Interlude; Loose Ends
Even though the world was coming back in slivers, Katniss couldn't make sense of a single thing. Her head was pounding, an uneven rhythm blaring and making her unable to process much of anything at all. There was the fact that she might be alive, but that was about as far as her perception went. It wasn't as if a hell made of noise and light and confusion and tubes and needles in her arms was out of the question- she deserved far worse.
Her eyes were sticky and wouldn't open. Even if they could, her limbs were too heavy to move and her chest felt like it was filled with stinging salt water. Was she- was she drowning? But she was dead, she couldn't drown. Unless that was what death was like. Pain and darkness and heaviness and drowning-
-No, no! She wasn't dead yet. The fuzzy, faded image of Plutarch Heavensbee came rushing back to her; him reaching out and closing her eyes, her spiraling into unconsciousness before she could find out what Peeta's fate was-
-The Capitol must have had enough. They had captured her and Peeta and this, this stinging and sticky and fuzzy, was the precursor to torture. It was so blatantly obvious that even weak and barely awake, Katniss hated herself for not realizing it sooner. She wasn't going to last like this. She'd managed to survive the end of the Games somehow but Peeta was still in danger. She needed to act. Now.
All of her thoughts were a complete mess. Peeta featured prominently in each shard, herself in only a few of them. The Capitol loomed in the background, foreboding and omnipresent and that was what drove to her to finally open her eyes. Which felt like a mistake at first- she was nearly blinded by the bright whiteness of wherever she was. Maybe she was dead. Katniss blinked furiously until the stickiness faded and her vision swam back to her. It was mercifully clearer than it had been the last time she'd seen anything and even though it was still a little hazy, she recognized what must have been a medical bay.
The next part was infinitely harder. Her arms shook as she lifted them, but with a vicious glare her eyes narrowed at the sight of the needles poking into the veins at her elbow. It took a mighty effort to bring her hand up and with one clumsy swing the wires were pulled away. They trailed against the metal railing of her gurney, taking some of her blood with them. It pooled at the little holes on her arm, but she was free of them so the rest didn't matter.
Katniss' consciousness and memory swam, and it was singularly miraculous that she pushed herself into an upright position. She would never remember how she did it- one moment she was staring at the dangling needles and wires and the next she had shoved the railing down, dangled her bare legs over the edge and grabbed a syringe on the metal table beside her.
Peeta, she thought desperately, staggering up and settling herself on her feet before shuffling forward. She had to save him- he would be destroyed in the Capitol's hands. She couldn't allow that to happen. The only way to extricate him would be death, and though every fiber of her body screamed at her to keep him alive, that wasn't the way to save him. Not anymore.
I'm coming, just hold on. She would save him. She had to. I'm sorry it has to be this way.
The Capitol would not get to him.
Her vision was fading, her stamina flagging. Everything was dull and foggy and somehow stretching away from her. Katniss stumbled, gritted her teeth, calmed her galloping heart. She had to do this- she had to, she had to, she had to-
"Woah, woah there." Hands, voices, someone- someones?- touching her arms. Holding onto her. Dragging her back, keeping her from Peeta. No. This would not happen. Katniss had killed before, and Peacekeepers would be infinitely easier to dispose of than fellow tributes. Some dark, sickening corner of her soul whispered that she might even enjoy it.
"You're injured, you need to-"
The voice cut off as she swung. Her fist connected with something, her knee with something else. Her vision was almost completely dark now, her mind reeling and slipping away from her. Even if she could see, she wouldn't have been able to process. The extent of it was figuring out that it was more than one person on her, and that only caused her panic and aggression to spike exponentially.
"Calm down, Katniss. It's okay, you're okay-"
She refused to listen. Instead, she flailed her arm out and was pleased when a pained cry rent the air, followed by a resounding smacking sound. The syringe didn't come away with her, which meant that it had been buried in one of the Peacekeeper's limbs. Hopefully it was a neck- that killed, didn't it? A syringe in the neck?
"Ah- ow ah ah-!"
"-Be careful-"
"Katniss c'mon, calm down-"
An image of her mother came to her. She had only used a needle to treat her patients twice when times had been uncharacteristically good to them. And both times before using them she had tapped the very top of the needle, right below the point. Air bubbles- to get the air bubbles out.
She had to hit the plunger.
Katniss lunged in the general direction of where she'd lost the syringe, but her target had moved. Possibly fell, judging by the thump that followed her actions. So she dove blindly, clawing her way away from the other hands still clinging to her. She had to be close, she had to be-
"Katniss, please, stop."
That voice.
Katniss knew that voice.
She'd know that voice anywhere. She'd know that voice in hell, in the Arena, in the belly of the Capitol.
"Peeta," she whispered raggedly, body going limp the moment she let go of her death grip on her adrenalin. The person holding her was doing it gently, so terribly gently that it could only be one person. She turned, eyes closed, and buried her face in his collar. A rich, warm laugh rumbled in his chest and vibrated against her own.
"Thanks, firecracker. You need to sleep."
"I need to save you."
His arms tightened around her and she felt herself being lifted up. She was too disoriented to struggle and felt no urge to. Instead, she pressed her cheek harder against his shoulder in order to convince himself that he was there, whole, and alive. It made it easier for him to lean in and whisper in her ear.
"You already did."
The next time she woke up, Katniss did it with considerably less fanfare. There was one dizzying moment when her panic peaked, but her mind was a little less fuzzy and her memories came back a little more ordered. The fragments held more chronological significance- Plutarch had come to her at the end of the Games, and her ill-fated attack on the supposed Peacekeepers had been after that.
Supposed, because they weren't. They were... it had been Peeta. Not a guard, she'd attacked Peeta. What if he'd been on the receiving end of her syringe? Or her fist- hadn't she hit someone? Or kicked? Her knee throbbed a little, her body picking up the slack when she couldn't call all the memories back.
Her world was frayed and comprised of loose ends. There were too many questions. Katniss hated questions- it was time she got some answers.
It was easier now. Her body hurt less. In fact, the only real hindrance was her still-clouded consciousness. She felt as if her brain had been taken out, wrapped in fluffy tufts of gauze and replaced. Or that someone had poured honey in her ear while she'd been unconscious. They were silly comparisons but they lingered in a languid, dreamy way while she oriented herself- first sitting up and then standing.
She was alone, but she still took the time to look around now that she could see and process her surroundings. It was a medical bay and coldly sterile. There was very little here- the room was tiny. All it contained was her bed, a few gently beeping machines, an IV pole and a chair. It was more than her mother had but anything outside of Twelve shouldn't be so... empty, right?
Her surroundings now identified, the next thing she had to find out was exactly where here was. She set off, wobbly on her legs but not terribly so. One hand was braced against the wall as she walked forward, the other holding fast at the flimsy gown that covered her.
Katniss did not expect her door to be unlocked, but she supposed that the commotion after her previous escape attempt couldn't have been contained in such a tiny room. The hallway was quiet now, the only sound a few distant, muffled voices coming from one end. So she had a destination.
The walk was slow but uneventful. Her progress was methodical- each step coordinated with her hold on the wall. She was almost pleased with her adaptation under the circumstances, but there was too much else on her plate at the moment to be concerned with something so insignificant.
This door was unlocked too. When she pressed it open, all conversation ceased. The silence was loud enough to deafen her, but Katniss didn't mind. Without distractions she could focus on some of the present company.
Plutarch Heavensbee was the first person she saw, and the sight of him caused a mixture of panic and ire to stir in her stomach. But it was quieted when she realized who was on his other side. Her heart plummeted to her stomach and then rose like a comet, slamming into her chest. It heated her entire face and her lips parted even though it took a few moments for the word to come out.
"-Gale?"
By the time she said it he was at her side, almost smiling. It was a foreign expression on his face but also somehow familiar and overwhelmingly comforting. His arm immediately snaked around her waist and hers around his shoulder as she grabbed him into a tight, desperate hug.
"You're here," she breathed. He nodded against her cheek.
"So are you."
His voice was strong and it made her feel like she might float away. It was such a stark contrast from the last image she had of him that it drove the image of his bloodied, broken body from her mind without a second's hesitation. She held him fiercely and when she pulled away her eyes were clear and her jaw was set. Katniss had Gale back, but now was not the time or place for anything but ascertaining the answer to the most pressing question.
"Where is here?"
He didn't wait either.
"District Thirteen."
A/N: Early update! Early for a few reasons- this chapter is mostly a necessary evil. Katniss is disoriented and injured from the Arena and as such doesn't make for as compelling a narrator. We need this to place things in time and space but probably not as enjoyable to read. I don't want to make you all wait so long just for a chapter that moves the plot forward. Plus, Finnick isn't explicitly present and even though the plot is going to be larger than their relationship he is the intended other main character so an entire chapter without him feels a little unfair :X
Speaking of plot- we're finally getting one! There's always been a plan for one, but now the exposition is over so we can get into the thick of things. No promises since I don't have a buffer of chapters right now but I'm going to try to get the next chapter up by Monday or early in the week so that you get a little extra.
I have a new one-shot up! Besides the shameless self-promotion, it does contain some of my headcanons concerning the time period before the first book and I might be referring to some mentions of things there. It's chock full of depressingly angsty goodness.
I have a poll up! I want to start working on a buffer of chapters for my next fic, so please vote. I aim to please my lovely, loyal readers!
I'm taking one shot requests! I'm going to be starting a Hunger Games one shot/mini arc collection, so leave me some things to write about in a review or PM. Anything and everything.
Again, a huge, huge thank you to my lovely reviewers. I go back and read what you've left constantly and I'm constantly surprised and overwhelmed by how complimentary and in-depth they are. You're amazing people- I haven't been around the FFN thing since 2009/2010ish? So I don't know the protocol for answering you all individually but I read and appreciate every single one. You make me feel validated and appreciated as a writer- thank you and please continue!