Hey guys! Sorry, it's a kind of short, boring chapter, but it's also necessary before the more exciting stuff happens. Leave me some reviews if you have comments or suggestions. I don't own the Hunger Games.
It has been a month since Finnick's last propo, and I am not allowed to leave the district for propos anymore. I'm thirty weeks pregnant, and Dr. Borley claims that it's just not 'safe' for me to be exposed like that. Johanna is training-though Peeta has already finished his training-despite her objections. I told her that it's just pointless for her to be cooped up with me all day when she could be doing something useful. So I spent a lot of time with Cinna during my boring and empty days. If only Finnick were here, this place might actually not be so bad.
Plutarch has recruited Madge to appear in his propos, mostly because she's a 'young, attractive face from the districts.' She didn't say much when we went back to Twelve a week ago to film another propo, just stood next to Gale and tried not to look at the ruins of the house where her father died. She stops by to see me every other day, and she seems happier. I don't know if it's because she's starting to move on from her father's death, or if it's because more involved in the war effort, or if it's because of Gale. I don't know if they're together, but when I see her, Gale is almost always attached to her hip.
We've taken three districts: Three, Eight, and Eleven. As far as I know, we're close to taking more. Peeta's filmed a wonderfully crafted propo that's targeted for Districts 1 and 2, and just a few days after it aired, an uprising started in District 1. District 2 has a small insurgence, but it is still largely controlled by Peacekeepers.
Today, I'm sprawled out on the couch while Peeta spends the day in Command. Johanna and Madge are training. Prim and my mother are working. It seems that I'm the only person who isn't needed. I understand that Coin doesn't want to take a risk on sending me to the districts, but really, it's frustrating to be cooped up here while everyone but me contributes to the effort. I'm supposed to be the Mockingjay.
Thankfully, not long after I've slipped into my resentful reverie, Peeta slides the door open. "Hi, sweetheart," he says, looking distracted. He kneels down and kisses me on the lips, then settles onto the edge of the sofa. "They're going to air our propo from Twelve. Beetee thinks he can broadcast it in the Capitol."
"Alright," I murmur, more concerned with how handsome he is than what he's saying. I reach up and brush the curls off his forehead. "When's Johanna coming home?"
"She's waiting for you in Command," he tells me, leaning down to drop a long kiss on my mouth. "Coin wants you there."
"Why?" I ask irritably. "She already decided I'm too pregnant to be useful." Peeta's hand settle on my stomach, which is truly enormous now. I'm still as thin—in the rest of my body—as I was before I got pregnant, which only makes my stomach look bigger by comparison. And to think I still have two months left before I'm due to give birth. It looks like Haymitch Jr. could come out any minute.
"She mentioned something about another propo," murmurs Peeta. He leans down to kiss my belly. "Just an interview session with Cressida. I can come, if you want."
"Alright," I say. I lift my arms up so he can help me stand up. He hauls me to my feet, and puts a steady arm around me. I used to be nimble and agile, graceful even. I can still hunt—sort of—but I'm not nearly as quick on my feet as I used to be. I try not to be resentful about it, but it's hard. My body is foreign to me now.
Peeta seems to be following the direction my thoughts have taken, because he backs up a few steps and says, "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
"You are," I say, and he pulls me out of the compartment.
PB
The propo is spectacular, I have to admit. But that doesn't wipe away the resentment I feel for President Coin and her uniform gray hair. I have to actively try not to narrow my eyes at her the entire time we're in Command.
"Well done, Katniss," she tells me, and it takes all of my effort to force a smile at her. "You've proven yourself very useful for the rebellion."
"Thanks," I say. "When can I start filming again?"
"Well, I'm sure we can film a propo when Haymitch Junior is born," she says, frowning down at her notes. "And we're sending Peeta and Johanna to District 2 in about a week."
"I want to go," I say immediately.
"No," says Coin flatly. "You're too far along in your pregnancy. Two is more dangerous than any other district right now."
"I'll stay somewhere safe," I protest. "I won't get any more involved than I need to be."
"Katniss, they're going for a couple of weeks," sighs Plutarch. "We're close to taking District 1, but District 2 is more difficult. We need them for as long as they can be spared."
I turn to glare at Peeta, but he seems as surprised about this as I am. Johanna has her eyes narrowed at Plutarch. Madge and Gale are both looking down at their hands.
"This isn't fair," I say. "I've only filmed a few propos. I feel useless."
"Mrs. Everdeen-Mellark, with all due respect, do you think you'll be doing anyone any favors in the field?" asks Coin, her voice firm and gentle at the same time. She gestures towards my stomach. "You'll only put yourself and your child at risk."
"I can speak to the rebels. Try and convince them to surrender," I suggest.
"Plutarch and I will discuss it," she says, obviously trying to placate me. "But even if we do approve you to go to District 2, it will only be when the majority of the District is in rebel hands. The risk is too great otherwise."
I am about to start arguing when one of the screens on the wall switches on. The Capitol seal is there, just for a few seconds, before it's replaced with the face of Caesar Flickerman.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen of Panem. I'm Caesar Flickerman and tonight, we have a special guest. Finnick, how do you feel tonight?"
The camera pans from Caesar's face, and when it lands on Finnick, my hands go to my mouth. Finnick looks pale and clammy, and the makeup barely hides the bruises under his eyes. Beads of sweat break free on his forehead and upper lip. He looks awful.
"About as well as I look," says Finnick, trying to smile. I lean my head forward into my hands and I groan.
"Finnick, let's get right down to it. Tonight, a message from Katniss Everdeen-Mellark was broadcast right here in the Capitol."
"Yes," says Finnick. "She was in Eight, with Johanna and Peeta."
"I think it seems pretty clear that the rebels are using your friends," speculates Caesar. "What do you think, Finnick?"
Finnick laughs bitterly, like he's desperate to say what he really thinks. But instead he says, "Yeah, Caesar, I think the rebels are using them. I mean, look at Peeta in this footage. He's shooting hoverplanes out of the sky. Peeta was never one to use force against another human being, unless it was the last option he had." On a smaller screen behind them, footage from the propo appears, and there Peeta is in all of his glory, strong and beautiful, shooting explosives from his massive gun.
"How do you think he's being manipulated?" asks Caesar.
"I don't know," says Finnick. "Obviously, they can't use Katniss against him, because she's there. But in any case, I don't think Peeta—or Katniss or Johanna—really knows who they are. What they want for the country."
"Do you think the rebels are threatening them in order to make them perform?"
"Possibly," says Finnick, looking into the camera. His eyes are saying everything that his words aren't. Don't stop fighting. "I doubt any of them know what's really at stake."
"And what's that, Finnick? What's at stake?" asks Caesar, leaning forward.
"Extinction," intones Finnick. He looks into the camera determinedly. "Think about the consequences of this war, Katniss. Peeta. Johanna. This war could wipe us off the face of the Earth. And your friends in Thirteen? How can you trust them? They've spent seventy-five years pretending they didn't exist, only to intervene when it was convenient for them. No one is safe," says Finnick. He starts sweating and looks nervously out of the corner of his eye. "Not me or Chaff, here in the Capitol. Not anyone in the Districts. And you, in District 13 . . ." he pauses, still sweating, as if he's wondering whether he should continue. Taking a deep breath, he finishes, "They're coming, Johanna! In District 13, you'll be dead by morning!"
I hear Snow's voice say, "End it." Then, right before the broadcast cuts off, there's something swinging at Finnick, and his blood spatters all over the tiles behind him.
It's silent in Command for a moment, before Johanna gets up and starts swearing at the television, and I have to wrap my fingers around her wrists so she doesn't start throwing things. She calms down, only long enough to spit at Coin, "That was a warning."
"Yes, it was," agrees Haymitch. Everyone gets up and starts arguing. Eventually, Haymitch raises his voice to speak over all the voices mixing together. "Didn't you see that? They're torturing him right now!"
"He's in Snow's mansion, he could've overheard something," agrees Plutarch. Everyone starts arguing again, but Haymitch yells over the din.
"Madame President, you don't know him. We do. That was a warning."
Eventually, Coin agrees to send the district into lockdown—all while me, Johanna, and Peeta are panicking about Finnick's blood on the tiles—and within seconds, there's a loud, ear-splitting alarm. Peeta grasps my upper arm and practically pulls me out of Command. In any other place, an alarm like this would send the populace into panic. Not Thirteen. All of the citizens we see are calmly heading for a flight of stairs. I want to scream at them to run, to hurry up, before we're all buried alive in this coffin.
"Come on, baby, hurry up," says Peeta. His arm is around me, and I can tell it's taking all of his self-control not to pick me up and run me down the stairs. Johanna is behind us, keeping up a continuous stream of swear words.
"You'd think these stupid fuckers would go a little faster," snaps Johanna. A woman from Thirteen turns around and glares at her. Johanna hisses at her.
"Katniss, Katniss, listen," says Peeta. "You need to get down there as fast as you can, okay?"
"Where are you going?" I shout.
"I need to go make sure our families are alright," yells Peeta over the alarm.
"They must've heard the alarm!" I say. "They're coming, I'm sure they're coming! Don't leave me!"
I think Peeta sighs—it's too loud for me to hear it—and wraps his arm tighter around me. "God, I just want you to be safe down there already," he snaps, sounding almost like Johanna. The crowd seems to thin out a little bit in front of us, so we must be getting close. We're so far underground now that I'm sure we're miles underneath the bedrock. "Oh, thank God," groans Peeta as the doors to the bunker come into sight. Peeta pushes me in front of him as we approach the doors, nearly shoving me into the bunker.
Suddenly, I'm seized with an awful, painful cramping sensation in my abdomen. I clench my teeth and bite back a scream. Peeta's in front of me in a second, taking my face in one of his hands. "Katniss, what's the matter? Katniss?"
I make some weird strangled noise and point to my stomach. "Cramp," I manage to get out, closing my eyes tightly.
"What? Is the baby coming?" I hear Peeta ask frantically. When I don't respond, he swings me into his arms and practically runs, but I don't know where. I just keep my eyes closed and wait for the clenching sensation in my abdomen to go away. Eventually, we come to a stop and I open my eyes hesitantly. We're at a little enclave in the wall under a big 'M' with our compartment number, 1262, above it.
"I'll go get our packs," says Johanna. "And see if Katniss's mom is back so she can look at her."
"Come on, Katniss," says Peeta, who I can tell is trying to keep his voice calm and measured. "I'll lay you down."
The cramp in my abdomen subsides, and I grunt, "No, I can do it. I'm fine." Peeta ignores me and sets me down gently on the lower, bigger bunk in the wall. "It doesn't hurt anymore."
"Katniss, is he coming? It's too early," says Peeta, panic finally registering in his voice.
"No, I don't think so," I tell him, putting a hand on my rock-hard stomach. "Dr. Borley said there might be false alarms. Hey," I say, laying my hand against his cheek. There's still panic in his eyes. "Stop worrying. I'm fine."
Johanna comes back a few minutes later with three backpacks slung over her shoulder and my mother in tow. Johanna throws the packs on the ground impatiently and perches on the side on my enclave. "You alright?" she asks.
"Fine," I say. I look at my mother, who is wringing her hands, looking worried. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing, dear," she replies. "Let's get you over to the med station so I can look at you." Peeta tugs me out of bed and tries to carry me again, but I wave him off. I would be embarrassed if the people of Thirteen saw Peeta carting me around even more. I do, however, let him rub little circles into my shoulders.
Soon enough, my mother has me in a medical gown and propped up in a gurney, and she instructs me to part my legs so she can examine me.
"Mom," I say awkwardly. "Can't someone else do it? This makes me uncomfortable."
"Katniss, I'm your mother," she snaps. Her tone is enough to make me shut up, so I put my feet in the little metal stirrups and because it's semidark down here, shines a flashlight between my legs. She pulls out a little metal instrument and passes the flashlight to Peeta. "No, a little to the left," she instructs him patiently. He complies and I can feel the press of cold metal. When she tosses the metal instrument aside, she takes the flashlight back, stands up, and starts pressing against my stomach. It's wildly uncomfortable and Haymitch begins protesting by banging against the walls of my uterus indignantly.
"What's wrong?" Peeta asks when he sees worry creasing my mother's brow.
"Nothing, I-" she stops short, and presses her lips together before she continues, "Katniss, he's already dropped."
"What does that mean?" asks Peeta.
"It means he's moved into a position more suitable for labor," explains my mother, wringing her hands together. "Which, in turn, means that he is going to arrive sooner than we planned."
"How soon?" demands Peeta. I look nervously from him to my mother, worry rising up in my stomach. I barely notice Johanna grabbing my hand.
"Well, since this is Katniss's first child, it could be a few more weeks," says my mother.
"Isn't that still too early?" I ask, my voice taking on the same panicked tone as Peeta's.
"Not necessarily," explains my mother, her voice calm and steady. "Little Haymitch is measuring big for his age, and will have about the same survival rate as a full-term baby, if he makes it to week 34."
"So Katniss is okay? Haymitch is okay?" asks Peeta.
"Yes," my mother assures. "But I'm keeping you here until Dr. Borley gets down here to look at you. Your face is a little too swollen for my liking."
"Where's Prim?" I ask. "Shouldn't she be here?"
"She was helping with patients," answers my mother. "I'm sure she'll be here soon."
I look at Peeta desperately and he nods at me, taking off for my family's bunks. Johanna squeezes my hand even more tightly, and perches on the side of my bed. My mother looks at me uncertainly and I tell her, "Mom, I'm fine. If you have somewhere else you need to be, you should go."
She grasps my shoulder tightly and kisses me on the forehead before scurrying off. Johanna's hand falls on my belly, and I scoot over on the tiny hospital cot to make room for her. She wedges herself in next to me and asks, "So, have you chosen the other godparent?"
"I'm letting Peeta choose," I explain. "I chose you, so it's only fair that he should get to choose the godfather. I'm guessing he'll probably choose one of his brothers."
"Can I ask you something?" asks Johanna.
"You ju-"
"Shut up," she snaps. "Why'd you choose me instead of Prim? Or Madge?"
"That's pretty easy," I say. "First of all, Prim is only thirteen. If Peeta and I die in the war, I don't want to saddler a thirteen year old with raising our kid. That isn't fair to her. Second of all, I didn't choose Madge because in the event that I die, I want Haymitch Junior to grow up with someone who's similar to me. Who'd raise him in the same kind of way I would. Not that Madge would be a poor choice, because she wouldn't. I just want him to have someone like me."
"I suppose," says Johanna.
"I trust you, almost more than anyone else, Johanna. I know, if we died, you'd do anything and everything for our child. And you wouldn't let him forget us," I tell her, squeezing her hand. "He's going to love his Aunt Jo."
"Ugh," scoffs Johanna. "You have to come up with a better name for me than 'Aunt Jo.'"
I laugh, but after a minute say, "I'm nervous. If Mom's right, he could be here sooner than we thought. I'm afraid I'm going to be a horrible parent."
"Good thing Peeta will be around," jokes Johanna. I shove her a little bit, but we're wedged in so tightly she doesn't move. "I'm guessing when we invade the Capitol, your mom and sister are going to take him."
"Yeah," I sigh. My hand falls to my belly, and I already feel like a horrible mother because I'll be abandoning him to go fight in the Capitol. But I try and tell myself that I'm doing it for him and his future. "Mom, Prim, and Haymitch will have to take him in shifts, since they're all working."
We're quiet for a while, listening to the bustle of more people coming into the bunker and getting situated. No bombs have fallen yet, but we've only been down here for fifteen minutes. Coin told me once that their systems could detect missiles up to twenty minutes away. Radar, or something like that.
I'm somewhat alarmed, though, when I see Peeta running towards us, so I sit up abruptly and say, "What is it?"
"I can't find Prim anywhere," he gasps. "She isn't with the Hawthornes, or my family, or anyone else we know. Gale's missing, too."
"What?" I snap, moving to get up from the bed. Johanna tries to shove me back down, but I push her hands away. "It's my sister, I'm not just going to sit here."
I pull my gray pants on under my hospital gown, which I promptly throw off and replace with a gray shirt, and start running for the entrance to the bunker. What is she doing? I almost scream in my mind. Why isn't she here? I stop for a moment, close my eyes, and try to think like Prim. Try to think of her as prey that I'm tracking. She heard the alarms, helped ready the patients, then she headed for—
"She went back for the cat," I burst out to no one in particular. I sprint, full-on, for the doors, and even though I'm not as fast as I used to be, I'm still faster than Peeta and Johanna. When I get to the doors, the guards tell me that they're closing them in one minute. I try glaring at them, but they give me impassive expressions, so I dart out into the stairwell. "Not going to leave the Mockingjay out here, are you?" I spit at them. One of the guards rolls his eyes and takes his hand off the lever that closes the doors. I run up a flight of stairs, yelling "Prim! Prim!"
It's dark in the stairwell, and I can't see anything above me. "Prim!" I scream again, hoping and praying and begging that she's on her way down here, that she's alright, that she won't be taken from me by Snow.
"Katniss! We're coming!" I hear Gale yell down to me, and I run up another flight of stairs. I hear Johanna abusing the guards behind me, and Peeta's prosthetic leg clunks behind me on the steps. When I finally reach them, I slam headfirst into Prim.
"You idiot!" I hiss at her, but we don't have time for this. Peeta practically throws me over his shoulder and we run down the stairs, desperately hoping Johanna's hostility kept the doors open.
It did. Not seconds after the doors close, the first bomb falls. The lights short out, but they turn back on after a moment. I turn to Prim and say, "Why did you go back, Prim? That was so stupid, I could've lost you!" I shake her a little but pull her into my arms. Buttercup hisses at me.
"I couldn't leave him," she says, her voice imploring me to understand. "He came back to protect us!" I hug her tightly again, almost laughing in relief.
When I release her, I look at Gale. Before long, I fling myself at him, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck. "Thank you," I breathe into his neck.
I feel guilty, so overwhelmingly guilty, that the one who stopped to check for Prim and my mother was Gale, not me. But at the same time, I'm desperately grateful that he did. He chuckles, a little throatily, and says, "You're welcome," into my hair. When I finally release him, Peeta shakes his hand and thanks him, his voice almost as emotional and sincere as my own. Johanna swings at his shoulder halfheartedly.
"I can't believe you risked your life for that cat," says Peeta to Prim, wrapping an arm tightly around her shoulders.
"Don't lecture me," says Prim, but her voice carries no venom. Prim couldn't be mean to Peeta if she tried; she absolutely adores him. She grins at him and Peeta tousles her hair.
Seeing them like this just makes sense. Peeta is a wonderful person, and is kind and affectionate in all of the right ways. When I see him with Prim, I have no doubt that he'll be the best father in Panem. I'm watching them walk, affection saturating my heart, while Gale and Johanna walk next to me silently.
"He'll be a good dad," remarks Gale.
"Get out of my head," I respond.
"I don't need to get in your head," retorts Gale. "It's written all over your face."
"I guess," I tell him, nudging him with my elbow. "Thank you. For checking on them. If you didn't, Prim might not be here."
"Katniss, your family is practically my family," says Gale, waving off my thanks. "I'd never let anything happen to Prim."
"Thanks anyway," I say. We come up on the E section of bunks, so Peeta, Gale, and I walk Prim to her and Mom's bunk. Mom must still be in the medical station, because the beds are empty. Their two packs are strewn across the bottom bunk. "Wanna come to our station?" I ask Prim.
"Katniss, you have to get back to the med station," Peeta reminds me. I roll my eyes.
"It's alright," cuts in Johanna. "If you want to come back to our bunks, Prim, I'll sit with you."
"Okay," agrees Prim. "I don't want to be alone."
"Me either," says Johanna, nudging her hip against Prim. Prim giggles a little. They dart ahead of us, laughing and racing between people and bunks.
It isn't until we—me walking between Peeta and Gale—reach the H section that anything peculiar happens. I hear a strangled kind of shriek, and my eyes dart around, searching for the source. My eyes land on Madge, who is sitting with the rest of the Hawthornes, looking drawn and pale. When we get closer, she narrows her eyes at Gale, and stands up, stalking towards him.
"Do you," she begins in a low, dangerous voice. I back up a few steps. "Have any idea how worried I've been? Do you?"
"Madge, I-" begins Gale, but she holds her hand up for him to stop.
"You have had your entire family worried sick, and what about me? Don't you care how I would've felt if-" but Madge's words are cut off because Gale has rolled his eyes and taken her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. Her hands, which were curled into tight little fists, have dropped to her sides, and she looks so stunned she doesn't know how to respond. Eventually, she does, bringing her hands up to his back, and kissing him back. I grin to myself a little, and Peeta nudges me with his elbow. He's smiling, too.
When they finally break apart, Gale's thumb strokes her cheek gently and he grins down at her. "Is that a good enough answer?" he says. She doesn't say anything, she doesn't smile. Just looks at him with serious, desperate, warm eyes. I feel the tug of Peeta's hand against mine, and I realize we're probably invading their privacy. So I let Peeta pull me towards the med station, and when I look back over my shoulder, Gale and Madge haven't moved.