The Lady Of The Lake

So...I know...I'm a terrible writer and I left you all hanging for positively ages. I do apologise for that. I thought I would have tons of time when I went back to uni, turns out I absolutely did not! However my family is away this whole week, so it's quite possible there will be multiple updates!

This is, much as I hate to admit it, a getting back into the flow chapter. It's the beginning of the rebellion for Sky, the beginning of repairing her friendships, and the beginning of her own personal fight inside the rebellion.

It's worth noting that Sky will not be like Katniss, she will not fight, she will not inspire people to great feats of derring do. She will however have her own small part to play...and the Rebellion will not go the way you expect.

Also worth noting, from this point on? Mockingjay will not happen like it does in the book. Things in this one are completely different. People who died will live, people who lived may die...basically...you just don't know.

I've been a bit slack lately but feel free to drop me a line on tumblr at

thgladyofthelake

Also there is now a Lady Of The Lake Chatzy! Got questions? Flailing? Want to motivate your author into writing MORE NOW? Then join us!

LINK IS ON MY AUTHOR PROFILE.

No review responses, just because they build up after absences and I'm a very tired Cricket.

Enjoy!


Chapter 42

It doesn't take me long to realise that District 13 is not my kind of place.

I'm allowed up out of my bed the next day, under the watchful gaze of my mother, who is by my bed when I wake up, eyes full of tears. We don't say anything about the last time we saw one another, that Reaping morning where she brushed my hair and I admitted my plans to volunteer. Instead she just kisses me, and after I have bathed she brushes my hair.

She leaves around lunchtime, but pauses in the doorway, her hand gently touching my arm.

"Sky…"

We look at one another, and for the first time I notice the strands of grey at her temples, straying through her auburn hair, and the lines around her blue eyes. Her achingly familiar face is worn with concern looking at me.

My mother looks older; her worry for me has aged her.

"Mama…" I whisper and her hands come up, cupping my cheeks.

"You grew up," she says softly, "One day you were my little girl, and then you were gone…I couldn't protect you from it. And when you came back…"

"I wasn't me…" I close my eyes, feeling her disappointment like a hot knife, "I wasn't your little girl anymore."

"You'll always be my baby girl," she kisses my cheek, her voice suddenly firm, "And I will always love you, no matter what. You understand me?"

I lean into her, suddenly desperate for something I hadn't even known I wanted. I'd been so lost in my head after the first Hunger Games, so lost in my grief, clutching at Finnick, Peeta and Cato, who I knew understood, and so afraid of not fitting into my old life that I'd….hidden from it.

"I'm sorry..." I whisper into her shoulder and she soothes me, stroking my hair, holding me close like only a mother can, "I'm so sorry…"

"It's not your fault," she holds me close; "It's not. I never blamed you love."

Eventually we separate, my mother heading back to the compartment she shares with my father, with a promise to see me tomorrow, and me to sit down on my bed and stare down at the schedule that had been imprinted on my arm.

I stare at the letters, at the numbers for long moments and then slowly I turn my wrist down and curl my fingers into a fist.

It's not what I need right now, cold figures telling me where to be, portioning my life into neat, manageable chunks. It's so cold, so impersonal, so brusque, efficient, calculating.

It's like the Capitol, I think, a chill creeping up my spine, except there they hide their ruthless structure behind ridiculousness. Here it is all regimented.

For long moments I ponder District 13 and frown. They hid for years while the other District's struggled.

And they do nothing to stop the bickering amongst the District leaders, I think, pondering Peeta's words from yesterday; you would think it would serve the rebellion better for all to be united.

What could be gained by playing Katniss and Cato against one another?

I purse my lips and lift my wrist again.

13:00 – Command.

I still have 20 minutes to go and eat the lunch that has been assigned to me, but I feel little desire to eat anything. If I knew where Command was I'd just go straight there myself, but…I do not.

I have to wait for someone to collect me. I'm sure they won't forget. For some reason they all still believe I am worth something for this cause

Slowly my hand strokes down the swell of my abdomen, curving around the life growing there. So strong, I think with a small smile, this little life inside of me, so fierce, so determined.

Like her father.

And for a moment there is the expected, remembered swell of pain.

"He's alive," I whisper, leaning over slightly, feeling like I'm reassuring the little girl growing inside me, "He's alive….it wasn't real."

It wasn't real.

How much else wasn't real, I wonder, fingers tightening against the shapeless grey cloth of the clothes I am wearing, how much else did I have wrong?

I frown, looking back over my months with the Capitol, the week of the Quarter Quell the week of preparation. How much was real? Were Cato, Finnick and Peeta lying to me even now? Using affection and my love for them against me, blinding me to truth and keeping me deaf for my own safety and theirs?

It's a disturbing thought.

But not one I can dismiss.

"Who can I trust?" I whisper, and pause, thinking.

My mother, my father, Darrien's family, Deccia….and Katniss.

She was the only one in the Quell who knew even less than I did. All the others knew.

I've made my peace with Haymitch, months of shared torture tend to drag you together, but only time will tell if I can get past this…dark cloud inside me, that corrupts my bonds with the others.

The door to my compartment slides open and I stand, shifting automatically to a defensive stance even as my brain recognises one of the two men entering the room.

"Look at you!" Finnick strides in, and beams at me, "Deccia would be so proud of you right now."

It would be so easy to slide back into the easy banter, to just…forgive. But I can't….not yet.

"Who is this?" I nod at the young man following Finnick in, handsome, with olive skin, dark hair and a pair of hard grey eyes. He looks like Katniss does something Peeta had once described as a look of the Seam. District 12 then…and it clicks, "You're Gale, aren't you?"

The young man nods, eyeing me consideringly, "And you're the famous Sky."

"This is her," Finnick's smile has dimmed slightly in response to my cool reaction to his arrival, but he now moves forward, green eyes hopeful. I'm not so much of a monster to push him away now, and so let him hug me, the familiar warmth of him curling around me, the familiar smell of his skin.

It's comforting.

It's real.

It's real.

I cling to him and I hear him sigh, with relief perhaps, and hold me tight to him.

"Sky," he murmurs softly, "I missed you so much sweetheart."

I see red. Blood splashed against snow, blood against the Capitol's white tiles.

I pull back and then I punch him in the nose.

Finnick yelps and suddenly Gale is there, hand hovering between us, hesitant, clearly unsure about restraining me, but still protective of Finnick, who is clutching his face.

"You lied to me." I hiss at him, "You left me in that hellish Arena and you let me believe that everyone had fucking died! You chose that path for me so don't you dare say you 'missed me'."

"Sky…" he stares up at me, green eyes wide with hurt and now concern, "Sky that wasn't the plan."

"What wasn't?" I snap at him, restlessly shifting.

"You were only to believe it for a few days; you were never supposed to be dragged into it while you were still in the Capitol. But Haymitch and Mags decided…."

"Finnick," I growl, "I'm not…this isn't about the torture." Shivers run down my spine at the memories and I shove them away, "What hurt, what nearly broke me, was the thought that you were all dead. I was there when so many of you died, I saw you die! I felt no heartbeat, no breath….you were dead." Tears prick my eyes and I dig my nails into my palms.

"Sky…" Finnick whispers, "I…"

"I saw almost everyone I love and care about die. Die when I couldn't save them. And I know to you, to all of you, it was some big joke….but it wasn't for me. It was real for me…never once did I think it was a lie, that the rebellion wasn't coming for us the way I believed they would. Because I trusted you. Trusted Peeta. Trusted Cato. And you lied to me. And that…"

He moves forward, fingers twitching towards me as though he wants to pull me into another crushing hug.

"How can I fix this?" He asks quietly.

I wish I could tell him, wish I knew.

"I don't know." I reply softly, my eyes meeting Gale's thoughtful grey ones behind Finnick, "Just…give me time I guess. I need to heal."

He nods and I realise that out of them all, Finnick would be the one to understand the time it takes to reconnect the tattered edges of your mind. He loves Annie, he knows the wounds the Capitol and losing loved ones can do. He will wait, and take care of me, and he won't give up.

A little seed of warmth grows in my chest, and I give him a small smile, as Gale coughs quietly.

"We're expected in Command. Let's go."


"No." Cato's voice is firm, brooking no argument.

"It's not your decision," President Coin's voice is smooth, but cool, "It is Schuyler's."

I sit there, staring down at the strategy table, and my mind whirls, even as Cato growls warningly at the leader of District 13. He's always felt it is his prerogative to protect me, misguided as some of his efforts have proven to be.

"She is pregnant," Peeta's soft voice points out, "It would be safer for the child if she were to stay out of the combat areas…."

"The Districts need to see her alive." Haymitch drawls out, his grey eyes meeting mine as I glance up, "They've seen Katniss, battling, in action. They need to see Sky doing what Sky does."

"And what is that?" I ask him, bracing my hands on the edges of the table, "I fail to see what I can bring to this…"

"You underestimate yourself," Finnick murmurs from nearby, "As ever. Sky, you're the breath of fresh air, the soft comfort of home, the cleansing rains after the fires have swept through and burnt everything."

"He hasn't lost his flair for the dramatic…" Deccia snorts and for a moment my lips curl up into a smile, even as Finnick shoots her a dirty look.

"Katniss gives the Districts hope to fight for a better future." He continues, "You show them what that future could be…and why it's worth fighting for."

"He's right," Cato says gruffly, "People believe in you. You're…you're…love."

Deccia looks like she's desperately trying to hold in snickers, and eventually gives a hiccupping sound, burying her face in Haymitch's shoulder. Plutarch Heavensbee gives her a proud look, completely misreading it, and thinking that she's getting emotional.

It makes me grin, biting it down and staring determinedly down at the table.

"We sent Katniss out to the hospitals of District 8." Coin says cooly, and my eyes lift to meet Katniss' grey ones across the table. Something flickers in her eyes, and I frown slightly. They aren't telling me something, "Sky should do the same."

"Hopefully not exactly the same." Gale mutters from beside Katniss, giving her a dry look.

They're definitely not telling me something.

I look at Finnick.

"The Capitol bombed the hospitals just after they left," he says quietly, and my eyes widen, looking back at Katniss whose mouth tightens, "No survivors…"

My hands clench against the table, until a large, warm, familiar rough hand slides over one of them, gently prying it away and enfolding it in his. I look up at Cato who looks back, face guarded.

"I see…" I say carefully, trying not to imagine the carnage. Inside my belly little Teesa gives my spine a kick, grounding me like her father's hand holding mine, "Which Districts are the worst off?"

"The Capitol obliterated District 12," Gale says roughly, scowling down, "But we had warning, the rebels warned us."

"Before we aired the declaration of war…" Katniss speaks for the first time, "I insisted we evacuate 12."

"It proved to be sensible," Coin agrees, "There were few casualties."

My heart clenches, "What about 4?"

Everyone hesitates, glancing at one another. I instinctively look at Finnick, it's his home as well, but he is looking at the table. I follow his gaze and see no marker where 4 once was.

"Evacuated." Cato says quietly, "But destroyed. Unlike 12…they didn't use firebombs."

"They triggered a tsunami," Finnick grits out, "A well placed charge out to sea…and 4 was wiped off the face of Panem. Everything…everything is gone."

District 4 is gone. The people are safe…the people are here in 13 but.

For a moment the world stills around me.

My library. My books. My safe haven.

It's gone.

Everything sways around me and then narrows alarmingly and I can hear Finnick's voice, low and urgent, as though from far away.

"Sky, Sky, sweetheart…breathe…"

"She's having a panic attack," Cato growls, and he sounds furious, "She's not ready for this."

"She has to be." Coin's voice is implacable, "She's a part of this whether she wants to be or no. We got her out of the Capitol at great cost and risk with the promise of an asset in the war. Now she has to do her part."

Cato snarls, and instantly Deccia is there beside him, smacking him over the head.

"Shut it," I hear her murmur, her voice barely audible over the thundering of my heart, "Pick your battles brother."

"Sky," Peeta's face swims into view, blue eyes concerned as he cups my face in his hands, "Breathe with me, breath in….breathe out…breathe in…breathe out…"

Slowly the world comes back into focus and I can feel Cato, solid, grounding me, holding me upright. Finnick beside me, concerned, Deccia nearby and Katniss, her grey eyes boring into Peeta and me.

"She's more damaged than I thought," Coin says and I feel my back stiffen even as Cato growls, "Can we use that?"

Her words are directed to Plutarch Heavensbee who considers me, ever the Gamemaker contemplating a pawn on his chessboard.

"Yes," He says eventually, "She'll likely be even more compelling so fragile. And it will give more reason to hate the Capitol. Hurting something so innocent, a mother and her unborn child. Maybe she can tell the story of almost losing it…that would certainly sway…"

Cato is gone before I can blink and suddenly people shout as he slams Plutarch up against the wall, a large, crushing hand around his windpipe.

"That." He grits out as everyone freezes, terrified of setting off any instincts to defend, "Is my wife. And my child. How /dare/ you…"

I glance at Finnick and then at Peeta. Both of them flick their eyes toward Cato, Peeta's with concern, Finnick's with resignation.

This isn't Cato's first temper explosion.

I'll need to get those stories later…

For now I move forward and rest a hand on the small of his back.

"Cato…" I murmur, and I feel him shudder against my touch, "Love…let go…"

"He hurt you…"

"Let him go."

We're all damaged, I think bleakly, stepping forward to rest my cheek between his shoulderblades, listening to his heartbeat. We've all been tortured, all suffered.

Everything is fractured.

It's my job to fix it.

Slowly Cato let's Plutarch go, and I turn my gaze towards Coin. For a moment I see her watching me assessingly, something unreadable in her cold eyes.

Certainty grips me.

This woman is no friend of mine, or of those I love. This woman wants only one thing.

Power.

Everything slots into place, Katniss and Cato being allowed to be at each other's throats, Gale, the District's fighting their own battles….

She plans to seize power at the end of this.

She's another Hunger Games Gamemaker.

I won't let you win; I think to her even as Cato turns, tugging me protectively into his arms, even as Plutarch starts babbling off other ideas for introducing me to the fight, even as Finnick strokes my hair and Katniss murmurs to Gale.

It's time for me to fight back.


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