Ricochet

Chapter 18: Pulled by the current

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.

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 shook his head vigorously. "No. I don't like this," he replied straight away. Such an unyielding tone was unlike him, but there was no way he could accept what she had just told him.

He'd been surprised when Katniss had come looking for him down at the kitchens, a little while after the dinner rush was over. He was familiar with the emotions seeing her inspired in him; they'd been plaguing his mind non-stop for the past few days. Mainly there was a powerful, deep-seated relief that she was okay and hadn't been found out.

But there was also fear. A lot of it. He hadn't seen more than a glimpse of her as she walked through the service hallways for almost two whole days. They were posing as Avoxes, so he couldn't exactly pull her to the side to talk to her, and he wasn't expecting her to come looking for him either. And if she had, surely it meant something big had happened.

He thought they'd go down to the Avox quarters, where they could talk freely as long as nobody else was around. Instead she directed him to the elevator, and then all the way up to the roof. She explained it was so windy up there, the Capitol didn't bother setting up a surveillance system. He could see why: the wind was so loud, he could barely hear himself as he spoke.

It was also very cold, so right away he offered her his jacket for warmth. His father had raised him and his brothers to be gentlemen (though sometimes he had his doubts about Crispen). She only pondered it for a couple of seconds before deciding to accept it. He was a few inches taller than her, and a lot broader, so the garment basically hung on her frame, which he thought was adorable. She leaned against the railing for a moment, looking down at the streets of the Capitol, which were swarming with lights and people even at night, now that the betting pools for the Games had started running.

He was about to ask what was wrong when she volunteered the information herself. She explained everything that had happened since they last saw each other: Prim's appearance in the Tribute Parade, the President's address being interrupted with footage of her outburst at the Reaping, her conversation with Finnick Odair, how he was working with the rebels and how they were using that footage to incite insubordination in the districts. And then she told him she was leaving.

He'd been afraid of this, ever since they'd spoken with Haymitch. He wasn't stupid; he knew he was useless when it came to this assassination plan the rebels had. Katniss was exactly what they needed— not only had he been eating her squirrels for years, all shot neatly through the eye, but he'd seen her in action that night on the train, and it was one of the most amazing things he'd ever seen in his life.

But what about him? He wasn't a fighter. Haymitch had pointed it out and Peeta couldn't disagree. That's why he'd gotten so upset even though she tried to defend him: he realized just then that there was nothing he could do to help her, not really; if he went with her he'd be nothing but a burden. And in that moment he felt so angry at himself, so powerless. He never would've snapped at her like that in any other circumstance, but he was just so disappointed in himself.

If it had been Gale Hawthorne who had come to the Capitol with her, he knew, he'd be right there with her, fighting, regardless of the danger, a hunter's instinct honed over years of survival in the wilderness to guide them both to success safely. What was a baker compared to that? He knew how to wrestle, though it had been years since he'd last done that, and either way this wasn't the same thing at all. She'd be forced to look over her shoulder constantly, having to protect him, instead of him protecting her, which had been his intent when he offered to come with her. He'd rather she do this on her own, make it out to save her sister, than he drag both of them down.

On the other hand, they didn't know if they could trust these people. All they had to go on was the word of Haymitch Abernathy, who spent more time under the influence of alcohol than any other man he'd ever met, and now Finnick Odair, who seemed the least likely person ever to have a grudge against the Capitol. The rebels needed Katniss, but it wasn't personal for them. They saw her as a weapon. Maybe he couldn't do anything to help the mission if he went with her, but at least Katniss would have someone on her side for sure, if something went wrong.

He'd spent hours tossing and turning in bed, thinking about it. Was it selfish of him to want to remain by her side even though he knew he would only be in her way? He felt a wave of panic rise in him just having her out of his sight; he didn't know how he would be able to stand knowing that she was out in the eye of the storm while he was stuck here, doing less than nothing.

The moment he saw her that night, his heart won over his doubts: he couldn't let these people separate them. Maybe it was illogical, but he couldn't help it. He simply couldn't let her go alone. "How do we even know we can trust them? I don't think you should go alone," he sentenced, concluding the thought.

It took her a moment to reply. "I agree," she finally said, and it surprised him. One thing he knew about Katniss was that she was a very rational person. He'd honestly been expecting her to agree that he should stay behind. He couldn't help the momentary elation he felt, knowing she'd rather them stay together even though strategically speaking it didn't make sense. "But it's my only option," she continued, sounding frustrated. "Let's face it: we had no idea what we were even going to do once we got here. We had no plan. Not really. They do, and it gives me a way to save Prim. I have to do it."

She looked up at him from where she was sitting on the floor, in the corner, leaning against the railing. "And wasn't that what you said, anyway? If you could help stop this, once and for all, stop the Games, you'd do it?" Her gray eyes pierced at him as she pointed out his own words from back when they were in the box.

He shook his head. Of course he wanted to stop the Games, of course he would love for a rebellion to bring down the Capitol. He was no rebel, but he detested what they did to people, what they'd made of Panem. He'd seen too many murdered children already. But it was hard to see the forest for the trees when it took the woman he loved putting herself in the line of fire, and on her own. He considered himself a trusting person, and he'd even been the one to convince her to go along with things this far, initially. How the tables had turned. But it was an entirely different situation if they intended to separate them. He couldn't just go along with that. He wasn't taking any chances when it came to Katniss's safety, even if these people promised freedom.

He sighed, and crouched down in front of her, so he could look her in the eye. "I know. And I'm not saying we shouldn't do this. I just think if we started this together, we should finish it together," he added, hoping she heard the urgency in his words. How important this was to him.

"Look, I know I'd be no good in this mission. I'm not the best back-up you can have. No, we both know it's true," he interrupted her when she opened her mouth to speak, presumably to refute his claim. "But I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you and I wasn't there," he confessed. He hoped his earnestness wouldn't scare her off, not when she was finally beginning to let him in, but either way he just had to say it. "I know right now it seems like there's no choice, but you don't have to go at it alone, Katniss."

She averted her eyes, mumbling something that he couldn't hear clearly because of the wind, but sounded almost like "I've heard that before." He didn't ask, though he was curious. "Well, whoever it was, they were right," he commented, with a small shrug. He saw her purse her lips, and he wondered if she was trying not to scowl. Sometimes she was so funny.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, and she must have caught him smiling, because her gaze went right back to the edge of the railing, her eyebrows coming together in the lightest frown. After about a minute, she spoke up. "Finnick said maybe I could talk to the person who will come get me tonight," she started. "Try and convince them to bring you as well. But I don't know if I'll be able to. I've... I'm not good at convincing people," she finished, a little hesitant.

He sat down against the wall, legs stretched out, perpendicular to her position. "So you come get me," he told her, determined. "When they contact you, you come get me. I'll talk to whoever it is. I won't let them take you away like that." He hoped his resolve was coming across. He wasn't sure what he could say to convince these people, but he would, somehow.

She nodded. There was silence again. Randomly he noticed her feet were very close to his; he found himself nudging at them playfully with the toe of one (as he'd taken to calling them) "Capitol-issued clown shoe." He mentally kicked himself for being silly when she pulled her knees up to her chest in response. He heard her mutter "sorry"; she probably thought he was bothered by her proximity. He wasn't. Not ever.

He sighed, and gazed at her face and her thoughtful, probably mostly worried expression, as she looked down at the floor. At the space she just put between them. "Are you scared?"

She shook her head. "I know I can kill him."

"That's not what I asked."

Her face snapped up until her eyes met his, surprised and a little confused. Then she seemed to understand what he meant and for a second, just one second, he thought he saw a side of her she rarely let out: the shaken, vulnerable young woman who was overwhelmed by her current circumstances, and needed something to hold onto. It absolutely broke his heart. "Katniss, you're the strongest person I know," he encouraged her, his entire heart in every word.

She looked at him with an unfathomable expression. "You barely know me at all," she responded, her voice barely above a whisper. It was only because he was looking so intently at her that he could piece it together. She sounded tired and resigned, like she wanted to pull away again.

He shook his head, not about to let her. "I know enough." And it was true, she just didn't know it. For her, he had only come into her life a few months ago, when his father died, or maybe one step further back, counting that day he gave her the burnt bread. But for him, she'd always been a focal point of his life. Always. He knew her. And most of all, he knew she could get through this.

But it seemed to him just as soon as he'd caught a glimpse of that fragility in her, the shutters were pulled closed again. She wrapped her arms tighter around her legs and frowned. "It doesn't matter, anyway," she stated, resting her head against the railing behind her. "Whether I do it or not, the rebels are going to try and kill him somehow. They need him out of the way so they can get the tributes out of the arena. They're using me, I know they are, but I might as well go with it to make sure Prim gets out okay."

There was something in her tone, a kind of surrender, maybe, that he didn't like. It seemed incongruous with the survivor he knew she was. "You can't let them change you," he said. She seemed a little puzzled by this declaration, so he added: "All these plans, whether it's the Capitol, or the rebels... you're more than just a piece in their games. Whatever happens, whatever they want you to do, you have to still be you."

She looked at him for a long moment, and he was reminded of the way she'd looked at him when they were in the box, like she was trying to figure him out. He didn't have to wonder what she was thinking. Those were big words he'd just spouted, after all. Maybe he was too much of an idealist, he'd always been; but this, he truly believed in.

She closed her eyes for a moment, and took a breath. "That might be out of my control," she told him, and he knew she was thinking about Prim. Katniss loved her sister more than anything, and to her, losing herself would be a small price to pay if it meant Prim would be alright.

It was admirable. And he wished it never came down to that. "Then I'll be there to remind you," he promised, with a smile. He could only hope it gave her some measure of comfort.

She nodded again and, after a short pause, started getting up from the floor. He stood up as well, out of long-instilled reflex. "I should go," she said, as she took off his jacket and handed it back to him. "I don't know when they'll be coming to find me." There was something in the way she said it that told him she wanted to go downstairs on her own.

If she wanted to have some time to herself, that was okay with him. All of this was happening so fast, she was probably overwrought. "Remember to come get me," he insisted. She made to walk into the elevator. "Katniss," he grabbed a hold of her hand as she walked past him. Her steps halted, and she looked back at him over her shoulder. "Just... be careful." She didn't say anything, but he saw her look down at their joined hands.

Then she gave him another nod and walked away, her fingers sliding against his as she moved out of his grasp. She stepped inside the elevator and he turned toward the railing, looking down at the streets of the Capitol like she had when they'd first come up. But just a few seconds later, he heard her call out to him.

"Peeta."

He turned around to see her head peeking out of the enclosed space, dark braid hanging over her shoulder, her forearm pressed against the edge of the elevator door so it wouldn't close on her. "I..." For a second she looked startled— he wondered if maybe she hadn't meant to speak at all. She opened her mouth to say something else, but seemed to think better of it.

There was silence for a moment as she put her thoughts together. He waited expectantly, until at last her features softened. "...I'll see you later," was what she settled on, finally. It seemed like maybe that wasn't what she'd meant to say originally, but he didn't ponder on it long, because then the corners of her mouth crinkled up in the shape of a smile. It was small, and it was tremulous, but it was the first real smile she'd ever given him, and it was beautiful.

Then she took a step back, the elevator doors closed, and Peeta let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He stayed up there just a few minutes longer.

She never came to find him that night.

He had made sure to stay down at the kitchens until lights out, but nobody ever came in looking for him. Quickly he grew worried, but he told himself not to panic; it made sense that extraction operations were easier to pull off with less people around, so of course they'd wait until most of the occupants of the building were asleep to make their move. Even as he went to bed, as the minutes ticked by and he grew more and more concerned, he still kept reminding himself: Maybe it'll happen a little later. There's still time. Maybe a little later.

He stayed awake all night, waiting. He wasn't sure how she'd be able to come in with eleven other men sleeping all around him, but she said she would come for him, and he believed she would, unless something had happened. That's what scared him the most.

He wasn't even aware he had waited through the entire night— there were no clocks in the room, no windows on this side of the building, and he only had his own sense of the passage of time to tell him how late it was, but his fears were only confirmed when their wake-up call came (the Capitol managed the help like they would a military encampment) and he realized it was the next day. There was no more time. Something had to have gone wrong.

He tried looking for her in the morning, but her quarters were empty; all the Avoxes in her crew had probably already been dispatched to their assigned floors to get everything ready for breakfast. Still unsettled he went back to the kitchens to work, thinking if she was still in the building, she'd make her way down once the breakfast rush was over. He'd look for her then.

So of course, he was very surprised when, just as he was pulling the last batch of breakfast pastries from the oven, his supervisor informed him someone wanted to speak to him. For a moment there was nothing but a huge relief, as he made his way to his assigned quarters with his heart in his throat. He opened the door, expecting to find Katniss there, sitting on one of the beds, with an explanation, if not an apology, for not contacting him during the night.

Instead, he was met with a man. He was well over six feet tall, maybe in his late 40's, dark-skinned, and one of his arms ended in a stump. As soon as he saw Peeta come in, he signaled for him to close the door behind him. He was contemplating what this person could want with him when the man stretched out his hand toward him. "You must be Peeta Mellark," he started. "My name's Chaff. I'm a friend of Haymitch's. I know you're not an Avox, you can speak freely with me."

Peeta shook the man's hand firmly, though he was still wondering what the sudden visit was about. "Nice to meet you," he replied, thankful for any chance he got to use his vocal cords. "Can I help you with anything?" Dimly he remembered that's the way he usually phrased the question to his customers back at the bakery. It was probably just automatic for him by now.

Chaff clapped him in the shoulder twice. Peeta didn't mind the gesture; his brother Brith used to do that to him sometimes. He just wished this guy would get to the point. "Wanted to let you know your wife made it out safely and she's on the way to another secret location," he explained. "Over there, they'll put her up to speed on the assassination plan."

Peeta felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on him. "What? No," he started, shaking his head as the revelation that Katniss had already been moved out of the Training Center— without him— dawned. "That can't be. She— she said she would come get me before she left. She said maybe we could get your people to take me, too."

Chaff's response was more of a huff, which Peeta didn't like. It reminded him of Haymitch. "Sorry, boy. It's done now."

"No," he said again, sharply, almost before the other man could finish speaking. "She said she would come look for me. She wouldn't have left without letting me know. She wouldn't." It didn't make sense to him. She'd never actually said she wouldn't leave without him; an "I'll see you later" would hardly count as a promise to anyone else. But despite her fears, despite her doubts about all of this, there was trust in her eyes when he last saw her. He had to believe that.

Chaff eyed him carefully, like he was expecting him to start throwing punches left and right. "I'm sure she didn't mean to," he commented. His tone was still gruff, but it was obvious he was trying to appease Peeta. "But sometimes these things have to happen fast, maybe she just didn't have time. Or maybe she's just smart 'nough that she realized coming to find you at that hour could blow your cover and possibly the entire operation," he finished, pointedly.

Peeta dropped himself on his bed with a sigh. He hadn't thought of it that way. But of course he hadn't; there always seemed to be something he was missing. And he had to admit it did sound like Katniss to think of it like that. The plan could be affected if they were discovered, and then what would happen to Prim? It only went to show how ill-equipped he was to back her up in this trip.

He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "You alright, kid?" Chaff asked in his rough manner.

"I don't know, I just..." He closed his eyes tightly, then pressed against his lids with the heel of his hands. "Look, I know I'm worthless to your strategy. I know there's nothing I can do to help her over there. I know," he admitted, vehement. "But... I still feel like I should be there with her." He felt so fervently about this, his voice was almost breaking as he spoke. "I need to be by her side so I know she's okay. I have to make sure... I can't..." he trailed off, swallowing heavily. He just felt so powerless right then. Like he'd failed, yet again.

"Come off it. Even if you were right there with her, you'd worry," the taller man said, brusquely, but Peeta figured he had a point. He was just so frustrated. Chaff sat at the edge of the bed in front of his, leaning his one forearm down against his thigh. "We're not gonna to let nothing happen to her. We need her."

"And what happens when you don't need her anymore?" Peeta asked. He wasn't sure if he sounded accusing or defeated. Maybe both.

"We'll need her for the whole ride," Chaff assured him, something of a smirk in place. "It's not just her bow and arrow we want her for. Seems you're not getting this through your head, boy: that lady of yours, she's the face of the revolution. Without her, we go nowhere." Once again his mannerisms reminded Peeta of their one encounter with Haymitch Abernathy, except Chaff seemed actually sincere and not just sarcastic for the sake of it. He thought he liked Chaff better.

"What exactly is it that you need her to do? Apart from the assassination mission, I mean." He had to ask. Katniss had also mentioned this whole "face of the revolution" idea, and it both perplexed him and distressed him. It sounded so vague but like such a huge deal at the same time, and a lot like she would be taking the weight of the fall if things went down.

It seemed Chaff would not be the one to give him the truth he wanted either. "Even I don't know the whole story," the man conceded. "In this business it's better not to know everything. But she's important. Really important. This ain't something we're improvising here, you know." His smirk receded, his tone growing serious. "Many people have been working on this for a long time. Years. Just waiting for the right opportunity." He paused, as if to emphasize his point. "And that girl has fire in her. Just the spark we needed."

He didn't doubt she was. If the rebels could see in Katniss just half of what he saw in her— her strength, her determination, her intelligence, her unfailing loyalty to those she cared about— then it was no surprise they wanted her. "She does have fire in her," he had to agree. She'd only been away from him for a few hours, and he already felt freezing cold.

Chaff nodded at him with a small, lopsided smile. Then he stood up, and made for the door. "Look, Peeta," he began, when he was just a couple steps away from it. "You seem like an okay guy. But it's true, what you said: there's not much you can do to help her over there. However... there's something you can do to help here."

At his confused frown, Chaff chuckled, and simply told him to expect more visitors soon. With that he walked out of the room, leaving Peeta alone with his thoughts. The ambiguity of that last warning bothered him, of course. They wanted him to do something for them, too? What could that possibly be? He wasn't a fighter, he thought, dejectedly, for what felt like the hundredth time.

He thought he finally understood what Katniss was feeling the previous night. It was like being pulled by a current without any control of where you were going and how you would get there. It seemed he basically had no choice but to go along with whatever these people had planned, if he wanted to help her. And he would help her, no matter what it took.

But if he ended up between a rock and a hard place, he thought as he walked back to the kitchens, would he be able to take his own advice? Would he be able to stay himself, no matter what he was forced to do? He hoped he would.

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Author's notes!—

...You're all going to kill me for this. :S

But wait! There is a point to this, I swear. Remember, the whole idea behind this fic is to explore themes and events that happen in the original trilogy, but under a different set of circumstances. Well, it just so happens that separation is a huge theme when it comes to Peeta and Katniss, particularly circa the end of Catching Fire and the first half of Mockingjay. So I had to touch upon that in some way. But I swear, you guys, I'm going somewhere with this. Trust me.

And oh, please don't get mad at Katniss? :( Everything will be explained, I promise. As you can see from the first half of this chapter, she clearly did not want to leave Peeta behind, so that's gotta count for something, right?

To my dear anonymous reviewers who wanted to see the full-size banner I made for this story: kyoudai(dott)net(slash)THG(slash)ricochet01(dott)png. Just replace the (dott)'s and (slash)'s with actual dots and slashes.

To all of you who have added this story to their alerts: Hi there! I appreciate your interest. But you know, I'd love to hear from you! Even if it's just a "hi, I'm reading," please take a moment to drop me a line. It would be very encouraging to know that those 350+ emails that are getting sent out aren't just ending up in your spam folders. :)

Thanks for all the support, and please review! See y'all next chapter.