Author's Note: Been a while, guys. Do I have any readers left? Nahh, I don't think so. Guess we'll find out, right?
Disclaimer: The Hunger Games trilogy belongs to Suzanne Collins.
I pull my comforter around me more tightly. Peeta's sitting at the foot of my bed, sketching something in black ink. I close my eyes and listen to the rhythmic scratching. Sunlight filters through the blinds, and the hovercraft is gliding so smoothly that if I couldn't see outside, I'd doubt it was even moving.
I pull the sheets up to my nose. "Peeta?"
He turns to look at me. "Hm?"
"Do you think Gale's okay?"
He turns back to his drawing. He doesn't say anything.
"Peeta?" I say tentatively.
He sighs. "I really don't know. I mean, he's been through a lot. And if you think about it, it was harder on him. I mean… we thought they were clones. He knew they weren't. Can you imagine…?"
He locks eyes with me. Does he look different? Not older, exactly. I've never been good at reading emotions on anyone but Gale. "And then that video." He tilts his head and looks out the window. "Even Haymitch didn't see that one coming." His eyebrows crease. "I think."
I laugh, but I think we both notice the note of hysteria in it. We settle back into silence. He resumes scratching the paper, and I watch him work. I can't tell what it is—it's just a bunch of light lines and scribbles. He adds in a few dark lines, and then falters. He puts the pencil down. "He'll be okay," he says finally. He opens his mouth as if to say more, but obviously thinks better of it.
I look down. Aren't I always doing this? Hiding myself away, cocooning myself from all my troubles? And when has it ever worked? I think back to the day they announced what the Quarter Quell would be. I remember how I just ran, how I didn't think about anything but how I would never go back into the arena. Did I think about my family? Of Peeta? Of Gale?
Peeta went straight to Haymitch. During the first games, he led Cato away from me. During the second, he tried to die for me. I'd always thought I was strong. I led my family through my father's death, I hunted. I survived. Did that mean I had strength?
"Will you?" I ask him.
He doesn't stop drawing. "Will I what?" he asks flatly.
"Will you be okay?"
He keeps sketching. "…Yeah." he says. "Yeah, I'll be fine." He puts his chin on his fist and looks at his picture thoughtfully. "I'm hungry," he announces abruptly, throwing his pencil over his picture. "Let's get to breakfast." He extends one hand chivalrously, and grins.
"I'm going to wash up," I tell him. "I'll see you there."
The smile on his face falters, but he nods and walks out, closing the door behind him.
As soon as his footsteps fade away, I stand up and go examine his drawing. It's messily scrawled, but I can easily recognize it as what it is. It's a drawing of Cato, surrounded by the pack of wild dogs. I remember the moment—something like that isn't easy to forget. It's the second before I send an arrow into his neck. It's almost eerie how accurately Peeta's got him down—the bushy brow, the thick lips that are open, beseeching. It hits me. This is the moment Cato asked me to kill him. I turn it over and look away.
When I enter the dining room, only Beetee is at the table. I'd forgotten he was here. He looks up and adjusts his glasses. "How are you doing?" he asks me quietly.
I'm tempted to snap at him, but he looks so earnest I can't bring myself to do it. I take a sip of hot chocolate. It burns my throat but makes me feel warmer. "I'm okay," I tell him. "Where's Peeta?" He should have been here at least ten minutes ago.
"He went to get Gale."
"Alright." I take another sip of hot chocolate, uncomfortable. Everything I do feels out of my comfort zone for some reason. My voice sounds too loud. I can hear my blood pulsing in my ears, my joints creak, but I'm somehow numb. I feel the same way I did after the flash bomb—disoriented.
I watch Beetee's nimble fingers take apart his watch and put it back together in a matter of seconds. He tinkers with it a moment more, and then stops. He seems to be trying to figure out the best way to tell me something.
"District 3 gave in." He awaits my response nervously.
"What do you mean?"
"I… well. Snow said that any district that gave in would be spared."
I'm suddenly not hungry. "Spared from what?" I ask, not looking at him.
Beetee resumes probing the wristwatch, avoiding my question.
"Beetee?" I prompt.
He shakes his head.
"They don't think you'll show up at the Capitol by the deadline. The Capitol said they'd pardon any district that gave in from the eleven-deaths-per-day rule," says Hanroff. I hadn't heard him come in.
"What… does that mean?"
"District 3 has given up on you. They think you'll let them die. Like you let your friends and family die."
I flinch. That was harsh, even for him.
"Will you go?" It's Beetee who asks this.
I look up, surprised. Beetee is peering at me over his spectacles, and Hanroff is watching me intently. I rest my chin on my palm and look over at the breadsticks in the basket. On one hand, if I show up, I might be able to save Prim. Not to mention remind everyone in the Rebellion that I hadn't given up. Then again, wouldn't it be more beneficial if I didn't show up? It would show the people that I was willing to make sacrifices. Sacrifices…
I think back to what Haymitch told me. That because I was the hero, I had to make sacrifices. I had to give up everything I had so others would have…something. And I know what I have to do.
"Yeah," I say. "Yeah, I'll go."
The door slams and Haymitch comes in, sporting a bottle of clear liquid I'm fairly sure isn't water. "Go where?" he asks.
"To the Capitol. To get Prim," I say just as the door swings open a second time, revealing Gale and Peeta. Gale looks well, considering what he went through the day before. He and Peeta aren't exactly on speaking terms, but they don't look like they're seconds from throttling each other, either, which I guess is an improvement.
Haymitch sits down heavily, tilts his head backs, and takes a long swig out of his bottle. "Mmmmm," he sighs. Gale and Peeta sit down. I take note that they sit down on opposite sides of the table.
"What's for breakfast?" asks Peeta.
Gale presses his fingers against his temples in annoyance. "It's sitting right there on the table."
Peeta ignores him, picks up a roll, and butters it.
"What, are you ignoring me now?" demands Gale.
Peeta angrily takes a bite out of roll.
"I did what I had to do!" yells Gale, uncharacteristically emotional.
"So you had to lie to us?" screams Peeta back. "Again?" He slams his fist down on the table and the plates clatter. Beetee's glasses fall off and he scrambles to get them. "You!" he points at Haymitch with his roll. "Didn't we have an agreement? Didn't we say we'd tell everyone everything? No going behind anyone's backs? WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO STOP LYING TO ME?"
"Calm down," drawls Haymitch. "No one got hurt. I just got you out of there alive. If anything, I should be the one waving my breadstick around at everyone. All you ever do is smile and look pretty on TV. I'm the one who did all the work."
"You did all the work?" Peeta's face is red and he's spitting as he talks. "You didn't have to see them. You didn't see their faces. You didn't…" His voice cracks. "You didn't have to walk away from them."
This time it's Hanroff who butts in. "Peeta, leave it. You cannot let your emotions get in your way at this point. Have you decided? Are you going to the Capitol?"
"Have I decided? I don't know, Haymitch, have I decided?" asks Peeta sarcastically.
"Are you going?" This time, Gale's talking to me. It's the first time anyone's acknowledged me since Gale, Haymitch, and Peeta walked into the room.
Suddenly, the table is silent. "Yes," I say.
"I think that's the smartest way to go," says Haymitch.
"No one asked you!" snaps Peeta.
Haymitch ignores him. "District 3's already pulled out. Why? Because they think you won't show. If you do, we'll find a way out of there. Besides, you have the support of the districts. You'll lose that if you don't go, and the rebellion will be as good as over."
"You're over-simplifying it," says Gale. "Do you honestly think the Capitol will announce it if we do show up? Most likely they're just going to quietly execute us and tell the public we never arrived. Also, how are we supposed to get there? There are guards everywhere, and in this hovercraft, we'd get shot as soon as we got within a hundred miles of the Capitol."
Haymitch leans back. "That's why we ditch this thing," he says. "The only way we're going to get to the Capitol alive is if we travel in small groups, on foot. The district people outnumber the guards by at least a hundred fifty to one. They're not going to notice a few unauthorized guests. Here." He grabs a napkin, and pulls out the pen pinned to his shirt collar. "Here's what I propose." He wrote 'Haymitch & Gale,' circled it, and labeled it 'A.' "Here's team A," he said. At this point, even Peeta looked intrigued. Haymitch wrote 'Peeta & Finnick' below that, and labeled it 'B.' Lastly, he wrote 'Katniss & Hanroff' and labeled it 'C.'
"Gale and I go first. They catch us? No big deal. No one cares enough around us. Sure, they'll be questions asked, but we can afford to lose us. He draws an arrow from the big A straight to the top of the napkin. "We take the direct route. Try to get as many people as possible to see us. That way, they'll believe we at least tried." Next, he drew a curved arrow from the big B to the top of the napkin. "That's you guys," he says to Peeta and Finnick. "Considering it's two victors, they'll be all over you guys. And that's when Hanroff and Katniss go, taking the direct route, which, chances are, no one will predict. You lose no time, go as fast as possible." He puts his pen down, satisfied. "Ok?"
Gale nods serenely. "I'm game," he says.
Peeta shakes his head. "I'll do it," he says. "Under one condition. I want Katniss in my group."
Haymitch groans and pulls at his hair. "Peeta! We've gone through this! You are only going to be a liability to Katniss' survival!"
"I'll feel better about her safety when I'm there."
"Do you think she will?" demands Haymitch sharply.
His question hangs in the air. As much as I don't want to admit it, there is truth to in that question. Both games, I'd spent a lot of my energy devoted to keeping Peeta alive. Maybe I would be more efficient without him.
I look back over at Peeta, who's staring daggers at Haymitch. Haymitch is glaring resolutely back. I sink lower in my seat.
"Fine," says Haymitch, caving. "Whatever. But don't come crying to me if you can't keep her safe."
"Wait," I interrupt.
Everyone turns to stare at me.
"You're not seriously considering this, are you?"
Everyone is silent.
"I mean, this is a suicide mission. Our odds of survival are four out of six at best. And that's only if we don't mess up, which we probably will."
"Katniss," says Hanroff. "Weigh your options. It's either this, or the end of the rebellion. And how many more deaths would that be?"
I fall silent, consider his words. Shake my head. "It's always… it's always some variation of this plan," I say. "'Save Katniss,'" I mimick. "'She's priority. Everyone else can die, but Katniss has to live.' Well, I don't want to do it for me. The Capitol asked for the three of us. That means that if one of us shows up, we'll prove to the people we tried. Why is that automatically me?"
Haymitch puts his head in his hands. "We don't have time for this!" he groans. "Fine! Whatever! Group B and C can go together. But we need group A as a distraction." He looks at Gale, begging him not to disagree. He doesn't.
I do some quick calculating in my head. It's the tenth. We have five or six days to get there. If Gale's group leaves first, my group will get there just in time. There's going to be barely any time to stop, not to mention hunt or rest. It's not Haymitch's best hatched plan, but it'd have to do.
"When do we leave?" I ask.
"Group A leaves at dawn." That's Gale, I think. This sends a shiver down my spine.
Gale, my best friend, my Gale, could be dead by this time tomorrow. And again, it would be my fault.
Author's Note: My head was not screwed on right when I wrote this. Again, it's been a while since I've written anything and I barely remember the plotline. Please review! It's your reviews that motivate me to update!
