Wow, it took me a long time to update this. I'm not sure if anyone is waiting for an update but I'll do it anyway. Thank you to BriaraElanor for the lovely review and help! Not sure what to say about this chapter so I'll shut up and let you get on with it! Reviews are such a help, so please leave one!
Chapter 6
When I next open my eyes my mind is foggy, like there is a shimmering mist before me.
I can hear voices. Loud voices. I can't quite work out what they're saying—everything is fuzzy. I struggle to calculate who the voices belong to. The first, deep and rough: it seems to be trying to calm another voice—almost as deep and almost as rough. It takes a minute to differentiate between them. A woman's voice joins in, very high pitched and whiny.
I cover my ears but the shouting gets louder, so I pull the thin cover over my head and then pause to wonder where I am.
I've been in enough hospitals in my life to know what I'm looking at. Only now am I noticing the morphling drip attached to my arm. I give it an irritable tug, hoping it would move with me. It doesn't. I remain on my back, trying to block out the shouting. Who shouts in a hospital? There must be some kind of emergency, I conclude. More voices add to the din and I jerk the morphling drip again, eager for sleep to take me.
Like a flare in the night, my memories burst back to life in front of my eyes and, as the pain thumps me like a punch in the gut, I sit bolt upright, agonisingly alert. Well, as alert as one can be when they can't quite hear, move or think properly. Clearly I've had some kind of sedative that hasn't worn off yet. I rip the morphling drip from my arm and stagger to the door, blood dripping freely from the tear in my flesh where the needle used to be.
My fingers fumble uselessly for a handle but there is nothing to be seen but smooth metal. Despair crushes me as I slide down the wall next to the door, my knees giving out under me. I have to find someone and organise for Peeta's body to be buried somewhere nice. He'd want that. Maybe we could have a family gravestone for Robin and Gloriana too.
Haymitch must be around here somewhere. He wouldn't leave me after what just happened. My head throbs slightly when I put my hands to my forehead. I feel for the area that hurts and locate a heavy bandage encrusted in dried blood. What happened to me?
Then I remember falling forward and being unable to stop myself hitting the ground. I sigh and stare up at the ceiling. There are no words to describe the crushing pain and guilt that courses through my body. If I hadn't gone hunting with Gale—how many days ago? What is today's date? Where am I? It doesn't take long to realise that I'm too tired to care where I am, or when, for that matter. But it's not fatigue. It's deeper than that. It runs into my bones.
I'm really beginning to get annoyed with the shouting people. I'm trying to have a breakdown. My fingers drum the floor beside me as I consider my options. How do I escape a room with no visible way out? Just as I'm considering hitting the door with the stand holding my morphling, a hissing noise begins and the door slides open. I freeze. The shouting people are entering my room.
I rub my eyes in an attempt to clear my vision, which is still blurry. They haven't even seen me sitting here beside the door. The first person to enter my room is wearing a white dress that reaches to his ankles. His ankles? Just as I'm trying to figure out this odd piece of information a voice breaks through my cloudy hearing.
'Where is she?' the voice shouts. I stand up immediately and the half a dozen or so people turn to face me in shock.
It's Peeta. My mouth hangs open and I just stare at him. All the rage on his face drains completely to be replaced with wonder and a completely inescapable happiness. He's running towards me and scoops me up in his arms, spinning me round and round. I just hang limply in his arms, too shocked to even return his hug.
He's kissing me, all over my face, neck and shoulders as though he can't believe I'm here. As though he can't believe it? I can't force my brain to accept he's alive. I hear someone mutter something about shock. Peeta stops kissing me when he realises I haven't moved.
'Katniss?' he asks worriedly.
I blink up at him. My vision may still be blurry but there's something about his face that's different. There are small pink burns across his left cheek. They're all down his arm, too. 'Peeta?' I whisper.
He nods and tears spill from his eyes and before I know it, I'm crying and we're kissing, forgetting about everyone else in the room.
'I can't believe you're here! I thought you were dead!' I cry into his neck, my arms around him, holding him as close to me as I can. His arms crush my waist but I don't care—it's too good to be near him to even consider such a minor thing.
'I promised I'd never leave you,' he whispers into my hair.
A fresh wave of tears burst from my eyes and now he has me gathered up in his arms and he's placing me on my bed. I try to gulp down as much air as possible and stem the flow from my eyes but I just end up with pitiful hiccups. Peeta laughs, his tears still glistening on his cheeks.
I reach up and kiss the droplets so they vanish. He leans his forehead against mine as I notice we have the room to ourselves.
'I thought you were dead,' I repeat, more for my own benefit than his.
'I thought I was dead, too,' he replies. 'They've done a great job fixing me up. I think you need a new bandage though.' He crosses to a cabinet and searches through it until he comes across a long roll of gauze. He unwinds my bloody bandage and gently applies a fresh one.
I watch him incredulously as he works. I watch his long, tangled, blonde eyelashes flutter, his beautiful eyes crinkle in concentration and his soft mouth turns up at the corners when he notices I'm still studying him. I slowly raise my hand and brush his cheek. Then I run my fingers across his eyelids and eyebrows then into his hair, pushing it away from his forehead.
'Checking I'm real?' he asks, laughter in his voice. I stare into his eyes, my fingers still entwined in his soft hair. I nod slightly and my lips move to his again. I can't stop myself gliding my hands down his face, along his chin and down his neck to his chest where they remain.
I watch as his eyes take me in too and he strokes my face gently, not in the assessing way I did, but more to reassure me.
My heart is beating too fast and I can't bring myself to look away from his face, afraid that if I do I'll lose him again. He seems to sense this and places his hand in mine and I know instinctively that no matter what happens, we won't be letting go any time soon. The hissing noise comes again and the door slides open to reveal a nurse and two doctors.
I listen to their strange accents and I glance at Peeta. Are we in the Capitol?
Peeta speaks first.
'Where is the man that was here earlier?' he asks politely. The doctors ignore him but the woman turns towards us and smiles slightly at the sight of us sitting together. One of the doctors hurries to my side and shines a light in my eyes. I blink and he clicks it off before unwinding my new bandage and cleaning the wound with some foul smelling liquid.
'He's waiting along the corridor, I thought you two might want some alone time,' she says, obviously thinking she's being generous. Peeta and I would have behaved the same way had there been other people around or not.
'Can we see him?' Peeta asks. The woman inclines her head.
'I'll get him for you,' she says and leaves the room. The male doctors are much less friendly. They check Peeta's burns and assure him that after a month or so, no one will even see the scars. However, he is ordered to two weeks of bed rest in the hospital which he glumly agrees too.
They tell me that I can leave at the end of the week and just as they are parting, Haymitch sticks his head in the door.
'Well, sweetheart, you certainly gave us all a fright there,' he says. I grin at him sheepishly.
'Don't worry, Haymitch, I'm fine too,' Peeta says, rolling his eyes.
'One broken and three cracked ribs seems like you got off pretty lightly,' Haymitch says seriously. I look at Peeta, surprised and suddenly scared I'd hurt him during our reunion.
'You hurt your ribs?' I ask. 'Why didn't you tell me?' He shakes his head.
'And ruin that moment we were having? I don't care about the ribs, I just wanted you closer than you were. I probably have another bruised rib from hugging you but I couldn't possibly care any less.' He pulls me close again. Haymitch moves further into the room and claps Peeta's shoulder.
'You two get into more trouble than anyone else I've ever met,' he says. We smile simultaneously and I squeeze Peeta's hand.
'So, where are Gloriana and Robin?' Peeta asks Haymitch. He shifts his weight uncomfortably and my heart begins to race.
'Haymitch?' I ask. My nerves make my voice shake. My palms start to sweat and I feel Peeta's hand tighten to a vice-like grip on mine.
'They … uh—I shouldn't be the one to tell you this,' Haymitch says uneasily.
I don't say anything but my stomach drops through the floor. My happiness from having Peeta back drains immediately. I had assumed Gloriana and Robin were okay as well.
As it turns out, you should never assume anything without knowing all the details.
'They're dead,' I say bluntly and finality rings in my word that's completely irrevocable. Peeta's hand goes slack and I find my body caving in again, the way it did outside the burning house.
Suddenly the sadness goes out of me, and all I have left is raw, undiluted anger. I'm outraged at Locklyn Snow and her hideously brutal way of provoking me. She's angry that I—that I what? Killed her father?
I did not kill Snow. I guess, indirectly, I was responsible for the death he had. He may have died slightly prematurely—probably stress. No one's sure exactly how exactly he passed away.
Right now, the most pressing matter is the white fury I feel at having my world wrenched apart by Locklyn's vengeance for a crime I did not commit.
'She'll pay.'
Haymitch looks at me and sighs. 'The girl on fire's back then. Good, I thought we'd lost you for a while at the beginning there,' he says, pride threatening to break through his words. I push all my grief down, into a drawer at the back of my mind. I can see Peeta is not handling it as well as I am. I put my arm around his shoulders and help him to his feet. After all these years of Peeta being my shoulder to cry on, the tables have turned and now he's leaning on me.
'Where are you two going?' Haymitch asks, nonplussed.
'I'm going out to find out as much information about this Locklyn Snow as I can,' I say, 'and he's coming with me. I'm not leaving him. Ever again.'
I make it to the door before the dizziness overcomes me. I'm okay on my own but with Peeta's extra weight upon my shoulders; my head wound begins to bleed again. I start to fall but then Haymitch is there, his arms around me and Peeta, pulling us back to the bed.
'You are both staying in this hospital until you're better. I'll find out who this girl is. I have more contacts and useful resources than you,' he says snippily. He pushes me down onto the bed when I try to stand again. 'Sit,' he instructs. 'I'll send in your next visitors.' I watch him leave but then turn my attention back to Peeta.
'Peeta?' I ask, tentatively rubbing some heat into his fingers. He looks into my eyes and the previous happiness that was there, like mine, is completely shattered.
'What are we going to do?' he asks me quietly. I shake my head. I have an idea but I don't think he's ready to hear it. Peeta is a much better person than I am and I highly doubt he'll take too kindly to my plan to assassinate Locklyn Snow.
I put my arms around his neck and hold on until the door slides open again and we break apart. I turn to see Gale and another doctor come in. It takes a minute to register who this medic is. My mother. She runs straight to me and enfolds me in her arms.
Gale waits patiently until she's done. She steps back, tears pouring down her face.
'Oh, Katniss, when they called to say you were in hospital I had to do everything I could to get you and Peeta to the Capitol where you could be looked after properly. I'm just glad I pull a bit of weight here otherwise Peeta would have been completely disfigured for the rest of his life and he probably would have lost the use of his left eye and arm...' she says hurriedly fluttering her hands around me, vainly searching for something to do to help. It makes me more depressed to hear about Peeta's predicament before the Capitol surgeons helped him, but I know my mother is just trying to help.
Gale steps forward and smiles at me tentatively. I smile back and look over my shoulder at Peeta who nods and releases my hand. I know he's giving me permission to love Gale too, but I have to show restraint. Peeta will break if he loses anymore or takes the slightest emotional hit.
I surge forward and place my arms around Gale's neck, and he leans his head against mine.
'I'm so sorry, Katniss,' he murmurs. 'I should've done more for you. Went into the house and got them out or something….' He trails off, waving a hand in the air vaguely. I shake my head and rub my index finger under his eye which seems to be sparkling with those unwelcome tears he seems to get quite often now. I step back to Peeta's side but I look at him sadly, reassuring him I'm not going anywhere.
'I'm so sorry about Gloriana and Robin,' my mother whispers, a hand over her eyes as though she can't bear to look at me. Or maybe she can't bear for me to see her.
Peeta seems to have recovered a bit. He stands next to me but I can feel him radiating grief even through his attempts to be strong. His expression mimics my own.
We are hard now. We've lost too much to be unable to take everything that's thrown at us.
Right now, we have an impending threat on our radar once again and we will have to find a way to deal with it. As we seem to agree on this telepathically our nurse from earlier enters and ushers Gale and my mother out, telling them we need rest. Gale hugs me and offers his hand to Peeta who shakes it without the slightest flicker of emotion and my mother hugs us both and blows us a kiss on the way out. The nurse wheels in another bed, exactly like the one I am using.
'I thought you'd want to be together. Some of the other staff aren't too happy: it's against protocol but I think circumstances would allow for a little change here. I mean, you are the Mockingjay after all,' she tells me and clasps my cold hand in hers for just a second and then she's gone.
Peeta and I ignore the second bed and curl up on mine, just the way we always have but neither of us sleeps. We don't know what time it is but it doesn't seem as though we'll be doing much else other than lie here for a while.
Thoughts whizz around my head at one hundred miles per hour and I can feel Peeta shift occasionally at my back. Eventually, I roll over to face him and find his eyes are wide and staring. I close my eyes and kiss his lips. He kisses me back softly and we can feel each other's grief. I don't allow myself the luxury of tears—I've resolved to be strong for Peeta but watching him now makes that resolve waver. These are not our usual, happy kisses but something much more intense that creates a bond that joins our chests together like a bright light—only less tangible. We can't see it but we know it's there, stronger than ever before.
It will catch up to us eventually though. I am sure of it. While we lie together my eyes trace his face, memorising every plane and angle it has. I'm so afraid I'll lose him again that I can't take my eyes off him. He seems to feel the same and his fingers gently caress my face and neck. The artificial lighting in the room gives absolutely no sign of the time of day or night so we just lie there and stare at each other until the door slides open and a new nurse enters carrying a breakfast tray. We don't move or acknowledge his presence. He places the tray on the other bed and leaves without saying anything to us.
This doesn't bother us. We make no move for the rest of the day apart from to share one of the rolls they have provided. I think that this is our own private way of saying goodbye to our children.
When Haymitch appears many hours later we finally look away from the other's face but we don't release our grip on each other's hand.
'So I found out a few things but there's hardly any information on her at all, I think we'll need to take a trip to District Thirteen and raid their database. Who knows, maybe they'll want to help?' he tells us. He pulls a plastic chair over to our bedside and sits heavily.
'OK, she's the same age as you two, her mother died of pneumonia and she was born out of wedlock,' he pauses for effect but Peeta and I just blink at him. 'Well, here's the exciting part, her mother had her while Snow was married to another woman, which explains why there's no records of her. I had to find everything out by word of mouth and a lot of cash changed hands,' he adds, which I'm sure is for our benefit to show how much he's doing for us. 'Turns out that Locklyn's mother wasn't even from Panem which put Snow in a difficult position because it was his law that said you couldn't marry or have children with outsiders. His hands were tied, so to speak.' Haymitch concludes. Peeta nods slowly.
'So, what you're saying is Locklyn was born to a woman form another country and was raised in secret?' he asks slowly. Haymitch nods.
'And now she has a chip in her shoulder about who killed her father,' I conclude. We all know Snow wasn't murdered but we're not sure how he died. For a moment we consider this and then Haymitch remembers something else.
'The other night, I was out drinking and I heard some people talking about those murders in Two. They said they thought it was Snow's kid and his wife and their daughter. Remember the grand-daughter that Coin wanted to put in the Games? Alva? I think she was the thirteen year old kid Gale mentioned. They had to go into hiding after Snow died because it would be too dangerous for them. I think they were killed because they were related to Snow,' he says thoughtfully.
It makes a sick kind of sense. Locklyn kills her half-brother because she wants to take power and she knows if the order collapses she'll come into power rather than the only legitimate child. The people are far more likely to relate to a family member of the old ruler than a newcomer.
'I wonder who killed them though,' Peeta is musing when I re-join the conversation. I frown. Haven't we just worked this out?
'Locklyn killed them.' How had they not put two and two together? Peeta shakes his head.
'It doesn't make sense. Why is she out avenging a father she never knew but she killed her half-brother for nothing? It doesn't fit.' I frown but I see he's right. One act is of compassion, the other of cruelty. They don't align.
'We'll figure it out,' Haymitch says and begins to stand. Oh, and will you two please get some rest. You both look horrible. I know you're always having these intense moments where you do nothing but stare at each other but you're supposed to be recovering. Especially you Peeta.' And with that he goes, leaving behind just the faint smell of white liquor. I flush.
When Haymitch puts it like that it sounds as if Peeta and I just sit around looking at each other—he makes it sound stupid but in reality it is one of the few things that keeps me going in hard times, knowing Peeta's always there to protect me.
Peeta just takes me by the waist and pulls me to him.
'I'm glad you're here, Katniss. I couldn't do this without you,' he tells me.
'I'm glad you're here too. I can't lose you again,' I say, desperation shining in my voice.
'You won't,' he says fiercely. This reassures me. The hard look in his eyes is back—his gaze is soft for me but hard for those looking to harm me. I want to add Gloriana and Robin to the list but then flames flicker in my head and I shudder. Peeta takes me in his arms and leads me back to bed.
The next week passes uneventfully—occasionally Haymitch would pop by to deliver another useful titbit he's picked up and my mother even appears a few times bringing us cakes and fruits.
By the time I'm ready to leave the hospital, Peeta still needs another week so I spend it by his bedside, sleeping in the plastic chairs and always waking, startled by dreams of fire and child-sized coffins.
Once the week has passed, Peeta is allowed to leave so we head out into the Capitol, not knowing what we could expect from the next few months. Just as we walk from the doors of the hospital a black car pulls up in front of us and Haymitch rolls down the window.
'Get in,' he orders, so we quickly climb in and the car moves smoothly away from the pavement. I watch the crowds melt past the windows, looking just as absurd as the last time I was here.
We finally reach the edge of the city and the car takes us down a side road which leads to a hovercraft launch bay. The only hovercraft to be seen has an enormous District Thirteen stamp printed on the sides. A ladder falls to the ground as we approach but unlike the Hunger Games' hovercrafts, this one does not freeze you to the ladder so we cling on as it reels us inside.
When we are all safely in and the ship is moving we settle into soft leather seats and are offered a meal. They bring us a plate of turkey with roast potatoes and miniature carrots and a small tureen of gravy with mugs of steaming hot chocolate each.
Having had nothing but hospital food for the last few days, Peeta and I dig right in. Once we're finished, attendants take our plates away and provide us with coffee that I avoid. Peeta sips politely but I can't touch the stuff. Haymitch asks for something to drink but is informed that District 13 still does not allow alcohol inside. I try to supress a smile when he sighs petulantly and drops back onto his seat.
The ride is mostly quiet for the first few hours and Peeta and I get some sleep, leaning against each other, despite that the naps never last longer than an hour—we are always woken by our similar nightmares.
When we arrive in 13, Peeta and I take hands again. For the last few weeks we have always been touching in one way or another. We climb onto the ladder and Peeta holds me tightly to his side until the ladder touches the ground and then he helps me to climb down. We are greeted by two army officers and they march Peeta, Haymitch and I down into another car which carries us through the birth of the first District 13 above ground city in almost a century.
The buildings are small but surprisingly well built. The car stops outside a low grey building with moss growing in the cracks and crevices. I recognise this as the entrance to the underground section of 13. The section we'd seen the last time we were here.
'They know we're coming then?' I ask Haymitch. He nods but is straining with the lack of alcohol and is clearly struggling to keep his temper under control. I know how he feels.
It seems as though the first thing someone says to me that is even in the slightest way wrong will cause me to snap. I wonder vaguely who runs District Thirteen now in an attempt to keep my mind off those things.
We are bundled into a lift and it drops like a rock. My stomach plummets with it and I feel my head begin to spin. I don't think I should be taking many of these elevator rides with my head like this. Peeta puts his arm around my shoulder until the lift finally stops. We step out into the grey corridor and are instantly greeted on all sides by military personnel. I'm awestruck as people salute Peeta and me as we pass. They stop to make way for us, their hands by their brows. I don't know how to return any of this until Peeta salutes back and they all go back to what they were doing.
From then on, I return the gesture solemnly. We are led to Command where, at the head of the table sits President Paylor. I see things in District 13 haven't changed much at all. Everyone still wears the uniform grey and the purple ink itinerary on the inside of their forearms.
The last time I was here, Gale and I were required to wear these once District 12 had been destroyed and 13 was supposed to be our new home. Paylor stands and offers us her hand. We shake it and we're directed into seats around the table where we're quickly joined by Plutarch Heavensbee, Fulvia Cardew, his assistant, and more official looking officers. A few soldiers line the walls in sober silence.
I glance around. It' clear District 13 aren't dropping their defences. More becomes clear to me as Paylor speaks.
'Welcome back to 13. I know this is a hard time for you both so I'll get right to the point.' Though Paylor is not as cold as Coin was, she is still sharp and a little abrupt. 'Once again, we find ourselves under threat by a member of the Snow family,' she says seriously. 'Not only does she pose an enormous risk to us, she poses the same hazard to the rest of Panem. For a few months now, the Special Forces teams in Two, Four, Eight and Eleven have been working alongside us to bring her down. You all know I'm talking about Locklyn Snow, of course.
Apparently, her father left her all of his money which has allowed her to create a highly skilled, highly dangerous task force of mercenaries. Her weapons arsenal is enormous alongside her detail of hovercraft and bomber planes. She is a code red threat. We have so far been unable to infiltrate her groups but we're working on it as we speak.
'I know how difficult this is for you,' she directs at us again, 'but we need you both and Gale Hawthorne with our cause. We can protect you. We know you have no home, and you need protection. We know your children are dead because of her,' I wince but she carries on as though nothing has happened, 'and we know that you seek revenge.' At this she looks at Haymitch who refuses to meet her eyes.
Peeta and I sit for a moment taking in all that Paylor has told us. It is pretty plain that our basic knowledge of Locklyn Snow doesn't extend to cover this kind of thing. Paylor's deputy clears his throat and we look at him.
'There have also been murmurings of an attack on the hospital that your mother works in,' he tells us, his voice deep and gravelly, 'we are having her evacuated right now.' It doesn't take me long to piece together the view that they'll do anything in their power to get me on their side.
'We need our Mockingjay,' Plutarch says cheerily. I frown at him. I'm not the Mockingjay anymore. I can't be. I'm defeated. But before I can say this, Peeta has answered for me.
'We'll do it,' he says firmly. Paylor smiles and Plutarch actually claps his hands together, a huge grin spreading across his face—Plutarch remains unperturbed in any situation no matter how dangerous or life-threatening it may be. I whip my head around to face Peeta but he doesn't look at me.
I'm shocked he's made this decision for both of us without even conferring with me. I'm shocked he's made this decision for Gale.
However, my worry at the latter is futile because at that moment the door slides open and there Gale is. He wears the same grey clothing as all the other soldiers and has a comunicuff around his wrist. He's already made the decision.
I wonder how long he's been here for. I vaguely recall his absence in the hospital after his first visit.
'So, we'll have another meeting tomorrow,' Paylor informs us, gathering up loose pieces of paper and bundling them together. 'Today was just to get you on board … but we all assumed you'd need more convincing. I know how much you lost during the last war.' With that, she bustles out of the room, her deputy and a few soldiers hurrying after her.
Gale smiles at us.
'I'm kind of excited to be back,' he tells us. I glower at him. I'm not. Although I know we need to take care of Locklyn Snow before things become any worse, I don't want to be involved with District 13 again.
At least there's no Coin. Alma Coin had ordered the parachute drop that killed my sister. So I killed her. That simple thought—it strikes me how at ease I am with murder. That's another thing about 13 that puts me off. Despite the acceptance of the Hunger Games by the Capitol in the past, District 13 promotes killing by children as well.
At the age of fourteen children are introduced into army ranks as a soldier. It disgusts me.
Once everyone but Gale has left Command I turn on Peeta.
'What were you thinking?' I ask angrily. 'You didn't even wait to see if this is what I want!'
'Is it what you want?' he asks. I pause. No, it's not what I want. But, what I want is to kill Snow. If it takes the military assistance of 13 then that's what I need to do. For a few seconds I consider my options. Damn it.
'Fine, we'll stay! But we kill Locklyn how and when I say.' Peeta nods and turns away. This hurts but I'm not sure why. I half hold out my hand for him to take, but I don't think he sees it so I drop it back to my side.
Gale beckons us to follow him. Moving through the corridors is a surreal experience. It feels a lot like being back in the rebellion.
This time, however, people stop continually to pay their respects to us and surprisingly, Gale too. I look at him quizzically and he smiles.
'You know that job I have in District Two?' he asks, casually. 'Well, it's with a Special Forces division, top secret stuff. I couldn't even tell you, but you've no idea how much I wanted to. Mostly everyone in District Thirteen knows all about it. I guess I can tell you now because we're all involved. Even if you don't want to be,' he adds seeing my face. It's not like I don't want to kill Locklyn. I do. It's just that I wanted to do it my way. Without the interference of government.
No wonder they recruited Gale. When he was last here, he was the best soldier 13 had so naturally, a place was offered to him. He leads us to cabin number 367 and opened the door for us. It was almost identical to the one I shared with my mother and Prim last time we were here, except there is a small double bed, low to the ground, instead of bunk beds.
I go to the bedside table and open the top drawer. It's empty. Unsure what else I expected, I sink onto the hard mattress, knowing the next few months will be practically unbearable.
I think of Finnick Odair, dead after being savaged by the Capitol's mutts. I think of Boggs, my patrol's leader who'd been blown apart by a bomb hidden in the Capitol's roads. I think of the Messala, the co-director of our propos during the rebellion and how he'd died. I think of the unnamed woman whom I'd shot in the chest when we'd entered her house from the underground tunnels. I think of the decimated ruins that were once my city, littered with bodies after the firebombs killed more than ninety per cent of the population.
All the losses that have hurt me the most are almost directly linked to me and my actions. I don't know how many people have died for me. Don't be so selfish, I tell myself. People didn't die for me. They died for a cause they believe in. But the memory that hurts the most is Peeta's Capitol-induced hatred of me.
I can't reconcile the image of his perfect face twisted in hatred with the face that cried when he first seen me in the hospital. They are two different people. Peeta swoops forward and grabs my hands. I blink in surprise—I hadn't even noticed my fingers twisting together painfully until now.
'Katniss, you're scaring me. We can leave now if you want, I'd rather die than stay here with you unhappy,' he says, twisting his cold fingers into mine. I shake my head firmly.
Although we've been inside for so long, neither of us can seem to get warm. Even in the hospital, wound together and under a cover, we both felt ice cold. I sniff once and Peeta wraps me in his arms.
'Don't be afraid,' he whispers. I'm not scared. I don't know where he got that impression from but I don't bother to correct him. If at some point I need to get us out before Peeta realises I can probably use this to my advantage. I put my arms around his neck and swallow my guilt at this thought.
But I will protect him. He needs me. I need him, more importantly.
If we need to leave but he doesn't want to, I'll need something to use as leverage. Gale coughs slightly and we break apart. He tells us that we'll get our schedules tomorrow morning and we can take the rest of the day to ourselves.
'Just don't go above ground. We need to keep you safe,' he says to me and disappears down the corridor.
'We?' I say towards the door from which he left. I guess Gale's with them now. Then I have to remind myself that it's not how it was when Coin was in charge. These people are genuinely trying to help me. There is no "them". Just "us".
Then why don't I believe it?
I take a deep breath and go to the tiny adjoining bathroom. I take a shower until it is cut off and a warning flashes telling me I'm wasting water.
District 13 have prepared for these wars and they'll probably never stop being organised even if there are never any more. Then it hits me. That's exactly what this will be. Another war. Not as widespread as the last, I hope, but a war all the same. Perhaps more dangerous because Locklyn doesn't have the pressure of the whole country watching her every move as her father did.
I slide a stiff robe on when I step from the shower and return to our cabin. I jump when I hear a noise from my behind me and spin on my heel, but it's just Peeta. Of course it's Peeta. I'd completely forgotten about his being here—my mind is so full of worries and errant thoughts I can't focus on more than one thing at a time.
He's sitting at the tiny table, hunched over, his head in his hands. He's not handling it well at all. I try to make my feet move to him but I can't. I stand for a minute. I don't think he's heard me enter the room—I move much more quietly than he does. I don't want to go to him. I can't comfort him when I can't even comfort myself.
I consider slipping back into the bathroom but I've already had too many heartless thoughts today. I shift a chair and the noise startles him.
'Oh, you scared me,' he says, standing. I pretend not to notice the sparkle in his eyes that looks suspiciously like tears. I've seen more than my fair share of the strongest people in my life breaking down.
'Sorry,' I mumble. The exchange is awkward and I don't like it. I bite my lip and he runs his hand through his hair, mussing it.
Robin wanders into my mind. His wavy blonde hair falling into his eyes much the way Peeta's does now. I see too much of them in him. Gloriana in his eyes and Robin in his build, gait and hair. I can't look at Peeta anymore. I hurry out the door and into the corridor. My wet hair casts splashes on the stone floor and I run along the passageway, my bare feet slapping on the hard surface
I search for one of my many hiding places. The store cupboard is the object of my hunt now but it's been too long since I was here and everything is too uniformly grey. I meet no one while I run but I don't stop for a long time. I wind through the corridors making lightning fast decisions when it comes to a left or right option. I have no idea where I'm running to now, I'm pretty sure the store cupboard is several floors below me but I carry on, too scared to stop.
As I take a sharp right, I smack straight into a military jacket.
'Are you all right?' a voice asks, holding out a hand to help me up from the ground where I'd landed. I ignore the hand but jump to my feet, backing away quickly. It's a young soldier and realising who I am; he hurriedly salutes and begins to beg my forgiveness for knocking me over.
'Stop!' I cry, repelled by his grovelling. He's no more than sixteen years old.
'I'm sorry, Mrs Mellark,' he mumbles and rubs the back of his neck. I start. He's the first stranger to use my correct second name in a while. Everyone else has used the name Everdeen.
'Ugh, why is everyone treating me like this?' I groan. The soldier looks confused for a moment.
'Like what, ma'am?' He frowns confusedly. I wave my hand at him.
'Like this. All polite and respectful. Everyone practically ignored me last time,' I say exasperatedly.
'Oh.' I hear relief in his voice; he can answer this question. 'Everyone understands your role in bringing down the Capitol in the rebellion and equally your anticipated role in destroying Locklyn Snow and her agenda,' he says, his voice almost proud. I cock an eyebrow.
'Right. What does everyone expect me to do?' I ask levelly. He glances over his shoulder and shifts his weight.
'Well, I think it's generally thought that you'll take up the Mockingjay image again. I know that it's never really left you but they want propos and things again, like last time. President Paylor wants as many people to know about this and get behind the Mockingjay as possible. She hopes that other Districts' Secret Services will become involved. We need as much help as we can get. Hasn't she told you any of this?' he asks abruptly, obviously realising he's said too much without permission. I nod and start to leave before he can say anything more.
Paylor is using me. I don't know if I mind yet. I want Locklyn dead but I'm still unsure if I want help or not.
This time I don't run. I walk down the hallways wrapped in my own thoughts. It takes me a few seconds to register that someone is calling my name. I blink and look around but I can't see anyone so I just carry on walking, wondering if it's just in my head.
Another soldier rounds the corner ahead of me, so I turn on my heel and walk back the way I came, wanting to avoid another conversation like the one I had just had.
'Katniss!' the soldier shouts, but I just quicken my pace. 'Hey, stop!' The soldier's footsteps break into a run and I stagger forward as well, unsure why I'm being chased. I bolt around a corner and throw open a door.
It's a room filled with crates containing cleaning supplies. I hurl myself behind a metal cage of toilet paper and sit on the ground, panting. I hear the footsteps of the soldier reach the corner and hesitate, clearly deciding if I ran on to the next turn or went into the room.
The door clicks open and light falls in a shaft to my left.
'Katniss?' the soldier whispers softly. I roll my eyes, the voice belongs to Gale. I'd been too caught up to even realise that it was him calling my name. The door begins to close and I reach my hand out to touch the rapidly disappearing strip of light.
My skin is creamy ivory in the glow and I close my fist to catch the impossible. The light suddenly stops receding and long white fingers are wrapping around my wrist, pulling me to my feet.
'What do you think you're doing?' Gale asks, his voice thin and an octave higher than usual. I glance up at his face, shadowy with his back to the light. There's a line between his eyebrows which I use my fingers to smooth away. 'Why are you wearing nothing but a bath robe?' I look down at myself and then shrug. 'You infuriate me sometimes, Katniss,' Gale sighs and begins to tow me from the store room. I try to twist my wrist from his grasp but his hold is unbreakable. 'Quit, would you? I'm not letting you go,' he tells me.
After this, I let him drag me from the room and pull me along the corridor again, down two flights of stairs, along another corridor exactly identical to all the others and I begin to remember my way around.
'You don't have to babysit me, I wasn't trying to run or anything,' I say petulantly.
'Right, but I don't get how you think hiding in a closet will help you decide if you need Thirteen's help. It won't change anything.' Only Gale can possibly know this much about me without even asking a single question. He alone can see through my defences and walls, straight to the true problem.
It won't change anything. I know he means my children's fate but he's too worried for me to bring it up outright.
He leads me down another corridor which has a door guarded by four unsmiling soldiers. I quickly recognise this as the armoury. I pull the neck of my robe a little tighter and I'm suddenly very aware of my attire.
I can tell the guards are deliberately trying not to look at me too much but they ask Gale to hold out his schedule for the day. He does and when they look at me he waves them away, telling them I've only just arrived today and I don't have one.
The sickly purple ink glares at me from the inside of Gale's arm and we're ushered through the doors where we have our finger prints scanned. Once again I find myself wondering what the need for this huge amount of security is. As far as I know, no one has ever attempted a robbery of the District 13 armoury.
We have our retinas scanned and go through another door to a DNA scanner. Two more guards send us through a metal detector and then we are put through a second round of DNA testing. We are finally let into the armoury to see a very familiar figure hunched over a metal table strewn with electronic devices and hi tech tools.
'Beetee!' I say in surprise and he turns pushing his glasses up his nose.
'Katniss! It's nice to see you,' he says brightly. I can hear strain in his voice despite his cheerful demeanour. I go to his side and glance over his shoulder but I can't make a bit of sense from the jumble of wires and electronic equipment.
'What are you working on?' I ask. He rubs his head and pushes his hair away from his eyes.
'President Paylor wants a new range of weaponry that has integrated self-destruct measures. It's proving to be very difficult. Every time I think I get close, a problem arises with the explosives. It's very dangerous; too much movement and the whole thing will blow. I had a very close call last month. I spent a week in hospital after it,' he concludes. I frown.
I don't like the sound of the new weapons Paylor wants and I can't understand what the need for self-destructing weapons is anyway. Gale moves up to the table as well.
'Is there something here for Katniss?' he asks in a stage whisper. Beetee glances up at him in surprise but an instantly knowing look crosses his face.
'Yes, I think there's something.' He crosses to a glass fronted cabinet full of dangerous looking spears with flashing lights near the base. He reaches into the case, pushes a few aside and extracts a long golden bow. He turns and proudly holds it out to me.
'I designed it myself,' he tells me and slides it into my hands. It is extremely lightweight and excellently balanced with a taught string for shooting a long distance. He rolls a sheath of black arrows into my arms as well and I recognise the writing along the top. It's the same print as the flaming arrow I shot on Remembrance Day. I look up at Beetee and he's smiling slightly, sadness in his eyes. He lost people too; he understands. These arrows read; MOCKINGJAY in golden writing below the midnight feathers. It's a little gaudy but as I understand it, that's exactly what Paylor wants. Attention for the cause.
'It's similar to your last Mockingjay bow in that it reacts to your voice and only your voice and you alone can control it, and I know your last one it was destroyed in the fire,' Beetee says, eyes trained on the ground. 'I've supplied you with the usual explosive arrows, flaming arrows, regular arrows and a few extras that I'm very proud of.'
I look down into the quiver and realise it's divided into several sections, the first three the ones Beetee described, and the other three, he explains to be electrically charged after being released from the bow, one has a rocket propeller on the back, allowing it to go much further and the final type sends a jet of poison out through the tip on contact in case the arrow doesn't kill the target. I whisper to the bow and it immediately starts to vibrate gently in my palm.
I grin at him and attach a normal arrow to the bow, pulling it back and sending it straight into the wall at the other side of the room. I can see that it's buried in the solid wall at least halfway up the shaft. My grin widens. Beetee smiles and turns back to his work. I remove the arrow from the wall and return it to my new sheath. Another thing I notice is my lack of knife. Since my stint in hospital I'd felt oddly naked without one but I don't ask for one. I don't feel like pushing Beetee's hospitality.
'Beetee's been working with District Thirteen for a few months now, developing new weapons,' Gale tells me.
'Why? This isn't like last time,' I tell them, but I'm not sure if I'm convincing Gale and Beetee, or myself. They exchange glances and I can't help but think I'm being left out of the loop.
Everything that everyone has told me leads to the conclusion that 13 is preparing for a war. Again.
'You should probably get back to your cabin now, dinner is at half past six and reflection has already begun,' Gale says quickly, glancing down at his schedule.
I make to leave but he stops me, holding his hand out for the bow and arrows. 'No weapons outside the armoury, Catnip.' I can tell he's trying to soften the command with my nickname but I hand over the bow, twist my arm from his and march out without returning his joke. Obviously, I wouldn't be allowed a knife, even I wanted one.
I hover outside my cabin door for a few moments, debating what I'll say to Peeta. In the hospital, our relationship had seemed fine. Perhaps that was only due to the solitude, the need for someone else to understand—the only interruptions we had were by the nurses and attendants bringing us food, water and clean clothes. Now, under the pressure of attention from all sides, our connection is strained and tense. There are plenty of people here who would understand what Peeta and I are going through. Many of the people here have lost their families too. But I can't lose Peeta.
Just the thought makes me shiver with fear, but I don't know how to bridge the gap between us at the loss of our children. Maybe it's my fault. Peeta could see me for what I truly am. A fake. I could have tried harder to save them. I'm sure if I'd begged Gale he would have let me go, or maybe even helped me. Gale loved Gloriana and Robin too.
Now, Peeta is on one side of the door and I am on the other. And for perhaps the first time, I don't want to see him. He knows I'm guilty of letting our children burn to death. That's why he won't look me in the eyes.
The sound of oncoming footsteps forces me to push the door open and step inside the cabin. But all my worrying has been for nothing. He's not even here. I push my damp hair away from my face and neck and throw myself into a chair.
I don't know if it's worse or better that Peeta isn't here but suddenly I feel small, distant and alone. I curl up like a cat on my chair and wish for his arms around me.
It's worse. Much worse.
At some point I must have fallen asleep because when I next open my eyes it's to find Gale dragging my arm over his shoulder and pulling me towards the bed. I let him take me. I don't think I have the strength to take myself. He pulls back the covers with one hand and gently lays me on the pillow. I close my eyes, allowing the darkness to overcome me again. I feel something warm and soft brush my brow but I'm too far gone to really take anything in.
My dreams are filled with long corridors and doors that don't open, children shrieking and fires crackling, explosions and gunfire, a beautiful bird call and an evil laugh. Once again, I wake, screaming and sweating to find the room in complete darkness. I blink a few times to get my bearings and notice a shadowy figure sitting at the table, head resting on arms.
I quietly move from the bed but I know that any attempts at silence now are futile—I've just screamed myself awake. However, the boy at the table is asleep; his face furrowed into a frown, dark eyebrows mashed together, eyes moving around below his eyelids. Gale stayed with me. I crouch down next to him.
'Gale,' I whisper, shaking his arm. He mumbles something and his eyelids flicker open.
'Hey, what are you doing up?' he asks, rubbing his eyes and stretching.
'Bad dreams,' I say, turning away.
'Hmm, I know the feeling.'
'You don't have to stay here, you know. Go back to your cabin and get some proper rest, will you? You can't be comfortable there.' Gale squints at me through the darkness.
'I didn't want to leave you. That's the third or fourth time you've woken. In the beginning it was only for a few seconds and you just took a couple of deep breaths and went back to sleep.'
I frown but I don't remember waking up at any other point during the night. 'Where's Peeta?' I ask quietly but Gale just shrugs and cracks his fingers.
'I don't actually know. He should have been here for reflection and then he should have been at dinner but neither of you turned up so I came to have a look for you. I meant to look for Peeta too, but—' he pauses, '—I got a little side-tracked.'
I'm glad he can't see my blush in the gloom.
'Thanks,' I tell him, 'for getting me to bed and everything.' He smiles at me and stands up from the chair. 'You don't think Peeta's left, do you?' I ask, suddenly worried. Gale shakes his head.
'No way, he'd never have gotten above ground without passing several sets of guards who would definitely want to know where he's going, and several pass card scanners. We'd know if he attempted to leave.' He says this so confidently I am utterly reassured.
'Should we look for him? I thought everyone had to be inside their own cabins by ten o'clock,' I say adjusting my robe again.
'Since the rebellion some rules have been relaxed, certain people can move around at night-time—if you have the clearance. Peeta must have gotten confirmation from Paylor.'
I don't tell Gale but I do wonder why Peeta would want to be out at night anyway. Other than Gale, Beetee, myself, and maybe a few others, Peeta doesn't really know anyone here. I find myself yawning hugely and Gale takes me by the arm and leads me back to bed.
Once he has returned to his chair he settles himself back on his arms and closes his eyes. I lie watching him for a long time, unable to find sleep. I watch the steady rise and fall of his broad shoulders as he breathes, I watch his muscles ripple below his grey shirt as he shifts unconsciously and I watch the left side of his sleeping face move in and out of his dreams.
When I finally turn away from him I feel myself craving Peeta's arms. I wonder where he is and why he's left me alone. But I'm not alone. I have Gale's company. But it's Peeta that I want. And he isn't here.
So I fall back into a troubled sleep alone.