Warning: sad part coming up. :'( Brace yourselves.
I know I haven't done Peeta's POV for a couple chapters, but there's gonna be one more Katniss. This scene just works better in her POV. Sorry. :) I promise the next one will be Peeta.
Enjoy!
Gunshots rattle from roofs. People fall in the streets, tripping over one another or crumpling under the rain of bullets. We dodge into an alley along with a frantic couple in neon-pink, leopard-spotted coats. The gunfire continues, and it's only after we emerge again, craning our necks to locate Pollux and Cressida, that I realize it's the rebels that are firing. Here and there, a Peacekeeper goes down, but it's obvious they're not being too selective about who they hit. And with us all dressed up as we are, we're just three more Capitol citizens, fleeing through the streets along with everyone else. Any one of us could be shot. When we finally catch a glimpse of Pollux and Cressida, I'm momentarily relieved. They're still alive, at least.
Gale takes down a Peacekeeper by knocking him in the head, and uses his gun to take down two more. Now we all have weapons. I empty half of my bullets in an intersection choked with steam and snowflakes, and the rest on a pod that twists this way and that, shooting out little clumps of shrapnel coated in caustic, blue fluid. So, when the ground beneath us starts to tip, I don't hesitate in dropping my gun and sprinting for one of the side streets.
Peeta is right behind me. I can tell, because his fingers are still locked onto mine, sweaty and shaking but there, alive, pulse drumming through them. My boots slip on the pavement as it tips at an ever-increasing angle, until I'm running up a hill, up a wall. I take one desperate lunge and hook my left elbow around a lamp post not a foot from the black pit the intersection has morphed into. Then I hear a pop and pain slices through my right shoulder, shooting down my arm. I almost let go. My vision blurs for a moment, narrowing in on the cheery, colorful tiles in front of me. My arm has gone numb; my shoulder and upper back are being pierced by hundreds of white-hot knives.
A scream from below jolts me back to my senses. I twist my head around, heart in my throat, but it's not Peeta. He's still hanging onto my hand, though I can't feel his grip. Gale's location, on the other hand, is a mystery. I have to fight to keep my gaze out of the pit, in case I recognize one of the bodies. And then I spot him, hanging from a doorknob three houses down. He sees me, too.
"Gale!" I cry. "Gale!"
He's kicking the door, trying to get it to open, but it won't budge. Neither of my hands are free to do anything, and even if they were, I don't have an accessible weapon. Suddenly, the door flies open and I see Gale land on a heap in the entryway. I'm confused, until the white-clad hands drag him into the house and the door slams shut again. Peacekeepers. Just as quickly as he escaped the pit, Gale has become a prisoner.
"Grab the edge," I exhale, and it comes out as a sort of sob. I couldn't save Gale, but I can save Peeta. I have to. I swing my whole body, since I've completely lost control of my injured limb, and he uses one hand to catch the ledge. With the other, he clutches the same lamppost I'm dangling from. I let my head fall to the pavement. Take deep breaths. Tell myself it's almost over. Then I drag myself onto solid ground, and Peeta follows me. For a long time, we kneel at the edge, trembling, holding each other. People run past us, skirting around the corner of the trap, but no one bothers with us. After all, right now we are no longer the girl and boy on fire. We are no longer the star-crossed lovers, victors, tributes, not even the children of District Twelve. Now we're just two more citizens, scared and dirty and in pain.
It's a shade lighter when we lift our heads again. Either the sun has fully come up or the steam is dispersing. The stream of people is thinning. We need to get a move on. We silently help each other to our feet and stumble away. Peeta just seems to have noticed my arm.
"Katniss," he gasps. "Your shoulder. It's all… Oh, my God, I'm sorry. If you didn't have to catch me, it wouldn't have…"
"It wasn't you," I tell him, though in all honesty I don't remember exactly how it happened. Everything was a blur after the road started to tip. "I think it's dislocated. Just… pop it back in, if you can."
I brace myself on a fence, gritting my teeth. A traitor shriek escapes me when Peeta pushes and my arm resets itself, and he pulls me to him once again, apologizing over and over. The stabbing in my muscles fades to a persistent ache, still painful but not nearly as bad as it was. A few moments pass, and I feel a pair of eyes on me. I look up to find myself almost face-to-face with someone behind the glass of a storefront. The woman's eyes dart from me to Peeta, recognition igniting on her face. I wheel around, pulling him with me, and dash for the nearest secluded spot. Skidding to a stop behind a hedge, I pant, "Someone saw us."
"I know. Katniss, I think we need to split up."
I look at him in panic.
"It's like I said in the cellar, the two of us is bad enough, but the two of us together... Of course she recognized us. It's a wonder no one else has. Look. I'm not saying we should separate entirely. We'll just put a block or so between us and keep heading for the mansion."
"That was the plan with Cressida and Pollux," I waver, "And look how well that worked out!"
He looks over my head, at the chaos all around us. "Do we have a choice, really?"
No. We don't. It's split up or be seen again. The closer we get to the mansion, the more the odds of our capture increase. If we want to have any chance at all, we need to blend in, and that means being apart. "Okay," I whisper. We step out from behind the hedge, and then it's the Quell all over again- I'm leaving Peeta, going off to fight the final battle. He crushes me in his hug.
"Be careful," I choke.
"You be careful," he counters, pecking me on the lips. "I'll be right behind you."
I pull my hood over my eyes, take a deep breath, and set off without looking back. He's right behind me, I remind myself. Just a couple yards. If anything happens, he'll be right there.
I keep this in mind as I trail after two elderly gentlemen sporting lizard skin hats, playing the part of a scared granddaughter. I scoop up a matching crocodile skin purse from the ground to help the image. They're heading for the president's mansion, and it isn't long before we get there. I dare to glance over my shoulder, letting out the breath I was holding when I see Peeta weaving through the crowd behind me, as he promised.
Across the City Circle, past shivering bodies and forgotten bags, is a concrete barrier, and behind it is a wall of children. I slow my pace, bewildered. Why are there children all lined up in front of the mansion? But then, as I get even closer, I understand. The children are there as a buffer. The rebels, unlike the Capitol, have some morals. They won't kill a yardful of kids to get to Snow. Peacekeepers guard the barriers, ensuring no one leaves.
I almost run right into a flagpole, I'm so distracted by the scene. It gives me an idea. Using my good arm and bracing my boots against the frosted metal, I pull myself up until I can easily see above every head in the Circle. The children wander in disoriented, wobbly circles, bumping into each other every so often. Then, as silently as it did that day in the forest when Lavinia was captured, a hovercraft appears above them. Parachutes drop and are eagerly scooped up by little hands. I watch them, a hint of apprehension wriggling in my gut. This doesn't feel right.
The parachutes explode. A fiery wind surges past me and I let go of the flag pole, landing heavily on my back. While I struggle to breathe, I think, Why? Why? Medics race past, rebel medics, and I crawl a few feet before standing unsteadily.
It's the duck tail that alerts me of her presence. Prim. Prim! My feet take off, body and soul focused on one thing: reach my little sister. I hear my name shouted behind me, but I don't stop, can't stop. I'm nearing the barrier. I scream.
"Prim!" She doesn't turn around, too busy attending to some child to hear me. "Prim!"
"Katniss!"
I'm scrambling up onto the barrier, and that gives my pursuer the opportunity to catch up to me. Arms lock around my waist, yanking me back. I screech and flail, eyes still locked on the blonde braid.
"Prim!"
"No, Katniss!" It's Peeta. His voice is enough to break through to me, but not enough to stop my attempts at getting to her. "Katniss! We have to get away, we have to-"
He never gets the chance to finish. Prim turns, it seems in slow motion, and her eyes find mine. Then a wave of fire swells from behind her, blasting her off her feet. I have one second of shock, pain beyond pain, before it reaches us. We both hit the ground at the same time, limbs tangled together, eyes instinctively closed against the inferno. I howl my little sister's name into Peeta's shoulder before the world goes black.