Thanks to May Fleur for being my Beta!
The aim is to finish HG by the end of April, because after that I'm gonna be in Germany for 2 months and won't have access to an English version. Which means I'll be updating more frequently.
I DO NOT own the characters, plot, setting, etc. As much as I wish I did. It's all Suzanne Collins.
"Tell me a story," Peeta asks Katniss after their meal.
"A story? What about?" She frowns, raising her eyes from her food.
I have to admire Peeta. Sickly, pale, and painfully dying from blood poisoning, he's still able to appreciate strategy. Getting Katniss to tell the audience a story is just another way to make her look good. Plus, it makes them look more like a team. More like they're on some sort of twisted date out here in the wilderness, exchanging childhood tales. Part of me wonders, though, whether this is entirely strategy, or if it's something deeper.
We all get to learn about the happiest day of Katniss' life: the day she bought her sister a goat. She says she sold a silver locket of her mother's, and haggled with the Goat Man over the torn-up creature for her sister. I remember that day. I was in the crowd of people who were arguing about the merits of the deal and about who was going to come out on top. I'd gotten swept up in the discussion on my way to the Hob to get my spirits. Not that I paid much attention at the time to who was buying the goat. I always figured that the girl had gotten the worse end of the deal, and that the mangled creature would die, but it turns out that somehow the goat lived.
Soon after her story ends, the trumpets ring out and Claudius Templesmith is heard. "About time," I mutter. I was starting to wonder if Seneca was paying any attention to me. He invites them to a feast, offering every tribute something that they need desperately at the Cornucopia at dawn, and tells them they'll be in backpacks with their District numbers. The items for each District are shown on the livestream screen to the audience, listed for their convenience. I scan the list. No one needs to get to the Cornucopia as much District 12 does. The contents of that backpack marked 12 are less than useless to anyone else, but priceless for us.
"For some of you, this will be your last chance," he warns.
"Don't I know it," I sigh, focusing my full attention back onto my tributes.
I watch Katniss's expression. She knows what's waiting for her there. Her chance to save Peeta. The chance she's been waiting for. Peeta, though, seems to disagree and grabs her roughly by the shoulder. "No. You're not risking your life for me."
"And here we have the hitch in the plan, gentlemen," Finnick sighs dramatically, placing a hand on his heart. "The none-too-bright Loverboy, who's willing to sacrifice his life, so long as his delicate little Lovergirl stays out of harm's- "
"SHHH!" Chaff and I admonish. Neither of us is in the mood for Finnick, with the lives of our tributes perched more precariously than before. Tonight may well define the Games. Certainly, some will die. Feasts are never bloodless.
"Who said I was?" Katniss asks with an unsuccessful attempt at innocence. She's a terrible liar. We all know she has every intention of going. In her position I'd do the same. This is one of those times where the consequences of not doing something far outweigh the consequences of trying and failing. If I was her, there's not a snowball's chance in hell that I'd go back to District 12 without him.
"So you're not going?" he asks, suspicious.
"Of course I'm not going. Give me some credit. Do you think I'm running straight into some free-for-all against Cato and Clove and Thresh? Don't be stupid," she says as she helps him back to the makeshift bed.
He tells her she's a bad liar, and insists that if she tries to leave, he'll follow her through the woods even if he has to drag himself. One look at him tells me that he'll do it, and I twist the cap off of my plastic bottle in frustration and throw it at his screen, where it ricochets off and hits Finnick square between the eyes. He says something to me, but I don't hear it. I'm too busy considering what we're going to do.
Obviously we have to get this insolent kid out of the picture, Katniss and I. Otherwise he'll just get himself into trouble, and put both of them in danger. Dragging noisily behind her in the forest won't do anything to help the situation. We just need him to stay in one place for a while. Out of trouble. Far away from any other tributes, who might do him harm if they come across him. It would be preferable if we could just have him lose consciousness for a while, so he could be hidden from view. I'm wondering if she could possibly incapacitate him. Cutting off his air supply until he faints seems like the best option, but I figure the audience might have an issue with her seemingly crushing the life out of her beloved partner. Besides, even in his sickly state, this kid might be able to hold her off if she tries something like that. There has to be a way that doesn't look like an attempted murder...
Wait.
It hits me the same time that a well-aimed revenge-bottle cap from Finnick smacks me hard in the temple.
"Effie!" I holler. She's just down the hall and the doors are open, so she hears me loud and clear and comes sauntering into the room in a bit of a bad mood.
"Really, Haymitch, couldn't you come and get me like a decent human being?" she asks.
A decent human being? Ouch. If I had feelings that would have hurt. "How much money do we have right now?"
"Why?" she asks, confusion written on her face.
"Because," I say, "we need to get rid of a little problem."
A short time later, after Peeta enthusiastically finishes a meal to keep Katniss happy, she goes downstream to wash up with a bitter look on her face. She's trying to figure out what she's going to do with Peeta, and I know it. We don't know how much time he has left, or how long these Games are going to last. He could be dead if she doesn't do this. It won't help convince the audience of her "love" for him either, if she doesn't go through with this possible suicide mission.
"Well Sweetheart, this should help you out," I mutter, pushing the button to deliver a gift to her. It floats right by her gracefully, and I almost think she completely misses it. Then her eyes slowly follow its path, and she jumps excitedly after it. A little too excitedly.
She must think it's the antidote. Thankfully, though, she checks it over and figures out what it really is. It's common in District 12. It's a way to help relieve the pain that comes with various ills.
Or, in this case, it's a way to make someone who's being insufferably difficult fall asleep.
"Sweet dreams, Peeta," I whisper quietly to myself, listening intently as the commentators discuss the gift I've just sent Katniss.
She pours it into a handful of mashed berries and brings it into the cave for Peeta, telling him how she brought him a treat. The kid must think Katniss has decided to play fair at this point, and opens his mouth without hesitation, to keep her happy by eating.
"They're sweet as syrup," he says, as she feeds him the last spoonful. "Syrup," he repeats slowly, the truth dawning on him. He tries to spit it out but he can't. Quick as a cat, Katniss shoves her hand against his mouth and nose, and he can't help but swallow. He tries to struggle away from her and vomit the berries, but it's too late. As he loses consciousness, he stares as Katniss with a look of complete betrayal. A look I feel directed at me, for putting her in danger's way for the sake of saving his life. You'll thank me later, kid," I think to myself, taking a reassuring drink from my not-as-satisfactory plastic bottle.
"Who can't lie, Peeta?" Katniss whispers as she wipes the berry juice off his chin.
He can't hear her, but that isn't the point. The rest of Panem can. The commentators' barely-contained excitement bursts forth with this development, along with the rest of the Capitol. They bring in the shrinks to analyze the situation, and even the Head Gamemaker himself, Seneca Crane, gets drilled with questions about how the night is going to go. Finally, a two-person news team is ushered into our room, and I'm commended on my inspirational quick-thinking. The light of the camera burns my eyes as it cuts through the relative dimness of the room.
"How do you think Katniss will fare against the other tributes?" The golden-haired woman asks with chirpy excitement.
"She's fast. She's clever. She's brimming with luck. Personally I think the better question would be how the other tributes will fare against her," I retort, trying to infuse my words with the cockiness I had during my youth. I smirk at the camera and give a wink to the Capitol.
"You seem quite confident," she breathes, her eyes wide.
"My girl hasn't let me down yet," I say, brimming with confidence.
After a few more follow-up questions for Chaff and a smile from Finnick, the crew leaves and we're left alone. Finnick congratulates me on my successful performance, saying that I "almost looked like him". As I watch Katniss make preparations to leave, the fleeting satisfaction of a job well done fades completely as I'm left with an unsettling piece of knowledge.
It's out of my hands now.
I clench my empty fists and sigh deeply.
"She'll make it out," Chaff assures me. It's what I want to hear, but somehow I can't make myself believe that it's true. I can feel the hollowness behind the words, and turn to look at him. He's staring at Thresh's screen unblinkingly.
"They'll both make it out," I say, making a half-hearted attempt to sound positive.
"But then what?" he asks, his voice devoid of any emotion.
By way of answer, I pick up my bottle and take a swig as I stare at Katniss's busy form.