Thank so much to everyone who gave feedback on the previous chapter! Reviews really motivate me to keep writing. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a doozy and there is a lot of action. I hope you wanted some action. : )
P.S In this story, the reaping takes place on July 8th.
(June 1st, a month until the reaping, the announcement of the Quarter Quell)
There have been 8 starvation-related deaths in 12 in the last 2 months. Most of them were children.
One of them was Posy Hawthorn, and Katniss doesn't know.
She can't handle it.
She's weak and tired, depressed and fed up with pregnancy. Sometimes she cries all day long and I have to stay with her in bed, playing cards and different games from the Capitol, doing puzzles, talking, joking, kissing, playing with Pug, and trying to keep her mind off of everything.
The doctors guess that she will go past her due date in 8 weeks. The drug I injected her with seems to be working a bit too well. Luckily, it's not affecting the child's development, and it's weighing in at about 4 pounds.
The Capitol baby looks like he could survive now in the event of premature labor. Our child, from what we can see on the portable ultrasound machine, looks that way too. We only ever see outlines of its face and body, though, to keep the gender a surprise.
"Any Jacks, Sweetheart?"
Katniss surveys her hand before shaking her head, "Nope. Go fish."
I draw my card. The television pops on and the sudden noise startles us both. Our cards fly off of the bed and on to the floor. Within seconds, Pug is licking them and gathering a few into his mouth. He waddles out of the room to destroy them somewhere.
Usually Katniss would laugh at his antics, but her eyes are glued to the television.
Snow stands at a podium in the city center.
Why would there be mandatory viewing in early June?
And that's when I remember.
It's time to announce the theme of the Quarter Quell.
I get the shakes at the thought of another quell. Dammit, I really need a drink right now.
These games mark 25 years since I won my own. For me, that's 25 years of suffering, nightmares, flashbacks and sleeping with a weapon clutched in my hand.
Only a few of these things have changed, and only since Katniss has been in my life. I don't get to sleep with a knife anymore. I don't get to drink myself to sleep either. Many nights I don't even try to sleep. I just lay in bed with Katniss and hope that she can sleep without nightmares. I take short naps with her during the day. It's all I can do for myself. For both of us.
Even though I've been mentally preparing for this quell for years, it doesn't feel like enough time.
Katniss leans over the side of the bed and pulls out a bottle of white liquor. She grabs a glass from the bedside table drawer and pours me a generous amount. I've been drinking a lot less than what she pours now, to ration my supplies, but this occasion calls for a bit more.
Snow gives a formal speech, to remind us that the Quell is meant to punish the districts even more than the usual games. He doesn't use those words, exactly, but the meaning is the same. I block most of it out.
It isn't until he removes the card that I start paying close attention. Katniss' hand darts out and grips my onto own.
"As a reminder to the districts that all gifts given by the Capitol can be taken away, the tributes of the 75th Hunger Games will not have sponsors, mentors or opportunities for training. The games are set to begin as soon as all tributes arrive from their districts. Happy Quarter Quell, my friends."
He reaches his hands out to the many Capitol citizens in the stands. They scream in excitement as the President takes a bow. The clapping continues long after he exits the stage.
"No mentors," I say, breaking the silence. I think about my own quell and all of the advice my mentor gave me before the arena. I wouldn't have made it without her. The tributes won't be prepared at all.
They won't be my responsibility this year. When they die, I won't wonder if there was something I could have done. I feel relieved, in a twisted sort of way.
"Will you still have to go to the Capitol?" Katniss asks quietly. I'm not sure how to answer that. Before I even have a chance, the phone rings.
"Let me get that," I say, patting her cheek before running down the stairs. As soon as I put the receiver up to my ear, I receive instructions.
"Pretend you are talking to Johanna Mason," Plutarch Heavensbee instructs from the other end.
"Well, it's always a surprise to hear from you, Johanna."
"Mentors won't be coming to the Capitol for the Quell. We've got some big plans," he tells me quickly.
"I was surprised too. Do you think we'll be in the Capitol for the games?" I reply back, carrying on a pretend conversation with Johanna as I listen to Plutarch.
Plutarch tells me what I need to do at the start of the Quell. There's no opportunity to argue, since my replies have to be vague. He tells me the plans for 12, and I try to keep an impassive expression on my face. Things will get messy. People in the districts will die, not just the kids in the arena. He says there will be a signal in the games. He can't give details, but he said I will know what the signal is.
"I'm a bit worried about Katniss going into labor during mandatory viewing, she's due right around that time," I say, hoping Plutarch will understand.
"We'll get you and Katniss first. You're our top priority,"
"I hope you are right. There are going to be some serious problems if you aren't," I force myself to laugh.
"Keep her out of trouble until then," he says sternly.
"I'll try. Talk to you soon, Jo,"
When I hang up the phone, I lean back against the counter and rub my face hard. I need to look neutral. There's a chance someone is watching me right now.
When I get back upstairs, Katniss is falling asleep. Pug sits in her lap, chewing one of the playing cards we dropped earlier. I take it from him and hand him a toy instead. He nibbles my finger before taking the toy and settling it between his paws. I laugh, despite myself. Stupid dog.
"Who was on the phone?" Katniss mutters, sleepily.
"It was Johanna," I say indifferently.
"Hmm… should I be worried?" She jokes, despite the exhaustion on her face.
"Not a chance. You're stuck with me,"
A tiny smile graces her lips, "There are worst people I could be stuck with."
After everything is said and done, I hope she still feels that way.
!
(Reaping day, July 8th)
We make our way to the square well before the reaping is set to begin. The doctors have given Katniss permission to walk to the square and back, just this once. Even though she is far enough along now that the baby could come at any time, they want her to carry to the 40 week mark, which means the bed rest is still necessary. She hasn't left the house in months and her muscles are atrophied, so the walk is slow going at best.
Katniss now she waddles when she moves and her stomach is huge. I have to wonder how there is any more room in there for the child to grow.
She holds her back as she walks, willing her legs to move for just a bit longer. I wish I could pick her up and carry her to lessen her pain, but it wouldn't feel right on reaping day.
I need a drink. I can't though, because I have to be ready for Plutarch's big plans. Plus, I'm practically out of liquor, anyway.
The withdrawals have been rough at times. There have been days that I was to prideful to ask her to pour me a glass, didn't want to burden her with my alcoholism. It made me feel weak to need something so bad when she's so miserable. Other days, I couldn't handle it. The sweating and shaking and headaches became too much. Sweetheart never judged me for it. I only judged myself.
We've had good and bad days together. Katniss has a very profound sadness that I only see once in a while. But I know it's there. It's always there; her doubts and fears that she won't be a good mother, that she can't protect the kid. She practically hyperventilated when she looked at the Capitol monitor and the baby was gone. She screamed and cried that the monitor baby wasn't safe anymore.
I do my best to calm her down, but sometimes there's nothing I can do.
She can also be a bit of a bitch, especially now that she is so close to the end. She overheats a lot. Effie sent a few fans, but there's only so much to be done in the summer. When she's hot and angry, her claws come out, usually directed at me. As much as the Capitol doctors have explained about mood swings and what is normal behavior at this stage in a pregnancy, it's hard for me to match this Katniss with the one I met almost 9 months ago. She's a completely different woman.
I do all I can to let Katniss know that I care, but I'm not the sentimental type. She isn't either, but I guess being knocked up has changed that temporarily. We'll see what happens when the kid is out. Maybe she won't try to pick up on my emotions so much once she's not sitting in bed all day. It would be a lot less stressful for me.
"I wish I could hunt," she whispers, just loud enough for me to hear, "I could feed all of the hungry people in town. I could just hunt all day and everyone could eat."
I nod at her ramblings while trying to shade my eyes from the bright sun.
"If only, sweetheart."
I look over at Katniss and notice that she is pale as a ghost from her time inside. Though she has been outside a few times since her bed rest began, it's only been out on the porch. She looks sick. I pull a sunhat from the bag I'm carrying and place it on her head to keep her from developing sunburn.
I hand her a pair of sunshades and put a pair over my own eyes. I've never been one to flaunt my wealth in the district by wearing nice clothes and accessories. Sure, I buy a lot of white liquor, but district 12 residents don't see me prancing around in fancy glasses and hats. Today is the exception to that rule. It's hot and bright out, I'm having withdrawals and Katniss kept me up all night with her tossing and turning. As soon as I fell asleep, Pug started whining to go outside. Needless to say, I don't care for the opinions of the townspeople today.
I need to be awake and alert for Plutarch's plans.
When we reach the square, I start walking up to the stage as Katniss makes her way over to her family.
"Oh, Katniss! Look at you and that baby bump!" Effie screeches from across the square. Faces of terrified kids turn to look at us. Effie's behavior has effectively turned us into bigger pariahs than we already were.
Effie, sporting a magenta wing and a matching dress, runs over and insists that Katniss be on stage with me as the names are called. It's the only duty I have this year as mentor, and Snow would like Katniss to be present.
Basically, he wants everyone to see how she's about to pop, how she's a harmless, pregnant cow.
If it's possible, whatever color may have been in her cheeks before has drained out. She's worried about being up there. Hell, I'm worried about her being up there. She doesn't want to be that close to the reapings. I don't want her to be that close to the stress. It's not a good idea, but I don't' tell Effie that. It's Snow's prerogative.
Once everything is settled, Effie gives her speech. By now, Katniss and I are sitting. She already stood too long and the blood pooled so heavily in her ankles that they grew to the size of her calves. If it weren't my least favorite day of the year, I'd have laughed at her.
I put my arm around her shoulder and squeeze, letting her know that I'm with her. I get a grateful smile in return.
"As always, ladies first," Effie says before walking over to the reaping ball with the female names in it. She reaches in and dramatically mixes the slips with her hand before pulling out a name.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she opens the slip and clears her throat. I swear I see her expression falter before she reads out, "Primrose Everdeen Hawthorn."
Katniss gasps next to me. Both of her hands fly to her mouth. She's shaking and struggling to breathe.
I'm trying to keep any expression off of my face.
And then it happens. A strong voice calls out, just as the Peacekeepers are pushing Prim to the stage.
"I volunteer as tribute."
When Katniss hears this, she loses it. Tears swim down her cheeks and her entire body seems to relax. She knows from watching other district's reapings that, once someone volunteers, there is no going back. The original tribute is spared.
The girl who volunteered for Prim is dark-skinned, Seam and angry looking. She is the first volunteer ever in this district, yet I can't figure out why.
It must be something to do with Plutarch's plan.
The girl walks up the steps and to the microphone, looking strong and determined. She doesn't show even a hint of fear. She's tall, very thin, but big boned. I'm not sure what will happen to her, because I'm not exactly sure what the rebels plan to do to the games, but she might have a chance to make it to the top 8. That's the most credit I'll give her, because no one from 12 ever makes it much further than that.
"What an exciting day! We have the very first volunteer from District 12! What is your name, dear?"
"Coraline Rivers," she says into the microphone.
To her credit, she almost sounds bored.
"How exciting! You didn't want Primrose to get all of the glory, did you, Miss Coraline?"
Coraline smirks and stares at Effie, "Something like that."
Effie looks a bit uncomfortable by Coraline's calm and sneaky demeanor. She moves onto the boys.
It's when she reads this name that I know the reaping was rigged by Snow. It was meant to punish Katniss.
"Rory Hawthorne."
Before anyone can react, another voice calls out from the 16 year old section, volunteering to take Rory's place.
Holy shit, two volunteers.
The boy walks up the stage and I can immediately identify him. Vick Hawthorne, the youngest Hawthorn boy. Rory is screaming at him, but his little brother doesn't even pay attention.
When everything is over, they are put immediately on a hovercraft. There are no opportunities for them to say goodbye, another "gift" from the Capitol that is being taken away during these games.
The hovercraft is taking them directly to the arena.
Katniss is inconsolable. I hold her to me closely, hoping I can absorb some of her pain. It doesn't work and I just try to get her off the stage as quickly as possible. When she sees Prim, she waddle-runs to her as fast as she can.
"You were reaped, you were reaped," Katniss cries, holding her sister as tightly as she can, "both of you were reaped."
She pulls Rory into her arms as well and they all hold each other.
"It was a warning, he's warning me, he's warning me that he'll take away everyone I love," She rambles. I know it's time to get her away from the square. There are too many peacekeepers around and I don't need them overhearing Katniss' treasonous words.
"C'mon sweetheart, we need to get you home. The games start in 3 hours," I say, urging Prim and Rory to follow us. I don't think Katniss could handle being separated from them. Once we get far enough from the square, I let her sit down and cry. Katniss has the biggest meltdown I've ever seen.
Once she's sitting against a tree, she sobs into her sister's neck, her entire body shaking and convulsing. Her breathing is sporadic and I know there's nothing I can do to help. Rory sits on the other side of her, crying himself at the loss of his brother, but trying to be strong for Prim and Katniss.
"Rory, Rory, it's my f-fault. It's my fault. Vick… It's my f-fault. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she cries, hugging Rory to her tightly.
"No, Katniss. It's not your fault. Vick…" Rory's voice chokes as he tries to form words, "I don't know what he was thinking, Katniss. But it's not your fault. Vick knows how to hunt now. He's a lot stronger than me. Maybe he thought he had a better chance of coming home."
"I can't believe you were reaped," she says, her voice shaking horribly. She starts to rub her stomach and mumble to herself.
I kneel down in front of her, without a word, and grab her face in my hands. I kiss her once on the forehead and wrap my arms around her, feeling our kid in-between us, kicking away. Katniss' emotions must be affecting the child because it's moving more than I've ever felt before.
"It's punishment, from Snow, for saving Peeta," she whispers, her words drenched in fear, "it's a warning Haymitch. He'll reap the baby. The baby is going to get reaped. I can't let it happen. I can't let the baby get reaped. I can't. We have to do something. We have to leave," Katniss starts to stand but I hold her down, rubbing her back softly.
I pull her as tightly as I can to me, despite the roundness between us, and hold her close to me, whispering quietly in her ear, "Katniss, you have to calm down. We've got 11 years to figure that out, okay? We'll leave when we have to leave. Our kid won't get reaped. I won't let it happen."
"He reaped Prim."
"I know he did, damn son-of-a-bitch. He'll pay for it Katniss. But we can't think of those things right now. We just need to get you home," I tell her, hoping to urge her along. She needs to be safe in the Victor's village before the games start, "I'll have to be in town for the first few hours of the games. It is part of my mentoring duties," I lie.
I have to be there to do what I've been instructed by the rebels.
I hold her as close as I can and feel her stomach tightening and moving against my own. The baby is really agitated.
"Stay off of your feet. You've had enough excitement today, sweetheart," I say, patting her belly for a second before pulling away from her.
"Stay with me?" She asks Prim. Her sister nods sadly and wraps her arm around Katniss. I give my wife a kiss, an 'I love you' and a promise to see her in a few hours. I watch her waddle away and sincerely hope my promise is not broken.
!
(Katniss POV)
By the time I get back to the village, I'm feeling worse than I've ever felt. My practice contractions are strong, my head hurts, I'm sweating buckets and I can't stop shaking from what happened at the reaping.
"Are you okay?" Prim asks me as I waddle through the front door.
"I'm just shaken up, little duck. I thought I was going to lose you," I say, reaching out to hold her hand to help me up the stairs.
"I was scared too. Why do you think that girl volunteered for me?" She asks quietly. Prim is well-aware of the cameras in my home.
I start to open my mouth in reply when the pain hits me. It's nothing like the small discomforts I've experienced before. I sit down at the top of the stairs and lean against the wall, trying to be subtle about my laboring. I need to get out of this house. Prim kneels beside me and asks if I'm okay. I lie and say I'm just tired.
"Rory, there are a few bags under the bed in my room. Please grab them calmly and meet me near the front door," I say as quietly as I can. To his credit, he simply nods and disappears into my room to grab them.
"What's in these?" Prim asks.
"Overnight bags I packed a few weeks ago, in case Haymitch had to leave for the games. I didn't want to be all alone," I lie. I hope my lie is believable enough.
I'm not going to have this baby with Capitol doctors around to snatch it. I won't let them kill my son or daughter before it even has a chance. Who knows what kind of evil plan Snow has in store for my child?
The bags are filled with medical supplies that the doctors left, just in case something happen. I've been discretely grabbing pieces of equipment from the supply pile for weeks on my way back from the bathroom and slipping them into the bags under my bed. Haymitch has been doing it as well. We had 4 bags under there, two that were actually filled with clothes and 2 filled with supplies. We left one of each under our bed and moved the other two to the guest bedroom, in case we had to lock ourselves in there for any reason. There are no windows in the guest bedroom and it locks in 4 different ways from the inside.
It's something Haymitch and I discussed a few months ago, before the food shipments stopped coming. I just can't believe I have to take one of the plans into action.
I'm not the best at acting, but I know I have to try to keep myself from looking like I'm in pain. I keep my hands at my sides and slowly walk down the stairs. I even stop for a minute to lace up my boots. Pug comes to my feet and I grab him, handing him over to Prim as we exit the house. He's small enough to be carried for a while.
Rory carries the bags, one on each shoulder. They are filled to the brim with supplies, but they aren't too heavy or bulging, so I don't feel bad about not taking one. I'm too focused on my pain to pay attention to anything else.
When we make it past the gate leading out of Victors Village, I have another contraction. I grab onto a tree and try to breathe through it. It's excruciating pain, in my back, middle, lower regions. That pain coupled with heavy, sore breasts and aching feet makes me desperate to sit down. There's no time, I remind myself, determined to get to my mother's house as soon as possible.
"You're in labor, aren't you?" Prim murmurs glumly.
I nod once and put a hand up to her lips to stop her from speaking. I don't believe there are cameras here, but I can't be sure. We take a short cut through a meadow to avoid going through town. The walk takes forever as I have to stop occasionally. Sometimes I pretend it's because my feet hurt. Other times, I pretend to stretch out my back. Rory and Prim go along with whatever I say. They know what I'm trying to do.
The closer we get to the Seam, the worst the pain seems to get. I want to badly to be lying down right now.
"I want Haymitch," I whine quietly. I know he can't be with me because he's stuck in the square for the games. If he were to leave, they would know that I was having the baby. Snow would send his vultures here to take it, to kill it or steal it.
"Rory will go into town once the games have started. He'll get Haymitch. It'll take a few more hours at least," Prim reassures me while scratching Pug behind his ears. I know she's probably right. Labor takes a long time. Once Haymitch is done being interviewed about the games, Rory will fetch him and everything will be fine.
When we get inside, my mother is arranging her birthing table and supplies.
"How did you know?" Prim asks, confusedly.
"Call it a mother's intuition," mother says, smiling at me from across the room.
I have to give her credit. She's been extremely present in my life in the past few months. Despite the few pounds she's lost from the food shortages, she looks healthier and more alive than ever before. Her mind is healthier as well.
Mother and Rory help lift me up onto the table. The television is on in front of me and I strain to hear it. The games are starting in the next 10 minutes.
Rory stiffens up and stares at the TV. I don't know how he is coping with the loss of Vick and the lack of time to comprehend the games. They don't get to prepare this time. Not just the tributes; everyone in the districts as well.
10 more minutes until the 3rd Quarter Quell begins. I'll possibly be laboring as Vick Hawthorne dies. It's an unsettling thought.
"Rory, please go find Haymitch? Please? Let him know what's going on. Be very quiet," I instruct, gripping onto the table as another contraction takes me. Hopefully it will keep his mind off of the games.
He nods and leaves quickly.
!
(Haymitch POV)
We're 2 minutes from the start of the games when I see Rory Hawthorne running through the crowd. People aren't supposed travel in the minutes before the games, and it's all I can do to hope the kid won't get shot. Suddenly, he slows way down. He's looking around and I just know that he's trying to find me.
I walk away from the stage and greet him. One look at his face and I know that Katniss is in labor. He opens his mouth to tell me something and I shake my head at him, pushing him slightly away. Sweetheart is probably locked up in the guest bedroom with her sister. It's too dangerous to discuss right here. Rory looks distressed but I tell him to leave and go back to standing by the stage. On the outside, I'm completely calm. On the inside, I know that this is a very bad time for Katniss to go into labor. I hope Plutarch keeps his word to me.
Suddenly, the arena is visible on the screen. The tributes are coming up the tubes. All of them look determined.
I've been watching the reaping's from the square, and there were a lot of volunteers this year. Triple the usual amount. As Caesar and Claudius analyze it, they attribute it to the fact that there was no training. They claim the best in each district want their opportunity for fame and riches without having to be coached. They would surely be the most deserving victor.
I'm sure that is something else entirely.
Once the 60 seconds begin, all of the tributes straighten up. When the countdown is at 30, they all look up at the sky.
"Defeat the Capitol, end the tyranny!" Every tribute screams, before jumping off of their platforms. The explosions rock the cameras in the arena and there is nothing seen but smoke and the blood of 24 suicidal tributes with a good cause.
This was Plutarch's signal.
Suddenly, the square is thrown into chaos. Men are tackling and stabbing Peacekeepers. All around me, they are being massacred by angry people, Merchant and Seam alike. Several Peacekeepers take off their masks and I recognize them as miners. They take out guns and begin aiming them at any Peacekeepers who remain.
Plutarch instructed me to find Mellark and Gale Hawthorn near the meadow. The Seam and Merchant quarters are being evacuated by the two men. I look behind me and people in from the square are running there with me, looking absolutely terrified.
Plutarch was right; people would follow me because they trust my ability to survive. Even though most of them think of me as a drunk, they know that I survived the games for a reason. They trust me now to get them to safety.
When I reach the meadow, people are arriving in droves. Many people joined our group on the way here, and others are going back to get loved ones. There are no peacekeepers in sight. I hope to God the hovercrafts get here soon to pick up everyone and get Katniss somewhere safe.
Peeta and Gale are yelling out instructions, trying to get everyone to calm down. It's absolutely chaos. People are gripping onto me, asking me what they should do.
"Calm down, everyone," I yell. Some of the noise quiets. Between the three of us, we finally get the attention of the group. It's impossible to tell how many people are here. I wonder how much of the district is lying dead from peacekeeper brutality and how many of them have starved in the last three months.
"We need to stay calm," Peeta commands, "Hovercrafts are coming to save us. We are going to District 13. I know what you are all thinking, but you need to trust us. We've been working with a group of people who are trying to end the injustices that we face from the Capitol every day. At District 13, we will receive 3 meals a day and will be safe from any retaliation from the Capitol that may happen in 12. If you choose to stay here, don't think that the Capitol will let you live peacefully."
Just as he says that, a hovercraft appears out of nowhere. It's got the rebel symbol on it, a picture of a mockingjay. When it lands, people start to scramble away from it.
They are signing their own fate, I suppose. There isn't enough time to force them onboard.
As I board the hovercraft, I look around for Katniss. She was picked up in the village first.
I wonder how they were able to convince her. Plutarch probably had her dragged, kicking and screaming the whole way. I wouldn't expect any less from her.
I see Plutarch in the back, watching people file into the craft. I guess he found a way to escape the gamemaker room before the games even began. I'll have to ask him how he pulled it off.
"Is there someone tending to Katniss? She's in labor," I ask over the sound of frantic citizens.
Plutarch clears his throat and fidgets a bit on his feet.
"She wasn't in the village. We came right here to get the survivors,"
"You left without her?" I scream, pushing Plutarch against the wall and putting my arm over his throat, "You had one job, Plutarch. Shit, I have to find her,"
I move away from him and leave the hovercraft. Peeta runs after me.
"What are you doing? We're leaving in a few minutes, get back on the hovercraft!"
"Bastards didn't get Katniss. She's probably at her mother's house," I explain to him. A look of understanding crosses his features. He won't leave her here either.
As we run away from the hovercraft, I see a white suit in front of us, a little too late. Before I can react, the peacekeeper pulls out his gun and shoots. He seems injured and only manages to get my legs.
Son-of-a-fucking-bitch, this hurts. I fall to the ground in utter agony. I can't even feel my left leg anymore. It's completely destroyed from the close range shots.
I've failed. Dammit, I got shot and I failed my wife.
Peeta pulls out a gun and shoots the Peacekeeper several times in the head.
"Go get her, Peeta. Get Katniss," I say weakly. I'll die here. I know my leg is losing a lot of blood.
Peeta picks me up from under my armpits and drags me back to the hovercraft. I can't feel the pain in my legs anymore. It's how I know I'm going to die. The pain is gone. My eyes are drooping. Someone grabs me and pulls me into the craft. Before I black out, I hear him say, "I'll get her, Haymitch. I'll get her."
!
(Katniss POV)
The games are about to begin. The contractions have stopped for a few minutes and I'm relishing in the opportunity to catch my breath. Mother just completed another examination. She says I'm 3 centimeters dilated.
It's going to be a long night.
Prim is looking through the duffle bags and evaluating the supplies we stole from the Capitol doctors. She says there is a lot of good equipment in there that will help during delivery. I hope she's right.
Suddenly, the games are on. The kids are rising on their platforms. Once the 60 seconds begin, I know something is off. None of them are looking around the arena or evaluating the supplies at the cornucopia. They all look up at the sky.
Then, all Hell breaks loose. They collectively declare war against the Capitol and jump off of their platforms.
This is what Peeta was talking about in that letter. Big things are happening. People are rebelling.
We have to leave. It's not going to be safe for us in the districts after that stunt.
"We have to go," I say, forcing myself off of the table, grabbing my pants and putting them on. Mother and Prim don't even try to stop me. They are in as much shock as I am.
I waddle over to the table and grab everything off of it that I might need. I shove things back into the duffle bags. I grab jugs of water and push them into my mother's arms. Prim puts one duffle on her arm, mother grabs the other, and I take an old game bag from the closet and shove Pug inside. I don't worry about food. Each of the bags has a small stockpile.
I came prepared, just not for this exact situation.
"Prim, put on your shoes," I tell her.
I don't know if the baby knows that it's not the time to act up or if I'm just in shock, but I can't feel the contractions at all now.
We don't waste any time. As soon as everything is gathered, we leave out the back door. It takes about 10 minutes of sporadic jogging and walking, since I can't really run anymore, but we finally make it to the weak spot in the fence. I throw a rock at it and my relief is palpable when I realize the fence is off.
"Prim, go first," I push her, letting her climb under. I go next, held steady by mom on one side and Prim on the other. When I make it through, I hear his voice.
"Wait, stop, Katniss!"
It's Peeta.
"There's a hovercraft," he says between pants, "to District 13. It's safe. We need to get to the hovercraft."
Just as he says this, I see the hovercraft he was talking about rise up over by the meadow and fly away from the district and away from us. The four of us watch it fly away. Peeta's face drains completely of color.
I urge them to hurry. Mother climbs through the fence and Peeta follows.
"We need to run. The Capitol is going to come with a vengeance," Peeta says to us, "I have an idea of somewhere we can go. It's a few miles away. Can you make it, Katniss?"
"I don't really have a choice, do I?" I say as another contraction takes over my body.
This child is going to get us all killed.
Peeta looks at me in concern as I stumble forward in pain.
"You're in labor, aren't you?" He says seriously, "Here, let me carry you."
"You can't carry me for miles, Peeta."
"Katniss," He says, grabbing my face in his hands, "we need to get out of here. Now. Just let me carry you and stop being so stubborn."
I nod in defear and he lifts me up easily, even with the baby weight I've put on.
"Be careful with her, Peeta. Too much movement is just going to make labor faster," my mother tells him. He nods and holds me close to him as they run through the forest. We stop for a moment and my mother grabs my bow from the trunk where I left it all of those months ago. She slings it over her back.
With all of the supplies everyone is holding, I worry that they are going to collapse in exhaustion before we can get anywhere.
I'm holding my bag in my arms and I can feel Pug jostling around inside, wanting to get out. He's whimpering and barking.
I get more uncomfortable with every step Peeta takes. I can tell my mother and Prim are getting tired, but there's no way we can stop. Sweat drips down Peeta's face. I'm exhausting him.
"I'm sorry," I tell him through tears, "You can put me down."
"No way," he smiles charmingly at me, "you're light as a feather."
It's getting dark out, but our group keeps moving. My contractions are unbearable. I try not to cry out in the darkness. I don't want to alert anyone of our location. After about an hour of nonstop moving, Peeta stops.
"It's here," he says, staring at a tree. Something has been drawn on the tree in tar.
Peeta sets me down and starts to stomp around the area. I'm not sure what he's looking for, but I don't have the energy to help.
Suddenly, we hear a loud, echo. Like the ground under Peeta's foot is hollow. He exclaims happily and drops to his knees. He starts running his hands along the ground before he finds a tiny handle. He pushes and grunts for a few moments until a door pops up.
Oh my god, it's a bunker in the woods. I wonder if my father knew this was here.
Prim and my mother climb down the rickety stairs quickly at Peeta's insistence.
"Can you walk down the steps?" Peeta asks me, holding out a hand for me. I take it and struggle to get off the ground. We make our way over to the entrance and I walk slowly down the steps, Peeta's hands stay firmly on my back, guiding me slowly. He shuts the door behind us.
"It's so dark. Do you think there are any candles in here?" Prim asks.
"I have a flashlight, in your bag, Prim," I tell her. She pulls it out and turns it on. It illuminates the entire room.
There is a collective gasp among us. It's not an empty bunker. There's a cot in the corner, a small counter, a little stock pile of canned goods and even a small sink in the corner. There's enough room for all of us to stretch out.
"There's a first aid kit over there," Prim exclaims, running over and grabbing the box, "We might need this."
"I have to lie down," I groan. Peeta leads me over to the cot and I settle on it. Another contraction. Assuming the bunker is soundproof, I allow myself to cry out.
"I'm going to take off your pants, Katniss. We need to see how far you are," mother says.
I allow her to do her examination. I wish Haymitch were here.
"I want Haymitch," I cry, sounding like a child, "why didn't he come back for us?"
Peeta stands next to me, looking uncomfortable. He wants to comfort me, I know, but it's not his place. Peeta knows it's not his place.
"He tried Katniss," Peeta kneels down and takes my hand in his own, "he got hurt and had to go back to the hovercraft."
"Is he okay?" I cry out, while Haymitch's child wreaks havoc inside of me. My husband's absence is all too profound in this moment.
"He'll be okay, Katniss. Just focus on the baby. They'll find us soon," Peeta coos. His presence is comforting, but it's just not enough.
"Not quite there yet. It's going to be a long night," mother says.
Hours full of contractions pass. They increase in frequency, and soon, there doesn't seem to be a break between them. Nobody in the bunker tries to sleep. My agony is too loud to ignore.
Peeta sits next to the cot, trying to distract me by reminiscing about the many things we did when we were younger, when everything was easier. I'm grateful that he doesn't bring up anything romantic.
It must be hard for him to see me like this, to see me hours from giving birth to another man's child.
He's a good man though. He doesn't falter a bit.
Finally, after what seems like a lifetime later, my mother tells me I can push.
I'm dripping sweat and in more pain than I thought one person could live through, but I push with all of my might. I try to remember to breathe but there are several times my mother and Prim have to remind me.
More than anything, though the pushing and screaming and trying to breathe, I wish Haymitch was by my side.
Peeta pulls back one of my legs and Prim holds the other. I squeeze Peeta's free hand so I don't break Prim's. His hand doesn't feel like Haymitch's. He doesn't look like Haymitch. He's not the person I want here. I want to scream that at him, but I don't. Peeta is too good to yell at.
I wish Haymitch was here so I could scream at him for not being here.
The pain I experience is not what I imagined it would be. I'm being ripped apart from the inside out. I knew it would be awful, but I never expected to be reduced to a screaming, blubbering mess. Everything around me is blurry. At one point, I vomit into a bowl that Prim holds up to my chest.
"The head is out! Just a few more," Mother says in a professional tone.
"I can't do it. I can't," I scream as the next contraction hits.
"You can, Katniss. You're almost there. In a few minutes, you're going to meet your child. It's going to be wonderful. You just need to push a few more times," Peeta whispers to me. I look over at him and stare into his eyes. There is so much love, kindness and support in those eyes. But there is also pain. It breaks my heart to see Peeta in so much pain.
I don't have any more time to think about his pain when I'm feeling the intense need to push again. I squeeze his hand and bear down as hard as I possibly can.
It's then that I hear the cry. It's a shrill, angry cry.
"It's a girl," my mother says, tearfully. Prim sets a white cloth on my chest and mother sets the baby on it.
My daughter. I have a daughter.
The baby continues to cry and I bring my hands up to touch her. She's so small and soft, dirty and angry and red. Prim takes several wet clothes and cleans her up while I hold her in my arms. I let Prim cut the umbilical cord.
She's got a bit of hair on her head. It's blonde, matching everyone else in the room. It's just like her father.
Her cheeks are chubby and round. I resist my urge to pinch one between my fingers.
She has a slightly slanted nose. It's not as severe as Haymitch's, but it's definitely something she got from him.
She looks like the perfect mix between the two of us. I'm breathless as I look at this little girl, this little mistake that I already love so much.
I don't know what's going to happen in our lives from here on out, especially with a rebellion happening, but I know that it'll be worth every moment that I get to have this little girl as my daughter.
"She's perfect," Peeta breathes out. I smile at him.
All four of us are crying. For a few minutes, we just take in the sight of her. Mother wraps her up in a blanket and hands her back. I cradle her to my chest. The love I feel inside of me is stronger than anything I've felt before. Even for Prim.
We pass her around for a long time between my mother, Prim and me. I offered her to Peeta, but he told me that Haymitch should be the first man to hold her. The gesture was so kind, and so Peeta, that I couldn't bear to look at him for a few minutes. I would break into hysterics if I did.
Eventually, I learn to feed her. It's painful, but something that is feels special between us. It's bonding. Mother says it will get easier, but I don't even care if it does. I'll feed her as often as she wants. She's going to be chubby, just like Haymitch wanted.
After a while, I'm too exhausted to keep my eyes open. Prim fashions a little nest for the baby and sets her down to sleep. It's the closest to a crib we're going to get in here. I nibble on some crackers and drink a bit of water before collapsing into the cot for sleep.
The last thing in my head before drifting off is the image of Haymitch cradling our little girl in his arms for the first time.
!
(Haymitch POV)
When I wake up, I'm in a hospital room. There are wires hooked up to me, well, everywhere. And there is nobody around. Convenient.
I spend a few minutes waking up completely before I take the solitude as an opportunity. I rip all of the wires out of my face and arms.
A machine next to me starts to beep. Within seconds, a nurse comes in.
"Mr. Abernathy, you need to keep-"
"Where is Katniss?" I ask her in a froggy voice.
When I try to get out of the bed, I realize something is wrong.
"Mr. Abernathy, stop-"
"What the fuck?" I yell, ripping the sheet off of me.
My left leg is gone.
My leg is fucking gone. The right one is wrapped up, but I can still feel it. I can move it a bit. My left is gone below the knee.
"You're fucking kidding me," I shout. I'm not even sure how to react to this. I'm just pissed.
I see a few items on the table next to my bedside, something to take my rage out on. I quickly sweep all of them onto the ground and relish in the sound of things shattering all over the ground. The nurse ducks out of the room. Several minutes later, Plutarch walks in with several men. One of them is Gale Hawthorne.
"Haymitch, glad to see you're awake," Plutarch grins. I flip him the middle finger and reach for a glass from the other table. Before he can react, I've thrown it and it hits him in the face.
Instant blackeye. One point for Haymitch.
"Where the fuck is my wife?" I ask him, bracing to throw something else.
"She's not here," Gale says, shooting a glare over to Plutarch.
"Go find Katniss, or the second I get out of this bed, I'm going to kill you," I tell him. Rage is building up inside of me. I'm going to lose my damn mind if I don't get to see her soon. The combination of not knowing where she is and not having one of my limbs is really pissing me off.
"She's not in 13, Haymitch. We couldn't find her," Plutarch tells me softly, holding his injured eye.
And then I remember. The boy went to get her. He has to have her. He wouldn't let her get hurt.
"Peeta Mellark isn't here either, is he?" I ask.
"No, he isn't. None of the Everdeens are here either," Gale replies.
"They have to be in 12. Katniss probably took them into the woods. Go find her," I tell them, feeling sick at the thought of a very pregnant Katniss stuck somewhere in the woods.
"Rory said Katniss was in labor. Do you think she would go into the woods in labor?" Plutarch questions.
"Of course she would. It's either that or they're hiding in 12," I snap back at him.
It's his fault we are in this situation. If he's just found her, I'd have both of my legs and I'd be with my wife.
"I hope not," Gale murmurs back, "the Capitol dropped firebombs on 12 shortly after we left. Twelve is completely demolished."
Son-of-a-bitch.
"Get me a damned wheelchair, get me out of this fucking bed and down to wherever Coin is," I yell at the men.
To Gale's credit, he grabs a wheelchair and sets it next to my bed. I use my upper arms to drag myself into it. My right leg screams by the time I get there, but I refuse help from the two of them,
"Anyone know how a guy can get a fake leg around here?" I ask, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I don't have much of a left leg anymore.
"Beetee's working on it now," Plutarch gushes at me. He literally gushes.
God, I hate this man.
I have so many reasons to hate him now. Mainly because he didn't go back for Katniss.
Where the Hell could she be?
!
When I get down to the president's command quarters, I'm furious. The more I think about it, the angrier I get.
I was apparently knocked out for two days after the amputation. In those two days, they didn't get Katniss. The thought of her being out there is driving me insane.
"Mr. Abernathy, we're glad to see you out of bed. We have a lot to go over and a lot of activities planned for you in the next few weeks," Coin says.
I scoff at her comment and wheel myself right up to her. She doesn't move to shake my hand or anything.
Maybe she can tell that my wheelchair is the only thing keeping me from strangling her.
"Until you find my wife, I'm not going to aid in your efforts," I say simply before turning around and leaving the room. I ignore the demands to turn around that are yelled at the back of my head.
Within hours, Coin comes to my hospital room to inform me that there was activity recorded in one of 13's bunkers outside of District 12. She's hopeful that it's Katniss' party inside and is sending a hovercraft to investigate within 24 hours.
I hope for her sake that it's Katniss.
I will tear District 13 to pieces if they don't find my wife.
Okay, 8700 word chapter! Please please cheese please review and enjoy! And happy thanksgiving, you wonderful people. 3