A/N: Content warning for graphic depictions of violence. This is the Hunger Games, after all.
If anyone wants to finish the job Katniss started, now is the perfect time. Passed out at the Cornucopia, the Careers are sitting ducks. Serves them right, camping out in the open like they are only capable of being predators, not prey. That kind of arrogance is usually what gets the Careers killed. Thinking themselves invincible, failing to protect themselves or their food supply. Likely their only saving grace is that the lone waking tribute who knows they are comatose is the little girl from Eleven, and even in their current state she dares not come any closer than a thicket of bushes at the edge of the clearing.
Katniss is slightly better concealed, and at least the whole field doesn't know where to find her, but I worry about her. Over twenty-four hours have passed since the tracker jacker attack, and she's still dead to the world, utterly defenseless. That same small girl, Rue, tracked her down yesterday. Though Rue didn't attack Katniss or try to raid her supplies, it made me nervous. That Katniss left an easy trail to follow, and that the girl was interested in her whereabouts in the first place. No one has found Peeta yet, but he'll probably die of infection before long anyway. The deep gash in his thigh has mostly stopped bleeding but is already red and inflamed.
A clatter behind me turns my head. Some of the afternoon shifters are clearing their plates, heading back to the kitchen to drop off their dishes. I pick unenthusiastically at the last of my breakfast that I've been toying with for over an hour. It's my best excuse to be here. The TVs are constantly on these days, and everyone watches the Games while they eat. When I hear another set of footsteps entering the room, I decide it's probably time I head out. Popping the final crumb of bacon in my mouth, I sneak a peek over my shoulder and find myself staring down Purnia.
"I know," I sigh, giving my eyes a roll. "Too obvious, right?"
"Looks a little desperate, sitting here alone," she agrees flatly. Once I've had a chance to squirm under her gaze a moment, she comes closer and settles down beside me, placing a large bowl on the coffee table beside my empty plate. "Popcorn?"
Squinting, I point out, "Don't you have your own TV?"
"Uh huh." Scooping a handful out of the bowl, she relaxes back against the couch and tosses a piece in her mouth. My inquisitive gaze melts into a grateful one. "Help yourself," she encourages me, and I obey, most of the tension leaving my body. "I would have invited you over," she explains, "but I wouldn't want you to get any ideas." My brow furrows until she drops her straight face and shoots me a cheeky wink. Then I chuckle with relief.
"You've already given me ideas, Captain," I purr right back at her.
Thought her eyes are alight with amusement, she shakes her head. "Too much, Mason."
"Fine," I pout, crossing my arms over my chest with a dramatic huff. Purnia merely grins and turns to the TV, but most of my attention stays on her.
"You aren't a shitty friend," I say a long moment later, making her blink. "You always have my back."
Purnia gives a little shrug and clears her throat. "Well, I understand why you were unhappy with me." Meeting my eyes, she drawls, "Apparently, I have these maternal urges that are tough to override."
"You missed your calling," I tease. "Think maybe your eggs won't all be fried by the time you're thirty-eight?"
"Forty-three," she reminds me.
"That's a little late."
"Probably."
A comfortable silence follows, only breaking when we next get a look at Katniss a few minutes later. Shuddering in the fetal position, she's clawing at her arms, eyes bouncing around behind their lids. "She'll be fine," Purnia assures me, eyes locked on the screen. "Her vitals are stable."
"Not her heart rate," I point out, eyeing the skyrocketing numbers in the status report.
"No," she agrees blankly. "I was stung once. The hallucinations are terrifying."
My eyebrows arch at this new piece of information. Unsure how to respond, I show a tiny smirk and ask, "Did you see purple people, like Marvel?"
"No," she replies, staring through the screen. "Just dead people."
Her demeanor gives me pause, but she's the one who brought it up in the first place, so I chance one more question. My voice wavers almost indiscernably as I ask, "How long will it last?"
Purnia's brow crinkles. "Three stings for someone her size? Maybe another day, tops. Helps that she pulled the stingers out."
"I hate watching her suffer."
Finally the officer turns her head. "Then why are you still here?"
"I dunno," I shrug. "Keeping watch, I guess."
"There's nothing you can do," Purnia reminds me, earning herself some side-eye. As always, she's a terrific source of comfort. But she's also right.
"It's the worst," I grumble.
"I know."
Despite her implied advice to get out of there, my CO stays with me through the morning. There's very little to watch, what with all the major players incapacitated. Well, Thresh is automatically a contender because of his size and the fact that he has a steady source of food, but all he's doing is hanging around in the field of tall grasses and eating them. Thrilling. When Purnia finally stands - slowly, I guess because her old lady joints are stiff - and stretches, she asks, "Don't suppose you're hungry?"
"Nah," I say, nodding at the empty bowl. Mournfully, I watch as she places my breakfast dishes in the larger bowl and straightens up again, resting it on her hip. There go all my excuses to be here without really watching.
"If you're still set on staying here and torturing yourself, maybe you could take a nap," she suggests, eyes trailing along the length of the couch. Well there's a novel idea. A novel excuse. Taking that advice, I sprawl out across the couch as she leaves for the kitchen.
A couple minutes later, something heavy lands on my lower legs, lifting my head reflexively. I can't help grinning at the sight of the folded blanket. "You're not gonna tuck me in?" I call over the back of the couch.
Purnia's answer barely carries to me as she exits the rec hall once more. "You wanted to be treated like a big girl."
***o***
Feet creeping silently along the forest floor, I hold my bowstring taut as I scan the trees for signs of prey. After a couple more hours of watching the Slumber Games, I concluded that it might be better to go do something productive after all, take my mind off everything. That decision had nothing whatsoever to do with me overhearing Clove mumble my name repeatedly during one of her fever dreams. Not in the slightest. They say tracker jacker venom was developed to target the area in the brain that controls fear. So she's afraid of me. That thought allowed me a moment of pompous self-satisfaction. I refused to consider any alternative interpretations.
A distinct tweeting catches my attention, pulling my eyes up to a branch about forty feet above me. A couple of plump birds rest there, blissfully oblivious to any danger. Licking my lips, I step back to adjust my angle and draw another arrow in preparation to fire off two quick shots. The first arrow finds a home in one bird's eye, but while I'm nocking the second another arrow comes flying in from my left and lands in the second bird's chest.
Swivelling to the left, I strain the bowstring as my heart thumps in my ears. A Peacekeeper alone in the woods could be a prime target for a disgruntled local, and I just announced my presence. By the time I catch my breath, I've also gathered my wits enough to guess who it probably is. Not that it makes me any less of a target. "Gale?" I call out softly, relaxing the string a touch. "Is that you?"
Silently the towering boy emerges from behind a tree, his own bow loaded and pointed my way. I take up the slack on mine once again. He approaches with precise, silent steps painfully reminiscent of his hunting partner's. Though he's wearing his usual irritated expression, it appears to be confusion narrowing his eyes. He levels them at me accusingly. "What are you doing with Katniss's weapons?"
"Confiscating them, obviously," I snark, lowering my bow just a little in what I hope will be received as a peaceful gesture and not an invitation to skewer me through the heart. "I've used this bow lots of times, just never when you were around. I wonder why."
"'Cause she was embarrassed?" suggests Gale, tilting his own bow down in reply.
"No, because she didn't want to piss you off or hurt your feelings," I retort as I return the arrow to its quiver and move to retrieve my kill from under the tree. Swinging the game bag around to my front, I stuff the bird inside atop my earlier kills. Plucking the arrow from it, I grunt, "Apparently, that's easy to do."
"So you think those are yours, now?" he asserts, nodding at the game bag as he comes closer. I assume he means the weapons too.
"They practically were mine already," I remark as I rub the arrow clean on my shirt, "but no, I think of them as being on loan until she gets back. Her mom gave me the bag so I wouldn't have to carry game around in my backpack."
Gale's eyebrows go sky high. "You're hunting for her family?"
Squinting, I scoff in disbelief. "Who else would I be hunting for?"
"You've bought from Katniss before. Could be for you," he points out.
"Sure," I shrug, "but they need it more than I do." Holding his gaze, I add, "And I figured if I hunted for them, you could keep more for Rory and the others." The name drop is no accident; some vestige of familiarity with his family may help get me out of this situation unscathed. Gale is close enough that I could probably disarm him if I caught him by surprise, but I'd rather disarm him with words.
What I'm not expecting is for Gale to let his string go completely lax, widening eyes betraying his surprise and sparking with indignation. He purses his lips. "I don't need your help, Agent."
"Clearly not," I articulate. "But Katniss cares about you, so if what helps her family helps yours as well, I'm okay with that. Even if you are a colossal dickface."
Gale's eyes blink hard and then flutter. "That's the most creative insult I've heard from you yet," he observes, tilting his head.
"Thanks, I'm digging deep into my reserves now," I drawl with a proud smirk. "I've had to use so many on you, it's hard to stay original."
Gale snickers, a tiny smile playing at his lips. Finally sliding his arrow back into the quiver, his eyes drop to my left hand. "Didn't know you knew how to shoot." His face hardens again a little and he tacks on, "A bow, I mean."
"And I didn't know you knew how to smile, yet here we are," I shoot back. Despite my tone that straddles the line between teasing and sarcastic, I let a hint of a smile show through as I stow my own arrow. Gale visibly relaxes, allowing me to do the same. "Anyway, I just wanted a bird for dinner, so I'll get out of your way. The forest is yours, Stormy."
As I turn toward the Seam, Gale steps to his right to block my path. Not aggressively or completely, just enough to capture my attention. His eyebrows have practically been gobbled up by the creases in his forehead. "You eat dinner with them, now?"
"Have for a while," I say impatiently. "That's a normal girlfriend thing to do."
Gale's eyes narrow at that, but he shakes it off. "I mean, when Katniss isn't here?"
I shrug, averting my gaze. "It gets lonely." Raising my bow in a parting gesture, I tell him, "I'll see you around, Gale."
"Guess so," he grouses half-heartedly. "I can't seem to avoid you."
"Yeah," I scoff. "Try as you might."
When I arrive at the house, I find Prim sitting by the TV, stroking Buttercup rather aggressively as she watches the Games. He doesn't complain. Mrs. Everdeen is wiping down the kitchen table, cleaning up after mixing some salves, by the looks of it. Placing the game bag on a clean part of the table, I mosey over to Prim. "Any action?"
"Not from Katniss," grumbles Prim. The boy from Ten currently holds the screen, hobbling around on his bad foot as he gathers edible plants.
"My boss says she'll probably be out until tomorrow." Prim squints up at me and I realize that that probably sounded like an insider's callous judgment. "Oh, she's been stung before," I clarify.
"So Peacekeepers aren't immune," remarks Mrs. Everdeen from behind me.
There's a droll smile on the woman's face when I turn my head to glare at her, but that doesn't stop me from snapping, "We're humans too."
Sighing out my aggression, I settle down beside Prim and give Buttercup some scratches on his skull. Back at the Career camp, Clove sits scowling out over the lake, sharply pitching knives into a log. A closer shot of her face reveals troubled eyes and a set jaw, causing a cramp in my chest. She had arguably a worse childhood than I did, so I can only imagine the contents of her nightmares. Shaking off that thought, I swallow the lump in my throat and inquire, "How long ago did she wake up?"
"Maybe a couple hours," says Prim. "None of the others are stirring yet."
"She only got one sting," comments Mrs. Everdeen from the table, where she's plucking my most recent kill of its feathers. "Hopefully she won't go hunting without her bodyguard."
That well-timed snark procures a snicker from me. It's true, Clove is not as fearless as Caesar suggested on the first day. Well aware of her size handicap, she sticks close to the other Careers, her hulking district partner in particular. She's fallen into that kid sister role well.
"What if she does?" whispers Prim, fingers winding in the cat's matted mane. "Or what if Cato wakes up and they go after her together?"
Swallowing hard, I say what they're probably thinking but too ashamed to voice. "We hope they follow Peeta's trail instead." I get a pair of wary looks from two sets of blue eyes, but don't change my tune. "There's only one winner. We're allowed to be selfish."
"He saved her life, Hanna," Prim recalls gently.
"Which means nothing if she dies," I counter. Neither blonde argues that, despite the fact that we all know it will always mean something. But we can't afford to think that way. Not until it's over.
***o***
For someone who said empathy is of no use in a life or death situation, Katniss is turning out to be quite the hypocrite.
Dawn is long past in District 12, but there's barely enough light in the arena to make out my girlfriend, still snoozing and bundled up with that tiny girl Rue in her sleeping bag. It's not the only thing she's shared with the little moocher. Katniss has already given the kid two whole poultry legs and some of her burn medicine since she discovered Rue stalking her yesterday afternoon. Rue had medicinal leaves to treat Katniss's tracker jacker stings, so at least she had something to contribute to their alliance, but once again I found myself worrying that Katniss is going to get herself killed protecting a weaker player. Katniss needs to keep playing lone wolf, not tie herself to some deadweight ally like Peeta or Rue. Lone wolf is her default. It's her strength.
After breakfast, the girls go looking for game and craft a plan to draw the Careers away from their camp so Katniss can get to the pyramid of supplies and destroy it. Knowing the trap that waits for her at the pyramid fills me with less anxiety than the thought of the trick failing and Katniss getting captured in the act.
Darius finds me in the Commune after shift, watching Katniss make her way back toward the lake. Having been with me yesterday when Katniss decided to team up with this wisp of a kid, he knows exactly how I feel about it. As usual, he decides to look on the bright side. "You know, if having an ally allows Katniss to go on the offensive, maybe it's not such a bad thing."
"I don't want her anywhere near Clove and Cato," I retort. "Do you have any idea what they'll do to her if they take her alive? Especially after the tracker jacker attack."
His eyebrows arch. "So you weren't kidding about Clove being a sociopath."
"Only a little." We don't talk much as we watch Rue setting up their last decoy fire and Katniss creeping closer to the camp. When the Careers are drawn away by the first fire, Cato declares that Katniss is his and that he's going to kill her in his own way. Trying to distract myself from what that may entail, I tip my head at Darius and gloat, "What did I tell you?"
Distracting myself from my fear is impossible, however, once the monstrous blonde comes streaking back onto the plain after the string of explosions Katniss sets off with a few well-placed arrows. Thrown backward and injured by the blast, she barely crawls back into hiding before Cato arrives. The other Careers mostly stay out of his way as he rages around, pounding the earth and roaring obscenities. He's starting to make himself look like a liability, to be honest. The look that Clove and Marvel share tell me they're thinking something similar.
"It's clear," says the boy from Three after pitching several stones into the wreckage.
As the pack picks through it looking for something worth saving, Cato takes out his anger on the rubble at his feet. Several charred crates and containers suffer his wrath before he turns and starts shouting at the smaller boy. "This is all your fault, you little weasel! You'd said you'd protect the supplies!"
"They should have been isolated enough-" is all the kid gets out before Cato starts his advance, prompting him to turn and scram. Cato is big, but he's not as slow as one might assume given his size. He catches the boy easily and snaps his neck in one swift motion.
As the lifeless body crumples to the ground and the cannon sounds, Cato turns on Clove and Marvel. "Whoever did this, I'm going to rip them limb from limb!"
"Pretty sure the explosion did that," snarks Clove, but Cato's not paying attention.
Marvel is trying to calm the larger boy down, but he is inconsolable, shoving his ally away. "We need to find out who it was!"
"We'll find out tonight!" Clove shouts as she points at the sky, clearly losing her patience with her partner's antics.
"Yeah, whoever it was, they're dead," agrees Marvel, stepping in front of Cato again, also pointing upward. "We'll see who it was when it gets dark."
Taking deep breaths of air and sanity, Cato slowly starts to nod. "All right." Jerking his head at his second victim of the day, he stalks away from the smoking remnants of their supply cache. "Let's get out of here, let them pick up the body."
The others follow suit. "Wonder who it was," mutters Marvel.
"I hope it was her," grumbles Cato. "She and Lover Boy are such a pain in the ass. 'Bout time they were gone."
"I don't." Clove's tone is flat and emotionless, her face hard as the boys glance her way. "She doesn't deserve to die quickly after what she did to us."
Those words land deep in my gut as I stare at the cold-blooded tribute. I can hardly believe that I once loved that monster. But my heart sinks as I realize something much more disturbing. I understand. Aside from upstaging them at every turn, Katniss caused the Careers a lot of pain and suffering with her tracker jacker stunt. And self-defense or not, from Clove's perspective, she has every right to return the favor. If I was still watching in Two, I'd probably agree with her.
I didn't just love that monster. I was that monster.
Darius leans in. "Kidding a little, huh?"
"No," I answer, still staring at the screen in horror. "I don't think I was kidding at all."
***o***
Cato's hostility toward his allies spiked when only the boys from Three and Ten showed up in the sky last night and the pack realized they'd given the bomber several hours to get away. Katniss was actually still incapacitated from the blast and hiding near the crime scene at the time, but they didn't know that. By the time she got moving this morning, the Career pack had fruitlessly scoured a large chunk of the woods, and tensions were running high. They eventually split up, supposedly to cover more ground but mostly because they needed time apart to cool off. And that is how Marvel came upon Rue, how he found himself on the receiving end of one of Katniss's arrows.
Unfortunately for Katniss, his spear was already lodged in her ally's stomach by the time she located the screaming girl. Marvel releases his weapon as he falls to his knees and rips the arrow from his neck, choking to death on the blood that spews from it. Whipping her loaded bow from side to side, Katniss shouts, "Are there more? Are there more?"
Rue has to say no several times before Katniss hears her. Her left ear was bleeding after the explosion yesterday and no longer seems to be working, from the way she's been testing the ear and looking to that side a lot as though to compensate.
What follows is one of the more heart-wrenching things I've seen occur in a Hunger Games. Rue has barely been her ally for two days, but from the look on my girlfriend's face, she could be watching her own sister die. She stays with the young girl until her cannon sounds, holding and stroking her head in her lap and even singing. Her voice is breaking and her tears splashing on the girl's dark cheeks by the time she finishes the lullaby. There's hardly a dry eye in the Commune, either.
Once she's set Rue's head gently on the ground, Katniss helps herself to both dead tributes' packs. After a moment of waffling, she also retrieves the spear from Rue's stomach, looking away and grimacing as she wipes the head clean on the grass. Despite looking set to go, she only stands there, blankly staring at Rue's body.
Without warning, Katniss pitches her bow and spear to the ground and stalks away. I'm wondering if she's gone off the deep end and is trying to get herself killed until she stops at a nearby bank of wildflowers and begins ripping them from the earth. Then I'm just perplexed, until she gathers up an armful and returns to her fallen ally. She's only starting to place flowers on Rue's body when the cameras abruptly cut to Thresh sharpening his scythe with a stone.
"Hey!" chirps one of my comrades. "What the fuck?" Dissatisfied grumbles echo throughout the Commune at the interruption. The longer the Games have gone on, the more people have been hanging around to watch. While I liked the privacy to work through my emotions, at least my copious interest no longer attracts attention.
Moments later, the feed changes again, this time to a shot of Cato barrelling through the forest, calling for his district partner. When he spies her, he sighs in relief as he jogs over. "You're okay!"
"What do you care?" Clove mutters under her breath. As Cato arrives at her side, she glances in the direction of the impromptu memorial and lifts an eyebrow. "Marvel?"
"No clue," shrugs Cato. "Let's wait and see where the hovercraft go, maybe we'll be able to recognize the bodies."
They engage in some idle chat while they wait, and the small crowd in the Commune grows restless. "Let's get back to the good stuff already," grouses someone nearby. The cameras return to Katniss moments later, and he mutters, "About fucking time."
Collecting her weapons from the ground, Katniss takes one more look at her ally. "Bye, Rue." She presses her fingers to her lips and extends them to Rue in the District 12 salute. Then she turns and walks away, loaded bow in one hand and spear in the other. Hovercraft descend on the bodies, collect them in their claws, and we get a closer look at Rue as she is reeled up into the aircraft. Flowers adorn her hair and face, cover the wound in her stomach. A small bouquet sits in her tiny, lifeless hands. Even Marvel looks helpless and innocent in death, all traces of arrogance and bloodlust gone. That's even more striking than Rue, at least to me.
The cameras have returned to the living tributes for mere moments when we get another interruption, this time in the form of the high pitched beeping that precedes an emergency communication. Cringing, I cover my ears as the sound echos out of every TV in the room, the screens going black. The words "REPORT ON DISTRICT 11" flash for a moment, then a middle-aged woman appears and tells us there has been a violent outburst at a screening of the Hunger Games in Zone B of District 11. A Level 1 alert has been issued and forces should be ready to mobilize if the situation worsens. Then the feed switches to a live shot of 11B, where locals are scuffling with the greatly outnumbered Peacekeepers.
The emergency broadcast ceases, and the Games returns to our screens. For a moment, nobody says a word, too shocked at what we just saw. Then someone mutters, "Shit!" and urgently clicks a remote, pulling up security camera footage of the area in question on one of the other TVs. Everyone crowds around to see, and I follow begrudgingly to hide my interest in Katniss, who is on the screen closest to me, walking away from Rue with much less purpose than she did last time. I glance at that TV every so often in hopes of catching another glimpse of her, though the cameras appear to have lost interest in her dazed wandering. Mostly I watch with everyone else as the scene in 11B spirals from a ruckus in the town center into a full-blown riot.
My ears ring with Cray's words as the chaos intensifies. All it takes is one galvanizing event or hero, and you can have a riot on your hands. Cray was right, about that and about Katniss being a potentially inflammatory individual. And the most remarkable part is, she doesn't even realize what she's doing. She has no idea, the effect that she's having. Even I couldn't have predicted this. But somehow, Cray recognized this quality in her long ago. And now I fear it's going to get her killed.
The emergency channel has just returned to upgrade the alert to a Level 2 when Purnia bursts into the Commune, voice and posture authoritative. "Morning shifters, emergency meeting in the briefing room in five minutes. Cedric's already en route to the Hob to pick up anyone there. Go knock on doors, tell your shiftmates."
I ignore the initial instructions, but one of the officers in charge of the night shift is close on Purnia's heels, giving similar orders to them and the few afternooners who have the day off. I'm loathe to leave the live feed, worried as I am about Katniss's state of mind and the probability of a convenient accident taking her out, much like Titus's avalanche a few years back. But with everyone else clearing out, I don't really have a choice.
I'm seated in the briefing room with the others who were already at the barracks when a bunch of our comrades hustle in with Cedric. Darius is among them, but unlike most he does not bother to sit, instead pacing around behind the table closest to the door.
"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," says Purnia, in a tone that implicitly orders us to quiet down. "A few of you are still unaccounted for, but this matter is urgent so we will start without them." Her cold green eyes pan across the room, silencing any residual whispers. "As I'm sure all of you are aware by now, a riot has broken out in District 11. According to the latest reports, there has been significant damage to the local infrastructure, and a number of Peacekeepers have been disarmed, wounded, or killed."
"Which zone?" asks Darius, who has gone from pacing to fidgeting in place.
"Zone B." As Darius sets his jaw and nods, Purnia continues, "The situation out there is quite dire and escalating quickly. They've called for backup, and reinforcements are already mobilizing from the Capitol and District 2. However, they will not arrive for several hours, and in the meantime other outposts in the East have been asked to spare some of their forces." Eyes sweeping over us, she gets to the point. "We need twenty volunteers. Ideally eight from our shift."
"Twenty?" gapes Troy. "We're already outnumbered one hundred to one here."
"And Katniss is a Twelve," protests Athena. "If any other district is gonna riot, it's this one. What'll we do then?"
"We're stepping up our presence in the district," Purnia replies. "Twelve hour shifts and no days off until we are back to full strength."
Groaning, I drop my forehead to the table. "Seriously?" Today was my day off, to be fair, but I despise long workdays.
"Don't be so dramatic, Agent. You get paid for the extra hours, just like an IE run. And it should only take a couple days, if that, to restore order. Maybe you'll all even get to come home as soon as the reinforcements arrive." The room remains silent, prompting Purnia to sigh. "Do none of you care at all about what's happening to your comrades out there? I'm going to start picking people to go if no one steps up."
"I volunteer," an unlikely voice rings out from across the room, lifting my head just in time to see Darius putting his hand back down.
Though she mostly keeps her tone even, Purnia's face betrays her surprise. "Okay. Thank you, Agent Hallett. Anyone else?"
Murmurs spread around the room. Athena and Tory share a look before both putting their hands up. "Hell, what's a little adventure?" Four others follow suit.
"Okay, one more." My Captain's eyes flick my way. "Mason? Think a change of scenery could be good for you?"
Cocking a meaningful eyebrow, I remind her, "I'm only useful in the Square, remember?" Her face hardens, but I refuse to wilt.
Frigid gaze still on me, Purnia addresses Troy. "Agent Gebhardt, if you're so afraid of being outnumbered here, you can go too." As he rolls his eyes, she announces, "The hovercraft will be leaving in just over ten minutes. Grab anything you need and head to the clearing south of the armory, pronto."
Darius wheels out of the room, his expression uncharacteristically dark and serious. Getting caught in the rush of bodies, it takes me a minute to catch up. A good minute of stewing in disbelief and some negative emotion I can't quite pinpoint. Forgoing knocking, I push through his cracked door to find him stuffing a few final things into his overnight bag. "You wanna be riot police, now?" I demand, tone spiking with incredulity. "I thought you never wanted to engage in any violence."
Barely looking up, Darius states, "I don't."
"Then what the shit? Why would you volunteer? You know what they're gonna ask of you."
He blinks, finally stopping long enough to look me in the eye. "I have a brother in Eleven B."
My face falls. "Oh." Inching closer, I lay a hand on his forearm. "Sorry. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Just worried." Staring down into his bag, Darius heaves a sigh. "Wouldn't you betray your own morals to protect your family?"
My eyebrows twitch in thought. "Josh, maybe. The rest of them are kind of jerks."
"My brother's not. He's a good guy." Darius meets my gaze. "And I have to do this." Brushing by me, he starts toward the common area to gear up.
"Darius!" I call at his back. When he turns around, an unexpected lump lodges in my throat. "Stay safe."
With a mock salute, he promises, "Yes, ma'am."
***o***
The battle in 11B ended before the sun came up, but Purnia informed us in this morning's briefing that our comrades would be staying a bit longer to help maintain order. What that entails, I can only imagine. I've tried not to.
My exhausted crew is mostly in the Commune eating dinner when the high-pitched beeping starts up again and we learn that the casualty list from 11B is being released. That wakes everyone up pretty quickly, glues our eyes to the screens as the names start to roll by.
Fields, Milo, Outpost 1211: KIA
Maybe I'm a horrible person, but that makes me smile.
Fraser, Rex, Outpost 1211: wounded, stable
I wonder what part of him is wounded. Hopefully his ego. My foot taps out an erratic rhythm as I wait for the H's to scroll by. A few seconds later, my heart jumps into my throat for an instant at a familiar name.
Hallett, Julian, Outpost 1123: wounded, stable
Once I can catch my breath, I'm torn between being grateful Darius is okay and worried about him, as it seems he and his brother are close. But at least they will both survive. The list is rather short, I can tell by how quickly we're burning through the letters. Most of the casualties were posted in the Eastern districts, suggesting that much of the fighting was over by the time the heavy reinforcements arrived. I'm just turning back to my food when concerned murmurs fill the air and I look up in time to catch one more name at the bottom of the list.
Vargas, Athena, Outpost 1211: wounded, critical
My stomach turns and I drop my eyes to the table as the Games coverage resumes. The list is broadcast again at the top of every hour throughout the evening for anyone who missed it and to provide updates on conditions. Athena's does not change. But I am more concerned about Katniss. She took hours to even move this morning and then lit Rue's last signal fire, ostensibly to cook some new kills. To me, it looked more like a suicide attempt than a barbecue. Perhaps it was meant to lure in other tributes for her to attack. That is what Cato and Clove thought after the trick the other day, and they stayed put at the Cornucopia.
When the anthem plays, the sky is blank and Katniss is practically asleep, her lethargy from this morning continuing. It's a miracle I'm awake at all, what with the long day, and I decide now's as good a time as any to hit the sack. I'm only halfway to the door when the sound of trumpets blasts from the TVs, sucking me right back in. There will be no luring Katniss into a feast what with her hunting skills, but Cato and Clove have all but run out of food. But this announcement does not turn out to be a feast invite. It's a rule change. As of now, two tributes can be crowned if both originate from the same district.
This causes an immediate stir in the room. A happy one, as most of us have been rooting for the two districts with both tributes remaining. On screen, Clove extends her hand to Cato for a fist bump. "Fuckin' rights."
Cato gives her that fist bump but also a little side-eye. "They didn't do that for us."
"Who cares? We're in better shape. Lover Boy's all but dead."
Meanwhile, Katniss only now seems to be grasping what this means, whispering Peeta's name to herself. Her ensuing smile is purposely directed at the sky, but it seems genuine. After lingering on her for a long moment and taking a detour over the dying Peeta, the cameras switch back to the tributes from Two.
"My odds were never accurate," Clove claims. "My age and size worked against me. Doesn't matter how good a fighter I am, they always underestimate small tributes."
Cato squints at his district partner. "Why did you want to volunteer so young, anyway?"
Pitching a knife into her favorite target log, Clove snorts inwardly. "Didn't." When she catches Cato's confused expression, she rolls her eyes. "It was my father's idea. He thought I was ready."
It's a good thing I sat back down after the trumpets, because those words slam me with a head rush and make me sink deeper into the couch.
"You'd be more ready in two years."
"That's what I said," she concurs. "Way he saw it, some younger kids might be more ready. And bigger, which…" She trails off, eyes flicking about as she remembers they are on camera and have secrets to keep from the rest of the country. "Well, it helps."
Cato gives her a playful smirk. "Wouldn't have mattered, this year."
Clove twitches her eyebrows lamely, looking down at her hands. "Dad never liked her, anyway."
That is absolutely true. The age difference aside, Mr. Kentwell didn't like his daughter being involved with a fellow candidate, an automatic rival. Neither did my parents, but all they did was quietly disapprove. Until she fucked me over and I had to sit through many a "told-you-so" conversation.
A moment of staring later, Cato surmises, "So the rumors are true. About how you ended up here." Clove's jaw tightens, but she denies nothing. "Should I be watching my back?"
Her troubled eyes spark with anger as they jump up to her partner. "Shut up, Cato." Pushing herself to her feet, she storms away. Not far, of course. Gotta stay close to that bodyguard. Stopping halfway along the side of the Cornucopia, she leans back against the metal surface and sighs. A few seconds pass before her eyes flick skyward and she murmurs, "If you're watching, I'm sorry." Blood rushes through my ears, and I barely catch her resigned, "Not that it matters."
She's right. It doesn't matter. It's too little, far too late. And even if the betrayal wasn't her idea, she went through with it. So why this ache in my chest?
My mind is on overdrive, and it would keep me up all night were I not so tuckered out. Instead, I pass out hard with the swirling thoughts and face a harsh and confusing dreamscape riddled with old memories. The first time Clove snuck her hand onto my thigh during one of our truck rides. Wrestling matches shifting from competitive to passionate with one catching breath. That night late last August when we snuck into the stockroom of her parents' shop "for some privacy." The day she showed me the timestamped security footage. So unaware, I thought she was showing me to turn me on.
"You know, we could probably sell this in the Capitol, Shrimp," I teased her. "'Hot District girls getting hard in the hardware store,' am I right?"
"It would be illegal," she mumbled, eyes still on the video. "I'm underage."
"Right." Suddenly self-conscious, I averted my eyes. "Shit."
"You could go to jail for this."
Squinting at my uncharacteristically quiet girlfriend, I gathered, "So you're saying we should erase it?"
"No." Turning and crossing her arms, she finally met my gaze. "I'm saying I have copies and I'm prepared to present one to the authorities if you don't withdraw your application for Designated Volunteer."
Unable to digest this, all I could do was blink. "What?"
"So are my parents, if anything happens to me."
Again I blinked hard as the words set in, trying to keep them from doing so. "What?"
"I'm taking your place, Johanna," she spelled out, clearly frustrated by having to do so. "Because you'll withdraw or you'll be locked up. Either way."
"You're not fucking serious." Her stare void of emotions was what finally let me tap into my own. Face burning, I clenched my fists and straightened up to take advantage of all two inches I had on her. "You can't do this to me."
"I already have," was her infuriatingly calm response. "Sorry, Jo, I didn't want to do this. But it's done. Let it go."
"No." My voice a low growl, I took a dangerous step closer and pointed a finger in her face. "This is my life. I'm not letting anything go."
"You will." She said it with the utmost confidence. And she was right. The coldness with which she betrayed me was perhaps the worst part of it. It's remarkable I've been able to trust anyone since then.
I wake up with tears in my eyes and her words still echoing in my ears. Getting out of bed is a struggle, but I force myself to go through the motions. I will not allow her to ruin me again.
***o***
Katniss awkwardly undressing a boy is one of the more amusing things I've had the pleasure of witnessing since she was reaped. She's been doing it piece by piece since she tracked Peeta down earlier today, cleaning him and treating his various wounds along the way. After waking up from his tracker jacker coma, he camouflaged himself into a bank of mud and weeds near where he'd collapsed, barely able to move on his damaged leg. It was rather skillful and ingenious, but has caused Katniss a lot of trouble between trying to extricate him and then cleaning away all the mud.
Peeta flirts with Katniss a bit as she attempts to treat the deep cut in his leg, I think mostly in a bid to keep her spirits up. Though it admittedly makes me a little jealous, I can appreciate the comic relief, and it seems Katniss does too. If nothing else, it makes keeping up that guise for the audience a bit easier. Clausius and Caesar are eating it up, at least. Their commentary on the adorable star-crossed lovers is mostly annoying, but at least I can find humor in the irony.
The evening gives me much less to laugh about, unfortunately. A short trek downstream to find cover has made Peeta feel very ill, and as Katniss tries to camouflage the mouth of the cave they are hiding in, he starts going on about if he doesn't make it. That's rather annoying in itself, but then Katniss kisses him to shut him up. My gut does backflips as she pulls away. "You're not going to die. I forbid it. All right?"
"All right," he whispers.
Meanwhile, I'm breathing deeply to keep myself calm. It's fine, really. Katniss was going to have to kiss him at some point to maintain the act, and I knew it. So I manage to keep my wits about me, at least until she comes back inside the cave with a pot of sponsor soup and kisses the lethargic boy awake. She uses a lot of kisses as bribes to get him to drink it too, and maybe it's my imagination, but she seems much more into it after that first kiss. Maybe she really did like it.
The soup takes a good hour to finish, a rather painful hour on my part. Purnia comes in when it's almost done and kneels beside the couch, leaning over the arm to whisper in my ear. "Knew I'd find you here."
"Still keeping watch," I lobby in my own defense.
She shakes her head in a way that I can't help but interpret as condescending. "Why do you insist on doing this to yourself?"
"Go away, Purnia." Surprisingly, she does. But once they finish the soup and Peeta drifts off again, I decide it's all I can stand and put myself to bed. Lying there, trying to force my brain to shut down, I find myself wishing Darius was here. As awkward as discussing my relationship with Katniss can be, he at least is usually willing to help me hash out my feelings, talk things out with me. Purnia mostly makes me feel bad for having feelings at all.
In the morning, I find both girls I've loved snuggled up with their male district partners to combat the plummeting overnight temperatures. It's a lovely kick in the gut before I'm even fully awake. It does make me feel a bit better, though, when Katniss comes back from gathering fruit and Peeta says he was scared Cato and Clove had found her. At the sound of Clove's name, Katniss's face darkens and she quickly changes the subject, asking him how he's feeling. He's been nursing a fever since before she found him, but he convinces her to go to sleep after guarding him all night. She falls asleep with him stroking her hair, which for some reason bothers me more than all the kissing.
There's less romantic shit once she wakes up, mostly because she's too worried about Peeta's leg, which is swelling up and showing signs of blood poisoning. She indulges his request for a story, though, telling him about when she got Lady for Prim. I've never heard the story before, and it makes me smile, especially when her expression goes all sappy like it does whenever she talks about her sister. She's such a sucker for Prim, it's adorable.
Shortly after she finishes the story, the trumpets sound again. This time, it is a feast invite. Katniss waves it off at first, until Claudius specifies that it's not food that's up for grabs. "Each of you needs something desperately. Each of you will find that something in a backpack, marked
with your district number, at the Cornucopia at dawn. Think hard about refusing to show up. For some of you, this will be your last chance."
An argument ensues about whether or not Katniss should go fetch what they assume is medicine for Peeta. He insults her lying skills when she tries to pretend she won't go, which is totally something I would do but irritates me coming from him. When she comes clean, he threatens to crawl after her in the woods and make a ruckus if she leaves, which could easily make the medicine a moot point. Unable to come up with a solution, she grudgingly agrees to stay. I don't want her to go, but I understand why she wants to. She still feels like she owes him for saving her life - twice, now - and not going would make her unsympathetic and reduce her chances of winning once he inevitably died from the infection. Peeta is either too pig-headed or too delirious to see that.
It's Haymitch who gives Katniss a way out of the conundrum, sending her down a vial of sleeping syrup. She mixes it up with some mashed berries and gets it down Peeta's throat before he realizes he's been drugged. Maybe I'm petty, but watching him glare at her as he fades out of consciousness gives me a swell of satisfaction. Looking down on his limp form, she sasses him, "Who can't lie, Peeta?" And I break out in a grin. That's my girl.
Mine.
***o***
Our troops on loan to District 11 return around nine o'clock our time, their heavy boot steps and tired voices filling the air and drowning out anything on screen. Nothing much of interest has happened lately, anyway, other than Cato and Clove arguing over who should get to kill Katniss in the morning. Cato still has it out for her, but Clove's point that she can't handle Thresh by herself and her promise to put on a show for the audience win him over. My stomach has been unsettled ever since. Not just because of the ominous threat, but because tomorrow, one of them will die at the other's hand. And I can't not watch.
Though I keep listening for it, I don't hear Darius's voice at all, a rare occurrence in his presence. When the flow of incoming bodies seems to have stopped, I decide to go check if he's in his room. Maybe he stayed behind with his brother or something. I'm only steps from his door when I hear a sharp, muffled sob from the other side. Freezing in my tracks, I wait a moment to listen for any more. All I hear is a few sniffles. After waffling for a second, I step up and knock softly. "Darius?" He goes completely silent, and I knock again. "Darius, I know you're in there."
"Leave me alone, Jo. I don't want to talk."
I scoff at the hypocrisy of it all. "That didn't seem to matter all the times you stole Purnia's key and let yourself in to check on me."
The bed squeaks and quiet footsteps edge closer. "In my defense, I never stole it," Darius says from the other side of the door. "She gave it to me."
Of course she did. Rolling my eyes, I assure him, "Then she'll give it to me too."
"Jo, please just let me be."
I pound my fist on the wood. "Darius, open this goddamn door. Or I'll break it down with my battle axe."
His ensuing sigh must be of the resigned variety, because he does as I say. Any tears have been wiped from his cheeks, but his eyes gleam with more yet to fall. He sets his jaw defensively as I look him over. "What do you want?"
Planting my hand on the doorframe, I tilt my head. "What's wrong?" Averting his eyes, he snuffles back some phlegm and gives his head a tiny shake. Taking my best guess, I inform him, "Thena's going to be okay. They upgraded her status to 'stable' a couple hours ago."
"I know," he sighs, retreating into the room.
"Is it Julian?"
Darius turns his head in surprise. "He's fine." Slumping down to sit on his bed, he nods for me to come in. "A concussion and a few broken bones, but nothing permanent. He won't have to be discharged." Though he appears surprised when I choose to sit beside him instead of on his chair, he doesn't comment on it.
"Glad to hear it," I reply noncommittally. Not because I don't mean it, but because I have a feeling there's something else not to be glad about.
A long moment of staring at the ground later, Darius finally caves. "I killed someone." My jaw slips a little. Despite my history, I have no idea what to say in this situation. Maybe that's why, actually. Killing people was a given. "Some half-wit who didn't know how to aim a gun. He mostly hit our armor or missed us completely, just one lucky round got in under Athena's arm, punctured a lung." Darius slowly shakes his head. "I didn't even think about it, I just…" Pointing his fingers like a gun, he fires with a weak gunshot sound.
Instinctively I rest a hand on his knee. "It was self-defense."
"Sort of," mumbles Darius. "I volunteered to go."
"To save your brother. I would have gone, if Katniss was in danger." A moment of thought later, I remark, "Humans do terrible things for the people we love, don't we? There's a demon inside all of us."
"You don't understand," he mutters. "You spent years training to be a murderer."
A chill runs through me and I straighten up, withdrawing my hand. "You're a Peacekeeper, Darius. A soldier. Tell yourself whatever you want, but this is what you signed up for."
He grimaces, eyes still on the floor. "So much for keeping the peace."
"Don't be so naive," I snap. "You know the kinds of things they do to maintain peace in the districts."
Darius nods, staring through the wall. "I do now." Having had enough of trying to break through his bullshit, I huff and get to my feet. "Jo, wait." I do, but I pointedly plant my hands on my hips and arch an eyebrow as I turn around. His eyes have finally focused. On me. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."
"Yeah, you think?" I bark. "I'm trying to make you feel better, and you throw that in my face."
"I never asked you to make me feel better," he points out. "You can't, anyway." Running a hand through his auburn locks, he tries to sigh out the tension in his shoulders. "How are you doing? With everything."
I cross my arms. "You been watching?"
"I saw Clove talking about her father and Katniss kissing Peeta a bunch. Am I missing anything?"
"No, that's about it." My eyes drop to my toe stubbing the carpet. "You don't think…?"
His head shakes definitively. "No. Katniss loves you. She's acting."
"And I was fine with her doing that. It's a good strategy." Releasing a frustrated sigh, I sink down beside him and palm my forehead. "There's just too much going on right now. I feel like I don't know what's real."
Tucking his left heel between his thighs, Darius pivots on his ass to face me. "I'll tell you what's real," he says, taking one of my hands. "Katniss loves you, and Clove betrayed you. Whatever her reasons, she still did that. You were a mess when you came here, because of her. And now you're okay, and Katniss had a lot to do with that." With a parting squeeze, he releases my hand. "Just because you can't trust Clove doesn't mean you can't trust her."
"I'll never forgive her," I declare, my tone deathly low and hollow. "I can't."
"So don't. You don't need to feel sorry for her."
Eyes squeezing shut, I growl under my breath. When they open, I feel the scowl melting off my face. "But she didn't want to, you know?"
Darius raises his eyebrows. "I'm surprised that matters to you."
"Yeah," I snort. "So am I."
When Darius asks again to be left alone, I respect his wishes this time, returning to my own quarters. But sleep is out of the question tonight. My mind will not be silenced, so I settle down with a novel to distract it. Eventually I'm too tired to read and need to shut my eyes, but even once I'm that exhausted, sleep will not come. It's probably for the best, anyway. Tomorrow is a day off. If I slept through my alarm, totally plausible in my current state, I could very well wake up and find Katniss already dead.
Around four in the morning, I wander into the Commune for a hot drink. As expected, Katniss is awake too, unwilling to miss dawn. The lone sleeping tribute is Clove, and she's only able to because Cato will wake her for dawn or to switch off being on watch. Thresh and Finch are both sneaking around to get into position, while Katniss is in her sleeping bag stealing as much of Peeta's fever heat as she can.
She gets up before long, taking his jacket with her and crafting makeshift fingerless gloves out of Rue's socks. Creative. She opts to travel light on most supplies but heavy on weapons, leaving Marvel's spear for Peeta but taking his knives, tucking them in her belt along with the big one Clove inadvertently gave her in the bloodbath. It doesn't occur to me that I feel like I'm actually watching Katniss until she stops on her way out and turns back to give the sleeping Peeta this overly long, dramatic kiss. There's fake Katniss again. She would never do that, not even to me.
Katniss's night-vision goggles allow her to travel at a good clip, and I know she'll make it in plenty of time. All the other tributes are already positioned on or near the plain, so unless she meets some kind of predator in the woods, she's safe for the next little while. Tapping my foot in thought, I refill my mug and then head back to my room for my jacket and outdoor shoes.
A short time later, I arrive at the Everdeens' door and walk right in without knocking, as I am now in the habit of doing. Also I don't want to wake them, if by some miracle they are sleeping. They aren't. "Well, look what the cat dragged in," drawls Mrs. Everdeen from where she sits at the table, engrossed in a game of cards with Prim. "I was wondering when you'd show up again."
"Sorry," I mutter, shrugging my shoulders up to my chin. "I've been working twelve-hour days."
Prim squints curiously. "Why?"
"Peacekeeper things." Prohibited from divulging any more, I take my time chugging what's left of my coffee. Coming closer to place the mug on the table, I only now register the candlelight. My face falls. "I wanted to come watch the feast with you, but looks like you're under blackout right now."
"Power will be back by dawn," replies Mrs. Everdeen. "Always is, for the Games. But we were planning to go watch in the Square anyway."
I blink. "Why?"
"Clearer, bigger picture."
"And I'll have friends there," adds Prim. Turning in her chair, she looks me over. "Is it okay for you to be seen in public with us?"
Weighing my options, I muse, "Maybe I'll dress down again."
Her brow knits. "Again?"
"How else do you think I visited Katniss on Reaping Day?" I scoff. "You think I went in my uniform?"
"Good point."
This is perhaps another stupid move on my part, but I want to watch the event with people who will understand the impact on me. Even my comrades who know about Katniss and I don't share the same connection with her. I need to be with people who are feeling what I'm feeling, at least to some degree.
About an hour after dawn, we put the cards down and head for the Square. Once again I am clad in Katniss's hunting jacket and cap, as well as a pair of her pants rolled up at the bottom. It's not a very thorough disguise, but I doubt many people will be looking at me, anyway. Plenty of action onscreen to occupy them.
Turns out, that's not entirely accurate. The Everdeens attract a lot of attention from the crowd gathering to watch on the large screens. It's a Sunday, and even though the sky is only starting to lighten in the arena, the Square in Twelve is already teeming with bodies. I sort of drift away from the blondes and keep my head down as people come by to offer them comfort and good luck. Prim glances around to set eyes on me every once in a while, make sure I'm still there. But I'm not going anywhere. As dawn in the arena creeps closer and people stop socializing in favor of watching the feed, I return to Prim's side and silently take her hand. She squeezes back, harder than I expected, sending my heart soaring and sinking all at once.
As the sun crests the horizon, Katniss is situated in the same cluster of bushes where she hid after the bombing, eyes on the Cornucopia. Clove, having guessed the general direction she will come from, is hidden just around the back corner, an eye on the woods. Concealed inside the Cornucopia is Finch, apparently primed to grab her bag and run. The two boys are a little farther off, which makes me feel a bit better. As much as I consider Clove to be the biggest threat to Katniss overall, in a close-combat situation I would rather Katniss fight her than either of those giants. Thresh is waiting near where the forest meets the field of tall grasses, where he can see both Clove and Cato, who is squatting at the edge of the field in anticipation of Thresh. He has the best lay of the land of anyone.
As soon as the banquet table rises from the plain, Finch bolts out of the Cornucopia and nabs the backpack marked with her district number, making a break for it while Katniss and Thresh stare in amazement. Clove has no angle to see her until she's halfway to the woods, and all she can do at that point is shake her head. Besides, if she tried to throw a knife, she'd reveal her position to her real target. Katniss, who looks almost pissed off as she watches the sly redhead disappear. With a hard blink, Katniss snaps back into focus and sprints onto the plain without delay.
My heart jumps into my throat as I watch Clove step around the edge of the Cornucopia and ready a knife. As it flies straight at Prim's sister, I find I'm the one squeezing her hand as though it's my flesh and blood on the line. Fortunately, Katniss hears the knife coming and deflects it, sending an arrow back at her assailant. Clove turns to avoid the shot at her heart, but the arrow catches her left arm and she decides to stop long enough to pull it out, giving Katniss a few seconds to reach the table. Slipping the tiny 12 backpack onto her arm, Katniss turns to shoot just in time to avoid a direct hit from Clove's next knife, but it slashes across her forehead in passing and sends blood streaming down over her right eye and into her mouth.
Stumbling backward and halfway blinded by her own blood, Katniss fires off an errant shot. With no time to draw another arrow from behind, as a last ditch defense she plucks a small knife from her belt and backhands it at the oncoming girl. It sticks in Clove's leg, forcing her to pull up and rip it out angrily before rushing Katniss, who's now had a second to right herself and wipe blood from her eyes. Katniss leads Clove's momentum into a throw, sending the smaller girl flying past her and sprawling on her stomach, then immediately runs for the treeline. Scowling as she pops up onto her knees, Clove pivots and pitches the knife still in her hand straight into Katniss's left buttcheek.
Back arching reflexively, Katniss falls to her knees with a yelp of surprise and pain, dropping her bow. In the time it takes her to curse and yank the knife out, Clove has closed the gap. Katniss is just reaching for the bow when she's tackled from behind, landing facedown on the plain. Snagging Clove's uninjured right arm before she can grab another knife, Katniss pins it to the ground and rolls forward, landing on top of Clove but still in her grasp. She throws an elbow to the face to buy enough time to turn over, but Clove promptly ties up her legs and flips them again. They scuffle awhile longer, Katniss taking a few swipes with the bloody knife that Clove easily blocks. Clove may be more skilled at hand-to-hand, but Katniss has size and reach advantages that level the field and allow her to prolong the fight.
Observing the two girls embroiled in combat on the ground, Thresh decides now is the time to make a run for his own backpack. At least, I hope he's only going for the backpack. In the bloodbath, he only cut down people in his way, not going out of his way to make kills. Of course, at this late stage of the Games, that could change.
Completely oblivious to the hulking boy coming onto the scene, Katniss focuses all her attention on Clove as she finally manages to pin her with her superior body weight. She tucks the knife back in her belt, looking more annoyed than anything. "You couldn't just let it go, huh?" she pants as she bleeds all over Clove. "It's not like I was taking your pack."
Raising a sassy eyebrow to hide her fear, Clove parries, "Taking the medicine to Lover Boy. Don't want that."
Katniss scoffs. "I don't need him to win. You have no idea who you're messing w-" She has to cut herself off as Clove attempts an evasive move. It's in vain, with Katniss swiftly securing an arm each under her left boot and right knee.
Panic fills Clove's face as she realizes this is not something she can escape on her own. "Cato!" she screams. "Ca-"
Katniss clamps a bloody glove over Clove's mouth, but Cato has already heard her. "Clove!" he calls back as he sprints for the Cornucopia. "I'm coming!" Unfortunately for Clove, he's too far away to be of much help.
Katniss seems to realize this, a tiny smirk curling one side of her mouth. Pulling the large knife she acquired on day one from her belt, she holds it tauntingly above Clove's face. "Thanks for the gift, by the way." She cocks her head. "Gifts." That makes Clove blink in confusion, which Katniss seems only too happy to clear up. "I'll tell Jo you said hi."
Clove's eyes blink once and then go wide. "It's not what you-"
That's all she gets out before the butt of Katniss's knife collides with her temple, halfway knocking her out. As Clove groans and blinks woozily, Katniss hisses, "I don't care." Her fist smashes into Clove's face a handful of times, until blood dribbles out her nose and she seems satisfactorily subdued. Then, flipping the knife in her grasp, Katniss backhand slashes it across Clove's throat, spraying herself in the traitor's blood.
For a couple seconds, the world swirls around me and I almost sink to the cobblestones. Prim's tight grip is all that grounds me and keeps me upright. Perhaps I should be satisfied to see the life draining out of Clove's eyes as the blood spews from her neck and fills her mouth. All I feel is grief and nausea.
As Clove loses consciousness completely, her head lolling to the side, Katniss's face falls. Her expression morphs from anger to horror in two seconds, cheeks draining of color as she stares at the dying girl beneath her. Glancing to my left, I take in a similarly appalled look on her mother's face, while Prim's expression rests somewhere between confusion and sadness. Slowly they both turn their heads to me, seeking an explanation. I have only one.
We do terrible things for the people we love.
A/N: Sorry for the massive delay. Half of this chapter has been written for months, but I wanted to finish Lifeblood before I posted it. Now that Lifeblood is done, this is the main fic I'll be working on, so hopefully you all can expect more frequent updates.
Thanks to D7P for the beta reads and helping me trim the fat from this already lengthy chapter.