Missing Pieces


Bitter Escape


"With the cataclysm raining down,

Insides crying 'Save me now,"

You were there impossibly alone."


The faint crackle of static resounding from my comunicuff startles me, but I quickly regain myself and hold the watch hybrid up to my ear.

"Soldier Hawthorne, do you read me?" Boggs asks, his voice a stoic calm.

"Soldier Hawthorne reading, over," I whisper into the tiny microphone.

"We've secured all of the prisoners' current coordinates, over," Boggs says. I can hear the faint clattering of keys as he types something.

"What are my next directions? Over."

"I'm sending a map of your assigned prisoner, prisoner 153's location. Go find him. Over."

There's a soft beep as my comunicuff receives the map. I press the choice that reads view on the screen, and the map replaces the options menu. I study the location for a few heartbeats, the glow of my comunicuff contrasting with the dim lighting of the prison. By my current surroundings (black supply closet, hallway in front and to the right of me, no other doors), I judge that prisoner 153 is not too far away from me.

"Who is prisoner 153? Over," I say into the comunicuff, leaning in closer to hear the answer.

"I'm not allowed to disclose that information just yet. Over," he replies.

"What difference does it make? Over."

"It doesn't. Which is why it's unnecessary. Over."

"I'll have to be able to recognize them, over." Knowing fully well that I'm just wasting precious time, I prepare myself to leave for prisoner 153's location at Boggs's next reply.

"Peeta Mellark. Over," Boggs says after a slight pause. So they're sending me after Mellark.

"I'm ready to leave. Over," I say, not missing a beat.

"We just did a scan of the area. Traps and explosives every inch of the way during the last stretch to his cell. Be careful, Soldier Hawthorne. Over," Boggs says, his voice becoming slightly fuzzy. The previously faint crackle of static slowly crescendos.

"Send me the scan results. I'll try my best to avoid them. Over," I say, trying not to panic. I have about two minutes before the signal is lost.

Boggs had told our little group of volunteers before we descended into this metal box that the Capitol may soon realize that the rebels have contact with people inside of the prison. We've been warned that all connections may be severed with Boggs and the other advisors in the hovercraft. In case of this, we're told not to panic and to escape the prison as fast as we can, and the hovercraft will come to fetch us.

But now that the situation is slowly coming to life, it's hard to see how I'll be able to follow Boggs's instructions.

There are no doors in sight down the two hallways that I'm standing in the cross section of. The closet behind me is just that; a closet, filled with black blankets and powdered meals. No windows, no hatches in the ceiling. Our rescue group had managed to bust into the place with one of Beetee's creations, a eerily silent bomb that can detonate through metal. Unfortunately, the materials required to make it are costly and rare in District 13, so we only have one more of the bomb on hand, which is back in the guarded section of Special Weaponry.

I'm only armed with a medium-sized gun and a couple of hand grenades, even when the Special Weaponry room is stocked with a range of other, more efficient items. It just shows how much faith the head of District 13 has in this mission.

Bogg's voice brings me out of my silent analyzation.

"I've sent the scan results to your comunicuff. Gale, we've lost contact with the other six in the group, you're the only one we have a connec-" I listen for a few more moments as I can vaguely hear Boggs's voice telling me to do something, but then the static becomes too loud for me to distinguish any words.

My two minutes are up.

Thankfully, my comunicuff receives Boggs's scan results before the connection is cut, and I open them up side-by-side with the map to Peeta's containment cell. My heart starts racing as I realize that everyone will be expecting me to escape to the hovercraft, and I contemplate the idea for a moment, but I already know what I'm going to do, and I'm pretty sure that the rest of my group will do the same and go ahead and save their assigned prisoners anyway. Besides, I've never been one to listen to directions, have I?

I expect alarms to go off and for red lights to start flashing, but the hallway is quiet save for the soft metallic sound my feet make as they hit the floor. I make it to the end of the hallway and turn right sharply, closer and closer to my destination. The prison is still strangely quiet, and I suddenly become hyper aware of my echoing foot steps. I pause in the middle of the hallway, certain that Peacekeepers or vicious attackers are coming my way any second now, but I hear and see nothing.

I move on.

I sprint through a few more straight, closed-up hallways, keeping tabs on the two maps on my comunicuff. After a few minutes, I arrive at a hallway, five hundred meters in length, making it slightly longer than the others. The scan scan results for it are covered in angry red marks where I might trigger a weapon or trap. There's absolutely no way around the hall, and I glance from the hallway to the scan results, trying to find a reasonably safe way through it. There is no guaranteed safe passage, though, because the traps and bombs are randomly distributed. But if I stick to the left of the hall, I might get across with minimal injuries. After a moment of indecision, I plunge into the darkly lit passage that might be the death of me.

For the first hundred meters, I carefully pick my way through all of the danger zones, successfully avoiding them, even though the hallway is so dim that I can't see past more than five meters before everything becomes shrouded in shadows. As I walk further and further into the hallway, I can only see four meters in front of me. Then three, then two, and then even my hand in front of my face is just another shadow.

President Snow is wicked smart, if he designed this place.

Instead of sending physical reinforcements after the intruders in his prison, he's slowly faded the already dim lights into darkness, taking away our sight. No one had thought to give us night vision goggles, even though we have an abundance of them in District 13. For the first time since this whole rescue mission has been organized, reality hits me hard and I have to steady my breathing to keep myself calm. We're here on a spur-of-the-moment mission, barely prepared with poor weapons. If Peacekeepers came right now in this darkness, armed with night vision goggles and Capitol-designed weapons, how can I keep them from taking me away? What will they do to Peeta, Annie, Johanna, and the others who're being tortured for information?

I freeze in place, becoming even more sensitive to the stillness. Shouldn't there be screams and wails piercing this damned silence? I thought all of the prisoners were being tortured for information, but the hush in the prison suggests otherwise. Maybe this is just a wild goose chase that we've been lured into by yet another one of President Snow's creatively sadistic plans.

Before I completely lose my mind, I push myself forward and take one, two steps, but it's enough to set off the trap.

I can't see anything, but the passage way is so silent that I can hear the faint buzz of something hurtling towards me. I hit the ground with lightning speed, the slamming sound resounding through the hall.

I lift myself off of the ground, pressing a button on my communicuff so that the screen glows slightly. I swing it in an arc around me, trying to see the object that had almost buried itself in me. On the right wall, embedded in the metal, is a single dart, its tip probably poisoned to finish me off quickly. Doing a brief assessment, by the position of the dart in the wall, I'm able to tell that it was obviously aimed straight at my heart. I shudder briefly, studying my map intently before making my next move.

The odds are in my favor for the rest of my journey, and I arrive at the spot where Peeta's cell supposedly is. I'm shaken, but unscathed.

Not wanting to waste my comunnicuff's energy by using it as a flashlight, I feel around the cool metal wall in the darkness for a button or a handle or something that'll lead me to the cell's entrance. I find nothing, and telling myself that I probably just missed the door the first time, my fingers probe the wall again. Still nothing. I double-check the map, and I know I'm standing in the exact place that I'm supposed to be in. Maybe Boggs's calculations were a little off.

Cautiously shifting a few feet to the left, I feel the walls for any openings. When I find none, I shuffle to the right, my fingers grazing the black metal of the walls. Still nothing. Knowing that the entrance can't be on the other side, since it's all rigged with traps, I truly start to panic. I'm almost sure that this is all just a trap, that some Capitol-trained soldiers are probably coming to drag me off right now, when I notice a groove in the floor. Although I know I shouldn't, I allow my hopes to get high as I gingerly press on the groove with my foot. Disappointment rises in me as yet again nothing happens.

Feeling hopeless and agitated and angry, I grit my teeth and stomp on the damned floor, as if I could harm it. If nothing happens soon, I'll be driven insane with the constant quietness and suffocating darkness.

As one last futile attempt, I get down on my knees in the same spot where the groove is, feeling around on the floor for something, anything that can save me from this. The floor suddenly jerks, and I stand up with a start, certain that this is the part where the Capitol takes me hostage. Instead of soldiers rushing in to arrest me, though, the floor starts moving downwards. I feel nauseous, remembering the tiny elevator in the coal mines back in District 12. My breathing gets shallow as I start to hyperventilate, feeling as if the darkness is somehow sucking the air out of me. Desperately, I claw and bang on the walls. For all I know, this elevator could go down forever and forever, and somewhere along the way I'd die from choking on nothing.

The elevator jerks to a stop, and there's no signs that I'll be let out of it. I bang on the walls again blindly, not wanting to be stuck in this damned thing. Just as I'm about to accept my fate, the wall to my right slides opens lazily. I rush out of the opening, not even bothering to look where I'm stepping.

My eyes suddenly burn and I snap them shut to block out the sensation. Slowly, I open them again, and find myself in a bright room, the lights a searing white. Spots dance across my eyes and it's a few minutes before my eyes adjust to my surroundings.

I take in the new area I've landed in. Four metal walls on either side of me, the cell bare except for chains attached to the wall, and attached to the chains, Peeta Mellark. His face is gaunt and hollow, his body merely skin stretched over bone, but it's Peeta Mellark. The one person who can help make Katniss whole again.

I gape at him in shock for a few moments, before I come to my senses and rush to his side, trying to find a way to unchain him. His blue eyes are cold and calculating, a look I've never seen on him before, and I jerk back suddenly as I remember that he was hijacked. Brainwashed.

"It's okay," he says, his voice completely hoarse from disuse. He clears his dry throat, the sound making me wince. He tries to speak again. "It's okay, I remember you. I won't hurt you. I can't, actually," he says, and I watch as he tries to lift an arm. I can see his arm muscles tightening and his veins jutting out, but Peeta can only shakily elevate his arm a centimeter off of the ground before he has to drop it.

I go ahead and unchain him, which is surprisingly not a too difficult task. Peeta, being as weak and malnourished as he is, can't possibly break through the chains. After a few thrusts from the back of my gun and a lot of pulling, though, I've broken the links on his arm and wall. He rubs his wrists gingerly, wincing as he does so. The whole area is bruised, and I can't even imagine how much it must ache.

"So, do you actually remember me?" I ask carefully. I'm already sure that Peeta isn't dangerous, but I want to see just how much they messed with this head.

"Of course. You're Gale. Gale H-hawthorne. The guy who used to hunt with her," he says confidently.

"Who's 'her'?" I prod, knowing exactly who he's referring to.

Peeta's eyes darken. "You know who. The mutt. The one who killed my family."

I'm taken aback by his answer, and my thoughts must show on my face. "Don't tell me you don't know what she's done," he practically snarls, his eyes full of hate.

I really don't think this will benefit Katniss in any way.

I change the topic before he gets too carried away. "I'm helping you get out of here."

Doubt crosses Peeta's features. "How do I know you're not lying? What if you've teamed up with the people who've tortured me? Maybe you're working with the mutt herself."

His answer surprises me but I mask my emotions. "I'm not working with the.. mutt. I'm here to help you. I unchained you, didn't I? Listen, we can't waste any more time if you want to make it out of here alive."

Peeta snorts. "I would go with you if I thought we could escape. But how're you going to get me out? Look around. See any exits? The elevator you used to get down here is closed up now."

My eyes frantically search the tiny space, and I realize he's right. No doors, no windows, no nothing. Now that I've found Peeta, there's no way to get him out. I whirl around towards the elevator's closed opening, kicking and banging on the metal. I search for any grooves or buttons that might open it up, but there's absolutely nothing. I consider launching a grenade at the door, but figure that'll do more harm than good.

For the hundredth time, I check my communicuff for a signal, and the harsh words Connection Lost crush any hopes I have of contacting Boggs and the others. A signal was nearly possible to get above ground, let alone in this metallic underground cage.

I make a few more futile attempts at finding an exit, some sort of secret door or hidden window. Peeta sits in a heap on the floor, looking vaguely amused. "There's no way out of here. No point in trying. Guess we'll be torture buddies now, huh?" Peeta says.

I scowl. "That's not helping," I tell him, but I know that he's right. I sit down on the floor on the opposite side of the room, and cradle my head in my hands. There's a few minutes of silence as I contemplate what to do next. Peeta watches me carefully the whole time.

"Does anyone ever come in here?" I ask him finally.

"Yeah," Peeta replies. I wait for him to go on. "There's these Avoxes that bring me a bit of food and water, and the guards who take me to the torture chambers."

A chill runs down my spine. "When do the guards come to get you?"

"I don't know. Does it look like I have a way of keeping track of time?" Peeta answers. I look at him strangely. From the few times I've talked to him, I don't remember this snappy, blunt person.

Peeta's torturers could be on their way right now, or they could be coming hours from now.

"We have to get out of here," I say out loud.

"Forget about escape," Peeta says, his expression hardening. "Every time I tried to escape, it didn't end well."

"But I think I might have back up waiting for me outside, if I could only get a damned signal and tell them I'm not dead," I say.

"It's impossible to get a signal here," Peeta says, oh-so-helpfully.

"I kind of figured that out," I snap.

"Do you have any weapons?" Peeta asks me.

"Yeah."

"What are they?"

"A gun and three hand grenades."

"Why don't you use the grenades to bust out?" Peeta questions.

"You want us to explode our way out of here? And get killed in the process? What's the point of that?" I ask.

"Do you want to find out what happens if you don't try it?" he asks me, dead serious. "Trust me, you'll find yourself wishing you killed yourself with the grenades when you see how they torture you for information." That shuts me up.

Would I rather live and be tortured by the Capitol, or die trying to escape from them?

Both options aren't very appealing.

"I'll take my chances with the grenades," I tell him, and Peeta nods.

"Do you have anything we can shield ourselves with?" I ask, although I know it's pointless.

"No."

I go on to kick and bang on all of the walls, to see which one is the weakest.

"What will we do after we get out of here? This place is huge, we'll never find our way out by luck," Peeta says.

"I have a map." He nods.

To my surprise, as I come to the third wall, I find that it makes a more hollow sound when tapped on. I test the last wall first and then come back to the third wall, to make sure I'm right.

"This wall faces the outside. If I can manage to break through it, we'll be free," I say, hopes rising.

They quickly fall flat, though, as I realize the chances of that. There's a reason no guards or soldiers have been sent after me yet, because my every move is being monitored. I suddenly wish I hadn't voiced out my newly formed plan. There's probably microphones and cameras all over the cell. Now that I just gave away all details of my escape to the people monitoring Peeta's cage, there'll be soldiers waiting on the other side to shoot us down as soon as we emerge from this place.

Nice going, Gale.

More flaws quickly unravel in my mind. How will Peeta escape, since he can barely move, let alone run? What if Boggs already took the survivors and left?

"You have to move to the other side of the room," I say to Peeta. He gives me a terse nod and tries to stand, but his legs fail him. I quickly make it to his side and hook an arm around his back, leading him to the opposite end of the room.

Peeta curls up into a ball and watches me as I unclip the grenades from my belt. I don't allow myself to think before pulling the safety pin from the first grenade and launching it towards the wall. I quickly launch the second grenade in the same direction, and the third one follows shortly. I run towards where Peeta is, ready to pull him up and drag him out behind me.

But the grenade hasn't even been able to implode through the wall.

I vaguely hear rhythmical footsteps pounding somewhere way off to the right above us, but I know we barely have any time left.

It feels as if my blood is pure adrenaline as I sprint towards the damaged wall and punch it with all I have. I throw my whole weight against it several times and kick at it every so often, and it must look I'm doing some sort of frenzied dance. A hole finally appears in the dented metal and I focus on it, punching and punching until my knuckles are sore and bleeding. Right now, the adrenaline will save me from the pain. I'll face the consequences later.

Not so carefully, I grab Peeta by the collar and pull him up, and when he almost falls I literally drag him behind me. My heart beating crazily, I pull out my gun and climb out through the hole in the wall, with Peeta following close behind. We arrive outside and I greedily breath in the fresh air, my gun in front of me and ready to shoot at anyone who comes in our way.

The scene that awaits me, though, is certainly not what I expected.

Our hovercraft's still here, thankfully, and I see that all of the other members of the rescue group are still alive and fighting. Capitol soldiers are everywhere, shooting everywhere and fighting everyone. Once they see me and Peeta come out of the prison, almost all of them turn on us, guns trained at our hearts.

The fighting suddenly stops, and with so many people congesting the area, it surprises me how quiet the air gets. All eyes are on me and Peeta. The rescue group looks helpless as it stares at us. The soldiers' expressions are all a generic calm.

A crazy idea suddenly hits me and I hold up my gun to Peeta's head, my index finger on the trigger.

"I won't kill you," I breath, so only Peeta can hear me. I make sure my lips don't move. "Play along."

No one wants Peeta to die, because killing the Girl on Fire's husband will only fuel the rebellion. I can see in the soldiers' body language that they definitely did not expect this to happen. All of them put their guns down and eye me warily, not knowing if I'm insane enough to actually end Peeta's life.

The gun still pressed against Peeta's skull, I slowly walk towards the hovercraft, hoping I don't get killed along the way. There's dead silence as I go closer and closer, except for the dragging of Peeta's feet on the ground. I slowly climb the steps, allowing the rest of my group to go before me so they aren't left behind. We're all almost in the hovercraft when the gun slips from my sweaty grasp and falls to the ground will a dull thunk.

Someone takes the opportunity and launches a bomb at the hovercraft, effectively blowing a layer of metal off of the exterior. Scraps and chunks of metal fly everywhere, and some of them embed themselves into my back and shoulders, causing me to cry out in pain. I roughly push Peeta into the hovercraft, clambering in after him.

The Capitol soldiers continue to fire at the hovercraft to try and delay our escape. Boggs, however, has the hovercraft up and running in seconds and we lift into the sky, finally getting away from this damned place. More bombs are launched towards us, and one hits the hovercraft, making us all tip sideways and lurch in our seats, but the hovercraft shudders and moves on. Peeta has already been taken to the medics on board, to see just how bad his hijacking is.

Someone looks my way and notices the shrapnel stuck in my skin. I star to tell them that I'm fine, really, but a wave of pain and nausea and fatigue hits me, making me crumple to the ground. I hear footsteps running towards me and I hold my head in my hands, trying to block out everything.

And then there's nothing.

This'll all be worth it if I can just see Katniss look a little more alive at the sight of Peeta.


(A/N) Song quoted: Iridescent by Linkin Park

Any comments? That was probably the longest thing I've ever typed up xD

Thanks to anyone who's favorited, subscribed, reviewed, or read this story!