A/N Thanks for following the story! I hope you are liking it! For the sake of not wanting to be incredibly repetitive, I've glossed over much of the action that happens in this chapter in the book (aka the takedown of the Nut). I didn't find it necessary to repeat and I know if you're reading this, you probably read the books and didn't come here just to read it again! I used some dialogue straight from the book for one of the major parts (©Suzanne Collins).
Enjoy! And thanks again for the support!
I have only about ten minutes to mentally prepare myself before I'm on the hovercraft, headed to District Two. I reassure Prim and Mom that I'm just a figurehead and am at little risk, though I'm not entirely sure I believe it. As walk down to the hanger, Boggs leading the way, I can't help but worry about Johanna and Peeta, each dealing with their own demons from the Capitol, trying so hard to overcome them together. I know refusing to go to Two puts both of their lives in danger but I can't help but fear for their safety anyways. I feel like I'm abandoning them again.
I think Cressida and her team must be coming too but when I ask, Boggs says that she's already there. He tells me that only a few people aren't already in Two. He has been there for weeks but came back specifically to get me, which I think is stupid considering his rank but I keep that to myself. When I walk up the ramp, I am surprised to see Gale, already strapped in for departure. I strap myself into a seat opposite of him and Boggs heads to the cabin to give the pilot the go ahead.
Gale and I sit in silence for a while; I'm determined to not be the first to speak and suspect he feels the same way. I still believe his plan is too violent, unforgiving. I prove to be more stubborn as he finally gives up.
"Katniss." I look up, providing him only a stare of indifference. He looks hurt and it feels satisfying. "C'mon, Catnip. You're my best friend. I can't go out there unless I know you have my back." I sigh.
"You know I'll always have your back. But I can't support you. I can't support the death of all these civilians, not without giving them at least a chance." He looks surprised and I want to smack him. He still doesn't think what he's doing is wrong?
"But we are giving them a chance. I thought they would have told you." He points with his head toward the cabin, referring to Boggs. I was told nothing. "We are leaving the train tunnels clear for survivors to escape. We will be prepared and armed, forcing them to surrender in the square." I'm so relieved I almost forget about how Gale wanted to leave them all for dead in the first place. "Beetee convinced us it was unwise to do otherwise." Of course, he didn't come to this decision himself; he was vetoed. Boggs returns and I'm relieved to not have to continue this conversation.
Boggs instructs me on what I'm supposed to do, which isn't much really. We are to be positioned in the square like Gale said but as always I'm there for the audience, for the potential of good television. It's sickening, knowing that my face is going to be on front of these casualties; even with the potential for survivors, I know there will be a significant number of deaths. I think of the way my own father died, drowning on coat-black smoke, buried under collapsed stone or blown to bits in an instant; I would never know exactly how he ceased to be. This time, the loved ones of those lost in the mines will just picture me, pulling the trigger.
We get there and I just feel physically ill. We land in a wood that reminded me of our own outside the fence in Twelve. I absently fantasize about climbing one of the trees and hiding until it's all over. Boggs leads me to a camp of rebels and introduces me to people who I can't imagine remembering once the day is over. I'm prepared as the Mockingjay, suit and all; I'm reunited with Cressida and team but I'm not particularly excited to see them. The rebel leaders and Gale all head to review their strategy and I decline joining them. I don't want to know the particulars on how they are doing this.
It all starts quicker than I could have ever imagined. The hovercrafts drop their bombs with precision and the world seems to shake around us. The leader of the rebels in Two takes us directly to the center of town, right to the Justice Building. The hovercrafts fired at the center square, forcing the Peacekeepers back and providing us with the main building. For now, all we do it wait for any signs of life to escape from the mountain. If anyone does, they will be forced into the square with hundreds of rebels prepared to fire. I wonder what is worse: to die in the mountain or to survive just to be shot right in the chest.
When it comes to be midnight and still no one comes, I feel sick and defeated; they've all died some horrible death similar to that of my father. They want me to make some sort of speech and I can't imagine actually being able to stand, not to mention get up and speak to a district that just lost thousands of people. Haymitch promises that it could save more lives and so I let Cressida put a mic on my suit and prop me up. I walk outside, standing on the very same stage where Peeta and I had to stare on at Cato and Clove's families during the Victor's Tour. It feels so wrong. Haymitch starts feeding me line and as I start to speak, the train finally pulls up. The doors open and people and smoke pour out like a deflated wave. The passengers are armed but badly wounded.
I watch as one young man falls to the ground and the red of burned flesh coats his back, visible though scorched holes in his shirt. I recognize the wound, having seen many victims from the coal mines thrown onto my kitchen table over the years. I can't help the scream that comes out. "Stop!" I hold my hands up to the rebels, aiming for the injured men. I run for the man when he gets to his knees and points his gun right at my head. I raise my bow above my head in a show of nonaggression and look into the eyes of a man filled with anger and pain. He asks me for a reason not to shoot me but I have none.
"I can't. That's the problem isn't it?" I lower my bow. "We blew up your mine. You burned my district to the ground. We have every reason to kill each other. So do it. Make the Capitol happy. I'm done killing their slaves for them." I drop my bow and kick it aside. The man glares at me.
"I'm not their slave," he mutters.
"I am. That's why I killed Cato, and he killed Thresh, and he killed Clove, who tried to kill me. And who wins? None of us in the districts, it's always the Capitol that wins. But I'm tired of being a piece in their Games." I can't help but feel like I'm still in the Games, being manipulated and killing people. I think of Peeta and the way the Capitol used and destroyed him, in exactly the way he never wanted to be used: as a pawn, specifically to destroy me. What am I right now? Haymitch speaks in my ear and says to keep talking, specifically about the mountain but I the words are stuck in my throat. I fall to my knees, now eye level with the man still holding his gun to my face. Haymitch speaks so rapidly in my ear I can barely follow. Remember who the real enemy is.
"What are you fighting for?" The words come out quiet, pleading. The man just looks at me, confused. "We all want the same thing. To be safe, to be free. To not have to watch our children get reaped to be killed by other children." I raise my voice so others can hear. "We," I motion toward the rebels and those in the street, "shouldn't be fighting each other. We aren't your enemy. The Capitol, they are the enemy! We need to stand together and fight the hold that they've had on us for too long. They are the ones that have killed the ones we love. This is our chance to put an end to the Capitol's reign but we need you to do it." I raise myself up and hold my arms out to the crowd. "We need all of you. Please, join us!"
I offer a hand out to the man in front of me but as he raises his own to accept it, a force slams into my chest and forces my body backward. As my back makes contact with the stone, chaos ensues. Gunfire, screaming. I hear Haymitch distantly telling someone that I have been shot before arms lift me and I'm carried from the battle zone.
The first thing that seems to register is the incessant beeping that reminds me that my heart is beating. I'm equally relieved and disappointed. At least if I were dead I wouldn't be playing these games, it'd all be over. Maybe even the hijacked Peeta would be better without having to even worry about me. I think of just curling up right here in this bed and staying asleep forever. I wish it was possible to just will myself into it. Maybe if I was asleep forever, the real Peeta would be there with me forever, too.
The familiar sound of the curtain sliding brings me back to the reality of this bed and the fact that I do in fact have a heart that continues to beat. I open my eyes to see Johanna's dark brown ones staring down at me. I notice the blue circles under her eyes and that she is shaking badly. Withdrawal is obviously taking a major toll on her. I don't have the fight for this.
"I knew you were stupid but I didn't think you were that stupid." She just shakes her head at me. "I'm surprised no one had tried to kill you sooner. It's a wonder you've even lasted this long." I try to sit up but the pain in my chest is awful and I can't.
Johanna pushes me over on the bed and I wince. She sits down and begins to mess with the IV in the crook of my arm, detaching it from the socket and then attaching it to her own. "What happened to cutting you off morphling?"
"You obviously don't need it." She sighs in relief as it feeds into her veins and I resist the urge to take it back. She clearly needs it though I can't deny my own body's needs too.
"Have you been shot recently? Then maybe you don't need it." She scoffs.
"Please, that bullet never touched you. Cinna made your armor thicker than the damn Peacekeepers'. All you did was bruise a few ribs and rupture an almost useless organ. And even if it was important, I'm sure they could find one for you. They need their precious Mockingjay." She rolls her eyes.
"They can keep their organs, I don't want to be the Mockingjay or anything for that matter." I avoid her gaze. "No one needs me." I seem to be making everything worse. I'm surprised no one tried to kill me sooner, too.
"Don't be stupid, you can't give up now. Peeta and I have been working hard while you've been lying in this bed and you need to start pulling your weight. Come on, girl on fire. That boy needs you." She unhooks herself from the morphling drip and puts it back in my arm. "Do you want me to leave you alone?" I shake my head. I'm sick of being alone. Johanna takes a hold of my hand and stays with me until I fall back to sleep.
The rest of the day is relatively uninteresting. The head doctor that Johanna has come to complain about makes a visit with me. He's a dull man with a voice that makes it hard to pay attention to what he's saying. He makes a weak attempt at concern for my wellbeing and the poor choices that seem to put me in situations of danger. I can't believe he's wasting my time with this and tune him out until he leaves. Johanna has a good laugh at my expense, finally not the one being psychoanalyzed.
Despite the protests of my body, the doctors won't let me lay around in bed all day. Prim offers to take laps around the wing with me, telling me all about her training to become a doctor. She seems to have aged 10 years since the reaping and I find myself equally resentful to the Capitol for forcing that on her but also grateful for this opportunity that she would have never had in Twelve. I can't help but wonder what my life will be like following the war. If I survive, I don't know what purpose my life will have. Taking care of my family has been my purpose since I was 11; who am I going to be when they no longer need me?
When the hospital goes quiet save for the beeping of our machines, I call out to Johanna. She offers a grunt in response. "What happens when the war is over?" It comes out in a whisper and she doesn't respond so I think she might not have heard me. The curtain opens and she sit down next to me on the bed.
"The way I see it," she keeps her voice at a whisper to match mine, "we could lose and if we do, you know they will kill us. Or we win and…" She trails off, thinking. "I guess we could die, too. But if we aren't dead, I don't know what will happen. I guess we keep living." I can tell by the way she says it that she doesn't seem to see that as a good thing.
"I don't know how to do that anymore," I say. She nods in understanding. I think all of us victors experience that feeling; pieces are taken from us, some larger than others. I don't know her story but I know Johanna suffered more than most. "How did you survive, after?"
"After the Games or after Snow killed everyone I love?" There is a challenge in her tone, daring me to ask, to wake a sleeping monster and hope it doesn't kill me. I wonder if she wants to tell me or if she just wants to see if I have the guts to pry into her life.
"I guess I want to know both." I leave her to decide what to divulge. It's like waking the monster with a gentle caress instead of jabbing it with a stick. She is silent for a while.
"Surviving after was okay for a little while. Things sort of continued like they had before, with added security. But apparently the pathetic girl act I played in the arena attracted some attention from the Capitol." She closes her eyes and wraps her arms around herself. "They wanted me to be that girl for them." Her face twists up in disgust. I know what she's referring to. Finnick shared his experience as a sex slave, being sold by the Capitol. "The only reason I did it was because they said they'd kill them all if I didn't. My dad, my brothers, my–" She puts her hand over her mouth, like she's about to be sick. "But I–I couldn't just–" She starts crying and I try to offer comfort but she just bats me away. She doesn't say anything for a while. Her body just shakes and I worry her frail body might snap like a twig.
After a few minutes, Johanna quiets and roughly wipes her face with her hands. "Don't you dare judge me, Mockingjay. I did the best I fucking could to save them." I'm taken aback.
"I wasn't–"
"Well don't even think of doing it." She runs a hand over the fuzz on her head. She shakes her head in an effort to collect herself. "After she died– after they died–I just tried to continue on with the motions of life. But I didn't have a life anymore. I think I chopped down a whole forest of trees. To tell you the truth, it never gets easier. When I had to mentor for the Games, the other victors were kind. At first, I hated Finnick and the way the Capitol manipulated him with his complete compliance but I know why he did it. He was protecting his girl while I couldn't protect mine. He turned out to be a good friend." She sighs. "You know, you think you don't know how to live but they are all still here. Peeta is still here."
She climbs off the bed and goes to her own, digging something out from under the mattress. She returns with the pad of paper and hands it to me. I don't want to see what is under the cover but I open it anyways. His nightmares come alive on the paper: the bakery burning to the ground, my hands around his throat, my arrow piercing in his chest, endless images of my face amongst destruction. But then I find images of him holding me in our cave, his fingers around a burned loaf of bread, a close up of his fingers touching my braid. I absently touch my fingers to my braid, neatly plaited earlier today by Prim.
Johanna smirks. "He said that your braid feels like home. Feels, not felt. If that doesn't give you a purpose to live, I don't know what will."