Chapter 2

The Odds Were Never in My Favor

Katniss

I wander the halls of the ever-moving resistance headquarters – they generally let us wander as long as we stay in certain areas and there's a guard watching us.

It's been almost a year since the rebels rescued us. I think about the allies I lost every day. I think about my sister every day. I think about Gale every day.

I do a lot of thinking because there's not much else to do.

Shale signed on to their cause almost immediately – which is odd because she didn't have any allies to lose. Thresh did two months ago. Drusa and I are the only holdouts.

In fact, Drusa's the only one of us held with any kind of security – she's tried to escape twice and attacked guards several times.

I never go see her – Anthony does. Not sure why, considering she happily tortured him.

Well, maybe not happily. But very willingly.

I look up at the screens that are at the top of the wall along every hallway – they show television from the rest of Panem. I'm not sure how they get the signal, and I don't really care.

They've hacked the screens again – once more pounding in Rue's death by showing her die in Stephen's arms, and then showing the little speech from Stephen. He's their poster boy – they dress him up in a little white uniform and have him give these heroic little speeches. I wonder if their "Boy Hero" image will keep working when his voice changes – he's grown about six inches since the Games.

I understand why it's necessary, but I hate that they turned Rue's death into propaganda. They started it right after we got here – exposing the Capitol as liars since they said we were all dead – and then during Peeta's victory tour they put the interruptions on an almost constant loop of "Watch this cute little girl die in a cute little boy's arms! Isn't that sad? Watch this cute little girl die in a cute little boy's arms! Isn't that sad?" It makes me sick.

"I'm glad that I'm not the only one who's bothered by those," Thresh says. His voice startles me – he moves way more quietly than you'd expect from such a huge person. I'll never forget watching the propo for the first time with Thresh and Shale – Thresh had a complete break-down when he saw the blood pooling under Rue's body as Stephen held her and lied to her, saying she was going to be fine and the other hovercraft got everyone out safely. As soon as it ended, Thresh wailed and slammed the table with his huge fists and cursed himself for not being there throughout the Games, and when Shale tried to comfort him and say he couldn't have known about the rules change, he said he should have stayed anyway and he's a coward. "You just didn't want to have to kill her, Thresh – that's understandable," Shale said comfortingly.

"You don't understand – I should have stayed by her. Stark told me what he was going to do but I didn't believe him …"
"I don't blame you, Thresh – Clint told me the offer and neither of us believed it," I added quickly.

"It doesn't matter – I should have been with her. I should have planned to let her kill me at the end. I know her mama's lost without her."
"You knew her before the Arena?" Shale asked, eyes wide, and then he looked away and wouldn't face us.

"She was my cousin. We just held onto hope our names wouldn't come up at the Reaping … I promised her mama I wouldn't hurt her … I thought if the Careers were chasing me she could have a chance …" We fell silent then, looking at him with pity and not knowing what to say. It's hard to find the words even now – as hard as it is for me, I can imagine what he goes through every time he watches his little cousin die, while he was in the other hovercraft and unable to help.

"I'm sorry, Thresh – they should have talked to you for the propo."
"Why? I'm not the one who looked after her – you and Spruce and Clint did." I know he still thinks he's a coward, and I don't know how to change his mind.

We reach the hall that leads to where Drusa is, and to my surprise, Thresh starts to head in her direction. "You're going to see the Career?" I ask, surprised.

"Yeah. I've been twice – Fury wants her on our side. He says having a Career turn on the Capitol would mean a lot."

"I'm sure it would – if you could make it happen."
"She's not as bad as you think. You should give it a chance," Thresh says. I chuckle at the thought – I wouldn't go see that crazy bitch if my life depended on it.

"Whatever. Suit yourself," he says, and we part ways.

I go on walking. There's no windows, so there's no scenery – but you can only look at so many trees and ruins anyway. I think about Spruce and Clint as I walk. I hope they're dead – the alternative is that they've been being tortured for months on end. I used to ask when they were planning a rescue mission – I would have joined up to save them. But they kept saying it was too soon, that we didn't know for sure they were alive … hundreds of excuses not to go after them.

I dream about waking up next to Clint sometimes … but then I open my eyes and I'm alone. It's strange to think the very thing that made me so angry during the Games now angers me even more by its absence.

I still have the bow he made me – it's hanging over one of the posts of my bed, the one closest to my head, so when I wake up after dreaming about him I put my hand to it and remember that the boy who made it for me is dead, if he's lucky. Which he never was before.

Today they're going to announce the "theme" for the Quarter Quell. I wonder what horrific thing they'll do this year. Maybe make the kids younger than 12, maybe make each district send six tributes this year, maybe only send pairs that are siblings or lovers. Maybe just shoot them on the spot, considering what happened with the last Game.

I practically bump into Phillip. "Going anywhere in particular or just walking?" he asks, with just a hint of disapproval.

"What do you have against walking?" I ask. I don't mean it seriously. But of course he takes it seriously.

"There was never a lot of time for … leisure … in District 13. I'm sorry – I know you've got a lot on your mind."

"It's fine, Phillip," I say.

"Have you been to see Anthony today?" he asks. For the past ten months, Anthony's been hooked up to a huge battery thing, apparently powering a magnet that keeps shrapnel from digging into his heart. I have no idea why Phillip is asking – I hardly ever go to see him. He's got a little smile and there's something he isn't telling me.

"Should I?"

"Definitely."

I follow Phillip to the Stark family's residential quarters – they always make sure to guard us when we go there. The Starks have their own quarters because Anthony's dad is apparently important to the rebellion, and Tony himself is apparently working on some kind of super important technology that's going to change the war. Their quarters aren't any nicer than anyone else's – all though Tony and Howard both have their own "lab" and one where they work together on whatever this revolutionary technology is.

Tony's mother, Morgan, a beautiful brunette, sees us coming and smiles. She hugs me and Phillip – it's equally awkward for both of us. "Did you come to see Anthony?" she asks, excited.

"We did," Phillip says with a smile.

She shows us to Tony's lab. I've never actually been inside it – I don't think he likes people interrupting him. We go through the doors and find Tony surrounded by rebel scientists – I recognize Henry Pym, the Capitol traitor who's been with us for a few months now. She clears her throat softly and waits patiently – I find myself hoping whatever they're talking about is important and we get told to come back later.

Shale is sitting on Tony's desk behind him – I imagine if anyone else sat on his desk he'd be annoyed.

Well, maybe not if they were pretty enough.

Pym looks up and sees us when Morgan clears her throat. He doesn't have a lot of tattoos or modifications like most people from the Capitol, and he doesn't even wear make-up and his hair's just a very typical blond. He's shy, unlike anyone else from the Capitol I've met. Phillip says that's because he's from a lower social class – the ones we run into while we're at the Games are the rich people who can afford to spend their money on stupid things. Well, they're close enough to being able to afford it that they can get the loans, anyway. And the rich ones have a certain … culture. That's one way to put it.

Pym stands aside, and I see Anthony clearly for the first time since I came in. His battery hook-up is gone completely. "Hey Catnip," he says to me. He does that all the time – he has no way of knowing it's a dagger in my heart. Speaking of hearts … he's got some kind of glowing blue thing over his.

"Hay is for horses," I say back, and even coming from my mouth, the words hurt as I think of that night on the roof with Clint when he told me he didn't want to be one of my ghosts. Tony seems to know this, and even he doesn't make fun of me. "What's that?" I ask, pointing to the glowing blue thing that's apparently his new battery.

"It's how we're turning this thing around, Catnip," he says. "It's an arc reactor – a better source of energy than anything we've seen before." I know instantly why this is important – there's a reason the Capitol uses hovercrafts and trains instead of airplanes. Also, the hovercraft the rebels use to move around and stay undetected is powered by nuclear energy, which is not exactly safe.

"But more importantly, it means you won't have to lug a huge battery around any more, right?" I ask. Everything is about Tony.

"It's a nice bonus," he says with a smile. It is a nice smile I guess.

"It means he can fight," Shale says and takes his hand, and I can't quite read her tone. Pym looks very uncomfortable at the statement, but some of the other scientists laugh. Howard looks proud of him. Tony presses her hand against his face and kisses it. None of us are sure if he's really in love or just enjoying the chase.

"Still not ready to make a decision, Catnip?" Tony asks me. I hate him – he knows I want to help, but I can't risk something going wrong with the "extractions" and the people I love facing reprisal. He reads my silence correctly. "Well, we'll see what happens with the announcement today." I don't like the way he says that.

"Why? Do you know something?" I ask.

"We don't know anything for sure," Phillip says quickly. I turn to him and glare.

"You knew something? And you didn't tell me?" I demand.

"If you'd get with the program you'd be in the loop, it's not his job to hold your hand," Tony says sharply from the desk, only now he's standing up.

"We didn't want to upset you unnecessarily," Phillip adds quickly. "There's still a chance we're wrong …"

"About what?" I demand, tired of everyone pussyfooting around it.

"We think they're going to draw this year's tributes from among the victors," Phillip says.

"An All-Star Edition, if you will," Tony adds flippantly.

"Tony!" Shale whispers sharply.

"But … That won't work. District 12 doesn't even have a female victor … I'm not sure if all the other districts do either."
"12 is the only one with that issue – all the others have at least one victor of both genders," Phillip explains. "If that is indeed their plan – which we don't know for sure since it's supposed to be a secret until today, and has supposedly been planned seventy-five years in advance. We … have three theories about how they might handle this. One of them you really won't like." I take a deep breath – whatever the case, if they do this, Peeta's got a terribly good chance of going back.

"The first way they could resolve this issue is to have 12 send two males – Peeta and Haymitch." I wonder who would mentor the kids from 12 the next year if both of them died, or would serve in the mentor capacity of getting sponsors while they were both in the Arena. "The second is that they could simply conduct their drawing for the female tribute in the same manner as every other year." That's not bad … well, it's bad, but not any worse than any other Games. At least for the women of 12.

"And the third?" I ask, because he hesitates.

"You were favored to win – especially once Drusa was wounded," Phillip starts to explain and I know where he's going but I can't accept it. "It seems likely, if they're going to do this with the victors, that they'll send Primrose."

You could hear a pin drop in the room. Everyone looks at me sympathetically, even Tony. "Prim? Why would they send Prim?" I ask faintly. "Against all those victors … she wouldn't …" I try to hold it together. I don't want to cry in front of Tony.

"That the point, Katniss – they know you survived, and they're going to take it out on Prim. It doesn't matter whether you help us or not," Tony explains. I start to back away, but my legs are shaking. I can't stop the tears anymore and I run out of the room. Phillip follows.

I make it outside the lab and start to sob. Phillip stands there awkwardly, and eventually settles on giving me a very awkward hug and patting my back stiffly. "I didn't tell you because we don't know anything yet … Plutarch could be wrong … Even if they send the victors, they may not send Prim …"

"We … we have to stop them," I stammer.

"We're trying, Katniss … we've got a plan, but I can't read you in unless …"

"I'm joining. I want to help," I say adamantly.

"Wait until they make the announcements," he says. "You'll change your mind otherwise." He doesn't say it accusingly – but it still stings. He knows me so well.

Morgan joins us shortly after. "I'll take this, Phillip," she says softly – she knows how he is. I wonder if that's normal for District 13 or just Phillip. She hugs me and it feels more natural. "It'll be all right, Katniss. We don't even know anything for sure yet," she says reassuringly. But I know better. The odds were never in my favor.

Author's Note

I didn't try to give Pym a Roman name because I figure since he's lower class they wouldn't try so hard. Come to think of it that's my logic on keeping Betty too.

You have no idea how unreasonably happy I was to see "The odds are never in our favor" in graffiti in the trailer for Catching Fire. That phrase is begging for something like that.