Song Suggestion: Billie Eilish- "When the Party's Over"

The Mockingjay

Prim woke up in a hospital bed. She heard the beeping of machines. An Iv tube jutted out of her hand, and her broken wrist and finger were set and wrapped in a cast. Above the cast a bandage covered the slice in the wrist. Her lower abdomen no longer ached. Prim did not really want to think about it.

She quickly shut her eyes again and pretended to be asleep because Gale sat next to her. He had his head in his hands, and he sobbed. He sucked in a breath as if trying to restore the broken dam inside him, the lapse in control. She watched him out of slit eyes, and her insides twisted and turned. She wasn't sure she could ever forgive him. He stabbed the man she loved and ripped her from him. Prim didn't even know if Cato was alive. The sight of Gale almost made her sick. She regretted not choosing Cato when she could, though she still did not think she could have killed Gale, even if she loathed him.

She had only seen Gale cry once, a few days after Katniss died. He wept much like he was doing now, bent at the waist, gasping in pained sobs, holding his breath until he couldn't

Instead of acknowledging him, she looked around. She was on a hospital bed with clean white sheets. It almost looked like Capitol quality, much better than the shabby items in district 12, but the machines were outdated, and the rest of the room was nondescript.

District 13, he told her before she passed out. But that was impossible. District 13 was a myth, a fairytale whispered in dark corners. It no longer existed. Gone. Dust. Was it somehow resurrected from the ashes, or did it always exist? She did not put it past Snow to lie. Prim tried to remember everything she knew about District 13, but it was not much, just that they rebelled against Snow in a way that he found intolerable. He salted the earth of their existence. She didn't even know what they specialized in.

The trauma slammed into her without warning, much like the slime of the nightmares. Her heart lurched, her mind replaying the way Cato clutched at his bleeding chest, shocked he lost. Did he die? Did she want to know if he did? There were so many unanswered questions, but the biggest one: when did Gale become the villain? Her heart hurt too much to think.

"I know you're awake."

Prim opened her eyes. She did not see an apology in Gale's gaze. His tears weren't for anything that happened in the games. Nothing that happened there would have broken him like this. Prim almost didn't want to figure out what happened, understanding that whatever it was would probably break her just as hard.

"Go away."

Gale swiped at his face with the sleeves of his shirt. The whites of his eyes turned red, and his skin the shade of paper.

"I know you probably don't ever want to speak to me again… but I have to tell you something."

"Don't," Prim stopped him, "Whatever you want to say I don't want to hear it."

"District 12 is gone."

The foundations beneath Prim trembled. Her brain rocked and tumbled with her stomach, unable to comprehend what he said.

"That's impossible."

"Snow firebombed it right after the games."

"My mother—"

"She's alive. Brutus saved her and about nine hundred others. He found out it was coming and abandoned his duties as mentor and traveled back to your mother. He got her out just in time."

"How?"

Her whole body wanted to cry, but she didn't. It wasn't real; it couldn't be. Gale lied to her. How could a whole district be gone, wiped from the map? How could her home be destroyed?

"He led them through the forest. Madge made it too. They even managed to save your goat."

Something was coming. Something terrible. Prim heard it building in his speech. The pitch going higher, his voice tight with tension.

"What about your family?"

"Mother made it, so did Vick and Posy."

"What about Rory?"

Gale didn't answer. He just began to weep again. Prim needed to hear him say it, even though it would crush her heart.

"What about Rory?" She yelled, frantic.

"Rory went back to save Minda, you remember her right? She was his girlfriend and lived in town where the bombing was heaviest. He never… he never came back."

Prim didn't remember the next hour or two. It was a black hole. Gale crawled into bed with her, and she allowed him to pull her into a hug, the only comfort around. She did not forgive him for everything he had become, for his killing of the old man or the stabbing of Cato. But he was the only one who could share and understand this pain, the acute ache of loss, worse than anything she had ever experienced since Katniss. Indeed, it felt like losing a brother. They both broke.

Hours Later

They woke up much later, dried of tears, laying face to face. He tried to hold her hand, but she flinched away. Past the initial blow of grief, she wanted him gone.

"They call you the Mockingjay now, because of the pin from Katniss," he said softly. "The little bird that fell from the sky and learned to fly again. You're a hero to the districts, and after seeing the recaps of Jace, I'd have to agree. They want to fight for you."

"What's the point now? We have no district to go home to, and I'm losing all the people I would have fought for."

"There's always a point to fight, and there's always someone to fight for. The rebellion will happen with or without you, but it would go easier with you at the helm… with me."

Prim pulled back, but Gale grabbed her shoulder to keep her in place. Her mind came back to her, momentarily cleared of the fog of grief.

"What about Cato? Is he… is he alive?"

Gale sucked in a breath, held it for a few seconds, and then let it out.

"I should lie to you, like he did with me. Tell you he died, watch you grieve, and then watch you forget him. But even though you probably think the worst of me, you need to remember that I'm not him. I'm not Cato."

"So he's alive?"

Gale nodded.

"The Circle confirmed it through a hacked message Though, if you want me to be honest, I wish I had stabbed just a little deeper or spent the time to slit his throat. The world is better off without him and you are too."

Prim let herself feel the relief. She assumed Gale thought this meant he was off the hook, that she'd forgive him, but when the touch on her shoulder tightened, the monster inside her flared to life. He needed to answer some fucking questions.

"How long have you been working for District 13?"

"Since before the games. Brutus was the one who got me in contact with them. He's been working with them for several years."

"Brutus?" The thought stunned her. He was the last person she pegged for a turncoat.

"For three years and nobody has known."

"How did you figure out about the Circle's plans?"

Gale reached out and cupped her cheek in a way he used to, a comforting gesture. But she didn't need his comfort anymore. She didn't need anything. She sneered and removed his hand. Gale did not try again.

"Quintus came to Brutus with his plan, thinking he'd take the bite because he's from District 2, but he liked District 13's chances better."

"Why?"

"In all this time we've been sitting here, haven't you wondered why Snow lied about destroying District 13, why he never touched them when, without a thought, he razed our district to the ground?"

Now that he brought it up, it did seem odd.

"Was it something to do with what they produced?"

"You're smarter than I give you credit," he said, "They produced nuclear technology, and they were the primary weapon's manufacturer for the Capitol before the Dark Days."

Nuclear weapons. Prim remembered the mushroom clouds on Cato's pictographs she viewed in his study, the locust-like planes thrumming in the sky. The devastating destruction of the ancients, the world-enders. Prim thought the technology they had died out with them, but it was naïve of her. Of course, humanity kept its finger over the trigger.

Everything inside her went cold at the realization. They didn't plan to use the weapons, did they? Even the threat of Snow didn't warrant a mutual holocaust.

"We can't allow 13 to use them. Promise me you would stop it if they tried."

Gale scoffed. Prim wondered if he understood the sudden slicing power of the nuclear weapons. The instant eviscerating heat that left nothing behind.

"It's a last resort. Just a threat. Coin wouldn't really use it. Even if she does, we're in a bunker of some sort. It couldn't get to us."

Coin. Prim filed away the name for later, understanding this was some sort of leader for 13.

That did nothing to make her feel better. The capitol was filled with calculating Gamemakers, people who deserved to die for their cruelty like Jace. But it was also filled with frivolous people, like her stylists, and some kind people, like Cinna, and innocent children. Prim vowed to herself that she would not let Coin or Gale use the weapon, even as a last resort.

"Did they destroy District 2 as well, because of the Circle's rebellion?"

"No, Snow hasn't yet touched that dragon. District 2 has multiple stolen capitol ships, weapons, and technology that, while couldn't defeat the Capitol, could certainly damage them if they wanted."

"What do they want from us? I'm sure District 13 didn't save us for free." Prim led the conversation back to the beginning, back to what mattered.

Gale ran his fingers through his dark hair. It flopped down in a way that would have made her swoon at one point in time.

"They want you as a figurehead for the rebellion and me at your side. The districts are already in full revolt. Each time you defied Snow in the games, a new pocket of fighting would spring up. District 13 planned on it being me to rally them. It's why they put me in the games, but well, they fell in love with you more, and I can't say I blame them."

"There's more you're not telling me." She saw it in the way he tried to evade her eyes, looking at the ceiling and then focusing on the monitor showing her vitals.

"The Capitol liked the idea of you with Cato, but the districts still do not trust the career. I don't think they ever will."

"I don't love you," Prim said, understanding what he was getting at, and Gale flinched. "I love Cato. I know you don't understand and honestly, I don't either. I should hate him, but I—"

"Stop," Gale said. "I don't want to hear it. If you don't love me, that's fine. We can be friends, like we were before, or nothing at all, if you insist… but you're sick. He warped your mind someway. Give it time and you'll heal."

Prim crossed her arms on her chest. A part of her wondered if he was right. Did Cato brainwash her somehow? But sick or not, she could not deny the way he made her feel. She dreamed of his hands and his lips. She felt ill without him.

"But that doesn't change the fact I don't love you," Prim said, and she meant it. "Not in that way."

"You used to," Gale said. "I knew it for years and tried to discourage it. I saw it, but I acted like it wasn't real. You were just a kid."

"And now?"

"You're no longer a child. A child wouldn't have been able to face down Jace. A child wouldn't have cracked the sky and slit her wrist while saying fuck you to Snow."

The way he looked at her was making her uncomfortable, as if she just transformed into Katniss. Everything he said was true, she did those things, but they weren't her, they were the monster she tried to banish. Gale despised the softness inside her, and he probably believed that now he could love her in the way he loved Katniss.

She wasn't Katniss. She wasn't the Mockingjay. She was Prim.

But, as she stared at Gale's expression, Prim realized she'd have to play the role they wanted. It would be pretend, none if it would be real, but if it gave hope, if it galvanized the districts, if it meant the end of Snow, then she would do what they wanted.

"Okay," Prim agreed. "I'll be the Mockingjay."

Prim tried to stem the feeling inside her that told her that even if they won the rebellion, she still lost everything.

Later that Night

A man walked into the room the next time she woke up, with oversized glasses, and a starchy white overcoat.

He looked startled for a moment, before he pulled his face into a neutral expression.

"You're awake," he said.

"I am."

Prim wanted to ask him questions, grill him about things he would not answer. She knew this by the way he clutched his clipboard, as if it contained the only information he'd ever divulge. Instead, she stuck to safe questions.

"How long have I been out?"

"You've been recovering for several weeks. We've kept you sedated. Each time you woke in an extremely agitated state. Sometimes the mind needs to heal, just like the body."

"Weeks…" It did not feel like weeks. It felt like moments ago she was in the games.

"Are you in any pain?" He asked.

Prim assessed herself.

"Not much."

"Good, it means we got the dosage in medication right. The cast should be off in a few weeks. The wrists will scar where it was cut, but other than that it should be alright. You lost a lot of blood, but we got you in time to correct it."

Prim did not breathe a sigh of relief. She cared not if she was in pain or if she scarred. She only cared about one thing but was almost too scared to ask. In the end, she had to know.

"And the baby?"

The doctor did not lose his neutral expression.

"A fetus may seem fragile, but they are insistent things, surviving against all odds. It takes a lot to abort one that is normal and healthy."

Prim drew in a long breath, and when she breathed out, it shook. Throughout the games, Prim did not allow herself to get attached to the baby. Afterall, the odds of her surviving were slim. It wasn't until she felt the cramping and wetness between her legs that she feared she loved it. Now she knew, as the relief and joy burst in her heart, she would have been shattered at the loss.

"But I was bleeding. I thought for sure…"

"A small bleed, nothing more. It can be frightening, but most of the time, it's harmless. Just a sign of abnormal stress."

The room grew silent.

"It's hard to believe it's real. It feels like a dream."

The doctor tilted his head so that he looked at her over his glasses.

"Would seeing a picture assuage your fears?"

"Yes," Prim said, trying not to allow her heart to seize.

She was going to be a mother. She felt too young, too inexperienced. How could she do this, especially without Cato?

The doctor left the room and walked back in ten minutes later with a machine that he later called an ultrasound. It would bounce back a hazy image of the baby, he explained as it booted up.

He squirted some cold goo on her belly and brought a wand up to her stomach. She heard a sound like a galloping horse.

"Is that it's heartbeat?" Prim asked in awe. A grey picture emerged, and she could see the baby, or what she thought was the baby. It was shaped like a little bean and seemed to bounce with the movement. Something welled in her chest, a feeling that rose and fell, wrapping her in lightness she didn't know she could feel anymore. Her baby. It's real, her mind confirmed. She imagined soft, chubby fingers, wispy blonde hair, a gurgling smile with its father's blue eyes. She wanted it suddenly more than anything and everything in the world.

"Their heartbeats." The doctor corrected.

Prim pulled back, confused.

"What?" She felt like something smacked her in the face.

"Baby A," he said, placing the wand towards the right of her belly, and then pulled to the left and showed another jumping bean. "And Baby B."

Her mind struggled to keep up until she listened closely and sure enough the heartbeats quivered as if there was a second one.

"Twins," the doctor confirmed.