Chapter 23

The Shoulder

Spruce

I haven't made up my mind if District 3 is ugly or beautiful yet. Not that I'd express the former to the native Threer who just brought me coffee. I'm standing on the balcony of the hospital waiting room, seeing skyscrapers as far as the eye can see. They're elegant buildings – some have gently curving exteriors, others are ramrod straight but with elaborate ornamentation. Some of them have metal gargoyles, a few are lucky enough to have glass structures that haven't been broken by vandals or the elements. Some have energy-harvesting solar rods or lightning rods – I thought those were only in District 5. They must have beautiful in their day – but the whole city seems rotted and rusted. It even smells bad – the smell of human refuse and pollution is only just overpowered by fresh hospital coffee of questionable quality. "Well. The past two days have sucked," Tony says wearily and takes a heavy gulp of coffee. I drink mine more cautiously – it's not very hot, so burns aren't a concern, but it tastes terrible.

"More than usual," I add dryly.

"Yeah," he says with a little bark of dry laughter. More of a scoff, really.

We fall into a silence. It's not exactly uncomfortable, but it's not terribly warm and fuzzy either. "I'm tired, Tony," I admit after a while. Weeks of desperately trying to piece together burned and bloody and mutilated bodies blend together in my mind – with only a few patients standing out.

"Well you … um … you need your rest after transforming," he says.

"No I mean … I'm tired in my soul," I say, and it sounds funnier than I intended it to. But Tony doesn't laugh.

"I know," he says and puts a hand on my shoulder. "I know."

The glass door slides open. "Katniss is awake," Peeta informs us, his voice almost cracking. We turn at once and follow through the clean but worn-out hospital to Katniss and Prim's room. As we step in, I glance over at Prim. She's still asleep, of course – Stephen is in a chair he's pulled up next to her bed, asleep as well even though those chairs are not at all conducive to sleep. I wonder if I should wake him but decide he probably needs whatever rest he can get, so I turn to Katniss.

Gale has "stood guard" over the Everdeen sisters ever since the powers that be released him from duty – he stands in the corner and watches, with this desperate look on his face. There's nothing to hunt down and kill, nothing he can do, so he just watches. Mrs. Everdeen made it in just a couple of hours ago – I don't think she's said a word. She just goes back and forth between her daughters' bedsides, staring at them and sometimes stroking their hair. She's watching Katniss anxiously now. Clint and Peeta, of course, have also sat vigil by the girls' sides all this time, and Duke's been watching his brother watch them. "Spruce, tell Kat Prim's going to be okay!" Clint orders as soon as he sees me. He's sitting closest to her and holding her hand with his unwounded arm – the other is heavily bandaged, but he should be fine. Both of them lucked out. Well … I suppose that depends on your definition of luck. Katniss is sitting up and has a hand on the railing as though she's trying to get out of bed to go see Prim even though she must be in agony still.

"Prim is going to be okay," I say in my best doctor voice. "She had some bleeding in the brain …" That's the least comforting part, and I see the horror of recognition in Katniss's face. Just like Rue I can practically hear her think. "But it was caught very early, and the doctors don't expect any permanent damage," I clarify quickly. "She had surgery to relieve the pressure and drain the blood, and this surgery seems to have been a complete success. Recovery will take a long time, but she should be fine. Most of that healing time will be for the re-calcification of … for her skull to heal from where they had to open it to do surgery. The good news is we're almost certain to have won the war before she could possibly be cleared for the field again, so that's one less worry." She relaxes visibly, but stays sitting up. She looks over at Prim again, tears in her eyes.

"Thank you Tony … if you hadn't gotten her out right away …" she says in a very stiff, hoarse voice. Her vocal cords weren't affected by the wound, but I imagine her entire throat is sore and the poison probably contributes.

"Yes, thank you, Anthony," Mrs. Everdeen adds, looking back at her youngest daughter with a look that mixes anguish and relief.
"I do my best," Tony says with a shrug, but he grins from ear to ear.

"And what happened to you?" Katniss asks me.

"I … Hulked out. It didn't do much good in that instance – the enemy was way too far away. I was able to convince him to make himself useful helping clear the rubble though, so that was something."

"And … why do I feel like I fell from a very, very tall tree?" she asks, laying back down.

"An enemy combatant apparently found your blind and climbed up it, undetected, and attempted to kill both of you with a set of thrown knives. There was poison on the blade with which you were struck. Thankfully your would-be assassin missed your jugular, but only by a matter of a centimeter."
"If I'd pulled it out it might have torn it on the way out, right?" she asks.

"It might have," I answer honestly. She squeezes Clint's hand. "There was poison on the blade – a poison that causes severe muscle spasms and tightness, sometimes leading to death. The hospital administered general anti-poisoning measures while you were transported, and thankfully the type of poison was detected quickly and there was an antidote available. From what I understand, all your kidney and liver tests are normal, indicating that with the antidote's help they're doing very well dealing with the poison, and as hard as it may be to believe, you should be fine in a couple of days." She looks to Clint in concern and then bafflement, knowing he was hit too. "Not as much of the poison got into Clint's bloodstream …"
"I could tell the knife wasn't in very deep and I didn't think it was in anything important so I went against my own advice and yanked it out," he explains for me. In his case, it was the right thing – though I'm very glad he hadn't misjudged it "being in something important." Had it been in his brachial artery he could have bled out before the medics got to him. "I still had a big dose of that antidote and feel sore as hell though."

"So … everything's going to be okay?" she asks, disbelieving.

A hush falls over the room. This is the part nobody wants to pass on. Clint senses it right away and he's alarmed – he hasn't had time to hear the news either.

The cameras got the awful moment in full view. They've kept it from being aired until they know for sure what to do with it – but I saw it. We all did – the way the hammer fell with such a heavy thud it shook the ground, the blood spattering that strange but beautiful armor …

"Katniss, I've got some bad news," Peeta says. It's almost nice to have someone else delivering the bad news for once. That's an ugly thought, but it's true. There are tears in Peeta's eyes as he says, "Yours and Clint's wasn't the only blind hit. Almost all of them were, either with bombs or assassins … In the chaos while there was no one to watch the battlefield … the enemy snipers had a clean shot. Haymitch is gone."

Katniss doesn't react right away. Neither does Clint. They look at each other, stricken. Tears don't fall, at least not in front of us. "I'm so sorry, Katniss," Mrs. Everdeen says softly, and Clint puts an arm around Katniss and she rests her head against his chest.

"What are we going to do?" Mrs. Everdeen asks aloud – asking the thing we all thought but couldn't bring ourselves to say. "The only reason … the only way I slept at night was knowing he was there, that he had that thing … I knew he'd protect you …"

"Surely someone else can lift it," Duke says, putting a hand on his brother's future mother-in-law's shoulder. Peeta stiffens – when I glance at Gale to see if he knows why, I see that he's standing ramrod straight and he's lost a little color from his face. They don't volunteer any information so I don't ask – not here. I'll ask later.

I notice Stephen is awake now – I'm sorry that we woke him with our voices. We should have been whispering all this time. But he turns to look at us and follows the conversation.

We sit and talk with Katniss and her mother until nurses come in to check on the patients and all the non-family members head out – including a freshly woken Stephen. Good – I haven't had a chance to talk to him. "I know a place we can go to eat nearby – it's a nice little place," Tony says. I'm still not used to the idea of being taken out to eat – the whole concept of a restaurant is almost alien for me.

"I don't have any money," I say sheepishly.

"Well I'd pay of course, I'm the one that suggested it," Tony says after giving me a slightly annoyed look.

"We can't ask you to do that," Stephen says, looking even more abashed than I feel, and now he's getting the annoyed look.

"It's not a big deal. It's not a fancy place or anything," Tony explains with a shrug. "Besides, Dad's money probably won't be any good for very long anyway." That's not something I'd thought about … probably because I've never had money to think about. "We can even get extra to go to bring back to Katniss and her mother and Clint. I mean … I assume Katniss can eat normal food now – am I wrong, Dr. Banner?" I blush at unexpectedly being called the old nickname again, and this time by someone I really respect.

"Well I would get something soft for her, maybe soup, but otherwise I don't see why not," I say.

"Then that's what we'll do," Tony says. Nobody questions that we're going to the place he suggested.

He leads us along several sidewalks and across several streets – even now, in the middle of the day, the sidewalks are filled with busy people heading to and fro. They move so deliberately and take so little notice we're afforded a surprising amount of anonymity – now and again someone notices us and stops to stare or calls out to us, which Tony responds to with enthusiastic but somewhat snarky acknowledgments so the rest of us don't have to, but most of the time no one seems to recognize us. I know somewhere among the crowd there are bodyguards watching over us, and on the buildings, snipers looking out for us – but I have no idea where they are. I feel a little overwhelmed by the crowd – from the looks of it so does everyone except Tony and Stephen. The district's not much prettier on the street level – there's garbage here and there, and the benches and streetlights that might have once been lovely are broken and rusted. The streetlights have (now rusted and fractured) carvings of little animals on their base, which makes them more interesting to look at even in their broken down state. "I heard from Thresh today," Gale says as we walk. He glances around at all the people and lowers his voice. "He says it's real bad without Haymitch." I notice the way Tony tenses, but doesn't say anything. And I remember that he knew him growing up … probably even more than Katniss and Peeta did. "He says the enemy's bolder than ever, and our side is just exhausted …"
"Of course they are. That was a hell of a blow to our morale, and a big boost to theirs," Tony says. "He was our biggest hitter, except of course for the Hulk and well – nobody wants you out there full time, buddy," he says to me. I bristle a little. Am I being selfish? The Hulk does seem to tear a clear path for our people every time he comes out to play, and now that I know he's not as bloodthirsty as I was afraid he was …

But what if he gets worse the longer he's rampaging? If he really is that much like a child, won't he be traumatized by everything …

Or is that just me making excuses to not let him out?

I don't say anything as we walk on.

We come to a little area where there are several small shops and Tony leads us into one of them – it's a room with a few tables and rows of booths along the walls. As soon as we walk in there's a definite food smell to the place – all though not one that's familiar. It's aromatic and spicy – my mouth waters automatically. You can see into the kitchen in the back and there's a wooden stand towards the front where a young woman is standing – she sees Tony and her eyes light up. "Oh Tony! It's so good to see you again!" she says and rushes forward to hug him. "And … oh! Oh my goodness! Look who you brought!" I feel as though I've been thrust into the spotlight once again and I stand there trying not to look too awkward. She turns to call over her shoulder to someone in the kitchen. "Lawan! Help me move some tables together! It's Tony – and just wait until you see who he brought with him!" A girl about her age who resembles her emerges from the kitchen in the back and immediately runs forward to hug Tony. Then, very much to my surprise, she hugs me next, then the others in turn.

"I can't believe we have some of the Avengers in our place!" Lawan squeals happily, then turns to her (I'm assuming) sister. "Well! Let's get some tables together!"

They do so quickly, refusing offers from everyone but Duke and Tony to help them. "Guys – relax … wait a minute, is this the first time you guys have been in a restaurant?" Tony whispers after putting a hand on my arm to reign in the mounting anxiety I have watching someone else go out of their way to serve me. We all nod except Duke – I assume he's been at the Capitol. "Oh geez … I didn't even think about that. Sorry. Look – I'll help you guys out. But this is what they do – it's kind of insulting to try to do their job for them. Cool off Rogers, I know you didn't mean it that way – but promise you won't try to clear the table at the end too."

"We just … leave the plates there and everything?" I ask. I remember doing so on the train to the Capitol … I assumed that was a luxury for the tributes. Tony sighs.

"You guys have a lot to learn."

When we sit down, the girl who greeted us at first gives us menus to look at. Tony helps us out. "It's really spicy here – my recommendation is to get the mild version of everything."
"I'm from District 10, Stark," Duke says skeptically.

"Maybe you can get medium, I'd still go mild to be safe," Tony insists. My mouth stings a little just in anticipation, but I'm willing to try anything. "Anyway – if you look at it, there's a description of what it actually is under the name and some of them have pictures …"
"We got that part figured out, thank you, Stark," Gale says sharply, a little too defensively.

"He's just trying to be nice, there's no need to get all hot under the collar," Duke says sharply. Way too sharply. The irony of him accusing anyone else of being too hot under the collar isn't lost on me – sometimes I don't even want to be around him because I know what he thinks of Betty. I'm glad he and Gale are at least sitting on opposite sides of the table. Gale starts to answer but Peeta cuts him off by asking Tony what an egg roll is even though the menu describes it nicely.

"It's good," Tony says awkwardly, and more loudly than he needs to. "It's very good."

The two angriest people at the table behave themselves while Tony walks us through what to order. He explains about what some of the stranger sounding vegetables are – he explains some of the traditional ingredients in this kind of food aren't even available at all anymore, so they'd had to substitute other things. He says one day they're going to resurrect the use of those plants either through genetic engineering to approximate them or exploring the wilds to find actual samples, once we've got civilization back on its feet here in Panem. He dreams so big – the rest of us just want to see a day where there are no Hunger Games and there's more food and I don't think we care about the details. But Tony – Tony has it all planned out.

"So – is there any way we can crack the Nut sooner?" Stephen asks while we wait on food. The waitresses brought us our drinks – most of us got water, Tony and a couple of others got tea.

"Um – maybe we shouldn't talk shop here, kid," Tony says quickly, and jerks his head at the family dining several tables down.

If we were with anyone else, we wouldn't have anything to talk about, but Tony finds things. We talk about the swimming lessons Katniss gave the others, and he chides me for not going. "You know damn well why I didn't!" I protest defensively, and only see him fighting not to smile after I speak.

"You're a jerk, sometimes," I mumble, but without any heat in my words. Everyone laughs.

On Tony's suggestion, I got this turkey soup with strange vegetables – Tony says traditionally it's made with seafood, but it's too hard to get seafood outside of District 4. Only top-end restaurants in the inner districts have seafood, and most of the people can't afford it. They have it better than we did in the outer districts, but most of the people here were still living paycheck to paycheck and often falling short. Like in the Capitol, most of them were in debt, but the difference was that they were in debt to get a place to live and food to eat, and having to pay for a medical emergency could leave them without one or the other, which is why so many of them died of things that could have been prevented by going to the doctor despite theoretically having more medical access than in the outer districts. He told me to get the mild version of the soup and I took his advice – if this is "mild" I would hate to see what the hot version is like. My tongue stings with the first bite – I reach for my water almost immediately. Tony laughs. "Aren't you glad you listened to me now?" I nod.

Duke, however did not listen. He insisted he could handle it, being from District 10, and he ordered a chicken curry the spiciest they had it. Even the girls who run the place asked if he was sure and seemed doubtful when he said he was. He laughs at my reaction, but as soon as he forks a mouthful of food into his mouth he winces. He clearly has a hard time chewing it up – he leans on his elbows while and covers his mouth with his hand.

"We told you! Everyone told you!" Tony scolds, pretending to be dead serious, but can't quite hide his laughter.

"Shut up!" Duke mumbles through a full mouth, and we all laugh. I laugh so hard my sides hurt.

"Do you need the medium version?" one of the girls asks quickly, her voice full of concern, seeing the commotion.

"Mild, I think," Duke admits without looking her in the eye. She takes the curry, and I laugh again. I laugh so hard tears come to my eyes and I almost lose control of my bladder. I don't think I've ever laughed so hard in my life. It's not even that funny, but I laugh like it is.

"Geez, Spruce, don't die on us," Tony says, pretending to be concerned, which only starts me laughing again. Duke is glaring daggers at me, and it makes me feel terrible but I can't stop.

"I'm so sorry. I just …"
"Feel safe enough to laugh? Trust me, that's a good thing," Tony says knowingly. I nod – I hadn't thought of it like that, but I know instantly that's the case.

I feel safe here. I shouldn't. The war is still raging, and we'll be back to it soon enough. Any of us could die, and very soon. But I feel safe with these people.

I try to remember the last time I felt safe. Was it when I was little? No – even before I knew enough to be afraid of the Capitol, I was afraid of the monsters I thought lived in the trees and the monster I knew lived in my house.

This might be the first time I've ever felt safe.

Laughter turns to tears with the realization – not tears of sorrow, I don't think. Just of relief. "Geez, Spruce, get it together," Tony says, but not harshly. He reaches across the table to put his hand on mine. Duke wolf whistles and I don't even mind. Tony smiles at me – and unlike virtually every other time I've seen him smile, there's no barb in it, no mischief in the corners of his mouth. I'm safe with him – and that means the world to me.

We finish dinner and stand up to leave. Tony pays the bill – I have no idea how little or how much it is, as these things go. I know it cost more than the food my father and I ate in a week for most of my life – but Tony doesn't act like it's a big deal. I wonder if that's because his family's so wealthy or because the whole district is better off – probably a combination of both. We step outside and Tony, to my surprise, asks if we can find our way back to the hospital.

"Don't tell me you don't know, Stark," Duke asks. He seems a little bit alarmed – I guess he's as overwhelmed by the city as the rest of us, despite a few trips to the Capitol.

"Nah – I gotta go to the train," Tony explains.

"You're leaving?" I ask. My own voice sounds frail and stricken in my own ears.

"Yeah. I gotta go back to the front – I'm not exactly close to any of the wounded, not the way you guys are, I'm surprised they let me have leave at all." Now I know why he kept checking his watch.

"I understand," I say, and my voice sounds much steadier than I feel.

"We'll be fine – I can remember the way," Stephen says softly.

"All right then. I'll hold you to that – make sure these rural kids don't get lost. Bye guys – I wish I could have stayed longer." I give him a hug before he goes, both because I want to and because I'm hoping I can hide my face from the others a while longer – he seems surprised at first but then returns it.

"Don't have too much fun without us," Duke says as we part ways and Tony turns to go.

"I'll save some Peacekeeper scum for you, cowpoke," Tony says over his shoulder but keeps walking. If it's as bad as he says, they'll need him to rally the troops … or be put in very real danger.

"So you sure you know the way to the hospital?" Duke asks Stephen, and Stephen leads the way wordlessly.

I can't help but imagine Tony getting killed. I don't think I could stand it – I already lost home once. And as odd as it sounds to admit it to myself … Tony is my home now. With him gone, the city seems even stranger, even smellier, even more crowded. I walk past one of the decorated lampposts and notice the poor deer's head is entirely missing – without thinking, I stop to examine it. Was that slow damage that added up over the years, or did someone actually take the time to vandalize the poor creature? "You okay, Spruce?" Peeta asks. I realize I've been walking far too slowly and of course now I've stopped entirely – everyone is ahead of us. Which is bad since I am not sure I know the way back to the hospital.

"I'm fine," I lie, and walk briskly to try to close the gap.

"I'm sure Tony will be all right," he reassures.

I look at the gap between us – now is the time to ask. "Why did you and Gale go so quiet when talking about what we'd do without Haymitch?" I inquire softly, just loudly enough to be heard over the ambient city noise. Peeta stiffens and stops for a second.

"We don't want to get lost," I prompt sheepishly – it's my fault we're so far behind.

"Prim can pick it up," he says. No elaboration, no explanation of how he knows. Just that she can.

We catch up as quickly as I can, without a further word said. He knows he doesn't have to ask me to not tell anyone – we know she'd be asked to take it up. The hammer is too powerful a weapon not to use, no matter the cost, and maybe we're being selfish. But she's already been wounded and we couldn't protect Haymitch …

And it would crush her. The thought of her in battle … She told me she tried hunting with her big sister and she couldn't stand to kill animals. So killing people? It'd destroy her. Completely destroy her.

"Wow – both of you guys have a thing for Stark, I guess," Duke teases when we catch up and he sees the look on our faces.

"Shut up Duke," Stephen says sharply.

"Nah it's okay, Stephen," I say quickly. I don't need any more fighting – I really don't. "We're just worried," I say to Duke, without explaining about what.

"Understandable," he says while already looking ahead again – he's got his brother and future sister-in-law's food in a bag at his side and I know he just wants to see them again.

We make it to the hospital without incident – Stephen is still being quiet. He's been quiet for weeks now – he was always shy, but this is increasingly concerning. Of course – maybe he's just worried about Prim.

Hospitals are dreary places, I've decided. Following the initial excitement of Katniss waking, the nurse is pretty strict about enforcing only one non-family visitor in the girls' room at a time (and she's strict about what she considers family) and sends Clint back to his, so we take turns in the waiting room, doing whatever we can to pass the time. Stephen teaches Peeta and I a card game he and his friend Bucky used to pass time in District 5 while Duke visits his brother and Gale visits with the Everdeens. He calls it poker – and it involves bluffing, which I'm pretty bad at. You're supposed to lie about the hand you have – to make it sound better than it is. I don't know the rules well enough to do that effectively, plus I've never been the best liar. Stephen is very good at bluffing – every time he's acted like he has a high hand and someone decided to play anyway, he turned out to not be holding very good cards at all (I think). I'm not sure why I'm surprised, considering he suggested the game. I guess he seems so sweet most of the time that it's hard to reconcile this cunning with everything I know about him.

When Peeta goes in next, Stephen teaches Gale and then he replaces Peeta in the next round of the game. He's even worse at the bluffing aspect of the game than I am – but he's better than me at telling when other people are bluffing and calls it almost every time.

Stephen smiles a little while we play – it's a ghost of a smile.

The end of visiting hours sneak up on us – the nurse advises us all to go "home." Our temporary home is a hotel that was probably nice before the war – there's currently a huge chunk of it blasted to smithereens.

We trudge there, guided by Stephen who knows his way so well even though it's not his city. Stephen and I share a room – only a few rooms away from the blast zone. We can hear the noise of the city through the walls – it doesn't seem to bother Stephen but it drives me crazy. I can't stand it. I miss the quiet of the woods or the thick, soundproof walls of the rebel base. Even the house we stayed at in District 2 had better sound proofing.

I go to bed right away, exhausted by traveling from District 2 and everything that's happened in the last few days. Stephen stays up to read – he's managed to get hold of a Bible. I hope it gives him comfort. We turn off all the lights except a small lamp by Stephen's bed – I'm concerned it may not be bright enough for Stephen to read but he says he's read by less light.

But I don't fall asleep. I lay in my bed, with my back turned on Stephen's lamplight, trying not to listen to the sound of motor vehicles and people shouting on the streets below. More than that I try to drown out the thought of Tony dying or Prim being forced to pick up the hammer or all the broken bodies I've tried and failed to put back together. Or the thought we might not succeed – the first time I've had that fear since the battle for District 11 turned around. I don't even want to imagine how bad the crackdown will be if the Capitol retakes the districts.

"Is my lamp bothering you?" Stephen asks softly.

"No, it's fine. How could you tell I wasn't asleep?" I ask without rolling over.

"You snore in your sleep. You hadn't started snoring yet."

"It's not the lamp. It's the noise and … the worry. I hope my snoring doesn't bother you"

"It doesn't, and I understand." We fall silent again. I try to use the techniques I directed patients in pain to use, including Tony – I think the phrase "Physician heal thyself" comes from the book Stephen is reading – and I realize, with a start, that that's what I am. A patient in pain, though pain of a different sort. What would I be doing now if my name hadn't been drawn that autumn day? Muleshoe would still be on the map – but what would I be doing? Would I have been brave enough to go and help the war effort?

"Spruce … what if we're not the good guys?" Stephen asks, so softly that for a moment I'm not sure he's really spoken or if I just imagined it.

I roll over to look at him after spending far too long convincing myself he did in fact speak. He's got this haunted look to him – wherever he is, it's miles away from District 3. "What do you mean?" I ask in alarm.

"Sometimes I don't know if we're any better. I … I know why Gale and Peeta looked so scared when Duke mentioned someone picking up the hammer. Prim told me …" I motion with my head at the walls – I don't know if this hotel was ever bugged, or if the rebels would have any reason to maintain it. But I know better than to doubt it, and I don't want to talk about Prim's ability to pick up the hammer anywhere indoors. "She told me about it. It's a big responsibility. I don't want … anyone else to have to take that." They might ask him to – I can't imagine anyone else more worthy.

"Don't worry about that – we'll make sure whoever gets asked to pick it up can handle it." How? How can I possibly promise that? I'll have no control whatsoever. But it seemed like the right thing to say …

"What if they think they can handle it but they can't? What if they think they're good but then they find out they like fighting so much they can't stop sometimes?"

There's zero chance I'm going to sleep now. "Stephen … what are you talking about?"

"When … when Thresh and I were clearing houses a few weeks ago, we ended up taking a wrong turn and ending up in a war zone. We're only supposed to be checking houses that are already cleared, since it's just for show, but we were really close to the line and everything was loud and crazy, and the soldier who was leading us took a wrong turn …. He realized it quickly so Castor and Pollux cut the feed on their cameras and the soldiers started trying to turn us around but someone opened fire on us. Thresh and I were already riled up, you know … being so close to the battle and acting like soldiers for the camera. We fired back and it was … Spruce, I wanted to get in there and kill everyone. I was all pissed off and bloodthirsty, and I wanted to kill them all … Our lieutenant hollered at us to stop and I did … it took Thresh a little longer. The lieutenant told me to talk to the people in the house that had fired on us with a megaphone. But I couldn't think of a damn thing to say that wasn't, 'Get your asses out here so we can have it out.' So he talked to them instead, explaining that the line had moved and they were way behind the lines now …. That they were completely surrounded and the URF would treat them well if they came quietly … and this twelve-year-old kid comes out waving a white flag. Well it was a dirty old white tee shirt, but you get the idea. They weren't Peacekeepers … not even militia … but the Capitol promised extra rations and exemptions from the reaping to anyone of reaping age that helped, so these kids had picked up guns from dead Peacekeepers and went to "hold the line" from this house. Some of them were twelve Spruce. Twelve!" There are tears in his eyes, threatening to spill down onto his cheeks.

"You make it sound so young – don't forget you're only fourteen," I say pointedly, but I feel sick. I'm horrified by this entire story. I'm disgusted but not exactly shocked by the Capitol, and dismayed that our side hasn't done more to convey that we're winning. And then … I wonder if we really are …

It's a deeply unpleasant train of thought. I realize I'm totally reliant on the rebels for information. We could be losing and I'd never know it … well, the lines are clearly moving back to the Capitol, which suggests we are, but is victory really as in hand as the rebels would have me believe? Especially with the loss of Haymitch?

But I can't show Stephen any doubt, not when he's already so upset. Sweet little Stephen … I can't imagine him in such a state as he described, but it's war. "It's all right, Stephen, you couldn't have known …"

"That's not the point. I wanted to kill everyone. I wanted to kill people. I wanted to kill people … our solider told me to talk to them and I literally couldn't … I was just so … so full of hate. I'm supposed to be this big symbol of hope … but more and more all I feel is hatred. I look at someone as sweet as Prim, who can't even kill animals … and I don't feel good enough for her anymore." He draws up his knees to his chest and rocks back and forth. I get off my bed and go to his, sitting on the foot of the bed and putting a hand on his knee. "The Bible talks about God choosing kings and … what if He chose President Snow? What if as evil as Snow is, we're even worse?" The tears are streaming down his face now. I wipe them away and pull him into an embrace and pat his back. Suddenly he's that little boy I held in the Arena once again.

"Stephen – don't ever think that. Every year since I can remember, I've watched twenty-three children die every year on the Hunger Games, just to keep us all cowed. I held you and Rue while you slept and wondered if there was a way I could help just one of you survive and what would happen to my village without a doctor. I rotted in Snow's cells for a year. I was whipped, and half-drowned, and electrocuted, and experimented on, and they even shot a little girl with asthma I had taken care of just to torture me. I stood in the village where I grew up that had been destroyed just to get me out in the open – its people shot as they ran away from a fire. I'm not saying the rebels are perfect, but you'll never convince me they're as evil as that."

"I'm so sorry … I didn't mean to …"
"I know you didn't," I whisper gently. "Maybe … Maybe God is choosing someone else now, and we're all just instruments of His will?" I've never believed in God, not really, but I did read parts of the Bible a few times, so I offer my best guess at what will be comforting to a believer.

"I hope so … I know so," he says, more confidently, and pulls out of my arms and wipes his eyes with his sleeve. "I'm sorry I freaked out …"
"No don't apologize … I'd rather have you tell me than keep it inside."

We stay up talking a while – about home, about Prim, about Katniss, about what's happened so far, about the will of God, about what we'll do after the war if that day ever comes. When that day comes. Tony got us thinking – I want to be a real doctor, I've known that much all along. But I also want to learn about all the technology Tony wants to build – maybe there are medical applications for his arc reactors. There would have to be, wouldn't there? Stephen wants to be an artist … he wanted to be a preacher, for a while, but now, of course, he doesn't feel up to it.

Finally, Stephen starts to nod off, and I turn off the light and go back to my bed.

But I still don't sleep.

Hulk want to help Game Buddies. I haven't heard the Other Guy's thoughts so distinctly in years.

I'm going to let you, I think back to him. Haymitch's funeral is tomorrow – after that, I'll explain myself to the powers that be. If they don't go for it, I'll go rogue.

Good. Hulk help.

I know you will.

It might cost me my soul. I might never sleep well at night again. It very well might destroy both of us.

But I'd rather be destroyed than let Stephen be destroyed any further. I'd rather be destroyed than see Prim crushed the way Stephen is now, or any of my friends killed. Or for any one person, even someone I've never met, to be killed that doesn't have to be. I've been selfish. It doesn't matter how tired I am, how scared I am, how upright I've tried to be. I'm just one person. Well, two people. It doesn't change the math much when there are thousands on the other side, needing me to act.

I cry myself to sleep, hopefully quietly enough that Stephen doesn't hear and I don't add to his grief. It's time for the Hulk to do some more smashing.

Author's Note

Oh my God guys I am so sorry. I didn't mean to leave this story so long, especially not on a cliffhanger. I have a ton of excuses – I had major life changes, I needed to take a break, blah blah blah. You can see my profile for details on the off chance you care.

But the story is back! As I've said all along, I have no intention of abandoning it – the end is written. I can see the finish line, I just have to get there.

The next chapter will hopefully be up in a week or two – I make no firm promises on timelines since that seems to jinx me but it is coming!