CHAPTER 3.6
'I know I'll find a way to hold on 'till the end.
The dark won't find me.
This burden on my back.
Feels like it's got me trapped.'
"Peeta?"
"Yes?" His voice replied instantaneously.
"I fear I'm going mad."
"Why?"
Indiana refused to mention that she was seeing figures of people that she loved but had died. Nor did she mention that she was able to communicate with them and, most peculiarly, touch them.
"I don't feel the pain anymore."
"That doesn't mean you're losing your mind. It means you've become immune to the pain. You've become stronger than it." Peeta said reassuringly. "I suppose one of us has to be."
Holed up in Finnick's quarters, Cato was attempting to coach his friend through another metal breakdown using techniques he had used to help Indiana during anxiety attacks. Gripping the tanned man's calloused hands, Cato began helping to regulate his breathing, trying to get him to focus on anything other than the monsters in his head. Unfortunately, Finnick only seemed to be getting more hysterical and Cato had no choice other than to call for the medics.
Barely having the time to apologise for what was about to happen, Finnick was dragged from the room and Cato's presence was requested elsewhere. Apparently the Mockingjay required his assistance.
Weapons were thrust into his hands after his body had been forced into an armoured suit and then he was marched towards the Airborne Division - where he was met with Katniss and an agitated Finnick.
"They won't let me go! I told them I was fine but they wouldn't believe me. They refuse to let me come with you."
Still dressed in his hospital gown, Finnick had rope knotted around his fingers and a wild look in his sea blue eyes. Cato wished there were something he could say that would comfort his friend or convince him that staying behind would be best but he knew Finnick was too far gone for reasoning.
Thankfully, the Mockingjay stepped in and managed to distract the man from Four with the promise of a specially designed trident for him down in Weaponry.
"Did Beetee really design a trident for him?" Cato asked, concern lacing his tone as he watched Finnick run off, the back of his gown flapping open.
"And a sword for you, whenever you decide you're ready." Katniss responded.
"I'm not sure I'll ever be ready," he admitted honestly, remembering the pain he had caused using a sword during both of his Games.
Even now, when he was about to enter the field, he was armed with guns rather than the weapon he was most skilled in – much to Katniss' dismay. She knew he was at his strongest when there was a sword in his hand and had come to learn that, before the Games, he had genuinely enjoyed training with a sword as it helped him see he was good at something. Seeing him terrified to pick one up made her realise that the brute from Two was haunted by much more than just the absence of Indiana.
Squeezing her friend's large hand, the pair braced themselves as the elevator doors began opening. Before them were rows and rows of various types of hovercrafts. Immediately, Katniss began barraging people with questions, anger rising when she discovered that District Thirteen had an entire armada of ships and had never come to the rescue of the other Districts.
Strapping themselves into their seats, Cato's stomach rolled as he was thrown into a memory of the hovercrafts that had transported him to the arena during the 74th Hunger Games; he had held Indiana's hand the entire time. Her not being by his side this time made him far more anxious.
In an attempt to district her friend, Katniss began asking questions about the state of war between the Districts and the Capitol. District Two was the only District left that was still siding with the Capitol, and even that relationship was strained. One had rioted almost instantly when Cashmere and Gloss were taken from them. Fuel had been added to the fire when they discovered their beloved Indiana was being held in the Capitol as a prisoner of war.
"You mean, some of the Peacekeepers are born in Two?" Katniss asked, slight shock crossing her dark features. "I thought they all came from the Capitol."
"The majority of them come from Two," explained Cato. "We're trained for the Games but also for Peacekeeping. If we're not chosen for the Games, the rest of us get filtered into becoming Peacekeepers. After all, why use people from the Capitol to do manual work when you can blackmail people from a District to do it in exchange for fresh food and any other comforts we require? We're raised as warriors to ensure we eagerly jump into battle."
Trailing off bitterly, Cato couldn't help thinking about his own Reaping. The gross joy that had swelled within him when he volunteered because he knew his Peacekeeper father would finally be proud of him – proud that Cato had achieved something his father never could.
"Our goal is to take over the Districts, one by one, ending with Two as that'll be the trickiest thus, cutting off the Capitol's supply chain. Then we'll invade the Capitol whilst it's at its weakest." Plutarch explained, informing the Mockingjay and her team that this would be the first of eleven Districts to visit and the others would soon follow.
Unfortunately, Cato missed the majority of the following conversation, as he was too busy worrying about what invading District Two would entail.
Would his mother be caught in the crossfire? His sweet mother who would always patch him up after a rough day at Training, who brushed his hair and whispered soothing words in his ear when his father had been particularly rough with his words or in personal training. Or his adorable younger sisters; the eldest would've had her first Reaping during the 75th Games (if not for the twist) and the youngest who would not know her first Reaping for another two years. And hopefully never would if Cato and the rebels succeeded.
"What if we lose?" Katniss asked, ever the pessimist.
"If we lose?" Plutarch let out a sadistic chuckle. "Then next year's Games will be the most unforgettable."
Accepting a small pill, Cato marvelled at the beautiful shade of deep violet as Plutarch informed the team that they were to use them only in the unfortunate event that they had been captured. For some reason, the suicide pill reminded Cato of his fiancée – stunningly deadly. Before his mind could linger too long on the beautiful features that haunted him day and night, the hovercraft began to descend and Cato was filled with dread once more.
"Do you think he'll come for me?" Indiana questioned, picking at a loose thread on her plain white dress.
The article of clothing was nothing lavish but fine enough that it was the last thing someone would expect to see a prisoner dressed in. Torture aside, the 'rebels' were given fairly decent treatment whilst in their cells, in the hopes that it would soften them up a little. They were fed regularly, they had a comfy bed to sleep on and the sheets were changed weekly (although that was probably because most of them sweat regularly during their nightmares).
"I think he'd tear down the Capitol brick by brick, even if it meant he could only see your face one last time." Marvel answered, sitting across the other side of the cell, back pressed against the bars.
Yet he showed no sign of discomfort despite the metal rods prodding into his spine.
Once again, it was only her and Enobaria left in the room. By now, Enobaria had accepted that the young woman had gone crazy and decided to give her the chance to say goodbye to those she loved, even if it meant hallucinating them.
"I know that that's what I would've done," he continued.
Some part of Indiana's heart ached. Marvel had finally confessed his love for his best friend and had promised that he would attend her wedding. Not reciprocating his feelings made the blonde feel so guilty. After all, that's probably how her life would've panned out if she hadn't gone into the Games; married Marvel, had kids, lived their lives together until they died.
Instead, she had fallen deeply for a man she had known for two weeks and would've gladly survived the Games with him after Marvel passed. Thankfully, the unconditional love between the two friends hadn't changed whatsoever and Marvel had admitted he was truly happy that Indiana had found a man to love.
Chatting about Indiana's ideal visions for the wedding, neither ghost nor girl noticed a trembling Johanna being dragged back into her cell.
"I'm not sure I'd be a great mother." Indiana admitted forlornly, looking into her best friend's light blue eyes.
They were technically the same colour as Cato's but were so different at the same time. The only similarity between them was the love they held upon looking at her. Johanna was about to respond to the random statement but then she heard the next sentence spill out of the girl's mouth.
"You really think so? Of course I would name one after you, Marvel," she laughed lightly, the sound reverberating around the room and pounding against Johanna's already throbbing head.
The sound vastly out of place in a room often filled with screams and sobs.
Surely I must have misheard, Johanna thought, opening her mouth to call out to her friend.
"No, don't leave me, Marvel!" Indiana sobbed when a small squeak sounded from the cell of District Seven. "Marvel, no! Marvel!"
Screams slipped out of Indiana's mouth, stunning even Annie out of her far away world and forcing her Peacekeepers to burst into her cell once more. Now they were always prepared with sedatives. Watching as her friend collapsed to the floor, sobs sneaking past her lips, Johanna realised that the young woman was, perhaps, not as strong as she was masquerading around as. Even worse, she was not as sane as she had fooled them into thinking.
Indiana Summers was losing her mind and no one had paid any attention to it.
'Gonna let the hurting go.
And feel the sun come streaming in.
Gonna find a million candles.
Gonna light 'em one by one until the darkness ends.'
