, Everdeen?"
"Well, um, you did say the machine wasn't as good as the Capitol's. Maybe it made a mistake."
"I suppose it's possible, but I've only gotten this result a couple of times today, and both of those men had good reasons for showing up as unhealthy. Can you think of a good reason for these results?"
"Er…well…I was really sick a few months ago," Katniss said desperately, sensing her chance of success slipping away. "I can't tell you much about the illness, but when I woke up a few weeks later, the rest of my family was dead and buried and I was so weak I could barely stand."
"Well, I guess that could explain it; I'm going to have to make a note of it, though; wouldn't want a member of Panem's army to fall over from something preventable."
"No! I mean, no thank you, doctor; I'm getting better; really, I am. You should've seen me when I woke up; I was a corpse. I know I'm not what I used to be, but…there's no need to make a note in my file."
The doctor eyed Katniss suspiciously, his expression saying he was trying to figure out why Katniss was objecting so vehemently to his suggestion.
Please misunderstand me again. Please misunderstand me again. Please…You're better at this than I am…No? What if…?
"I'm sorry for my reaction, doctor," Katniss said, slumping her shoulders dejectedly. "It's just…I'm going off to war with bigger boys and stronger, more experienced men. I just don't want them to learn about my condition and think I'm weak or something. If you think I need to see a doctor about this, then leave a note or something; just please, don't let this get out to the rest of my company or unit."
The doctor's face cleared, understanding replacing his confusion and suspicion.
"Of course, young man; I understand. We doctors are sworn to protect the best interests of our patients above all else, and one way we do that is by never divulging anything we discuss with our patients. You don't have to worry about anything we've talked about today getting back to your prospective unit; your secret is safe with me.:
Of course it is, doc; all secrets are safe in good ol' Panem. Ugh! That sounded like Haymitch.
"Thank you, doctor. Um…what will happen when you make your note in my records? What will I have to do?"
"Well, you'll probably be examined by your camp doctor, who will then carry out whatever treatment he deems necessary."
Fear spiked through Katniss and she almost protested again out of panic—until she remembered what Haymitch had said about them having a doctor who would help her every week.
"Sounds good, doctor," Katniss said, just wanting to get out of there.
"Best of luck to you, Everdeen—and may the odds be ever in your favor."
The doctor turned around to enter Katniss's information, signaling the end of the physical. Katniss wasted no time in leaving the Justice Building, wanting to escape town before more people got out and about. She passed Haymitch, who appeared to be drunkenly slumped over in a chair on the porch of some restaurant Katniss had never been able to afford. His eyes, however, were clear, and he did not need to respond to Katniss's tiny, tentative nod she gave him. He likely wouldn't care for the fast talking she'd had to do to dampen the doctor's suspicion, but she felt he would reluctantly agree that arousing some bit of suspicion was inevitable.
And it won't be the last time, sweetheart, she heard in her head; the fact that her pessimistic voice was again speaking to her in Haymitch's voice was the least of her worries.
A/N:
Katniss's self defense methods are based off of a class I took in college called Rape Aggression Defense, which is based on the premise that women need a practical, easy-to-learn fighting style aimed at incapacitating a larger, stronger opponents to a point that allows escape.
I don't know that the rest of my updates will be this long; I've never posted a story I haven't yet finished before, and this is setting up to be longer than anything I've ever written. We'll see what happens.