Disclaimer: This fic is rated "M" for language for future sexual content. I do not own any of the characters of The Hunger Games (although I wish I did). All other ideas and creative liberties are my own.
Three days. I sit on my ass for three days. Three whole days of playing the good patient, allowing Katniss to nurse me back to health, while testing my patience as she tends to my leg, washes my body (only the upper half and my legs), and shoves spoonful after spoonful of stew and mushed-up fruit down my throat. To my disappointment, for all my good behavior, Katniss doesn't reward me even once with another kiss.
Although, she has threatened to pin me down and sit on me a few more times. But since I promised myself I'd be back on my best behavior, I bite my tongue each time because who am I kidding—having her on me in any way would be more of a reward than a punishment. It's for the best, though, cooling things off between us. Not that there was really anything going on between us.
Ugh. That's another thing I've been doing these past few days. Thinking. A lot of thinking. Or rather obsessing. That damn kiss has been wreaking havoc on my ability to think rationally, and I've been second-guessing myself a hundred times over.
The annoyingly optimistic part of me is trying to convince the rest of me of the possibility that there was more to that kiss than I originally thought. That Katniss might actually have feelings for me that stem from something other than pity or guilt. But even if she did harbor a genuine interest in me, it'd never work out. How could it?
Oh, sweetheart, remember that time my entire race descended onto your planet and set forth in enslaving your people for the benefit of mine so they could take over? Yeah, me too, good times.
Yeah right, that's not exactly something you can just sweep under the table and forget about.
It also doesn't help that these past three nights she's slept curled up next to me, albeit safely wrapped up in my sleeping bag upon my insistence.
But then again, there's still a chance that I'm obsessing over nothing. No one could be coming. Strange how that doesn't seem to bother me in the slightest anymore. Either way, being linked to me will earn Katniss no favors, not from my people or from hers. Maybe in another life, or in another world, things between us could be different, but that's just wishful thinking. A wish for the impossible.
These are the thoughts that plague me every minute of the day, which also happens to be the same ones that keep me tossing and turning for most of the night. One thing has become clear: if help does arrive, I'll be expected to check in, as per protocol.
They'll fly me back up to the Capitol for a debriefing with President Snow and his council, where I'll be treated to a lavish meal for all my troubles, and even receive a pat on the back from the man himself. Then, after they pick my brain for all that they can, I'll be expected to lead the first expedition back to the surface to meet the local inhabitants.
There's this sick feeling in my gut, though, that if I don't have a location of the village to give them, I won't be useful to them anymore, which can only mean one thing: I'll never set foot on DIST-12 again.
So I've come to a decision, even if it is a shitty one, because the more time I spend with Katniss, the less I want to lose her. But I can't be here when the countdown ends, which means I really need to leave. Problem is, I haven't figured out how to yet.
I am eventually allowed out of the cave on Day 18, under the supervision of my chaperone of course, but Katniss proves to be more than useful when she prevents me from tumbling down the rock face, thanks to the memory loss of my stiff muscles and joints. It takes almost twice as long to reach the stream because my feet seem to catch on every tree root and rock in my path. But when we eventually reach the clearing, just the sound of the rippling water has me groaning in anticipation.
For fear of tripping over my own feet, I allow Katniss to guide me down the slight incline, trying hard not to lean too much on her as I limp along the grass. When she offers to help me undress I roll my eyes.
"There is no need to be shy." Katniss's throaty laugh is rough and gravelly and unfortunately for me, downright sexy.
It's become a running joke between us, my objection to being naked around her. And believe me, it's not because I'm shy. It's because I'm still damn human. How am I supposed to keep things casual between us if I'm walking around with my cock out as if it's a normal thing?
She thinks I'm being juvenile because you know, as part of being my personal bed nurse during recovery, she's been privy to every aspect of the job. And I mean every aspect, which still makes me cringe.
Today I ignore the teasing, and after toeing off my boots and shedding my jacket and grubby undershirt, I focus on working my pants over my wound. I'm still amazed at how good it looks (not that the gnarly scar is at all pretty). I have a much easier time undressing compared to this morning when I almost toppled ass first into the fire pit. Shows me for shrugging off help. I couldn't help but smile, though, when I noticed that the hole left by the spike in my pants was patched with a piece of hide that I'm pretty sure is from one of Katniss's dresses.
Glancing over my shoulder, I check to see if I've still got an audience before shucking my underwear. A part of me is a little disappointed to find that she's got her back to me, but the logical part of me says it's about time we quit playing these little games.
Whether I like it or not, everything will change in four days. Either I'll permanently become DIST-12's one and only human resident, or this planet is going to get a little too crowded. But I'm not in the mood for another mental guilt trip and my privates are covered in way too much sweat and grime to care about much else. Swiping a hand down my face, I kick my last piece of clothing off to the side, but not before grimacing at how filthy it looks.
It takes a bit of careful maneuvering to wade into the water, but once the coolness envelopes me like a second skin, I sink in down to my waist with a relieved groan. I anchor myself with my hands to allow my legs to float and bob with the lazy current, relishing the feel of weightlessness that I realized until now I've actually kind of missed.
We're both quiet for a long while, but at some point, I'm pretty sure I hear the rustling of movement behind me. My suspicions are confirmed when I spot Katniss a little ways further downstream, scrubbing my underclothes against a rock.
"So, I was thinking," I start, lowering myself deeper until the gentle waves are lapping at my chin. "Don't you think it's about time I met the rest of your herd?"
As expected, my words hang in the air, unanswered. Then without looking up, Katniss pauses and frowns, then shakes her head.
"You are too weak. It is over a day's travel to my village and the journey is not an easy one." She dunks my clothes back into the water as if she too is washing herself of this conversation. "Perhaps tonight you could teach me more about how your ancestors used wheels to grind their grain?"
Again with the diversion tactics, and now I'm the one frowning. "Yeah sure, if you like. But maybe when I'm feeling better tomorrow, you could draw me a map or something?" Now she's concentrating a little too hard on wringing out my clothes, but there's no missing her annoyance at my suggestion.
Exhaling a heavy sigh, she finally relents. "When you are better, we will discuss it."
The finality of her tone grates on my nerves, and rubbing my forehead, I try to find some patience as I fight back a smartass remark. We'll discuss this alright, and when we do? I'm not giving in so easily. I get that there's bad blood between her and the elders, but all I'm asking for is her to point me in the right direction, and then I can figure the rest out on my own. It's probably for the best to keep her out of this as much as possible anyway.
Gritting my teeth, I focus on scrubbing every inch of my body with handfuls of gritty sand until my skin feels clean and raw. When I'm just about done, I glance over to find Katniss staring off into the woods, lost in thought. Although I know it's pointless, I try my luck one last time.
"Is there something you're not telling me?" I venture before splashing some water onto my face.
With a shake of her head, she purses her lips. "Why do you think that?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that you change the subject every time I bring up your village?" Either she doesn't hear me or she's blatantly choosing to ignore me. I'm not a gambling man, but all my credits would be on the latter. "Look, I just want to get a better sense of what my people should expect if they do come."
Her lip is caught between her teeth as she stretches my underclothes out on a large rock to dry. When finally satisfied, she wipes her hands clean on the front of her dress and then stands. "Have I not told you all that you wish to know?"
"Yes, you have and thank you for being so forthcoming with all my questions. But I think it'd be in everyone's best interest if I'm the first to make contact. You know, ease them into the idea of having potential new neighbors." She seems to mull over my excuse but remains frustratingly quiet. "All I want to do is give your people a heads up so they don't feel threatened or afraid if a ship lands here in a few days."
Indifference swiftly turns to suspicion as her eyes narrow. "Should they be afraid?"
Yes, I want to scream, but I clamp my mouth shut, lest I say something I'll regret.
During training, most of our time was dedicated to learning the basic skills of survival, such as starting a fire, building shelter, tying knots, and even camouflage. For two days we focused on fighting and defensive techniques, including an entire afternoon on hand-to-hand combat, which surprisingly enough, I was actually good at despite my leg.
There was also a short lecture on how the information we gather will be vital in tailoring a suitable plan to engage the local inhabitants in peaceful negotiations to share their planet. But peaceful? Who were they kidding? When the question was raised on why they don't just send us in better armed with guns or at least a phaser, our instructor laughed.
The answer? The element of surprise.
What good is it showing the enemy your entire hand right at the start? Although no one ever came right out and said it, that's how we were trained to view these people: as the enemy. Faceless and nameless beings who are the only barrier standing in the way of us getting off those damn forsaken ships.
But no one trained me for the situation I'm currently in. There was nothing in the handbook about how to deal with the oppressive weight of guilt, let alone falling for one of the locals.
Considering the hand I've been dealt, there are a few things I'm fairly certain of. The woman who saved my life not once but twice is not faceless or nameless. She is not a primitive or savage creature absent of morals or respect for life. However different she may look on the outside, this woman is not my enemy.
Which is all the more reason why I regret my next words the instant they leave my mouth. "No, of course not."
We stare at each other for a beat too long, and there's no missing the flicker of doubt in her eyes when she purses her lips. Rightfully so, she thinks I'm holding something back, but she is too, so we're both guilty for harboring hidden agendas, but neither one of us wants to be the first to cave and admit it.
She's the first to look away, rising to her feet as she brushes the dirt and grass from her dress. But against my better judgment, I can't seem to bite my tongue and let this go. "You know, you can't stop me from leaving," I taunt.
As always, Katniss is quick to react, spinning around to throw me a menacing look. "You said you'd—" But then she cuts herself off and shakes her head. "I would not let you."
I bark out a cold, mirthless laugh. "Silly me, to think that all this time that I was an honored guest, not your prisoner."
Her face pales at my verbal slap in the face, but she recovers her composure quickly, her gaze steady and fixed on mine. "You have never been my prisoner. You are free to leave if that is your wish."
Regret settles in rapidly as I survey the pain in her eyes. Shit. This is what I get for being an asshole and pushing her. I sit up more fully, running a wet hand through my hair. "Katniss, I'm so—"
"Your clothes will take some time to dry," she cuts in, bending over to retrieve her bow and slinging her quiver over her shoulder. "I am going to check the snares."
As soon as she disappears into the trees, I let out a frustrated grunt and dunk my head into the water. What the hell is wrong with me? When I finish washing my hair, I pull myself onto the grassy bank and flop down onto my back, closing my eyes in a futile effort to block out the rest of the universe.
Everything fucking sucks.
She must not be completely pissed off because a little over an hour later she comes back for me. With no more than a frown of acknowledgment, she turns back to the woods, and that's my cue it's time to head back to the cave. She doesn't offer me any help, but that too is probably for the best. If I'm going to leave, I need to be able to do this on my own.
It's a quiet hike back and an even quieter afternoon where we both avoid any unnecessary interaction. I've moved my belongings back to my original spot by the fire, not because she's evicted me from her bed or anything; it just feels weird being there with all the tension between us right now.
Dinner comes and goes, and I've spent the whole time stewing in my own thoughts, as well as sorting out my plan for tomorrow. I'll stick to the stream and follow it east, and with the help of the HOLO, stay hidden in the cover of the woods as much as possible. Then hopefully I'll be able to climb up a tree for the night, a trick Katniss mentioned to keep from drawing too much attention from the wildlife.
But first things first, I don't want to leave with things the way they are between us, which means I'll have to suck it up and be the less stubborn one.
I've been watching her from across the fire as she plucks feathers out of the carcass of a bird she caught this morning. A groosling she called it when I made an effort in small talk. Face tense and feathers floating around her head and antlers like a halo, she makes for quite the sight.
"I'd like to show you something," I say, bracing myself for a snapped retort, but it doesn't come. Instead, she pauses, probably taken off guard by the calmness of my voice, and puts aside the bird. I pat the spot next to me on the sleeping bag and her jaw tightens, but then she gives in and crawls over to join me.
Curious, she watches as I reach for my pack and dig out my info tab. I've still yet to show her this, or the HOLO, but it's about time I stop delaying the inevitable. Thankfully the screen comes to life with a swipe of my finger, but Katniss gasps and pulls away.
"Don't be scared," I say, waving her back closer. "It won't hurt you. It's a device we use to store information such as words and pictures."
"Pictures?"
With a reassuring smile, I pull her closer to my side. "Here, I'll show you." I tap an icon in the corner of the screen and it fills with a photo of my family. It's from four years ago, but it's the most recent one I have with all of us in it.
"Is that your family?" she asks, bending in closer to inspect the screen.
For a moment I'm completely distracted by her nearness, but then I lean back a little to give her more space. "Yep, that's all of us."
"You and your brothers take after your father." Smiling, I hand her the info tab but she's hesitant to take it. When she finally does, she brings it up closer to her face. "You have your mother's eyes, but unlike you, she does not look happy."
"Nope, she's generally not. Having to raise three rowdy boys like us, it's no wonder my mother went crazy." I let out a chuckle, but the truth is far from funny.
I've never told anyone what really happened to my leg, not even my own father. To this very day, I've kept my mother's secret, partly to protect the rest of my family but also because it'd be her death sentence if I didn't. If there's one thing my people don't tolerate, it's space sickness.
The only reason she was able to hide it from everyone, including my father, was because she'd bribed one of the nurses to sneak her morphling to control the symptoms. On our ship, nothing comes without a price, so it wasn't until I found her and that nurse tangled in my parents' bedsheets one day that I learned what exactly she'd been bribing him with the entire time.
She swore that if I were to ever spill a word about it to anyone, there would be consequences. And after what happened with my leg, it was clear she needed her precious morphling more than I needed to share the truth.
"Are there others?"
"Hmm?" I say, reaching out but then hesitating for a second before absently brushing away an eyelash that's fallen onto her cheek. "Pictures? Sure, just swipe to the left." She arches an eyebrow, so I reach over to show her, then settle back on my sleeping bag and link my fingers behind my head.
"Is this your ship?"
I don't have to look to see which photo she's asking about. "Yep."
"Everything is grey and white," she states, taking her time as she swipes through the rest. "There is no green or brown or blue. Where is all the color?"
Chuckling, I reach over and tap the screen a few times. "There you go."
She's speechless, her lips parted in awe, or at least that's what I think it's from. I watch her face from the corner of my eye, her wide eyes darting around the screen, unable to focus on one spot for too long.
A few minutes later she finally finds her voice and asks, "Did you make this?" I answer with a nod.
I'll never forget the first time I witnessed a dying star with my own eyes. The glowing haze of aqua and purple surrounding a brilliant red and orange core. Aesthetic beauty aside, there's something poetic about it, knowing that with the death of something so powerful comes new life. The old star slowly sheds its outer layers, returning interstellar material back into the void to one-day birth new stars. And what a bittersweet moment it was, watching from the viewport of the observatory deck when I was eight years old, considering that dying star was Earth's sun.
"It's called a planetary nebula," I explain, rolling onto my side to watch her profile in the firelight. "That's what it looks like when a star like your sun begins to die."
Turning towards me, she tilts her head. "My sun? What is that?"
"The bright circle that crosses the sky every day?" I reach out and pluck a feather from her hair. "Only the most important source of energy for life on this planet."
"Oh, you mean Phaethon, the brother of the Great Spirit."
"Sure," I say with a shrug, smiling at the no-nonsense tone of her voice.
There are so many things I want to share with her, things I know would blow her mind and turn the world she thinks she knows upside down. I could spend a lifetime teaching her all the things we humans have learned. But there's the catch: Time is not on our side. It has never been.
"Do you have more?" she asks, saving my thoughts from taking me down a depressing path.
"Drawings?" Katniss bobs her head. "A few, but I had to leave most of them back on the ship."
She swipes to the next one, a cat's eye nebula that I spent countless hours on, trying to perfect the complex sinewy arcs of the blue and green outer shell. I'm still not completely happy with how it turned out, but oh well, not like it matters anyway. That doesn't stop the heat flooding my cheeks when Katniss turns her attention back to me.
"They aren't as good as the ones I've done on paper," I find myself saying, a defensive edge tinging my voice. I've never shared my paintings with anyone before, this vulnerable feeling is new and slightly intimidating, so I feel the need to throw in some sort of disclaimer in case she thinks they're garbage. "I find digital media much harder to work with." The slight tilt of her head tells me she has no idea what I'm talking about, but before I can explain, she shrugs.
"I have never seen anything so beautiful."
There's sincerity behind her words, and it forces my breath to catch. It's the same sincerity I've picked up on a handful of times before during our talks, and curiously enough, whenever she's steered the conversation towards learning more about me. Trivial yet intimate details about myself, such as my favorite color and food and the happiest memory from my childhood. Insignificant bits of information that no one has ever bothered to inquire about before.
And as I stare at the way the firelight dances across her face, illuminating the hard lines and soft edges of her features, I can't help but agree with her statement.
Neither have I.
A log on the fire crackles and pops as it gives way to the weight of the others around it, crumbling into a pile of a hundred tiny, glowing embers. It's in that moment I realize that something inside me too is starting to crack and crumble, and I have a gut-wrenching feeling that my life will never be the same if it does.
I clear my throat. "Thank you, I'm glad someone thinks so."
"You have much talent. Has no one told you this before?"
"Nope, I've never shown my drawings to anyone before."
Her eyes find mine and we stare at each other for what seems like an eternity. Then she sets down the info tab, takes hold of my hand, and pulls us both to our feet. She starts into her usual bedtime routine of tidying up the cave, securing the screen at the entrance, and then, to my surprise, picks up my sleeping bag and arranges it over her bed of furs.
Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I shuck my jacket and pants, ignoring the slight twinge of pain from my wound, and take my spot on the bed. And like the nights before, she crawls into the sleeping bag next to me, rearranging my arm to use as a pillow as she burrows into my side.
Although neither of us utters a word, I get the sense that things between us are fine…for now. So knowing that tonight may be the last time I ever hold Katniss, I close my eyes and pull her close, memorizing the feel of her in my arms as I drift off to sleep.
With only two days left, the chance of someone coming for me is becoming more and more of a possibility. Knowing that I've survived for this long, it's probably put DIST-12 higher up on the priority list of planets to investigate further. Unless none of the other tributes survived, making this my people's only option.
I feel more than a little guilty that morning when Katniss is about to leave and I ask if she needs help with the snares or collecting firewood. Of course, she says no, and it's because I knew she'd turn me down that I even asked in the first place. It's all just a ruse so I can spend the morning preparing my pack and trying to piece together a more concrete plan for when I finally find her village. I intentionally leave out my sleeping bag, seeing as how I don't want Katniss suspicious of my intentions when she returns.
Blowing out a long breath, I survey the cave, a twinge of doubt washing over me as my eyes settle on the rumpled furs that make up her bed. I remind myself over and over again that this is for the best, that if I really do care about Katniss, it's the logical thing to do.
But I'm still struggling to convince myself a few hours later when Katniss returns, a braided rope of vines strung full of fish slung over her shoulder. She was gone longer than usual, which I hate to admit had me worrying more than I'd like, but it's not my place to inquire after her whereabouts. So I keep my mouth shut and try my hardest to keep from looking guilty.
As though she senses something's up, Katniss shoots me a long, thoughtful look, but then without a word, tosses her bow and quiver of arrows onto the floor and busies herself with tending to her haul. The thought had crossed my mind to leave while she was gone, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. She deserves better than a cowardly departure, one including a heartfelt thank you and a proper goodbye. But not until I try one last time to get the information I'm looking for.
I leave her be as Katniss makes a meal out of the small, bony fish she caught from the stream, and I use up the last of the dehydrated rations, a simulated kind of potato mush that I make palatable by adding in some dried herbs. I've got almost the entire box of protein bars still in my pack, and now that I'm somewhat of a competent forager, I should be able to keep myself contently fed for at least a few days.
We're quiet during our late lunch, both lost in our own thoughts as we stare into the fire. I don't taste a thing as I make a weak effort of finishing my meal, unintentionally dragging out the inevitable as my body operates on autopilot. I chew, swallow, repeat. After swallowing my last bite, I scrape the bones into the fire before setting down my bowl and leveling Katniss with a serious look.
"We need to talk."
As if anticipating this moment, she blows out a long breath and does the same, setting her food aside and crossing her arms over her chest. "Then talk."
It's then my nerves decide to get the better of me, so I get to my feet and begin pacing back and forth in front of the fire in hopes of releasing some of my pent-up anxiety.
"Look, I know there's something you're not telling me, and it's why you won't tell me where your herd is. And I get it, you're entitled to your secrets and I'm the last person you owe anything to, but I just wish I understood why you can't tell me. Are you scared of retaliation? That they'd think you sold them out? Because if you are, I swear I'd never tell anyone you helped me. Hell, I'll pretend I never even met you."
Katniss frowns and by the tick of her jaw I sense I'm already fighting a losing battle. But then her features soften and she tosses the rest of her food into the fire. "Months ago, I had a dream," she says, but when she doesn't elaborate, I stop my pacing and glance over at her.
"Okay." I haven't the slightest idea of where she's going with this, but I'll let it play out. "And? What was this dream about?"
"I was hunting, and although the woods were flush with green and teeming with life, my pack was empty. For some reason, none of my arrows would hit their mark, so I was ready to return home. However, my water skin was empty too, so I stopped at the stream to refill it, and that is when I saw him." Katniss pauses, pulling her legs to her chest so she can prop her chin on her knees.
"Him?"
"A young dyr, no more than a yearling based on his size. His crown was just beginning to grow in, still small and coated in veluet. Instead of running for cover, our eyes locked and he stared back at me from across the water as if he had never seen my kind before. Innocent and beautiful, but unaware that with just one shot I could silence his life forever.
"I set down my bow and arrow, slowly so not to startle him, and with an outstretched hand, I motioned for him to come to me. He hesitated for only a moment, then dipped his head before taking a step towards me. But the moment his hoof sunk into the water, there was movement behind me.
"When I tried to reach for my weapons, they were gone. Before I could shout out a warning, it was over. An arrow sunk into his neck and one in his chest. I was frozen in place as I watched him try to run but then he stumbled as he struggled to gain his footing. But all I could do was stand there, unable to help him as the life drained from his eyes and he finally fell into the stream. The last thing I remember before waking was the pang of guilt that filled my heart as I watched the water turn into a river of red. Guilt for not protecting such a harmless creature."
Well, that…was not what I was expecting. The silence that follows as Katniss continues to gaze into the fire, as though she's still stuck in her dream, stretches from seconds to minutes. I'm no expert at dream analysis, but it's obvious the parallels she's drawing between the death of this creature and well, me. But it was just a dream, and as touched as I am that she's worried about my safety, I'm more concerned about hers.
Settling down next to her, I take Katniss's hand in mine and lean down to catch her gaze. "Are you scared that if I go, I'll get hurt?"
Katniss studies my face, watching my every movement with an unnerving intensity. "Yes."
"And you're basing this fear solely on a dream?"
"No," she answers immediately, but then her jaw tightens and she pulls her hand back, clearly annoyed.
If she's trying to tell me something, speaking in riddles isn't going to work. Frustration takes the lead of my conflicting emotions and I run a hand through my hair. "Then what?" I taunt, getting to my feet to start pacing again. I'm not about to let her clam up now. "What is it you're not telling me?
I don't know why I expect an answer; it's obvious I'm not going to get one, and I'm nearing the end of my rope on the matter. Maybe it really is time we parted ways, and I try to think hard about what little information I've been able to glean over the past few weeks.
Her people are at least a day's walk somewhere east of here, and with the HOLO, it wouldn't be too hard to locate them. So if I don't really need her to tell me anything, then why am I still here arguing? She said it herself I'm not a prisoner, and that I'm free to leave whenever I want.
Then why can't I bring myself to just do it? Put one foot in front of the other and just walk out of here? But that's a stupid question. I know the exact reason why I can't leave, and she's currently scowling at me.
This wild and beautiful and frustratingly stubborn woman who over the past few weeks has become the center of my world, my only source of comfort and safety on this unfamiliar and at times unforgiving planet. This woman who's somehow worked her way beneath my skin like an incessant itch that I can't help but scratch and scratch and scratch until my skin is raw and exposed. But damn, the more I scratch at it, the better it feels and a part of me hopes it never goes away.
The reason I can't just turn my back on her and leave is that there's this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. A sick feeling that's telling me if I set off on my own without her approval that I'll never see her again. And that...that scares me more than the unknown fate of my people or hers.
With a heavy sigh, I drop to the floor and hang my head between my knees, the sudden movement causing my wound to throb.
"I'm so tired, Katniss."
And I really am, I'm beyond exhausted, mentally and emotionally and physically. When I'm met with silence, I clench my jaw so hard that I'm half afraid it'll break off. Looking up, I find her watching me with those infuriatingly guarded eyes.
"Do you know what it's like?" I continue, my gaze never wavering from hers. "How hard it is bearing the weight of your entire race's survival on your shoulders? Knowing you might die in the process, all for nothing? I don't want to argue, but please, don't make this any harder on me than it already is. Don't make me choose between my loyalty to my people or to you, because you know what? If I had to make a choice right now, I promise you I'd be nothing but selfish. And it's because of that I wouldn't be able to live with myself."
I shut my eyes, the start of a headache creeping up the back of my neck. She still hasn't said a word and I'm starting to think I've been reading her wrong all along. I guess that's it, then. Her silence has finalized my decision. Rising to my feet, I reach down to gather up my sleeping bag and start stuffing it into my pack.
"It's time I left. I didn't want to leave with things between us so tense, but you're giving me no other option. I can't begin to thank you enough for everything you've done. For taking me in, feeding me, saving my life not only once but tw—"
"They will kill you!" she suddenly blurts out, effectively cutting me off.
My hands freeze as her words rattle around the inside of my skull, taking a few seconds to sink in. Swallowing thickly, I drop my pack to the floor. "What are you talking about?"
Her shocked expression must match my own, but she shakes it off, squaring her shoulders as if she's ready for a fight. "If you go searching for my village," she starts, her voice now eerily calm, "my people will capture you. And when the time comes, the elders will kill you."
"When the time comes," I repeat absently, and then something clicks into place.
"This is about the reaping, isn't it? What you really meant when you said my kind are valuable?" Katniss looks away, and I let out a long breath. Shaking my head, I can't help but bark out a laugh.
Un-fucking-believable.
Of all things to feel, betrayal seems to top the list, which is absurd. I'm the one who's been skirting the truth and lying through my teeth this whole time, but still. Here I was, ready to walk right into her village with the best of intentions and do the right thing. Jokes on me, I guess. More like walk myself straight to the sacrificial altar.
I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face as I ease myself onto the ground.
"So I'm the suitable sacrifice, the one that will bring an end to the reaping?" I ask, trying to inject some calmness into my voice. "And you really believe killing me will bring prosperity and your people back in favor with the Great Spirit?"
Katniss reels back, then meeting my glare head-on, she shoots to her feet and marches right up to me, not stopping until her face is just inches away from mine. "Do not insult my intelligence. Of course I do not believe that the murder of innocent children—or anyone for that matter—has any effect on the wind or the rain. There are some things in this world that I cannot explain or even begin to understand, but the belief in ancient superstitions is not one of them.
"I understand fear and desperation, and how easily they can be used to twist the minds of the weak and force them into submission. But do you know what else is just as powerful?" She doesn't wait for an answer and forges on. "Hope. No matter how small it may be, if there is a shred of hope, they will cling to it. No matter what the cost."
And in this case, that cost is the same price I had to pay the moment my name was selected for this damn mission. I close my eyes and cover my face with my hands, digging the heels of my palms into my eye sockets. Maybe if I rub hard enough I'll wake up in my old bed aboard the ship, far away from this messed up dream.
When I open my eyes again, some of the tension has left her face, only to be replaced by sadness. "But why?" I ask quietly. "Why me?"
"Do you remember the story I told you about the Great Spirit and her lover?"
My eyes narrow at the random question, but I nod. "Yes, she fell in love with a star, and your people are the descendants of their offspring."
Tilting her head, she lifts a hand and I have to keep from shivering when her fingers lightly brush along the side of my face. "And what do you think the elders believe the Great Spirit desires above all else?"
She's staring so intently into my eyes that some of my anger fades and I feel something inside my chest shift, then give way as I let out a shaky breath. It doesn't take a genius to answer that question. It's what everyone wants, no matter what planet they're from.
"Someone to love," I say, all the fight now gone from my voice.
Her sad smile tells me I'm right, but she nods anyway. "They believe if they return one of your kind to her, she will no longer be lonely." Katniss's face hardens. "That is why you must stay away from my village."
My shoulders sag from the hopeless situation I've now found myself in. I was an idiot to think that knowing her reason for secrecy would bring me…I don't know, understanding or peace of mind. All it's done is complicate things even more. None of my options are looking too good right now, least of all offering myself up as a sacrifice to a bunch of horrifyingly misguided elders to save the lives of innocent children.
"Is that why you never let me leave the cave alone?" I ask. "Were you afraid your people would find me?"
"It is naïve to believe I was the only one to see you fall from the sky, especially after the great fire. I am hoping if anyone finds what is left of your POD, they will believe you perished along with it. But yes, there is a chance some are still hunting for you."
The words from when I first met Katniss flicker through my memory: I am not the only hunter in these woods. Makes me wonder if she was only referring to that beast we heard that night. And what about my leg? Was that really an accident?
"That snare that got me, you said it was meant for a much larger beast. Was that a lie? Was it really meant for me?"
"I would not lie to you about that." The corners of Katniss's mouth dip into a frown. "Besides, I am not good at lying."
There's a snippy comment just perched on the edge of my tongue, something about how withholding the truth is pretty much the same as lying. But that'd just make me a hypocrite, so I keep my mouth shut.
That headache I've been trying to fend off has finally arrived, the throbbing behind my eyes almost unbearable. I bring a hand to my face and pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to clear my head. There has to be another option, one that doesn't involve trading in my life for the survival of others.
Katniss is still staring up at me, her fingers now tracing a line down my cheek and along my jaw, but I have to admit, the soothing motion is a pleasant distraction. But I don't need a distraction right now, what I need is some time and space to take a step back and think, and revaluate my alternatives with what I now know.
I reach up to absently fiddle with my ident tag, my thumb grazing back and forth over the indentations of the inscription on the back. Truth is, what I really need is a long nap and a—wait a minute…the truth? And the truth will set you free. Clutching the dangling tag in my hand, I direct my gaze to the floor in search of my pack.
Katniss must sense my shift in mood because her hand ceases stroking my cheek, then drops down to her side. "What is it?"
"Tell me, does everyone in your village believe in the Great Spirit?"
"No, there are others like me. Many were friends with my father."
"Then that's who we need to talk to first," I say, a plan quickly taking shape in my mind. "And then we talk to the elders."
"Talk?" Her brow furrows. "About what?"
"I have something I know will change their minds."
"What?" There's doubt in her eyes, but at least she hasn't shut me down completely yet and seems willing to hear me out.
"Knowledge," I say, bending down to dig my info pad out of my pack. I hand it over to her with a hopeful smile. "Everything my people know, our history, our failures, everything from medicine to agriculture. It's all in here. With what my ancestors knew of farming and science, we could teach your people how to predict weather patterns, maximize yield, and prolong their harvest.
"If we could find a way to get the elders to listen, we could prove to them that there's no need to continue on with the reaping. You said it yourself that I'm of value to them. Couldn't we use that to our advantage? Say that I was sent here by the Great Spirit with a gift, perhaps. Say that she's tired of seeing your people suffer and—"
"You mean lie to them," she says in a flat voice, clearly unimpressed by my plan.
"Only at the start. We just need to get them to listen."
"It is still too dangerous," she says, shaking her head. "You are already risking your life for your people; you do not need to risk it for mine. You said more are coming, so let us wait for them. Perhaps then, when you are in greater numbers, we can approach the elders. Did you not say they could arrive any day now?"
I don't recall mentioning that, but maybe she's caught on to the countdown she's spied on my communicuff. "There's no guarantee that anyone else is coming. I haven't heard a word from my people since the day I arrived. For all I know, one of the other planets was more promising."
"What other planets?"
"There are other planets in your solar system that have the potential to sustain life. Yours is just one of them; it's why I was sent here. There are twelve others just like me who were sent to those planets to…to explore. For all I know, no one could be coming."
Katniss looks away, brows furrowed as she processes it all. Then she shakes her head, stubborn as usual. "That does not change my decision."
I know it's not the best plan ever, but it's something, and I need her to get on board, or else there's no chance it'll work. "But think about the reaping," I say, knowing that with my next blow I'm aiming below the belt, but I need to make her see reason. "If your sister was still alive, would you still feel the same? If you were given another chance to save her, wouldn't you take it?"
The silence stretches out between us, but then her face hardens and she slams her palms into my chest. I lose my balance, but Katniss catches hold of my arm and steadies me before I can topple over. Despite the flash of worry that crosses her face, it's obvious she's still pissed, and to prove her point, grabs hold of my shoulder and gives me a hard shake.
"Have you lost your mind?"
"Perhaps," I say, pitching my voice low and calm because all this arguing isn't getting us anywhere. We're both on edge, trembling with anger and frustration, all thanks to this shitty hand we've been dealt. I need to defuse the situation before she completely shuts me out. "It's the best I can come up with, and besides, how could I possibly live with myself knowing that I threw away a chance to save so many innocent lives?"
She's stopped shaking me, so I cover her hand on my shoulder with my own. Her hand underneath mine balls up into a fist and I can see the emotions waging battle beneath that steely composure of hers.
"You have to let me try," I plead.
Just when I think she's about to completely lose it and either walk away or punch me, she buries her face into my chest and lets out a ragged gasp. The soft velvet of her antlers brushes against my chin, and it takes a few seconds to realize she's trying desperately not to cry. It breaks my heart seeing her so upset, and I hate that I'm the one who's trying to drag her into this. I run my palms up and down her arms in slow, soothing motions, hoping to provide comfort and ease some of her pain.
"I cannot let you go," she whispers, her lips warm against my skin. "You promised."
My hands still, then pulling away, I stare into her large, grey eyes. They're still glassy with unshed tears but there's something else there, something that causes my heart to beat faster. "What are you talking about?"
The muscles of her neck constrict as she swallows and my eyes can't help but be drawn to the bare skin of her throat.
"When I was waiting for you to recover from the nightlock," she says, dragging my attention back to her face. "There were times when you awoke, but not completely. At first, you spoke only mumbled words that I could not understand, which is when I began to fear that I had misjudged how much I gave you. But then the next time you woke, your words were still few but more clear. You called out to me, repeating my name over and over as your fever peaked and I was afraid you would not make it through the night. A whole day passed before you awoke again, but this time, there was no mistaking your words, and…and you said…"
I swallow thickly. "What did I say?"
"You said that we must protect each other, and you promised you would never leave me. I believed it was the infection speaking, but each time you woke after that, you repeated those same words. Then the last time you spoke before you awoke for real, you made me promise to trust you, even if I did not understand your actions and felt betrayed. When I asked why I should trust you if you planned to deceive me, do you know what you said?"
From the way my heart is desperately trying to hammer its way out of my chest, I think I have a pretty good idea of what my uninhibited mind would think to say. But I don't dare say a word.
"Because you love me," she rasps.
Even though I knew it was coming, I still stand there, stunned, eyes wide and mouth agape because, well, what else am I supposed to do?
"Katniss…I…I…"
But my words get stuck in my throat because I'm still waiting for my brain to process what's going on…what she's just said…what I've apparently said. But I'm not going to deny it because now that it's out in the open, a part of me feels relieved. I know I should say something, but how do I even begin to explain how deeply I've come to feel for her, especially when I've been trying to fool myself this entire time.
She must sense my internal dilemma, and she takes pity on me, giving me a sad smile. "I would never hold you to words I know you did not speak with a clear conscience," she says, and I'm about to object but she shushes me by placing a finger against my lips. "But know this…"
Katniss pushes up onto her toes and I don't resist when she pulls my face down the rest of the way until her mouth hovers a hair's breadth away from mine. Then her lips part, and a puff of warm breath fans over mine.
"I love you, too," she whispers, her voice soft and raw.
And that's when the weight on my chest lifts and the rest of my resolve shatters. Whatever we've just been arguing about fades to nothing and the rest of the world can go to hell for all I care, because all that matters right now is the look of complete and utter sincerity in her eyes.
Her words replay over and over in my head, the insecure part of my mind searching for any hint of uncertainty or deceit. But my heart skips a beat when there's none to be found.
Katniss loves me.
My arms circle her waist, pulling her body to me so tight that if it were physically possible, I'd absorb her into my soul. Our mouths crash together and when her lips open wider against mine in surprise, I don't waste a second. My tongue slips into her mouth, sliding along hers until she's meeting me stroke for stroke. And it feels so good, so right, I can't believe I was actually considering leaving this woman without telling her how I really feel. Because if anyone should know, it's me. Life is too short and unpredictable to live with regrets.
Katniss's hands are on the move, settling on the back of my head where her fingers dig into my scalp, gripping my hair to hold me in place. When my hands drift down to cup her backside, she releases a soft little noise and her hips circle against my erection that until now I've been trying to ignore. And fuck if that doesn't cause me to almost lose it. Moaning again, but this time in protest because I'm pulling away, she pants for breath as I take in the dazed look in her eyes.
She licks her lips and the sight of her flushed cheeks and hopeful smile is so beautiful it makes my chest ache. But I need to know if this is what she really wants because if it is, it changes everything. There's no turning back if we choose to go down this road. Cupping her chin, I run my thumb across her cheek.
"Are you sure about this?"
"Do you trust me?"
I chuckle. Only Katniss would answer a question like that with another question. "With my life."
"Then believe me when I say that what I feel in my heart is true and unlike anything I have felt before. Just the thought of losing you after all I have done to keep you, I could not bear it. It is why I withheld the truth, and I will not apologize for wanting to keep you safe."
Grinning like an idiot, I lean in to press a kiss on her forehead. "Lucky for you, I accept your non-apology."
So this is it then. We're in this together now, which means we're going to find a way out of this together too. Stroking along the back of her dress, I notice her muscles tense. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere," I say, hoping to ease her apprehension. "And I mean what I said: I can't leave now, not anymore. We'll figure something out. We have to."
"You won't leave me?" she asks, and the uncertainty in her voice has me pulling her closer until her cheek rests against my chest.
"I promise."
"Good." With a smile full of mystery and mischief, she pushes out of my arms and takes hold of my hand, tugging me towards the back of the cave. "Now come, I have something to show you."
Author's Note: So sorry for the long wait between chapters, real life got in the way but I hope to get back to a more regulated posting schedule after this. I really hope you liked this chapter, but I have a feeling you're all going to LOVE the next one (hehe). A fun fact I came across while writing this chapter:
- The name Phaethon, which I chose for the sun on DIST-12, is a character from Greek mythology and is known for approaching his father, Phoebus (the Sun-God), and asking to allow him to drive the sun chariot across the sky for the day as a way of proving his parentage. Pheobus warned his son that it was an impossible task, but Phaethon was adamant and long story short, he was unable to commandeer the horses. As a result, the chariot went off course and scorched the Earth, specifically Africa changing it into a desert. Earth cried out to Jupiter (Zeus) for help, who struck Phaethon down with a lightning bolt, and like a fallen star, he plunged into the river Eridanos (one of the rivers of Hades) and died.
A huge thanks to my support team which is made up of my wonderful betas court81981 and titaniasfics, and to loving-mellark for pre-reading and for gifting me with the amazing banner for this story. And to my faithful readers, new and old, thank you so much for sticking around and taking a chance on this one with me! I love hearing your feedback and theories, it's the best motivation a writer could ask for :)
You can find me on tumblr anytime: pookieh