A/N: I was a prize idiot and realized I had left out two chapters earlier on in this story. I went back and uploaded them, and it shifted all the already-posted chapters around, so I apologize for the influx on notifications that may have popped up. So if you have time, please go back and read the newly added chapters 3 and 4 - they're two of my favorites, and I feel they add a lot to the story. Whoops, indeed.
Katniss
I was drugged the night they took me, I know that now. I slid into the waiting arms of unconsciousness by way of the familiar sickly-sweet sway of sleep serum, my nightmares becoming a prison I wasn't able to escape. I remember flashes of black-clad soldiers and the shiny white Peacekeeper uniforms, the feeling of being strapped down, the faint sounds of Annie crying. Above all, I remember Snow's face – floating above me, sneering when I whimpered in fear, pulling me back back back into the inky cold darkness.
Each hint of memory comes to me whenever I close my eyes now, as I try to piece together what happened to us back in 13. None of it is cohesive or clear, and perhaps it's a bit of my memory that will always remain tainted by the shiny fog of sedatives that wraps around me like an unwelcome embrace. I reach out for Haymitch, my fingers grasp for Prim, my heart calls out for Peeta – no one answers, and I fear I will stay alone in the black.
After what feels like a lifetime of fear and loneliness, I wake in a cell much like the one I occupied during my last stay in the Capitol. I know without a shadow of a doubt that I have somehow been returned to this hellish place. I thought I was finally safe from this – how foolish of me! Maybe I never really left the Capitol, and perhaps I've gone a little bit mad? Did I imagine the last few months? Was everything with Peeta and the rebellion all just in my mind?
Finnick's voice is what snaps me out of the swiftly encroaching panic. "Morning sunshine," he greets me. I turn and find him leaning against the bars of his own cell, a smirk on his face. While the rest of him gives off the impression of sardonic teasing, his eyes are filled with dread. I haven't seen him look this way since the Quell, whenever he would snark at me with his words but fight for us with his actions. It is his armor, I've come to realize, and the fact that he needs it now sends up goosebumps along my chilled skin.
"Where are we?" I croak out, my throat burning with thirst.
"I do believe we're enjoying the hospitality of our friendly neighborhood dictator, one President Coriolanus Snow," he says, gesturing loosely around him. "I thought you might recognize it."
I take a moment and look around me. Finnick and I are in cells across from one another, and Annie is curled up on the floor of the cage next to his. While this prison is different from the one we were kept in before, it does bear some resemblance to the last hellhole. I tell him so, as I snoop around for any signs that we can find a way to escape. Snow has no threats to hold over me this time - my sister is safe and Peeta is alive.
Annie doesn't respond to me when I call her name. Her hands cover her ears and she's humming a nonsensical melody while Finnick and I have been speaking. Something in my chest seizes, because this is too much like the old Annie, the one I sang to for months and months to keep her from losing all touch with reality. I want my Annie back - the vivacious cunning victor who loves to tease and is fluent in truths that reach past the bullshit and take root in your soul.
"Do you know how we got here?" I ask Finnick after failing to get a response from her.
He shakes his head. "You?"
"No…. I was with Haymitch, but I think I fell asleep. Odds, I have no idea." I dig at my eyes with my fists, trying to work through my muddled memories but I can't seem to grasp anything solid.
"We went back to our room after we saw you at dinner," Finnick explains. "We left one time to get some tea from the infirmary to help Annie's stomach, but nothing else. I think we just fell asleep after that – I can't really remember." He rubs his hand up and down his face as though to help clear away his own confusion.
What in the Odds is going on?
The sentiment practically echoes between the two of us as we simply look upon one another, standing in our respective cells.
"She did this," Annie's shaky voice startles us both, and Finnick rushes to the bars that separate his cell from hers. He reaches his arm through trying to touch her, but he's too far away and she hasn't lifted her head to see what he's doing.
"Who, love?" he calls to her soothingly.
"President Coin!" she wails, pressing her hands to the sides of her head. "She took us! I heard her! She gave us to him!" Annie sobs and it breaks my heart. Then her words finally process in my mind.
"Wait – she what? Why would she do that?" I ask. I'm so confused, nothing is making sense. I can't imagine Annie would make up something so absurd, but…what if?
Annie doesn't answer, I can tell she's retreating swiftly away from lucidity as her anxiety and despair gains traction. I watch her madness dig its claws in as she begins to mumble things that don't make sense and squeezes her eyes tightly shut. Finnick is devastated as he looks on and tries to catch her attention with gentle words, but it's as though she simply cannot hear him through the wall she's put up in her mind. I almost wish I could erect my own to cower behind as I hear footsteps approaching us from the shadows.
"How very perceptive of you, Mrs. Odair," Snow's deceptively genial tone resonates throughout the room. All the breath in my lungs is forced out and my body instinctively scurries to the back of my cell, putting as much distance between him and myself as I possibly can. Finnick straightens up, facing the president head-on but every few seconds his eyes flick back to Annie. I know if he could, he would be standing in front of her, keeping her out of the president's sight.
"What's going on, Coryo?" Finnick bites out. His tone is combative and fierce, but I can hear a hint of fear behind his words. I pray I'm the only one who can.
"I do believe I still hold the title of 'President Snow', Mr. Odair. Let's not dispense with our manners just because you've been hiding out in that hole in the ground for the last year." Although Snow narrows his eyes at the nickname Finnick uses, his voice remains melodic and teasing, a warning that he is pleased with himself. It is a sign that he's especially dangerous – a snake who is excited to play with his food. "Ms. Coin and I each had something the other wanted. I had a battalion of rebel soldiers imprisoned in District 5, while she had in her possession some of my victors. Color me surprised that it did not take much convincing on my part for her to relinquish the three of you. Sedation made it easy to remove you from that pit, and she and I arranged a meeting in the hills of District 5 to make the trade. While she technically saved more lives, I have always valued quality over quantity; I have no problem taking life, but I believe it should be for a reason. The three of you hold significantly more value to me than five hundred common district soldiers."
Snow lets this information sink in. President Coin gave us over to Snow, despite knowing everything he did to us, like we're just trophies in her war game. How can she expect Peeta or Gale or any of the others to follow her now that she's given us up to the enemy? While she can't expect Snow to keep his capture of us a secret, perhaps she is planning to keep her part in it under wraps. As if he can follow the trail of my thoughts, he continues, "I do not believe anyone other than a trusted few are aware of her actions. I must concede, it was a masterful move on Coin's part."
Snow steps in closer to my cell and it feels as though my heart is going to burst out of my chest with horror and anguish. I was safe. I had Peeta and we were in love and he was going to come back to me. Real – that all had to be real. Why don't I get to keep that dream? Why am I the one who is toyed with, time and time again? All I wanted was to save my sister and keep Peeta alive…. How did we get to where we are now?
"There are so many things we should discuss," Snow murmurs to me. He coughs and angles his head away from me the longer the fit goes on. When he pulls away, I can see blood staining the handkerchief he used to cover his mouth. Good, I hope he chokes on it. He clears his throat and resumes speaking, "Now, I am going to use the three of you to send a message to Panem, and specifically to the Guardian and his rebellious friends." He spits out Peeta's title as though it disgusts him, and I can't help the pride I'm filled with. If Snow hates Peeta that much, it means he's causing him a great deal of frustration. I'm sure the loss of District 2 is a blow he won't readily recover from.
"And if we refuse?" I dare to question.
Snow narrows his eyes at me and smiles; there is blood staining his teeth, and I feel my stomach heave at the sight. "We both know I'm not above killing children, Miss Everdeen," he retorts. His words fill me with dread; who will he kill – Prim? Or some other nameless child I'll have to watch die because of my stubbornness? "And I'm certainly not wasteful," he adds. "I believe that killing Mrs. Odair and her child would serve a greater purpose, don't you?"
I feel a shiver work through me as I grasp what Snow is saying – Annie is pregnant. Annie is pregnant and her baby will be one more victim of Snow's. I risk a glance over his shoulder to glimpse Finnick; he's gone completely white and is leaning his head against the bars of his cell. "You're…. Annie?" I gasp, looking between the two of them.
"Surprise!" Finnick mutters acerbically.
"These things happen in war, Miss Everdeen," Snow gently explains, his bloody smile still on full display. "Now, will you be selfish? Or will you do as I ask to help me try and end this war?"
I know he is preying on my weaknesses; I have always been willing to sacrifice my life to protect those I care about – Prim, Peeta, Rue, Annie…. I cannot refuse and make this my final stand against Snow – I cannot let another innocent person die because the world sees me as some sort of revolutionary symbol. I'm just Katniss, a girl from the Seam who wanted to make it home from the Hunger Games to her sister, and perhaps repay the life debt she owed to a boy who took pity on her in her time of need. I may never get to be her again, but I can do whatever it takes to make sure no one else I care about loses their life because of me and my actions.
I remember the conversation I had with Annie not long ago - we get to start anew, she told me. Did she already know about her baby? Did she realize the life Finnick wanted with her was within reach? I can't take that future away from her, I couldn't bear it.
I resolve that I will not show Snow how he affects me, I must shut down my emotions if I intend to get any of us out of this alive. So I rise up to my full but unimpressive height and stomp to the front of my jail cell. When mere inches separate the two of us, I spit at him, "What do you need from us?"
He smiles, baring his teeth the way the mutt monkeys in the Quell did just before they attacked. "First thing's first, you all will appear with me in a broadcast; we need to send a message to show Panem whose side you are on." He turns to walk away from me, but just before he leaves the room, he pauses to toss one more barbed threat at me. "You all will do well to remember that your voices are not needed while we are recording. Miss Everdeen, after the incident that took place at the close of your last broadcast during your time in the Capitol, we have decided not to go live; we will be able to edit out anything unnecessary before it goes out to the districts. But if you do choose to convey any messages to your paramour or the rebel forces, I will not hesitate to familiarize Mr. Odair with some of the experiences you and Mrs. Odair became acquainted with during your previous time here with us."
Keep my mouth shut, got it. I nod, confirming my understanding. Snow shoots me one more blood-soaked grin before he finally leaves.
Then, we are alone.
I am alone in the Capitol, without Peeta, once again.
Finnick returns to his attempts to reach Annie in the recesses of her mind, speaking to her in quiet tones and murmurs. She doesn't say anything, but her hands drop from her head to wrap around her still-flat abdomen, as though to protect the child within.
I collapse to the ground, releasing a haggard moan. I resolve to give myself until the Peacekeepers arrive to indulge in my self-pity. Once we're delivered to the prep teams, I will be impassive and strong, I will keep Annie's child safe; I will start trying to find a way to get us out of here.
How could I have been so stupid to have let down my guard and start believing I was actually safe in District 13? She wanted you to think it was real, I tell myself. My failure was in being too slow to grasp Coin's plans. What is she hoping will happen next?
She expects us to die here, I realize with sudden gut-wrenching clarity.
If Snow wins, he will execute us for treason. If Coin wins, either Snow will have gotten rid of us by then or she will find some trumped up reason to hang us herself. She will make sure no one knows what she did, and then she will step in - taking Snow's place. I was too busy looking over my shoulder at what has been done to me to notice. I was focused on Snow this whole time, and he was watching me, wasting his time while another real threat maneuvered her way around the chessboard; neither of us was watching Coin closely. I've been played for a fool, and now Finnick and Annie and their baby will perish due to my mistake, and I will never see Peeta again.
I resolve that I will not let any of them die for me. They have a future within reach, and I am willing to fight to give them that. Peeta may not forgive me if I sacrifice my life for theirs, but he will understand, especially once he learns of the pregnancy. He will help to bring a new dawn to Panem, and while I want to be at his side more than I have ever wanted anything else in my miserable life, I choose not to be selfish in this. Annie and Finnick deserve happiness, and I can give them that.
By the time the Peacekeepers return for us, I have resolved my mind fully to what needs to be done - I will do whatever I have to in order to keep my friends safe.
My friends.
I never thought of myself as someone who indulged in having many friends. I've always been rather cold and unpleasant, so over time very few people attempted to get close to me. Madge Undersee was the closest thing I had to a friend before the Games, but even she was more of a casual acquaintance. We didn't know many of the details that filled each other's lives - I never bothered to ask and neither did she. Prim was more my child than my sibling, our age difference and my role as a provider maintained that emotional distance between us. There was Gale obviously, but what started as a partnership based on hunger turned into something more for him – something other. Now I'm not really sure what he sees me as.
When Peeta and I went into the Games, I didn't want to let anyone close to me; losing Peeta was going to be hard enough, whether I admitted it to myself or not. Then I met Rue, and I saw so much of Prim in her that I couldn't help but fight for her; when I lost her, I shuttered my heart once again. In the days leading up to the Quell, during the long hours spent in the Tribute Center, I began to feel the fluttering of affection in my heart for the other victors, and it scared me more than going to my own death. I'd asked Peeta, how are we supposed to kill these people? What I really meant was, how will we survive losing these people, when we've only just managed to find them?
Ironically, the trauma of my imprisonment in the Capitol resulted in the closest relationships of my life. Annie, Johanna, and Enobaria are my friends – perhaps the dearest I will ever have. They felt what I felt; we shared an experience so filled with pain and suffering and torment that our comradery was forged, stronger than anything I ever had before. That agonizing time in my life also cleared up any of my confusion that remained over Peeta; and while he is my…well, my lover now, I guess - he is also the person I turn to first. And after I was rescued, I was able to resume building the fondness I felt towards Finnick that had been developing in the arena; we have fought side by side, grounded by a tenuous alliance built on blind faith - he knows me in ways that Gale will never be able to understand.
These are my friends.
I understand now that there is more than one person I am sure that I love. And like I did with Prim, I will volunteer to go into battle to save them.
The Peacekeepers bind our hands and pull us along the winding corridors of what turns out to be the Presidential mansion. They do not blindfold us, which only reinforces my belief that Snow is planning on killing us – if they thought we might make it out of here, wouldn't they want to hide their location to confuse us, to keep us in the dark so we cannot report any details back to the enemy?
We're hustled along the carpeted hallways of the mansion, past curious staff and bright windows; it's all so different from the last time I was a prisoner. There are bright colors and voices other than my own, the air that isn't stale or filled with the putrid odors produced by our unwashed bodies. It is almost overwhelming, but I try to take it all in and savor it, because I know what could come next for me - and I don't want the memories of my torture to follow me into whatever comes after this life.
They deposit us in a common room full of prep teams who immediately get to work transforming us. My short, tangled hair is trimmed and styled into loose waves that sit just above my shoulders and dramatic makeup is painted on my face to draw attention to my eyes. I'm zipped into a gorgeous white dress that somehow accentuates what few curves I managed to gain back during my recovery in 13.
Finnick is dressed in a white tuxedo reminiscent of the one Peeta wore during his tribute interview before the Quell. His bronze hair and golden skin make him look like a candle – he is striking, drawing the eye to his disarming beauty. He is so beautiful, no one will think to look past it – deeper – to see the good man who lies beneath. I realize they have turned him back into what the Capitol wanted him to be; he is no longer the young man from 4 who wanted to be a fisherman and settle down with the girl he loves, but a Capitol jewel meant to adorn the arm of the highest bidder. Under all the stage makeup, he looks haunted.
Annie is in a stunning dress similar to mine; her hair is brushed out into a flowing mass that practically dances around her head and her makeup accentuates the dramatic features of her face. I have never seen her like this, but her expression tells me she is no stranger to being forced to play dress up for Snow. Her eyes tell me she is with us more than she was earlier, and she shoots Finnick a tiny comforting smile. He grins cheekily back, and she places a hand on her middle, reassuring herself that their child still grows within.
When I look at the two of them, I have never felt surer of a decision in all my life. They will live on, no matter what.
Snow enters the room and goes over what he will say. It's all pretty words and propaganda to try and convince the districts to lay down arms; nothing that I imagine will actually make much of a difference at this point. We're taken in a bright white room and arranged around a glistening throne where Snow will sit, and now I understand how we will be used. Us victors will be seen as backing the president, throwing into question all the accusations we hurled at him during our interview with Cressida. Snow is ensuring that we will not be safe on either side of this war – we will be liars or traitors when all is said and done.
He instructs us not to make eye contact with the camera, which seems silly to me, but Snow's paranoia is at a fever-pitch. He fears a repeat performance on my part, making sure that there is no way we can communicate any type of message to our allies. Even if we could, are Peeta and the others even watching? Could they ever really believe we defected? Does Haymitch know what's going on? What will he make of this? Did Coin even spare his life after he discovered that we were gone?
The camera light blinks and I try to focus on a point on the wall near the ceiling. There's a tiny divot there, a minuscule error in this room of perfect blankness; I wonder, if Snow notices it, will he have the man who made it executed? Perhaps I shouldn't draw attention to it…. I listen to Snow drivel on and keep my hands clenched behind me. They have not kept me bound this time, it's something I find rather curious. The last time I was imprisoned, they did not let me free for more than a moment. Although, before they wanted to break me, now they want to put me on display in all my victor-glory. I have to fight against my impulsive nature, but I do not lash out; if I can convince the guards I'm not a threat, perhaps they will decide going forward to keep my hands free.
"If we burn, you will burn with us." When Snow speaks the words I've heard come from Peeta's mouth so many times in propaganda footage, I'm shocked into breaking my focus and I drop my gaze directly to the camera in front of me. I want to scream at whoever's watching, and I yearn to climb through the camera to reach Peeta, but I remember my plan and clench my jaw to make sure I'm not tempted into doing anything rash.
Is it better to out-monster the monster, or to be quietly devoured? I've thought a great deal about who I have become since I was plucked out of the ruins of the Quell; and I have resolved to become the monster I need to be in order to fight President Snow. I will not be his victim again; I will not be devoured by him. I will contain myself as long as necessary, and then set my monster free at the opportune moment to save the people I love.
The person running the camera approves whatever footage we've got, and it is seconded by Snow's advisor. Snow leaves without a backwards glance at us, our value appears to be used up for the day. We're led back to the prep room and they strip us down and scrub the makeup from our faces. I am tossed plain grey scrubs and instructed to put them on; the prep teams must be more interested in preserving the clothes they dress us in this time around. My modesty is a natural reaction, but then I recall that Finnick saw me in my undergarments for half of the Quell and Annie is barely cognizant. I stuff myself quickly into the scrubs and when I stand up, I find Finnick smirking at me as he helps Annie balance while she slips on her pants.
I roll my eyes, already anticipating what he will say to me. "Shut up, Finnick," I grumble, just as a guard seizes me by the arm to lead me away.
The Peacekeepers deposit us in our cells, our first day back in the Capitol coming to a quiet end. Finnick and Annie stretch out on the ground on either side of the cold metal bars that separate them. He murmurs words I cannot here and rests his hand on her abdomen while she runs her fingers through his hair. Their love is warm and comforting, lighting up the room around them. They are the flame that will light up the future, and I allow myself to bask in this thought as I curl up against the back wall of my own empty cage.
I count the minutes, and when nothing happens, I let out a wobbly sigh, because it seems that no one has noticed the empty syringe I smuggled out of the prep room in underwear.
"Have you and Peeta talked about kids?" Finnick's question takes me by surprise. We've been laying on the unforgiving ground in our cells all morning, largely in silence. I've been trying to remember the night we were taken, but it only comes back to me in flashes and disjointed moments. Annie has been humming the tune of a song I used to sing to her when we were last imprisoned, and up until now Finnick hasn't said a word.
"Excuse me?" I squawk incredulously.
"Kids, babies – you heard me, Everdeen," he replies, a soft chuckle in his voice.
I push up on to my elbows so I can see him across the room. He's got the biggest shit-eating grin on his face that I've ever seen. I roll my eyes and scowl at him; he's trying to get a rise out of me.
"Shut up, Finn," I huff, letting my upper body drop back to the ground.
"I mean," he continues, ignoring my response. "I assume you and Peeta know how the process works. At the very least, the two of you could have a lot of fun practicing. Odds, maybe you already are, what do I know?"
"Finnick!" I sputter. My blush is out of control and if I could reach him, I'd deliver a swift smack to his head.
"Leave her alone, Finn," Annie giggles. "He's just bored, Katniss," she assures me. Thank the Odds she's starting to sound more like herself today.
"Yeah?" I bite out. "Well, hopefully you won't get used to this type of boredom, Finnick. I know the last time we were here it certainly took me a lot longer than two days."
He at least has the decency to look chastised by my mulish words. I'm worried that when I glance over again, he's going to be looking at me with pity the way so many others do whenever our long months of torture are brought up in conversation, especially if it is one of us who mentions it. People think that if they don't talk about it, it will just go away. And if it's talked about, they worry we're all going to spontaneously burst into tears. I've already gotten past that phase, thank you very much. I'm also very aware I'm lashing out at Finnick as a consequence of my own boredom and anxiety, but I can't bring myself to care much.
Thankfully he proves me wrong, sidestepping any inclination towards sympathy with a healthy dose of joviality. "That's not an answer, Katniss," he points out, smirking at me. "Normally I'd tell you to stop deflecting, but I'll let it go, per the request of my beautiful bride. I've always wanted kids; I feel I connect with them better than adults."
"That's because you're basically a child yourself," I mutter in rejoinder.
He crows at my sullen insult and gives me a slow sarcastic applause. Then he continues on and on, telling me about the sea and the private inlet where District 4's Victor's Village is located. He speaks about the animals and the sand, about how Mags swam in the ocean every day of her life up until she volunteered for the Quell. He talks about baby names and whether he thinks Johanna and Enobaria would adopt dogs or cats or muttations because nothing else could be fierce enough for them. He describes the sunset over the water and how Prim will become a doctor who changes the world. Finally, after hours of focusing on nothing but his charming voice and his beautiful words, I realize what it is he's been doing – he's distracting us. He is keeping Annie and I out of our own heads and here in the room with him. He's making us laugh and smile and giving us things to think about other than the all-encompassing terror that could so easily take over.
I reward both him and me with a beaming smile, because it is a kindness I will keep with me until the end.
"Will you sing, Katniss?" Finn quietly requests.
He's sitting at the back of his cell, casting most of his body in shadows. I clear my throat and pull myself to sit up against the bars of my own. I'm exhausted and terrified and sad, and to be honest, singing for Finnick Odair is not how I want to spend what little time I may have left. But this man has been kind to me today, so I resolve to give him this, the way I have done for Annie in her times of need.
"What do you want me to sing?" I reply tiredly.
I see Finn lean forward a bit, bringing his face into the faint light. He's looking over at Annie, who is pressed against the bars that separate his cage from hers. She appears to be fast asleep, and when she doesn't stir at his movement, he drops back and lets out a weary sigh. "Something sad," he whispers, his voice so low I almost can't hear it.
Something sad.
Finn is letting his brave face drop; he's revealing his hidden self to me because Annie is asleep and right now she does not need to be buoyed by his courageous charm. The man across from me is just as scared as I am and he doesn't want to pretend otherwise tonight.
Well, he's in luck, because District 12 is chuck full of sad songs.
I cast my mind out to the melodies that live my memories, settling on a ballad that feels uniquely dark and appropriate for the awful reality Finnick and I find ourselves in.
When I was a babe I fell down in the holler
When I was a girl I fell into your arms
We fell on hard times and we lost our bright color
You went to the dogs and I lived by my charms
I danced for my dinner, spread kisses like honey
You stole and you gambled and I said you should
We sang for our suppers and we drank up our money
Then one day you left, saying I was no good
Well, all right, I'm bad, but then, you're no prize either
All right, I'm bad, but then, that's nothing new
You say you won't love me, well I won't love you neither
Just let me remind you who I am to you
'Cause I am the one who looks out when you're leaping
And I am the one who knows how you were brave
And I am the one who knows what you said sleeping
I'll take that and more when I go to my grave
It's sooner than later that I'm six feet under
It's sooner than later that you'll be alone
So who will you turn to tomorrow, I wonder
For when the bell rings, lover, you're on your own
For when the bell rings, lover, you're on your own
I am the one who you let see you weeping
I know the soul that you struggle to save
Too bad I'm the bet that you lost in the reaping
Now what will you do when I go to my grave?
My gaze refocuses as the last words cross my lips. Finnick is smiling a small tragic smile, full of hopeless understanding and grim acceptance.
"Oh, Girl on Fire…where'd you learn such a song?" he murmurs gently.
I shrug and twist up the hem of my shirt in my fingers. "It's sung a lot in 12, no one really knows where it came from, but it's common enough." I pause, remembering a rumor I once heard. I don't know if it's true, but here at the end, what's a little falsehood between us? "I think my father told me it was written by the only other victor to come out of 12, way back at the beginning of the Games. They don't show those early Games on television anymore, and whoever that victor was, they were long gone before any of us came along. All we have left is their song. Odds knows if any of that's the truth of the matter though."
"I think it's true," he asserts, his voice melancholy with exhaustion and sadness. "It sounds like a victor's song."
Finn is right, it does.
The blaring of an alarm startles me awake. I have no way to tell what the time is or how long any of us have been asleep, but I feel groggy, and my movements are sluggish as I struggle to rise. The room is dim, but a flashing light strobes in time with the siren. I can see Annie and Finn each sitting up in their cells, trying to figure out what's happening the same as me. Annie's hands dance around the sides of her head, like she wants to press them against it, but she's fighting to keep her mind clear.
A huge crash explodes in the distance, and we feel the resounding tremors underneath us. I look to Finn, whose eyes meet mine. "Rebels?" he yells, struggling to be heard over the noise of the ear-piercing alarm. I shake my head in bewilderment, because while I hope it is the rebels, I can't anticipate what that will mean for us. If the rebel forces find us here in the Capitol, will they take the time to hear us out? Will they even believe us once they do?
Another explosion goes off, this time it is definitely closer. Then there are more, each going off one right after another. The whole building is shaking around us, and all I can think is that this must be what it felt like just before my father died in the mines. The rumbling, the solid ground turning untrustworthy and the walls that surround us becoming more and more ominous with each explosion. I can only hope the rebels don't destroy the Presidential mansion without thoroughly searching it first, otherwise this is likely to be our tomb.
Without warning, the door to our prison slams open and President Snow storms in. I have never seen him so disheveled; his hair is mussed and though he is still sporting a suit, it is heavily wrinkled as though he was sleeping in it, only to be roused awake by the bomb blasts same as we were. Most telling of all though, there are rivulets of blood dripping down from the corners of his mouth – he didn't have time to tidy himself up before coming to see us.
"Time to go, Miss Everdeen," he's loud enough to be heard over the siren, but he still manages to sound as though he's not expending any extra energy at all.
I rise to my feet and shoot a loaded look to Finnick. This is it. This is my chance to lead this monster away from them. Finn shakes his head and calls out to me, but I force myself to ignore him.
Snow unlocks my cell and pulls me out roughly by my arm. Due to either his haste or his arrogance, he doesn't bother to bind my hands, instead choosing to keep me in line by shoving a delicate silver knife against the exposed skin of my throat. I can't cover the squeak of fear that I unwittingly let out, and I can see from the mocking sneer on Snow's face that he took note of my reaction. He holds me tightly across my middle, so my back is pulled harshly against his chest, giving me no real leeway to struggle against him without the knife cutting into my neck. I have to hold firmly on to his forearms to keep pace with his frantic handling of me.
Finnick is screaming my name now and Annie is reaching her thin arms out towards me through the bars of her cage. I can't shake my head or call out to them without suffering at Snow's hand, but I try to tell them with my eyes that this is alright – that they need to let me go.
I know that if the two of them are found in these prison cells, there's more of a chance they will be believed when they relay that we were brought to the Capitol against our wills. What happens after that may be out of my hands, but if I can focus Coin and Snow's combined wraths on me instead of Annie and Finn, it may just give them the opportunity they need to get away. I can only hope they'll take Peeta with them if the time comes to flee.
I lose sight of Finnick as I'm pulled around a sharp corner, and I try to keep my heart from breaking as the echoes of his screams fade away. Snow drags me along corridors and up stairwells, and as we pass windows, I can see angry flames and clouds of smoke as the City Circle burns.
"It seems Coin's rebels have taken my Capitol," Snow mutters. He lets out harsh puffs of breath as he speaks, wafting the smell of foul blood into my face. My stomach heaves, and I struggle to fight through it by taking deep breaths through my mouth and turning my face away from his as much as I possibly can.
"How very troubling for you," I reply, working to keep my tone even.
"Mmmmmm," he hums in agreement. "Luckily, I have you to barter for my safe evacuation."
"I doubt that'll go well for you," I argue. "Coin doesn't like me very much – as you are well aware. Do you actually think she'd sanction that trade?"
"No my dear, I do not. But the people love you, you give them hope. And as much as I hate that, it is rather useful to me in this particular situation. Coin may not choose to save your life, but a common district soldier may find themselves unable to let the Mockingjay die."
"Why don't you just leave? I'm sure you have a hovercraft sitting around just waiting to whisk you away from all this," I ask as he spares a moment to look around a corner.
"Unfortunately, Coin's arsenal is more extensive than I gave her credit for. It would be unwise for me to risk escaping by air at this time without protection." He sounds cranky, and I'm gladdened by it - it's a welcome change. "I have some allies who are still loyal to me, Miss Everdeen. You will be my cover, my dear; once I hand you over, I'll be on my way to somewhere secure."
He pulls me towards a hidden side door that is only going to lead me further away from the rebels and closer to my death. I can tell from what's going on outside the windows that we're on the ground floor of the mansion. Perhaps I can run? If I trip him, I run the risk of Snow stabbing me in the neck. If we don't happen upon any rebel soldiers, I know that Snow won't let me go. He'll keep me with him as a bargaining chip - his personal prisoner of war - and I'll be subject to his twisted torture until the end of my days.
I'd rather die.
Just before he shoulders the door open, I resolve to try and get away from Snow - even if it kills me, because I know that what awaits me is worse than death. Prim and Peeta have always told me I was brave – now I just need to live up to that.
I silently say my goodbyes – to Prim and to Peeta, to my mother and Gale and his family, to the other victors and Haymitch. Goodbye; I'm sorry.
It's dark outside the mansion, but the flames from the burning city light up my surroundings enough that I can tell we're in the gardens to the west of the building. Snow hauls me along roughly, but as we're about to round the corner of a greenhouse we hear a commanding voice call out, "Halt!"
It's too late, I waited too long. This is the moment he's been waiting for, there's no way for me to get away now. Snow's hand tightens on my arm, and I know what will happen next.
"Stay where you are!" another voice commands. I know that voice. Odds…. No no no.
A series of footfalls signal their approach from behind us; it's a group – more than five people but less than ten. I hear the cocking of multiple guns and then, "Greetings, President Snow!"
Johanna. I let out a strangled sob because I know who else will be with her when I turn around.
"Turn around – slowly! No sudden movements, Snow!" Gale.
Snow kicks at my feet, forcing me to move with him. He slowly and awkwardly pivots us towards the soldiers. When they see he has someone with him, "You! Put your hands up and turn slowly with him!" This time it is a woman's voice I don't recognize.
"I'm afraid, Commander Paylor, that my guest is unable to do so," Snow informs them, his voice like silk. We complete the series of movements that ends with us facing the group, and I hear a series of sharp intakes of breath. I catch a silvery glimpse of Snow's knife at my neck, glinting in the lights that reach out to us from the brightly lit hallways of the mansion; his polished fingernails dig into my arm, and I know there will be bruises there when this is all over. I hold my hands up in front of me, desperately trying to maintain my balance to keep from stumbling right into the blade at my neck.
"Katniss?" Peeta. His broken voice tears at the resolve in my chest. Why – why did he have to be here for this? How can I say goodbye to him while he's looking at me like this? I finally see his face as he steps forward out of the shadows. He's thinner – harder – than the last time I saw him. His blonde curls are covered in dust and his skin is smeared with grime. His neck is covered with a bandage soaked dark red with blood and the limp from his prosthetic is more pronounced than it should be. But he's my Peeta, my boy with the bread. I'm so glad I get to see him at least once more before the end – it's more than I ever expected to have.
"Peeta!" I unwittingly squeak just as Snow flinches and I feel his knife pinch my neck.
He must break the skin because Peeta snaps, "Let her go, Snow!"
"Ah, my dear Mr. Mellark - The Guardian of the Rebellion. How lovely to see you!" He tilts his head toward mine and the stench of rot and blood fills my nose. I can't hide the retch that only serves to propel me further into his unyielding blade. I feel the cut in my neck open more and I clench my teeth both to hide my pain and to try and control the movements of my body. "How fortuitous Miss Everdeen, don't you think?" he says to me. "This is the just the kind of group we were hoping to find, wasn't it?"
"What do you mean?" Gale barks. He's angry, but the agitated exhaustion is clear on his face. I don't know what he's been through since I saw him last, but it appears to have altered him significantly.
"Well Mr. Hawthorne, I would think it is quite obvious," Snow replies. "You all get to choose – my safe evacuation to an undisclosed location, or I will cheerfully end Miss Everdeen's life."
To his credit, Peeta doesn't outwardly react. His eyes narrow, and his hands tighten on his gun enough that his knuckles turn a bloodless white. Snow is trying to get a rise out of him; he's playing with his prey, and I'm the perfect tool to use against him.
Enobaria growls at Snow's declaration - she doesn't like her options. Well, neither do I.
"Mr. Mellark, you might be wondering how I came to be in possession of your little group of left-behind friends?" Snow melodically jeers.
"Not particularly," Johanna scoffs. "We got the heads up from Haymitch that Coin traded them for some POWs. Weren't you a lucky boy then?"
"Yes well, Miss Mason, that does make sense. I should have asked for that old drunkard as well; perhaps I could have traded him for an armed escort out of the Capitol," he sneers. "Your rebellious Madame President didn't take much convincing at all to give up her prize victors - hell she practically foisted them on me. I think you're going to have some trouble with her when all this is finished, Mr. Mellark," he grins as he directs his gaze to meet Peeta's.
Peeta refuses to take the bait and remains silent. Instead, he looks to me, his eyes flicking between the knife at my throat and Snow's bruising grip on my arm. I watch as his chest rises and falls as his breaths become heavier.
Let me go, I will him.
I can't, he replies without words.
"Where will you go?" Gale breaks in. He hasn't lowered his gun, but he's loosening his grip and letting it fall slightly every time he glances at my face – he doesn't want me to die, but he isn't sure how this is going to play out.
"I understand you're not especially educated, Mr. Hawthorne," Snow taunts. "So I will inform you of the definition of 'undisclosed' –"
"I know what it means!" Gale snaps back. He's letting Snow get under his skin.
Snow chuckles at him, and Gale immediately brings his gun back up to aim at Snow's head. He's always been quick to anger, and I wish that wasn't so readily apparent to Snow.
"Let her go," Peeta breaks in. His voice is rough, as if he's forcing the words out. "Hand over Katniss, and we'll let you go." He raises his gun and lowers it to the ground while holding up his other hand.
They're going to do it. They're actually going to let him go.
I can't let that happen. Snow cannot be allowed to escape – to get away with everything he has done to me. To the other victors. To the people of Panem. To the thousands of children he has killed throughout his reign, both in the arenas and in the districts he has sought to subjugate into the ground.
I can't.
Time seems to slow down. I can feel the soft breeze moving through my hair, brushing the soft ends against my cheek; my bare feet in the grass, wet from the overnight dew; the warmth of my own blood that slowly drips down the length of my neck. I let one of my hands fall to my waistband but keep the other raised, bringing it in closer to my body so that I can move quickly when the moment is right. I count to ten in my head, and then I feel it – Snow loosens his grip on me just enough that I feel the knife leave my skin.
Now.
I throw my head back, slamming my skull into the president's nose while grabbing the wrist of his arm that holds the blade. I push it away from my body, but do not let go – I cannot let him go. I jerk him back towards me, forcing him off balance. From my waistband I grab the syringe I smuggled out of the prep room; I do not hesitate when I plunge it deep into his chest, shoving down the plunger with my thumb for good measure.
For a moment, Snow stares at me with an expression that could be either disbelief or amusement. The left side of his mouth ticks up in a mocking smile, pushing a bubble of bloody drool out through his lips that slides slowly down his chin.
I took a chance, but he isn't falling like I'd hoped - this is when he's going to kill me. I can only pray that after I'm dead, someone else will finish what I started here. Someone else has to stop him.
But then, Snow's fingers loosen like a string has been cut, and he drops the knife. Someone grabs me by the back of the shirt - Johanna, some subconscious part of my brain supplies to me - and pulls me away from him. I stumble, but I stay standing. Snow's eyes roll back into his head; the whites of his eyes reflect the lights shining from the mansion, making him look every bit the otherworldly muttation I've always thought him to be.
His knees bend slowly, but then all at once his weight catches up to the quickly-diminishing tension in his body and he crumples to the ground. He twitches - once...twice...and then he is still.
"Holy shit, Brainless!" Jo mumbles, breaking the silence that had settled around us as soon as I moved against Snow.
My breathing is thunderous in my ears as my mind and my body fight to reconnect. The feelings, the sounds – it's suddenly all too much and I wonder if I'm going to break apart right here on the President's lawn.
"Katniss!" Peeta's voice reaches me before his arms do. My hands are shaking relentlessly, and I feel cold even though I can tell there is sweat gathering under my arms. I can't get a full breath to stay in my chest, but when I look up and meet his bright blue eyes...none of it matters. It's him – it's him – and we're both alive and he's here in my arms!
"Peeta?" I can't tell if my voice is too loud or too quiet, but he hears me. He runs his rough calloused hands up the bare skin of my arms and pulls me into his chest. I fall against him, using his body to hold me up. I hear someone murmur the words she's in shock, but I can't focus on that now. He makes a noise that is so full of relief and joy and fear that it overwhelms my heart and all I can do is wrap my arms around him and dig my fingers into his back so that he never has the chance of letting me go ever again.
"You came for me!" I whimper into the hard armor that separates the softness of his body from mine.
"Of course I did," he whispers soothingly as he runs his fingers through my hair, pushing it away from my tear-stained face. "But I don't think you needed me in the end. You saved yourself, my brave girl." The way he's speaking to me makes me think of the way Finnick calms Annie. Which reminds me -
"Finn and Annie!" I screech, pulling away from him. My eyes skitter around the group but fail to land on any one person for more than a second. I can't connect with anyone in my panic. "He left them behind! They're inside! We - we were taken! We didn't come willingly - you have to believe us! Please don't bring us back to Coin! She wanted us to die here, so no one would know what she did!" I'm spiraling out, and I'm fully aware of it. But I fear that if I don't get it all out immediately, I could be sent back to 13, and I know if that happens, I'll likely be murdered discreetly within an hour of arriving.
Peeta shushes me kindly, running his fingertips along my cheeks. "We know, love. Jo was telling the truth; Haymitch contacted us as soon as he discovered you all were missing. It's why we knew to come. Where are Finn and Annie?" he asks me quietly.
I try and explain as best I can; and although I'm sure my directions are not especially clear, I hear Commander Boggs dutifully relaying them over his radio.
I collapse back against Peeta's chest, pressing my face against the solidness of him. I take a few centering breaths to try and calm myself before daring to peek around Peeta's broad body. I see Enobaria crouched next to Snow, along with Johanna and Gale. Snow's skin is pale, and his watery eyes look sightlessly up at the night sky.
I have to ask - I need to know, "Is he dead?"
Enobaria scrutinizes the man on the ground and presses her fingers into the loose wrinkled skin of his neck. After a few moments that are full to the brim of a lifetime's worth of horror and fear, she snaps her eyes up to mine and grins with every one of her sharp teeth. "You got him, Girl on Fire," she purrs.
"Good," I whisper.
A/N: The song used in this chapter is "The Ballad of Lucy Gray Baird" from the amazing book The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, by Suzanne Collins. The cover that I really fell in love with was performed by Maiah Wynne, who did a whole series of the beautiful songs from this prequel. I read the novel while I was writing this story, and I couldn't not include something from it.
The quote, "Is it better to out-monster the monster, or to be quietly devoured?" is by Friedrich Nietzsche.
Thank you again for all of your support and kind words, they mean so much to me. We're getting to the end now, only two more chapters to go.
