Ricochet

Chapter 12: Forward motion

Author: Carla, aka cali-chan
Rating: Most likely PG-13. Nothing worse than what's in the books.
Genre: Adventure/suspense/drama/romance... again, pretty much what's in the books.
Pairings: Peeta/Katniss, Rory/Prim... and probably others. You'll see soon.
Canon/timeline: Same-context AU- this fic still happens in the same world as THG, but the actual events in the books never happened. I'm adding about five years to the characters from the age they were at the beginning of The Hunger Games. Katniss is 21.
Disclaimer: Yeah, just let me go get my transfer laser and switch bodies with Suzanne Collins. Until I find it in the mess that is my room, anything you can recognize belongs to her.

Note: I've never really tried this before (and I'm sure it will eventually come back and bite me in the behind), but each chapter will be from the PoV of a different character. You should be able to tell whose PoV it is fairly easily, though.

Note 2: Spot the Breakfast Club reference! xD

Summary: "Primrose Everdeen." This can't be happening, Katniss thought. She desperately pushed through the crowd. I volunteer!, she wanted to scream. I volunteer as tribute! But she couldn't, because she wasn't eligible for the reaping anymore. There was nothing she could do.

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Peeta felt someone shake him awake. "What is it?" he mumbled as he straightened up his back against the wood. It didn't feel like he'd been sleeping that long, but his body, which spent the past couple hours in a highly uncomfortable position, begged to differ.

"We've stopped," came Katniss' voice in the darkness, barely above a whisper. Through the last traces of somnolence he realized that, indeed, the train wasn't moving anymore; there was no screeching of metal on metal, their wooden box was no longer rattling. They listened intently for a little while (well, he could only guess Katniss was listening intently as well) and soon enough they started hearing loud mechanical noises- a forklift. "We have to get out of here," Katniss said. He didn't need to be told twice.

They could only hope the coal delivery was automated, even though import deliveries weren't in District Twelve. Still, Peacekeepers were bound to be watchful by procedure in case of stops. Just as a precaution, they made sure to time the hammering with the sounds of the forklift, and the machinery thankfully drowned out the noise.

They lifted the lid and peeked out, trying to assess what they were dealing with. It was pitch black outside, probably around two or three in the morning. There were no signs letting them know where they were, but they were surrounded by crop fields; probably District Eleven? They weren't at a train station proper, but a small railway stop, which could barely be called a warehouse. It was nothing more than a platform surrounded by corrugated metallic walls and roof. There was one forklift unloading the boxes from the train and dropping them on the platform. It wasn't automated; there was a dark-skinned, tired-looking man driving the machine. No sign of Peacekeepers yet.

They got out of their hiding place on the opposite side and kept cover behind the yet-to-be-unloaded boxes. Peeta's heart was beating like crazy; he was holding the hammer's handle so tightly, his knuckles were going white. They were going to try and make it to the dining compartment, as it was the only one guaranteed to be empty until morning. As far as Madge had been able to tell them, it held a small kitchenette, a few eating booths, but most of the space was occupied by stored food. It was their best bet to remain hidden as long as possible.

He was about to ask Katniss which car held the dining compartment, but before he could, she stopped abruptly. Before he could ask what was wrong she was pushing him up onto a train car again, so they could hide between two stacks of coal boxes. He carefully poked his head out to look over her shoulder, and saw what they were hiding from: two Peacekeepers, patrolling by the tracks near the front of the train. If they had kept walking, they would've been found out, no doubt about it.

When the Peacekeepers moved to the other side of the train, Katniss saw fit to leave their hiding place again. "I'm going to see if we can clear a path," she let him know, still whispering urgently. "You stay here. I'll let you know if you can come up."

"You shouldn't go by yourself," he argued back. After all, wasn't that why he'd come with her, so she wouldn't have to take the risk alone? He couldn't just let her walk up to the Peacekeepers without someone to watch her back.

She shook her head. "You're making too much noise. They might hear you," she said, her attention half on him and half on the Peacekeepers' movements around the train.

He frowned. "I didn't even say anything before," he replied, not understanding what she meant.

"Your steps," she explained, sounding a little frustrated that she had to explain it at all. "Your steps are too heavy. Normally it's not that bad, but we're walking on gravel now, so it's louder." Now that was something he'd never heard before. His steps were too loud? That hunter's hearing he'd wondered about sometimes was even sharper than he thought. She looked out one more time to make sure the coast was clear. "Stay here until I tell you to move." And with that, she got off the car and started moving toward the front of the train, as close to the rails as possible.

He made sure to watch her as she went, just in case. Part of him was bothered from being called loud of all things- Gale Hawthorne was probably lighter on his feet despite being taller, he thought somewhat bitterly- but there was really no time for him to feel offended about something so silly. If his staying hidden while she scouted the area made their chances better, then he was all up for it.

It felt like it took Katniss an eternity to reach the end of the coal cars. She ducked between it and the first passenger car, which caused her to be obscured from his view. He tried not to be anxious that she wasn't in his line of sight anymore, but it was hard to push down the nervousness. Especially as the minutes ticked by and he didn't hear back from her. Five minutes. Ten minutes...

After fifteen minutes, he was sure something had gone wrong. The forklift had parked to one side, its driver getting off and walking away without ceremony. That meant all the coal meant for this stop was unloaded already, and that meant the train would be departing soon. But there was still no sign of Katniss anywhere.

He couldn't just stay on the train without knowing if she was on board as well, if she was alright, so he decided to take action despite her instructions. He quickly got off the car and made his way in the direction she'd taken. He walked slowly and tried to make his steps as light as he could, though he had no way of knowing if his caution made any difference. Unfortunately for him, though, he only made it about two cars down when the train started to move.

The acceleration was slow at first, so he tried to keep up. But then he heard an exclamation on the other side of the train- "Hey! Stop there!"- and he knew all his effort to be stealthy had gone down the drain in a second. He took off at a run, only looking back once to see that two Peacekeepers were running after him about fifty or fifty-five feet behind. He pushed his legs as hard as they would go, hoping he could reach the passenger compartments before the Peacekeepers reached him. If he could just grab onto a railing he could hoist himself back onto the train before it outpaced him.

In the distance he saw the side-door to the second passenger cart open unexpectedly and he was surprised to see Katniss walk out onto the small deck, safe and sound, but still too far away for him to reach her. The moment she saw him she tensed, and quicker than lightning she had her bow at the ready, arrow in place and ready to strike in his direction.

In the motor car, which was currently behind Katniss since she was looking at him, he saw the side door open again and a Peacekeeper walked out, much like Katniss had. There was no way he could miss her. "Katniss! Behind you!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, warning her of the impending danger.

"Peeta, get down!" she shouted back, her mouth close to her hand as it pulled back string and arrow, about to let it fly. The yelling had apparently woken up some of the passengers, as the inside of the cars closer to the front illuminated. One car down from the one Katniss was standing in, a woman poked her head out a window. But there was no time to think about that: Katniss fired the shot, and even from such a large distance Peeta barely had time to drop to the ground as the arrow flew toward him, a couple inches over where his head would've been a second ago, and embedded itself straight in the closest Peacekeeper's neck. The man dropped like a rag doll.

The momentum Peeta had built up by running meant he skidded, more than fell, over the gravel at his feet. His knees, forearms and hand were scrapped and it stung, but he couldn't spare a minute to cringe in pain. He got to his feet and started to run all over again. The second Peacekeeper was gaining up on him fast.

As he ran he saw Katniss had turned right around and shot at the Peacekeeper behind her before he could even get a hold of his rifle. Then she immediately disappeared toward the opposite side of the car, for some reason. The body fell off the car and tumbled to the side of the tracks, unmoving. Peeta didn't look at it as he passed by. He finally reached the last passenger compartment and grabbing with all his strength onto the back railing, he tried to pull himself up.

Just as he got both his feet onto the deck, he felt someone pulling him back down by his backpack. The other Peacekeeper had finally caught up with him; the man was still down by the tracks, running to keep up with the moving train, but as Peeta wasn't quite balanced on the car either, it wouldn't take much for both of them to go tumbling down onto the gravel. So he wrapped his left arm as steadily as he could around two railing bars, and with his right arm he swung the hammer down with all the strength he could muster.

The heavy tool hit the junction of the Peacekeeper's neck and jaw with a horrifying crack, making his helmet fly off his head, and then the resultant inertia pushed the man harshly against the railing. Peeta felt the grip on the backpack go slack, but the man's other hand was practically woven onto the railing just as Peeta's was, and as he faded out of consciousness and gravity began pulling at him, his torso and legs dragged off the side of the train leaving a trail of darkened gravel because of the blood. When the body finally fell, his head hit Peeta on the arm and caused him to drop the hammer. By now the train was moving too fast for him to be able to get it back.

The weak lights of the railway stop had faded out of view a few minutes previous, but even in the darkness, the white of the Peacekeeper's uniform stood out to him as the train sped away. That heap of flesh and fabric on the side of the tracks was a man, he thought. A man he'd killed. And if he had to, for Katniss, he would do it again. But no matter how sick the thought made him, he couldn't dwell on it. He had to find Katniss, she might be in danger.

He righted himself up on the deck. He didn't make it very far, though, as at that moment the back door opened and he was grabbed, arms at his back, by a huge man. He tried to free himself, but he'd lost his only weapon and the man's hold restricted his movements completely. Peeta considered himself a fairly strong person, but as much as he pushed and struggled, he couldn't make this guy even budge.

"Let me go!" he exclaimed as the man started pushing him inside the compartment. "We don't want to hurt anybody, we're just trying to get to the Capitol!" he tried. This man didn't look like a Peacekeeper. He was burly, but wasn't wearing a uniform, and as far as Peeta knew he carried no weapons. But the man remained completely silent even then.

Inside the passenger car, they walked down a narrow, brightly lit, carpeted corridor. To the right, floor to ceiling, there were sliding panels of some kind of opaque plastic material, behind which, he guessed, was a bedroom of sorts. He didn't get a good look at it, as he was pushed all the way down the corridor, out the other door and then onto the next passenger car, which was exactly the same as the one they'd walked through, only the bedroom was to the left side.

When the cabin door slammed behind them, a man poked his head out of the bedroom. "What's going on?" He walked out to meet them. Peeta thought the man could be slightly older than him. He was slim, and was wearing a colorful set of pajamas made out of fabric which looked soft and shiny; the top had big lapels in a bright fuchsia color. He had several sets of earrings in both ears. "I was just in my bed and I heard a ruckus. Was that him?" he asked, pointing at Peeta. Now he could see his tongue was pierced, and he wore a stud with an embedded crystal which shone when he spoke. "Is he trying to rob us?"

The man that held him trapped said nothing, and Peeta was about to speak up to argue his innocence, but in that moment, the opposite door opened and Katniss was pushed into the car, bucking frantically to try and get away from the grip of a man who looked an awful lot like his own captor. They were probably related. "I caught this one trying to run past my compartment," the man holding Katniss said, in a deep voice. "She had a bow and arrows."

Katniss stilled in the man's grip the moment she saw Peeta, anxiety written in her eyes. He could almost see her running through scenarios in her head, trying to think of an escape plan. But short of killing these people- Capitol citizens, made obvious by their appearance- there wasn't much they could do. And they were both out of weapons.

The door behind Katniss opened again (pushing her and her captor further into the cabin and closer to Peeta and the other two men) and a woman, the one he had seen before at the window, walked in. She looked to be in her late twenties, perhaps early thirties. She had bright green facial tattoos twirling up her neck, on her cheeks and up to her temples, to make it seem like vines were crawling up her body. Her short hair, which was the same green color, was styled up so that it looked like spikes were poking out of her head, completing the plant illusion.

"Don't let her go," she said in the direction of the man closest to her, almost like an order. She walked down the corridor quickly and came to stand in front of Katniss, arms crossed, her back to Peeta. "That shot, when you saved the boy from the Peacekeeper," he heard her say. "That was almost 90 yards," she finished the thought, and Peeta thought she sounded almost in disbelief. "That's over Olympic distance."

Peeta didn't know what "Olympic" meant, and he guessed Katniss probably didn't either, but if she was confused at all, she didn't show it. Her expression remained serious, unyielding, especially as the woman started asking questions. "Who are you?" Katniss kept quiet, and he knew why: the less these people knew about them, the less chance there was the Capitol would punish District Twelve, or Prim.

The woman did not appreciate the silence. "There's a telephone in the motor car," she said. "I could always make a call and report you for killing four Peacekeepers." Peeta knew he was responsible for one death, and he saw Katniss shoot two men; maybe she killed a third one while he couldn't see her. "They'll have a squad waiting for you as soon as we get to the Capitol."

Katniss still wouldn't budge. That's when things started to get rough: the man that was holding her pulled at her arms a little harder, making her position even more uncomfortable. She kept silent, wouldn't even let out a groan, but Peeta could see from her face the hold was painful.

He grew alarmed. These were Capitol people, after all; the same people who cheered at the carnage of the Hunger Games like it was an entertaining spectacle. He wouldn't put it past them to hurt her if she wasn't cooperative. He had to think of something, and quick. "Please don't hurt my wife!" he blurted out; it was the first thing that crossed his mind at the moment. Everybody in the car turned to look at him, Katniss in particular with a shocked expression, but she didn't say anything to contradict him. It meant a lot to him. He hated doing this without warning her in advance, but he truly believed if these people wanted a back story, it was better to give them one.

The green-haired woman walked closer to him, eyes narrowed. "She's your wife, then?" she asked.

He nodded. "Her name's Katniss. I'm Peeta. We're from District Twelve." He could see Katniss bristle that he'd actually given them their real names, but he felt he had to give it a grain of truth to make it believable. "We didn't mean to hurt anyone, we just didn't want to get caught. Things in Twelve are tough, we just can't make enough money and we thought if we could go somewhere else we might have a better life."

"I can't blame you, that place is a dump," the guy with the pink lapels muttered, presumably under his breath, but everybody heard him clearly. Peeta wasn't surprised; whenever outsiders visited the district- usually camera crews during the Games, to conduct interviews with the tributes' families or to get footage for introductory videos- their disgust with the place was obvious. No doubt it was a world away from the grandeur they were accustomed to in the Capitol.

The woman ignored the comment. "If you didn't want to hurt anybody, why the bow?"

"Katniss is a hunter," he explained, remembering a second later that she might get in trouble for it. "She doesn't have to at home because I own a bakery," he qualified, trying to fix his mistake, "but she knows how. We figured if we ran out of food on the way, we could always hunt something." He was hopeful: the three men, at least, looked like they were buying his story. "If we can ride with you to the Capitol, we promise you'll never hear from us again. All we want is to get away."

The woman looked at him, eyes narrowed, thoughtful. Every once in a while she would sneak a glance at Katniss, who met it with her own determined stare, and then back at him. She seemed to be calculating every detail he had given her. Finally, she turned to the man who was holding Katniss: "I think we can use them," she sentenced. Peeta didn't like how that sounded, but if it meant not being immediately reported to the Capitol, he could wait to find out what that meant. "Let them go," she instructed, also signaling the man who was holding him. "They can come with us to the Capitol."

The man released him, and Peeta's hands immediately went to his forearms, which tingled uncomfortably from lack of blood flow. Katniss was released as well, and she immediately moved closer to him. "What do you mean 'use us'? For what?" she asked, the first thing she had said since they got caught, but evidently she was not as cautiously optimistic about their chances with these people as he was.

Now it was the green-haired woman's turn to play coy with the answers. She turned to the slim man and pointed to the bedroom right beside them. "You don't mind if they sleep with you, right? Bring them to the dining compartment in the morning. We'll talk there."

"Can I have my bow back? It was my father's," Katniss interrupted, tense, before the man could reply. Peeta was surprised she'd actually told them the truth about the bow- she must've figured out why he'd taken that approach in the first place. She was also rubbing at her forearms gingerly. She might have bruises in the morning; he knew from experience.

"You'll get it back in the morning," the woman said, and turned to walk out the cabin through the same door she'd used to come in. The two burly men who had been restraining them turned to walk past them (it was a little too close for comfort in the narrow corridor) and walked out through the opposite door.

The man in the colorful pajamas turned to them. "Don't kill me in my sleep," he said, though he didn't really sound scared at all, more like resigned. To Peeta that just showed how self-centered Capitol people were. But they were letting them off and giving them a place to sleep- a bed was decidedly more comfortable than a small wooden box- so he kept his comments to himself.

The guy signaled for them to follow them into the bedroom. "You can sleep here," he said, pointing to the lower bed, which was double-sized. "Normally I get the room to myself, because the boss gets the single compartment," he added, pointing in the direction the green-haired woman had left, "but I guess now I have to share with you two." He signaled to the top bed, which could only accommodate one person, as the place where he would be sleeping. "And please, no funny business during the night, you'll make my bed rattle."

This comment prompted Peeta to look at Katniss and, though it took her a moment, he knew exactly when the meaning behind it finally hit her. She went completely red, and personally he thought the rosy tone in her cheeks looked lovely against her olive skin tone. He had to keep himself from laughing at her flustered expression.

Thankfully, the man didn't wait around to see her react to his comment, and he didn't see her caught off guard. He walked to the side and through another sliding door to a smaller alcove adjacent to the one they were in, which Peeta thought might be a restroom. Katniss moved closer to him, making sure to whisper so the man couldn't overhear them; the plastic room divisions were pretty thin. "Can you believe this guy?" she complained, clearly still upset over the inappropriate comment.

"Guess he really treasures his sleep," he quipped, earning a glare from Katniss, which only amused him more. "You okay?" he asked, meaning her arms and shoulders. She assured him she was fine. "Good. Alright then, you can take the bed and I'll sleep on the floor."

"Don't be stupid," she snapped at him, with something of a frown. "He'll notice if we sleep apart. We're supposed to be married."

It felt a little surreal that she was basically telling him they'd have to sleep together. In the same bed, that is. With Katniss. As much as he had dreamed about sleeping beside her, he'd never imagined it would happen under these circumstances. And if he knew her at all, he knew she couldn't be comfortable with it. "Are you sure?"

"It's fine. It's not much worse than the box," she said, and he thought it funny; hadn't he just been thinking a few minutes ago that a bed was a step up? He knew what she meant, though: she'd keep to her side, and he'd keep to his side, and that way they'd make the best out of an already awkward situation.

He dropped the backpack, which he'd miraculously held onto through this whole thing, at the foot of the bed, then took off his shoes, while Katniss took off her jacket. "I'm sorry about making up this whole marriage thing," he let her know. "I shouldn't have sprung it on you like that. I just thought it would help."

"It did help," she admitted as she folded her jacket and left it in a corner of the bed. He didn't know the story behind the hunting jacket, but seeing the care she took as she folded it, he guessed it had something to do with her father, like her bow. "You're good at convincing people. I never could've pulled it off." She pulled back the covers and signaled for him to get in.

He cleared his throat, still a little ill at ease. He had to ask one last time. "You're not mad?"

"No. Unless you snore, of course."

He could swear his heart stopped for a minute there. Had Katniss Everdeen just made a joke? She had sat down on the corner of the bed to unlace her boots, so he couldn't see her face, but he knew he hadn't heard her wrong. Just when he thought he had her figured out, she surprised him yet again.

When she was done with her boots, he saw her grab the backpack and pull something out of one of the front pockets. She leaned forward, resting her forearms down on her knees as she stared at the object in her hand: a small, circular pin made of gold, in the shape of a bird. He remembered seeing the accessory pinned to Prim's dress when he went to say goodbye to her. It didn't take a genius to figure out what Katniss was thinking of. "We'll get to her," he tried to reassure her.

She shook her head, and for a moment he thought that was a reply to his comment. He was about to insist, but she spoke up before he could get a word in. "I don't like this," she said, tilting her face up to look at him, serious. "I don't trust these people."

He knew she didn't. He wasn't sure about any of this either, but right now they really had no choice but to keep the ruse up. No matter their intentions, these guys could take them as far as the Capitol; if they had to, they'd break away from these people then. He didn't know how, but they'd find a way. All he knew was that he wouldn't let anything happen to Katniss. "I know," he admitted, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back against the plastic sliding panel. "But just... trust me."

She stared at him for what felt like a long time, and he let her. Those calculating, sharp eyes of hers, sometimes he felt like she could see right through him. He wondered if she could, because he had no idea what she was thinking most of the time. But asking Katniss Everdeen for her trust was no small request, and if she needed time to make up her mind then he would give it to her.

After a moment she took a deep breath and, breaking their gaze with a light, almost imperceptible nod, put the golden pin back in the pocket of the backpack. She stood up and signaled for him to take the side of the bunk that was closest to the back wall. Hoping that was a positive response, he got into the bed, making himself comfortable, not that it took too much effort with soft fabric and fluffy pillows.

She got in beside him, the bed wide enough for a chaste few inches of separation between their bodies. Pulling the covers on top of them, she closed her eyes and promptly turned on her side, her back to him, her long, dark braid resting in the space between them.

He longed to touch it, just the end of it, to know if it would feel soft between his fingers. But he knew he couldn't do that, not without crossing a line. Instead, he mumbled a "good night" she didn't reciprocate, and turned toward the compartment wall, his descent into sleep plagued with the thought that... yeah, he'd never imagined things happening quite this way.

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Author's notes!- Just two short comments this time:

1. The distance used for the archery competitions at the Olympics is 70 meters, or approximately 77.6 yards. Just thought it was a neat piece of trivia.

2. Recognize any familiar faces, guys? ;) Review if you do, or you know what, review even if you don't! See ya next chapter.