The Hunger Games
The Kindler's Burden
Chapter Eleven: A Necklace of Rope
I rest, unconscious, in delusions, dreams, and vague thoughts for an indiscernible number of hours, and there seems no bridge between my subconscious state and reality, as both are just as hazed, diluted, and confused. Varying settings and sights flash before my eyes, the massive extending halls of 13, flames scorching the Capitol sewers, unidentifiable faces behind the flames, the valley, saturated in dust, our old home, I sit on the couch, my arm around Prim, while a clock ticks, second after second, the Capitol street, flooded with refugees running, being gunned down by machine gunners, the forest, 13's corridors, the Capitol train car, all sounds blocked out by the continuous, loud hums of security cameras, then silence, the meadow, clear, light shining through the treeline, Gale stands in front of me, speaking, quietly, muffled, fading more and more each second, and a cold, metal room, gray at every corner, silent. A prison cell, buried beneath the Capitol, and, although hazed, I know this is what's real, as I've no memory to relive it by. I remain on the ground, my head throbbing, weighed down even more by confusion, meshing, burdensome thoughts, none of them capable of elaboration or focus, all floating through my thought patterns, I can't tell which are real and which aren't.
My thoughts come and go, burdening my mind, uncontrollably, so I decide to revert, start with what I know for sure. My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. I was born and raised in District 12. I manipulated the Capitol in the 74th Hunger Games, and was named a political target. I pursued further acts of rebellion against the Capitol, and because of that District 12 was destroyed. An uprising was brought by my influence, and now thousands die each day for a cause I imposed upon them. I betrayed Coin's guidance in my endeavors and placed my entire family at risk. I assumed command of a squadron to venture through the Capitol, and saw its members drop, one by one, under my direction. Each of them died for my sake. Finnick, just married, gave his own life for my survival, his last words for me to run as blood dripped from his throat. Every remaining victor, who weathered the suffering of the Games, entered the Capitol to rescue me, see that I reach Snow, and now reside, unaccounted for in its streets. Prim was captured by Snow, and her life now rests in his hands. People keep dying for me, and I don't know why.
These facts and thoughts flash through my mind, each giving regret, sadness, and a feeling of disappointment, failure of responsibility, the strength of which I've never felt before. I think of them, of her, my sole purpose for proceeding, I sought to stop them for her, and now she stands within reach of his hand, and all others, who died for an idea I gave them, something greater than I could ever deliver, but gave everything thinking I could, despite knowing they'd never see it. She was with them, she believed in me as much as they did, hoped for what I could give her, what I always wanted, and now she stands to end up just like any of them, in the masses of the dead.
This thought sticks in my head, my mind, my senses, none become clear, but this flickers in my mind, unstopping, undeniable, fills me with determination, with reality, anger, strength. I struggle to pull myself up, stagger on the metal floor, slipping, but finally force myself up. I look around, I've never seen one of their prisons, but I infer it's miles beneath the surface. I find the door, barred, only a small slot of visibility. I begin walking towards it, my eyes set, determined, unbreaking. I reach to my side, and I find my father's bow, still holstered on my right. I look at it, confused, surmise they thought no threat of it, as my sheath is gone as well. I disregard this, I clasp it in hand, tightly. I continue towards the door, and try to pull it open, fruitlessly. It is locked, and I scan it for a source. I find a small, silver lock on the front, the only thing holding the metal door closed. I take my bow, and begin smashing it into the lock, forcibly, swiftly. I continue, and see way give in the pad. After a short time, it breaks off entirely, and the door slides open. I kick it aside, still holding my bow, and travel out into a long, metal corridor as a loud siren sounds.
I look around, all I see is similar metal doors, and find one open as I travel on. I peer inside, and find my sheath, among several other confiscated items, lazily placed inside, not considering the possibility of escape, or sabotage. I take the sheath, and examine it. Less than a dozen arrows inside, but it discouraged me none. I place it on my back, and continue down the hall.
I travel onward, at a brisk pace, keeping my eyes set in front of me, not turning, not breaking focus. As I turn a corner, I see them, Peacekeepers, coming towards me. I brace for gunfire, but most of them carry clubs. They come in a hoard, there must be a dozen in a line, all coming with their sticks. I swiftly pull out arrows, shoot them through the glass shields in front of their faces. As they get too close, I merely slam their heads with my bow, knocking most out in one hit. None of them put up enough force to keep me back. I continue, shooting out random Peacekeepers in the crowds. One who holds a gun shoots me in the leg. The impact feels superficial, and the limp barely impacts me. I just as quickly fire an arrow in between his eyes. I shoot more and more down, until my allotted arrows run out. As my resolve, one remains in the sheath. I venture on, beating more down with my bow, and slowly their numbers decrease, as the, seemingly back line, troops fade in numbers. Dozens lay on the ground, unconscious or dead, it's unclear, but it matters not to me. They seem to only comprise the bottom floor, like the remnants of the forces, which I wouldn't doubt. I travel up the levels, desolate, empty, there is no trace of life anywhere.
Only around ten floor separate my cell from the surface. I reach a small office on the top, and reach the exit. The door is sealed, but it is slammed open in only a few hits.
I enter the streets of the Capitol, midday, just as barren as before, and I presume that I'm still in the inner Capitol. I begin to scan around, my surroundings don't look familiar. I begin to fill with concern, Snow's mansion is nowhere in sight, and I begin running, desperately, through the roads, past buildings, blocks, looking for the structure. I begin to gasp, from nerves and exhaustion, start ventilating, my concern begins to swell to fear, and tears begin to stream from my eyes. This continues for a time, until I turn a corner, and I see it, clear, still just as I left it. I stop, paralyzed, and look in disbelief, gasping, still sobbing. My wonder soon fades, and I begin to sprint towards it, towards him.
I see Gale, standing calmly in front of the mansion. He no longer wears the combat uniform, he is dressed normally, as if he were back in 12, or the meadow. I only catch a glimpse of him, but he looks calm, and still confident. He looks to me as I approach him, run into his open arms. "Oh, Gale, uh, Gale!" I yell, frantic, exasperated.
"Katniss." He says, remaining calm.
I continue to sob, still full of fear, hopelessness, worry. I feel like a child, helpless, needing his guidance. "Uh, Snow, he, he has Prim, she, she's in there..." I start, barely able to gasp out the words, tears running down my face.
"I know." Says Gale, still calm, consoling me.
"Uh, uh, Gale, what do we do?" I ask, fearfully, helplessly, gasping. I begin to sob again.
"Easy, it's okay." He says, smoothly, rubbing my back. "Just calm down, you like music?" He asks.
His words, alongside his passive visage confuse me. I begin to pull myself from my uncontrollable sobbing, and look up and speak to him. "Hu, what?" I ask, confused.
He looks up, into the line of the city ahead of us, cool. "Listen, can't you hear it?" He asks, still holding me.
I look at him, confused. He suddenly holds up a conductor's stick, and points to a certain point in the city. Oddly, a siren begins to sound, and then another, and several more after that, forming a familiar tune. Then, the sounds increase, changing tone. "Wha, I hear it." I say, shocked, baffled, astonished, but more confused, and still trembling.
"Yes." Says Gale, waving the stick in the air. The music continues to play, the sirens mimicking Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture. I just stare, first at him, then the sirens, and ahead. My emotions whirl around in my head, wonder, confusion, awe, but overcome with fear, confusion, and worry, all at once. I stand there, barely able to keep my footing, my mouth hangs open, as it's all I can do, and I hang on to Gale for support.
The tone begins to increase to the zenith, and Gale's expression remains calm, and confident, his confidence rising. "Yes, now, the crescendo!" He states, confidently, waving his stick.
His words still baffle me. The music reaches its height, and Gale moves his stick so it points at Snow's mansion. As the sirens raise, he signals to the mansion. I witness his movements, the mansion, the sirens, the song, and everything at once, my head spinning, overcome with so many perceptions. The high notes hits as Gale points at the Capitol.
I watch, speechless, as the exterior, concrete wall explodes, one after another, countless explosions, decimating the wall, destroying the barrier in front of Snow's mansion, the place where Prim was held, captor, bursts into flame, through trailing explosions, turning it to rubble, scorching everything inside.
I fall to my knees, my mouth remains open, letting go of Gale, my eyes wide, my head burning, as I watch the rubble smolder, the structure flare and crumble. "Uh, Prim!" I shout, shocked, disoriented, tears running from my eyes, my heart aching in my chest. My mind lingers on it, Prim, imprisoned in the cell, shocked with explosions, burned with their fire, scorched into nothingness. Died right before my eyes. I lose all composure, and collapse on the ground, holding my face, sobbing uncontrollably. "Uh, ah ha ha, no, uh, uh, no!" I sob, unable to stop.
Gale watches the explosion, confident, smiling, waving his stick. "Yeah." He says, proud. He looks down at Katniss.
He puts his hand on my shoulder, trying to console me. "Hey, Katniss..." He starts, still jovial, trying to be courteous be lowering his tone.
I immediately break, pull my head from my hands, get to my knees, and viciously swipe his hand from my shoulder. "Get off me!" I scream, looking him straight in the face. "I never want to see you again!" I scream, meaning each word, clear in my head. I turn from him, as tears come back, sorrow, remorse, pain, taking over, facing the ground.
"Oh, I get it now. The only use I ever was to you was keeping your family alive, I see." Says Gale, bitterly, returning to his other visage, his cold, callous attitude regarding our relationship.
I don't even turn to face him, I find that I can't anymore. I think back to who he was before, and thinking of him now breaks me down. I feel that if I see him, I'll begin to cry and never be able to stop. "You've changed Gale..." I start, sobbing, no anger in my voice, just sadness. "just months ago you were saving people from the bombing, and now you kill helpless children like nothing." I finish, and as I do I begin to sob again.
Gale turns around, preparing to leave. He bends down lower, and his face changes again, back to confidence, but not as much as before, and speaks to me, his voice fully assured, matter-of-factly. "Hey, in order to make, or break a nation, some innocent need to burn. You should know that better than anyone, Catnip." He says, patting my on the shoulder as he walks off.
I stay there, on my knees, my body frozen, looking forward, thinking of his words, and their truth, and my heart begins to burn again, stronger than ever. My mind races to Finnick, to Leeg, Jackson, the countless dead in 8, and 2, to the thousands dead on my accord. My breath ceases, and my head aches, more than ever at these thoughts. The burden becomes too much for me, and finally I break. My thoughts turn back to Prim, the sole person in the world who deserved better, worked her whole life to help the sick, the wounded, never thought or did any wrong in her life, and fell into his hands, and he fully placed her back in mine, where I let her go, and now she rests in ashes, like all the others. "Uh, ah ha ha, ah, oh, hu, hu, ah." I collapse again, my head on the street, covered by my hands, unable to stop crying, feeling I never will. How long I remain there, I don't know, it doesn't matter. "Uh, ah, ah, uh." I continue to sob.
Over my cries, I can hear footsteps, but I don't stop until I hear his words. "We must stop meeting like this, Ms. Everdeen." Says Snow, still businesslike, but raspy, weak.
"Uh, hu." I say, confused, shocked, looking up just enough to see his face.
He stands there, coated with ash, clothing torn, his hair messed up, looking feeble, must've been caught up in the blast. "Our meetings are always accompanied by drear, rebellion wrought in my state, threats of death and torture towards your family, and now this." He states, seriously, casual, but his voice lacks power. "I offer my condolences for your sister." He states.
My anger grows, but it's overshadowed with pain, mourning, disbelief, and remorse. "You're a monster, you knew this would happen." I speak, my head still down, tears running from my eyes, my voice shaking, sadness shows strong in it, trembling, weak. I begin to sob again.
He speaks again, his composure set. "Hardly, that your sister's capture would mean her death on my account, that her and the refugees would be turned into human shields, seemingly by my orders, the Capitol's reputations destroyed for putting children in the crossfire. I was just as blind to this as you were." He states, honestly.
His words present much sense to me in the situation, but I don't believe him. "Then, why, why did you take her, if not for this?" I ask, pulling myself together, getting to my knees.
"Because, in order to yield your compliance, I needed to draw you here, and put something at stake you couldn't live without." States Snow.
"What, my, compliance..." I start, baffled.
"We've both grown much throughout this war, learned from it. First, it was my intention to kill you, and dispel the kindler of the rebellion and therein cease it, but then I found that that wouldn't work. Then I sought to destroy 13 and the stronghold of the uprising, I saw that wouldn't work either. Finally, I realized that the only way to end the rebellion, was to get you, its bringer, to call it off yourself. Now I see that that wouldn't have worked either." He states, lowly.
I remain there, taking in his words. "You wanted that, could have just killed her, and broken me." I state.
"Not so, Ms. Everdeen, I've monitored you over the past year, become aware of your stability, your resilience. When the District 11 girl died in your first Hunger Games, you avenged her by defying the Capitol and saving both yourself and your partner. In the Quell Games, even when you thought Peeta was dead, you carried on your endeavors and destroyed the perimeter wall. When you found Peeta had been hijacked by the Capitol, turned against you, with no hope for recovery, you set off to destroy the Capitol's central military compound as revenge. I found that the deaths of your loved ones only drove you further towards this goal. He turns towards me, sullenly. "Katniss Everdeen, calm in the face of death." He states, factfully.
I remain confused, more so now, the scenario shrouded in mystery, unable to grasp it. "Then, why did this happen. How, I mean, who..." I begin.
"You know the answer Ms. Everdeen. It comes as shock to me that you didn't see it sooner, but then, neither did I, despite it standing in front of us the whole time. Only one person benefits from both our downfalls, someone who's sought both our failures all along, for her own advancement, and has now seen it through." He states.
I sit there for a moment, thinking, even though I've known it all along. "Coin." I say, lowly.
"Yes, at the fall of the Capitol, and the destruction of your intellect and rebellious nature, Coin would flourish where both of us fruitlessly sought to, and while we fought to destroy each other for our own purposes, she needed only sit back and watch." He states.
"So, she, she knew, she did this..." I start, shocked.
"Yes, had it planned to the number. While she sent you into the inner Capitol, she opened their boarders and left your sister susceptible to capture, knowing we would strike at the moment, bringing both of us to a common place of vulnerability and demise." States Snow.
"She had, she'd planned this, all along." I say, realizing.
"Yes, really was quite ingenious. At the same time the Capitol's reputation was demolished with the death of child refugees, she sought to simultaneously break you into mental instability with the death of your sister, with neither of us being the wiser." He says.
I sit there, thinking, of all the clues given me, all the signs I missed, overlooked, up to this one point. "She's planned this, plotted against both of us, used us against each other." I say, my mind blank.
"Yes, I believe we've both been played for fools, Ms. Everdeen." States Snow, admittingly. "When I gave you the message, "Tis the Kindler's burden to tend to her flames," I never anticipated the manipulation of a third party, acting for us to be caught up in our own wildfires." States Snow, defeatedly.
I try to get up, but can't, only think of the situation, the faults for it, and then her. "She, she wanted us gone, you, and me, but her, she, she never would've, she, didn't need to..." I start, beginning to tear up again.
"Of course she did. When one finds that their opposing forces cannot be controlled or stopped, their only solution is to break them, find their closest, most vulnerable links to thrive and crush them. Your sister to you, just as the Capitol's protectorates to me." States Snow.
I sit there, thinking back to Gale's words, and what I've known all along. "Then, it wasn't her, it, I, I'm the one responsible for her death, me, from my influence, my role." I state, filling with remorse.
"The hopeless always cling to lights of hope, Ms. Everdeen. As we venture towards our intents, burning the opposition along the way, we always draw our loved ones into the fire, setting them up high as obvious targets, as lifelines. Like moths to our flames, hold them close, only to watch them burn along with us. Never our intent consciously, possibly subconsciously." States Snow, sympathetically. I feel his words in my heart, just as I did with Gales, as both tell me the same thing. The ones I sought to protect, sought their betterment, allowed them to burn for me, to die so I may carry out my cause, put their lives at stake through my acts, and let them fall, one by one. My regret swelters, and my mind goes blank, knowing I'm the one most deserving of death. I killed just as many as he ever did without a thought. "We're really quite alike, both sought to build something more, scorching out what stood in our way, clashed with one another for dominance, never knew that we would both inevitably travel down the same road of embers, our intents destroyed with no prior knowledge." States Snow, reminiscing.
I think, realize the truth of his words, and remain, pondering. "Coin crushes both of us, takes over the nation, fire scorched, burnt, ashes that we made it, all she's ever done, even her closest she's only sought to destroy. Then what, it, can barely stand, with, with her, as head, she, what..." I begin, thinking, finding truths I should have considered long ago.
"It will falter, albeit more resourceful, her purification comes through fire, just like ours, but once the hindrances are gone, the nation, reduced to ash won, her methods become useless, as the nation will need to be rebuilt when the only tool at her disposal is destruction." States Snow.
I take in his words, and begin to consider them, alongside all else. "...She hasn't won, not yet." I say, getting on my feet. "But, her, 13, and now, without the war, and my play, ho..." I begin, unsure.
Snow walks towards me. "Wouldn't leave it up to chance, she'll likely send reserves, try to sweep up what she hasn't already destroyed, you, and any of the other victors, anyone who may ever pose a threat to her rule, take the Capitol under her troops." He turns, looks to the side. "And she'll be here." He says.
"How do you know?" I ask.
"From experience. There's no faith or dedication in fire, only in the one who stands over it as its kindler. I believe she's here this moment, now, is your chance." States Snow. He looks at me, not as an equal, but as a superior, belief in his words.
I look at him, thinking back to all he threw against me, all the times he tried to stop me, the people he killed, the ones he's tortured, all leading to this. "...Why are you doing this, why would you help me?" I ask, perplexed.
"Because, I've found it quite inspiring, tracking your progress, witnessing the twists and struggles in your ever changing voyage as the Kindler, Spark Setter, the Girl on Fire, if you will, reminded me much of my journey, only to see you walk the path of ash from the death of your loved ones, I find it very disheartening." He states, and I look at him, confused, continuing to cite similarities between us, and their authenticity. "Similar to the road I took, I feel one of us may as well come out of this struggle successful, the only one who still can." He says, defeated look in his face. "However, it may also serve as revenge for me, on the one who destroyed my republic, but, I won't live to know it. I'd also like to think of it as recompense for young Primrose, the innocent I unwittingly placed at Coin's disposal, never needed to die, never would have without my intervention, I find this my only way to make amends." He goes on, looking at me. "I truly am sorry, and I offer you this penance." He says.
I can't help but turn from him, trying to clear my head. I hear his words, hear the meaning, the regret, the honesty in them. Snow, of all people, offers me penance for Prim's death, truly regrets it, blames himself for bringing her death, and offers the means to make it right, as his only means to do so. I look off, thinking, my mind blackened.
"Do you believe me, my words, my sorrows?" He asks.
I don't even look at him, unable to. "...I believe you." I say, softly.
"Very well." He says. I stand up, look at him. I see how weak he is, how defenseless, far from the man I met just five months ago, of mere hours ago. "Now, with the Capitol fallen, all the walls breached, I have no more means to hold you back. If you wish to kill me, for all the harm I brought you, I will grant you the courtesy." He states, his expression serious, solid.
I look at him, thinking of his words, his acts, his road, our road, standing here. I recall the vow I made at the beginning of this war, that I would never kill any man who was better than me. "Good-bye." I say, looking him in the eyes, and turning from him, for the last time, leaving him standing, solid, watching me go.
Kindler, scorcher, iconoclast, destroyer, roles I took on to bring hope anew to the nation, roles anyone with any diverse mindset could have taken on, and watch the results flare in front of their eyes, just as they watched, she watched us, and I brought it to happen. Either of them could've, did, do the same, only difference is he sought to hold it, fully capable of doing so, and we could do nothing, and I set the sparks, urged them to burn, wanted for it, for my reasons, and let it go for so long. I let so many die for my cause, let them fight the war I incurred, allowed them to follow my bleak light to their deaths. Finnick, Wiress, Mags, Jackson, likely most of the others, and even Prim, all died for me to push onward, to reach the height I could never reach, but that they and I both falsely thought I could, as I let them, to let me live for my lies to them, the false hopes I promised them, even knowing they'd never see them, even then, more than willingly, and I let it. I recall my father's words, things he told me in confidence, seclusion, words they wouldn't let us repeat, or ever speak openly. " We live, undeserving of the Capitol's strain and tyranny, until the day we lose our innocence." I've long since lost that right, to hold to myself the injustness we all bear, and now earn every ounce of it, rightfully, for the fire I wrought, the false light I led them into, the promises I broke, could never have made, my will to let it go on, and my resolve to go on without taking its burns upon myself, former.
All they did, all they sought through me, and their deaths, the lives they gave, all they believed I could bring, not on my own, not through my hands, but maybe through another, to bring it by taking it from hers, and to another. Coin can raise a nation no more than I can, but delivered from her, from him, from me, possibly another can, must. As we destroyed it, in good form and time, we cannot restructure it, our greatest overlooking and flaw, those they follow, the bringers of the flames, who lead them, in line and in lead, our unwritten obligation to do so, we the only ones who didn't know it. I figured the former notion, that it doesn't matter who sends us in, so long as the opposition falls. Of course it matters who sends us in, they're the ones who will have to build the nation up from the ashes. If she thrives, she'll oversee the death of her midden nation, I know it for sure.
Real or not real? Coin ordered Peeta's death for mere statements against the rebellion, her means to power. Real. She sent us into 8, alongside all others, to annex it into 13's secluded, safeguarded army, for greater, prenatal control over the nation, with only their endangerment at stake. Real. She and her government saw to District 2's death as a mere, inhuman threat to the state, striking casualties, familiarly, as a show of strength and reach. Real. Each former victor and potential insider to their politics saw their way into the Capitol, and their inevitable placement on the front lines as a means of disposal. Real. Coin's influence saw Prim's capture and death at Snow's expense to rid him and I, the deadliest variables in her pursuits. Real. Thousands of innocents, including Prim, burned following the hope I placed before them, willing or unwillingly. Real. Their efforts, lives, and deaths were all in vein, the nation will live on as it did under Snow, countless more burning under death relying rule, fading rapidly in the embers I brought them. Not Real.
Only two more people will burn for this rebellion.
I'm on Coin faster than I realized possible, my eyes locked on her, standing in the center of the inner Capitol, making fast pace on her. I see the city slowly populate around us, District 13 troops flood the streets, gunning down Capitol citizens, fleeing desperately. I recall Snow's statement, he sent them to dispose of the last of us, ordered to kill everyone in the Capitol, keyly all the former victors, placed at their finger tips. Gale was always on her side, I recall, his placement here would dispel the theory, they forfeit him nonetheless, I think. His death would be a liability, until I remember the communicator on his arm.
She detects me quickly, scopes my knowledge, hostility, and intents. She draws a pistol from her belt holster and fires it. The bullet strikes my left shoulder, causing me to flinch, but barely slows my procession. Her next shot impacts my left breast directly, but doesn't leave a mark. Thanks to Cinna, this Mockingjay is bulletproof. As she quickly reloads, I arrive in her proximity. She fires past my head just before I slap the pistol from her hand with my bow. I pull back to strike her again as she pulls out a dagger and counters my attack.
"Uh, ah!" She screams, countering. We exchange slashes back and forth, then I make contact with her face, drawing her back.
"Ah!" I scream, running forward, lunging at her, and throwing us both on the ground, dropping my bow in the process.
"Uh, ra!" She yells, trying to take hold of me, forcing her dagger in my direction.
"Er, ah!" I scream, holding her hand back, trying to take the sword from her hold. She throws me on the ground, and goes in to stab my throat. "Uh, oh!" I yell, desperately clasping her arms, pushing back her force.
"Eh, ah!" She yells, strengthening her force, but I hold her back.
"Uh, ah!" I scream, throwing her knife from her hand.
"Ah!" She screams, throwing me back from her.
"Oh!" I groan, falling on my back.
"Uh!" She moans. She pulls out a small, circular flask, and throws it at my torso.
"Ah!" I scream as the flask shatters on my chest and explodes in flames. My body becomes engulfed in fire, flames and smoke blocking my sight, as my suit is burned open, my skin flaring. "Uh, er!" I yell, reaching, grabbing my bow. In one motion I pull his arrow from my sheath, rapidly set it in my bow, pull it back, and blindly fire at Coin, helpless on the ground.
The flames clear just as I see Coin collapse on the ground, the arrow directly in her heart.
"Hu, hu, hu." I sight out, all energy drained from my body, collapsing on the ground from fatigue, just feet from Coin's dead body.
My vision goes blurred, I look around, senseless, watching the streets fill, more and more, watch soldiers come in lines, killing one another, not just 13, but what looks like 2 armed forces, and 8 infantry, slaughtering the 13 militia all around. I observe, perplexed, my head spinning, taking in the scene, making no sense of it, won't take the time. I look down at Coin, then at all the death around me, the innocent dead on the street, and the hoards, battling in front of the smoking mansion. I look back at the ground, and my mind goes blank, my eyelids drop, and my expression goes dull, as I turn my head towards my right shoulder, forcing the Nightlock pill from its pocket, drawing it into my mouth. The capsule grazes my tongue, and rapidly the stillness consumes my body, the numbing lull of relief, and I bask, blissfully in the warmth of emptiness. The straining ire of obligation, the pains of endurance cast away, finally, past years of restriction, compliance, protection, and I follow the light, the flame, just as they did. Open, I welcome the embrace of the dark as I return their sentiment, recourse served as the light caster dies, as the shackles, the burden, the severance dies. It dies.
"No!" I hear the yell, barely audible now, over all the gun shots, screams, stomping of boots, shattering of glass. He reaches for my mouth, and I pull back, as much as I can force myself to move. He continues to grapple with me, a slow fight, and finally he slaps the pill from my mouth, and I just sit there, breathless, weak, disoriented. I hear him gasping, from nerves.
I keep my head down, too weak to look up, too little to face him. "Why couldn't you just let me go?" I ask, dully, lightly, pitiful.
Peeta leans down to my level, looks me in the face, and I barely recognize him. His face is scarred, covered in blood, just like the rest of him, but mostly his eyes, the look in them I haven't seen in months. It's him, the him I thought I'd never see again, stands right before me, like they never said he would, and I begin to sob, as I stand, in my current state, in his presence. "You can't, Katniss, after all you've done, after all this, you don't deserve to die, you deserve to see it, see what you made." He says, emotional, meaning each one of his words.
I turn my head from his, tears running from my eyes. "What I made, I never made anything, only ruined." I say, barely able to speak without braking up. "Don't deserve anything, after what I did. I let them die for me, I let Finnick die, I, I let Prim die..." I start, and my composure breaks, and I begin crying uncontrollably, softly.
"It wasn't your fault, Katniss, you know that." He says. I'm not convinced, but I'm comforted in the fact that he is. "You did your best, all you ever wanted was to help them, and they needed it, they needed you, they do now." He says, holding my shoulders, starting to cry himself. "You brought them this, you broke their ties to the Capitol, broke the binds that've been on their lives since they were born, gave them a chance." He says. I look up at him, remembering words I've heard of my good doings, words I never took as true, but maybe because I never had his perspective, or any of their's, so I listen. "Now, now they need you to stay together, to keep going, to get past this, you're the one they follow Katniss, you're the one they believe in. You're their hope Katniss, and without that they have nothing." He says.
I sit there, thinking of his words. The fire they're drawn to, the light they follow, either one, I'm their reason for following, for going on, as I liberated them from the hold, the strains that dispelled their hope for so long, what I wanted all along, albeit clouded. I begin to gain my footing, gain back my composure, and, for the first time, really look at who I am, who I made myself, to the nation, to its people, to her, to him, to everybody. "You did for them more than anyone else ever could, and you deserve to see it through, for them, for yourself. Don't you understand?" He asks.
My mind strays from his words, subsequently, to what they arouse in my mind, the thoughts that suddenly coalesce in my head. "...Yes, their, purpose, for going on, their reason, it's me." I say. He nods his head at me. "I know, cus, cus of you. Without you, I have nothing to fight for." I say, and give him a small, true smile, which he returns.
He looks back, then grabs my arm. "Come on, we have to go." He pulls me up, and we walk off through the raging war.
"Without you I have nothing to fight for." The words slip from my mouth, as they did everything started to make sense, the rebellion, us, I, and him, the war, my war. I never saved Peeta out of obligation, out of some kind of debt I owed him. His actions have no debt. He was never an added burden or task in my battle, he is my battle, just as much as they were. People wait for me to admit I need him to survive, but I never will, because I don't. I don't need Peeta to survive, he is my will to survive, my purpose to go on, to seek more, just as I was for them, am, for those left, and for the first time, I realize how he's felt about me all along.
As he pulls me along, I think of him, his character, and his guidance, and the guidance so many seek in me, so much better in his hands, what he did for me, and in that, did for all of them. There is only one way to know a man's measure in these times, man who constantly stands at the precipice, whether he chooses to jump, or refuses to fall, and spares all others. Release never crossed his mind, as it did mine, so many times, where I never had the right, never deserved. He helped me see, now, from choice, or obligation, never will again, until the day I die.
On our way to the hovercraft, we meet with one of Paylor's troopers who escorts us the rest of the way. He debriefs me on the situation. District 2's military compound was never destroyed, merely blocked off and kept operational, out of Coin's sight. Shortly after our arrival in the inner Capitol, Plutarch caught word of District 13 troops being dispatched to all the Districts to incur authority. He reported to Haymitch, and he and the others boarded a train and alerted District 2, while Plutarch escaped 13, sent calls to each District, and arrived in 8 where he informed Paylor, and boarded a hovercraft that brought him to 2, where he met Haymitch and the others. Paylor lead her wide army into the Districts to rid 13's infantry from them. District 8 troops stormed 7 through 11, and District 2's armed forces raided all remaining Districts and the Capitol. The two armies now wage war across the nation with 13's thinly spread, leaderless forces.
We reach the hovercraft, and there I meet Paylor herself. "Soldier Everdeen, District 8's army is at your service, do you have any words?" She asks.
I look up at her. "Coin's dead, the militia lacks lead. Look for their crest, all District 13 soldiers are shoot on sight." I tell her, wearily.
"Yes ma'am." She says, beginning to head off.
"Wait!" I call, and as she comes back I pull the key card from my pocket. "Take it, get into 13, clear out the rest of them, spare the civilians, but make sure no remnants get out." I say, drifting off, but fully aware of the task at hand.
"Alright, and thank you." She says, patting me on the shoulder.
"Yes." I say, seeing her off, heading for the craft as the war rages on around us.
Haymitch and Johanna help us on. "Hurry, come on." They say, helping the two of us up.
"Uh, here." Says Peeta, pulling me up.
"Uh, thanks." I say, getting my footing.
They begin to seal the doors, and Johanna puts her hand on my back, seeing me to my seat. "Hey, sorry about your sister, kid." Says Haymitch, sympathetically.
"Yeah." Says Johanna, sadness in her face.
"Uh, thank you, thanks." I say, holding my head, still strained, until I take my seat next to Peeta. The craft takes to the sky, and I sit there, holding on to him, looking into his eyes. He just holds me, like he has, so many times before. I think back, the safety he always gave me, that he gives me now, that he likely shared with me, that I gave him. I feel safe now, but secure as well, as he holds me, and he looks into my eyes, as he probably does, that now, after all this, we can be sure of each other, their warmth, their care, their light, the hope we give one another. I sit there, he holds me, I hold him, and I know nothing will ever threaten to tear us apart again.
I sit there, in his arms, him in mine, and feel assurance, hope, and safety, like I've fallen into a dream, or another world, we now have the chance to live in, and it comforts me like nothing else before.
My mind suddenly jogs back to them, 12, the others, to Prim, and the feeling fades as the burn engulfs my body