Title: From the Ashes
Rating: MA
Genre: Angst/Drama/Romance
Characters: Katniss/Haymitch; Katniss/Peeta
Summary: What could possibly be more dangerous for Katniss Everdeen than The Hunger Games?
Author's Note: Katniss' P.O.V. Ignore the typos. Took me a while to think of where to take this particular chapter. I hope you enjoy it.
"This is such a bad idea, Katniss." Haymitch warns me.
"So you've told me before." I feel so close to the end goal that I'm almost shaking with anticipation. "Tell me you love me, Haymitch."
"You know I do, sweetheart." His voice is soft, barely a breath against my face, but the way he says 'sweetheart' this time isn't patronizing, and it makes my heart flutter. "But we still have one very big problem."
I pull back to look at him, knowing what he's going to say. "Peeta."
"And the wedding." He adds. "Plutarch will not be happy if you pull out of his big event. Possibly the only thing worse than defying the Capitol, is making the Gamemakers look bad. There may be no more Hunger Games, but Plutarch will forever be a Gamemaker."
"Is that why you don't trust him with the wedding?"
"That's one reason." He tells me, but doesn't elaborate.
I study Haymitch's face for a long moment—his gaze is off to the side and there's a slight wrinkle in his brow. He's planning. I can't help but smile, wishing I could be inside his head—however frightening that might be—just for a few seconds to hear his inner thoughts. A smile begins to creep onto his face and his eyes finally flick back to mine.
"What's the one thing the people in the Capitol really want?"
I take a minute to think, but only one thought comes to mind. I smirk at him, "Fur underclothes in the winter?"
Haymitch laughs, not expecting that response and it takes him a second to recover. "No. Clever, but no."
"What then?" I'm dying to know what he's thinking now.
"Entertainment." He pauses, letting me soak in the simple word. "That's what the Hunger Games were to them—entertainment. It was Snow's way to control the districts, but the Capitol people were so far removed from the danger of ever being reaped for the Games, that it was never real to them. The deaths were real, sure, but it was no different than the gladiator tournaments of ancient Rome. The more excitement and drama and blood, the more they ate it up."
"Which is why the Gamemakers always had to create new dangers." I knew all of this, of course, and now Haymitch's thoughts are starting to become clearer. "What do you intend to do?"
"I'm not sure yet. Maybe something during the ceremony. But I think we should let Peeta be in on it, and decide if he wants to be a part of our own little game."
"Yeah," I say glumly. Having to tell Peeta that I didn't want to marry him, that I wanted to be with Haymitch, was not something I was looking forward to. I wasn't sure how he was going to react to the news. So far he had taken everything in stride—his real/not real game seemed to help him cope and sort out his thoughts, but I knew that the hairline trigger to his rage could be pulled at any time and send him into a complete frenzy. "I think I should be the one to tell him, Haymitch. I owe him that much."
He nods, knowing I'm right, then pulls me into a kiss before looking at me intently. "This is your last chance to back out, Katniss. You can still walk away from me. Peeta never has to know."
"I will always choose you, Haymitch. Always."
We decide to go back to the suite separately so that I have time to talk to Peeta, then—depending on his reaction—we will all sit down together and work out some kind of a plot to foil the wedding. The elevator ride seems way too short as I try to figure out what I'm going to say to Peeta, but when it lets me off at the penthouse, Effie and the Avox servers are the only ones around.
"Where's Peeta?"
"Oh, come now, Katniss, surely you know about the tradition of the bride and groom not seeing each other until the wedding day."
"But the wedding's still a few days away." I say, my heart suddenly thudding so hard in my chest it actually hurts.
"Plutarch thought it would add to the moment."
Plutarch…oh God…Haymitch. I spin around, back towards the elevators, jamming my finger into the button repeatedly.
"I'm afraid they've restricted us to stay here until the next rehearsal, dear. Plutarch really loves the dramatic effect."
No… No, no no no no…this can't be happening. "When did Plutarch decide all of this?"
"Oh, just a short while ago. Before you came up, really. He wanted to tell you, but you were off somewhere."
My heart sinks along with the rest of my body and I slide to the floor as I start to shake, covering my ears with my hands. I try to tell myself that this is a coincidence, that Haymitch will come up here—free to move about the different floors—and we'll simply have to rework our plan, but my gut tells me that Haymitch and I were never really alone downstairs.
"Katniss?" Effie is squatting down in front of me, her face full of concern. "Katniss, what's wrong?"
"Haymitch," I manage. "Effie, you have to go find Haymitch. I think he's trouble."
"That would be nothing new." She says dismissively.
"Haymitch and I were plotting to ruin the wedding." I tell her, trying to make her see the seriousness of the situation. "Just before I came back up. Just before Plutarch decided to separate Peeta and I."
"Why?" Her expression is truly baffled. "Don't you want to marry Peeta?"
"No." I say miserably. "Effie, I love Haymitch."
Effie looks like she's going to faint and starts to fan herself with her foldable paper fan. "Oh, my… Oh, Katniss…Haymitch? Oh, you can't be serious."
"Effie!" I reach out and physically shake her. "Please! Go find Haymitch."
"Believe me, dear, I want to help—I do—but I'm not permitted to leave either." She seems to consider the situation a little more seriously. "Do you really think something's happened to him?"
"Haymitch said it from the moment we arrived that something didn't feel right." I wish I would have believed him then. Who knows what all Plutarch has been spying on us about over the past couple of days?
"Well…" Effie looks pale, even under the white makeup. "Haymitch is very clever, and surprisingly quick…I'm sure, if something were to happen, he would be alright. Don't you think?"
"Unless he walks straight into their trap like I just did." I answer glumly.
Night falls, but both Effie and I are too sick with worry and fear to eat or sleep. It's quiet without Peeta and Haymitch, and each moment that passes just makes me feel more anxious. Having spent some time with Plutarch during the rebellion, I feel I know how his mind works, and it isn't much different than Snow's. He won't hurt Haymitch or Peeta, but he will find some way to either pit them against each other or me. He'll want to create the most dramatic event possible, and Haymitch and I have given him just the twist he needs. Nothing could be juicier to this bunch than some torrid affair between mentor and victor, and their secret rendezvous to ruin the wedding.
The thought makes me sick to my stomach and I pace the floor to try and wear off some of my anxiety. I can't help but wonder if Peeta has any idea what's happened and why.
Suddenly, the screen in the common room flashes to life and images of myself and Peeta begin to play on the screen, starting with that first day at the reaping. I'm drawn towards the screen, unable to look away as my story with Peeta begins to unfold—the interviews, his admission of his crush, clips of us during the Hunger Games, the nightlock berries, the victory tour. I know Plutarch has put this together, painting a magical romance between me and Peeta, before the images begin to change. Suddenly their announcing the Quarter Quell and a shot cuts to me in my own home as I run out the door, then picking up again with Haymitch and Peeta agreeing to keep me safe—Peeta telling Haymitch that he will volunteer if Haymitch's name is pulled. It cuts to when I show up at Haymitch's next, to a clip of us drinking and brokering our own deal to keep Peeta safe. Scene after scene of Peeta and I in the Quarter Quell, and then the explosion as my arrow pierced the shield. There's a montage of the war that breaks out—the bombings in the district, people hurt and dying, me as the Mockingjay, shots of Peeta's dramatic rescue that I'm not surprised Plutarch filmed, and the first time I see him after his hijacking when he tries to strangle me. The shots after that are pieced together in a way that make it look like I'm breaking down in response to Peeta. My attack on Haymitch when I scratch his face, repeatedly trying to knock myself out after I was first rescued from the arena, even my break down on the justice steps when Haymitch had held me while I cried.
I have to say that the clips, paired with whatever musical score that has been written for this propos, are powerful, but I know what they're going to lead up to and I'm not sure I want to watch.
Sure enough, there's footage of my platoon in the Capitol, of me and Peeta—him in handcuffs—pieced together so that it looks like we're growing back together…falling back in love. It all leads to a crescendo when the parachutes rain down…and Prim and I go up in flames. There are clips of my recovery, of Haymitch—not Peeta—sitting by my bedside, looking disheveled and—at times—devastated.
I have no idea what angle Plutarch is trying to get at when he begins to show images of Haymitch and myself on our way back to District 12, and I'm not surprised to discover that there were cameras planted in each of our homes as I watch clips of when I'd run to him that first night, our first kiss. It's cut to when he's told me to stay with him, but the only audio of the clip we hear is us agreeing that this would only last until Peeta comes back. Our voices are blended with the music to make for a powerful effect, following by a series of clips of us having sex, of us laughing…crying…screaming at each other. Clips of Haymitch drinking himself into a stupor after I leave. It flashes back to the Capitol, to Peeta's release, to his traveling by train back to 12, and then the two of us standing in my kitchen after Plutarch, kissing as if it's the first time we've seen each other since I came home. Now the images have changed to Peeta and I, laying in bed or sitting together talking as we played his real/not real game. Another audio clip plays.
"Real or not real, you love me."
"Real." My voice answers on screen.
Now we're sitting on my couch, Haymitch leaning against me as we break the news of our impending wedding to him. The voice-over continues through this clip—edited to cut out Haymitch's remarks about Snow and Coin—up to the hostile exchange where Haymitch told me he would gladly give me away.
Even though I've lived all of these moments, I feel the tears streaming down my face, but not because I'm affected by what I'm seeing. I know that all of Panem is seeing this as well, including Peeta. He shouldn't be finding out this way.
We cut to that night I went to Haymitch for comfort, the voice-over amplifying my, "I need you" and him telling me to go back to Peeta.
"I'm pregnant." The voice-over says. "And it's not Peeta's."
I cover my face with my hands, but I continue to watch through my fingers, horrified about how much they've filmed of us without our knowledge. All of my private moments with Peeta and Haymitch now at the viewing pleasure of the entire country. I shudder to think about what my mother and Gale must be thinking of me right now. What Peeta must think…
The entire rooftop scene plays, unedited, and I hate myself for the way I treated him, realizing now what he had been trying to do. He must love me. I think brokenheartedly. I put my head on my knees, no longer able to watch as the propos airs my dirty laundry.
"What does your gut tell you?" Haymitch's voice cuts across me, editing out everything before that moment. I cringe as I hear my own answer, knowing I had simply wanted to get everything out in the open and try to change his mind about me rather than consider that we were part of the game.
"Tell me you love me, Haymitch."
"You know I do, sweetheart." Even now, my heart still flutters.
"This is your last chance to back out, Katniss. You can still walk away from me. Peeta never has to know."
"I will always choose you, Haymitch. Always."
The video ends on the last kiss I shared with Haymitch before we parted ways, before we walked into their trap, and then suddenly I'm looking at a screen split equally in three parts. In the middle section, is me. A live shot. I stare at the screen, blankly, unable to move. On one side of my section is Peeta, looking just as shocked and devastated as I imagined he would be. On the other, Haymitch. His lip is split and slightly swollen, crusted with dried blood. His eyes are burning with rage as he stares into the camera, defiance written into every hard line of his face. Though he's not speaking, I know he's talking to me. He's telling me to fight.
The two screens on either side of me go black and words appear across the entire screen.
ONLY ONE CAN LIVE.
The words fade out and more fade in.
WHO WILL KATNISS CHOOSE NOW?
When the screen finally shuts itself off, the only thing I can do is scream.
TBC