Many apologies for slow updates… I've re-watched the film multiple times since I got my DVD and was reminded I am really far behind on updating this. I do plan on finishing this, and doing Mockingjay from Peeta's POV, as well. Follow or favorite for updates!
Katniss looks at me sadly as we stand on the stage, declared the tributes from District 12 for a second time. There's no time to talk; we are brought directly into the Justice Building where Head Peacekeeper Thread is waiting for us. "New procedure," he says with an evil grin. We quickly learn there will be no time for goodbyes. No time to say any last words to my parents or brothers… No time for Katniss to say goodbye to her mother, Prim, or Gale. We're taken directly to the train station in a dark car. Haymitch and Effie arrive, escorted by guards. We're ushered onto the train, and watch as District 12 slips away from us; for at least one of us, forever.
Katniss stays at the window a long time, and I know what she must be thinking.
"We'll write letters, Katniss," I say. "It will be better, anyway. Give them a piece of us to hold on to. Haymitch will deliver them for us if… they need to be delivered." She nods and goes straight to her room without a word. I go to mine, as well, and sit down with paper and pen to begin a letter to my family, but can't muster the words as easily as I usually do. Instead, I review the list of past Victors in my notebook, think about strategy, but mostly, think about Katniss.
Surely she must know that Haymitch has made me promises, and that I volunteered to save her. I don't expect her to be happy about this, so her obvious distress could be, in part, her sadness at going back in the arena with me, and partly the idea of losing me. A part of me holds onto this like a candle flame, in need of protection lest it die out. A small piece of hope that Katniss really loves me.
Effie knocks on my door and trills, "Dinnertime!" in her usually enthusiastic manner. But the atmosphere at the dinner is subdued. Even though we are presented with beautiful dishes never seen in District 12, we mostly eat in silence. I try to start conversation by commenting on Effie's hair, which is now a glittering golden tone.
"I love your new hair, Effie," I say.
"Thank you. I had it especially done to match Katniss's pin. I was thinking we might get you a golden ankle band and maybe find Haymitch a gold bracelet or something so we could all look like a team," says Effie.
"I think that's a great idea," I tell her, with genuine feeling. "How about it, Haymitch?"
"Yeah, whatever," says Haymitch. Because he isn't drinking, Effie also had her wine removed, but he still looks wretched. He can't be happy about us returning to arena to fight his victor friends from over the years, and he has known about my plan for months. This makes me wonder what the reaction from the Capitol inhabitants will be. If the people in the Districts were upset by the Hunger Games because of watching their own go to the arena to die, maybe for the residents of the Capitol, watching their beloved victors go back to the arena will finally make them realize the barbarism of the Games.
"Maybe we could get you a wig, too," Katniss says to him in an attempt at lightness. Haymitch shoots her a look, and we continue to eat our dessert in silence.
"Shall we watch the recap of the reapings?" says Effie at the end of the meal.
I go to get my notebook on the remaining living victors, and we all gather in the compartment with the television to see who our competition will be in the arena. We are seated on plush couches, Katniss next to me, Haymitch and Effie on another couch, as the anthem begins to play and the recap of the reaping ceremonies begins.
With seventy-five years of Hunger Games in Panem's history, fifty-nine victors are still living. Their faces are familiar to me from seeing them as tributes or mentors at previous Games or from the recent viewing of the victors' tapes. Some are very old or ravaged by illness, drugs, or alcohol. But every district has at least one female and one male victor. The reapings fly by, and I note stars by the names of the chosen tributes in my notebook. Haymitch watches without revealing any emotions, as friends of his are selected as tributes. Effie makes quiet comments like "Oh, not Cecelia" or "Well, Chaff never could stay out of a fight," and sighs often.
We watch all eleven other Districts select their victor tributes, and then we see the recap of our own reaping. Katniss is called. Then Haymitch. And then I volunteer. An announcer has visible tears in her eyes, because it seems the odds will never be in our favor, we star-crossed lovers of District 12. Haymitch then leaves without commentary, and Effie genuinely wishes us a good night. I tear out pages from my notebook on the victors who were not selected, keeping only those that remain, while Katniss watches silently.
"Why don't you get some sleep?" I say.
She doesn't respond for a moment, finally asking, "What are you going to do?"
"Just review my notes awhile. Get a clear picture of what we're up against. But I'll go over it with you in the morning. Go to bed, Katniss," I say. And she does as she's told for once, leaving the compartment and me alone with my thoughts.
After reviewing all of my notes on the selected tributes, I decide I should also review the videos that Effie sent and narrow in on the clips of the victors we will face in the arena to see if I can figure out their strengths and weaknesses and how we might work with them as possible allies, or our best options for working against them. I get lost in watching the action, almost forgetting that I will come to face-to-face with these victors in a short time and be forced to kill them to protect Katniss. I'm watching the Games in which Brutus became victor when I hear voices in the hallway.
I get up and turn off the recording when I see Katniss enter the compartment. "Couldn't sleep?" I ask, feeling stupid, because obviously she's now awake.
"Not for long," she says. I notice she's wearing a light robe, and pulls it more tightly around herself.
"Want to talk about it?" I ask. She shakes her head, but I'm not convinced. I take a chance and hold out my arms, and she doesn't hesitate, immediately coming close and wrapping her arms around me. I hold her tightly and bury my face in her hair, my lips brushing her neck through the dark waves. I've missed being this near her, but I've kept my distance for many reasons, mainly because she didn't seem to want my affection. But something feels different now, and she doesn't let go, and neither do I. We stand there, holding each other, until a Capitol attendant arrives, which breaks our embrace. He's brought a tray of something hot, and sets it down on a table.
"I brought an extra cup," he says.
"Thanks," Katniss says.
"And I added a touch of honey to the milk. For sweetness. And just a pinch of spice," he adds. He looks at us for a moment, like he wants to say something, then shakes his head slightly and backs out of the room.
"What's with him?" Katniss says.
"I think he feels bad for us," I say.
"Right," she says sarcastically, pouring the milk.
"I mean it. I don't think the people in the Capitol are going to be all that happy about our going back in," I tell her. "Or the other victors. They get attached to their champions."
"I'm guessing they'll get over it once the blood starts flowing," she says. "So, you're watching all the tapes again?"
"Not really. Just sort of skipping around to see people's different fighting techniques," I say. "Who's next?" she asks.
"You pick," I say, holding out the box to her to make a selection.
She rifles around in the box and comes up with the second Quarter Quell games, year fifty… the year that Haymitch won.
"We never watched this one," she says.
I shake my head. "No. I knew Haymitch didn't want to. The same way we didn't want to relive our own Games. And since we're all on the same team, I didn't think it mattered much."
"Is the person who won in twenty-five in here?" she asks.
"I don't think so. Whoever it was must be dead by now, and Effie only sent me victors we might have to face." I weigh Haymitch's tape in my hand. "Why? You think we ought to watch it?"
"It's the only Quell we have. We might pick up something valuable about how they work," she says, but seems hesitant. "We don't have to tell Haymitch we saw it."
"Okay," I agree. I put in the tape and Katniss curls up next to me on the couch with her milk, and we lose ourselves in the Fiftieth Hunger Games.