Ok, so first story of Hunger Games? IMPORTANT; This has nothing or do with Mockingjay or ANYTHING...let's pretend that the book didn't happen yet and this is right before the Third Quarter Quell!..So this is basically another version of how Katniss and Finnick teamed up..well, with Peeta and Mags, but MAgs already knows and Peeta.. :) Ok, so enjoy!
I sigh as I plop myself down on the stringy bales of hay below me. The day is growing old, as am I.
It is nearing 3:00 a.m. and I am violently woken up yet again by a strong burst of screams that my head can't seem to erase.
Even years after the event of volunteering for the 74th Hunger Games and participating in the Quarter Quell, I still have sweat inducing nightmares, just like the ones I had when I was 16.
They all generally revolve around 3 ideas; Cato and the careers faking their death and avenge their injuries by killing me (that was the one that appeared most of the time.)
If that fantasy happened to float by, then I would be attacked by a ferocious lion of a nightmare and relive that terrible, terrible memory of Rue dying in my arms.
And, if by any slim, highly unanticipated chance that both memories surpassed me, then I would be slyly thrown into the arena by my cruel, selfish mind; only now there was no Peeta by my side, no Gale watching nervously in District 12...I was alone.
I shiver in the frosty November wind and I attempt to wrap whatever thin scrap of a blanket I have around my pale, numb shoulders.
My brown unkempt hair is blown wildly around my face and catches on the corners of my mouth, causing me to cough in an uncivilized manner.
If only Effie could see me now, in my natural state' I smile as my brain tries to comprehend the flamboyant costumes my advisor often wears.
I notice that daylight is close, and I curiously look at the soft sun rays of cadmium yellow glowing through the window.
Somehow, they remind me of Rue; Just like the beautiful sun break, the girl from District 11 is full of color and energy ,just filled to the brim with bursts of happiness...just like Rue, the sun makes you feel protected by the outer wonders of Panem.
My heart slowly sinks to the bottom of my stomach as I recall the pained expression on Rue's face when that boy-the boy I had so cruelly murdered-ran her through with his wooden spear.
I shake the memory out of my head and I begin to open the door. Only, I find that I can't, because an unidentifiable object is obstructing the hinges.
"Going somewhere, Catnip?" the deep voice chuckled softly.
My breath hitches. There's only one person who ever calls me Catnip, and before I can stop my self, I call out his name.
"Gale?" I ask incredulously. He can't have possibly breached the security in this room, I think to myself.
The boy laughs and steps away from the door, revealing his identity. "I wish, Catnip." he smirks cockily.
My expression visibly hardens and I take a slow, deep breath before answering,
"Don't call me that." I intend for my voice to be hostile, but it ends up sounding strained and cracks at the end of the sentence.
Finnick laughs, but not mockingly; it sounds almost like a friend's laugh.
"Don't worry, Katniss," he starts, sitting himself down on a rocky chair that's buried in dust.
"I just want to talk...about the Quarter Quell." I jump back a little, startled.
"But you're supposed to be an opposing tribute," I blurt out, not stopping to think about why Finnick Odair would speak to me about the game he's best at.
"Why would you even think about talking to me?"
Finnick seems to finally look serious since he came into the stables.
"This Quarter Quell isn't as juvenile as the Hunger Games, Katniss" Finnick stands up and looks me straight in the eye.
Unfortunately, I feel slightly intimidated by his towering height and piercing sea green eyes.
"Everyone that we're up against have already the experience of killing-heartlessly murdering. Every single tribute out there was already a victor. It means that they know us because they've watched us play...and we've also watched them."
Before I could stop myself, I interrupt Finnick by saying, "Then they already know our tactic. They know how we kill, who we kill...and who we kill with."
A lump starts to form in my throat as I come to the sad realization that the tributes of the third Quarter Quell are not only trained to murder efficiently and quickly; they've won fame and riches for it.
"Well, what do I have to with this?" I ask, even though I know it's useless.
"I think," Finnick grunts as he wipes the dust from his already tattered jeans. He stands up and looks down at me, which makes me feel inferior to him.
"That you could be of use. Joining the careers-that group of unintelligent brutes? No thanks. If we try, we can do something to take down the Careers, and escape the Quarter Quell..you and Loverboy both." I already know what the 24 year old man is asking of me.
I don't want to accept his offer, and I hope to God that he doesn't mean what I think he does.
"I want you to form a team with me and loverboy. We'll be the Careers' worst nightmare," Finnick grins widely, so much that you could see his molars.
"We'll be the anti-careers or something."
I can't believe what my ears are hearing, and for a moment I guess that the Capitol's ear surgery a year ago suddenly went haywire.
"What-What makes you think that I'll agree?" I fire back, not wanting to give in to such ridiculous garb so easily.
'He thinks I'll just immediately accept his request like some ditzy little girl?' I wonder in frustration. 'Just because he received an expensive trident everyone thought he was so hot?..Well sorry, Finnick.'
The green eyed boy, instead grins even wider (as if that were possible) and takes a step towards me, making the proximity between us...slightly uncomfortable.
"Because," he whispers in an alluring manner. "You have nowhere else to go." He chuckles at my nervousness and finally gives me room to breathe normally. It seems as though he were enjoying my unsettling expression, but I am careful to avoid his face, for I do not want to see him struggle to hold back many a laughter.
For some odd reason, I grow angry at this. My ears begin to grow hot and I clench my fists so hard, my knuckles turn deadly pale.
"What, you think I'm just some hopeless little girl with a crapload of luck?" I blurt out. I expect an answer from him and inch closer, making him lose that annoying confident smirk of his.
"Katniss, this isn't about me, you, or Peeta," he says in a dangerously calm voice after a few minutes of looking at my death glare and cringing.
"this is about we can do to survive-to win this thing."
"Have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, this about more than winning? I'm trying to end this nightmare, and meanwhile you're trying to prolong it!" I know that I'm taking his words completely out of context, but neither party seems to notice.
"By winning, we're showing the Capitol that we do belong to them-we're doing just what they want us to do...kill innocent children."
Finnick twitches his eye and take a deep breath. Something slow and steady, an exercise Gale had never gotten me to make a habit out of whenever I was angry.
"This isn't about me wanting to win, Katniss," he says, finally giving in to my demanding tone and expanding on his sudden outburst.
"We need to win so that we'll be respected again. Obviously you wouldn't know anything about that." he stares at me at such a way that I can't help but keep my mouth shut. I fume inside my head, mad at myself for feeling so inferior to this-boy.
"Once we're back on the board to Capitol favoritism, then we can silently rebel, and no one will know because they'll love us so much. The star crossed lovers from District 12-"
I scowl, hearing my most hated phrase of all. Right next to, "And may the odds be ever in your favor." I'm not the only one. Peeta agrees with me. Finncik doesn't seem to notice my unappealing expression.
"And the charming young boy who won the Hunger Games at the mere age of 14. Do you understand me? We need to win. The future of the districts depend on it."
Finnick sighs and puts his hands behind his head. He slowly looks up at the dilapidated brown ceiling and stays just like that for several minutes.
I slump my shoulders and take his time of distraction to assess just what he had said. The air grows hot, and after it becomes unbearable, I chuck my green jacket over the bale of carefully stacked hay, leaving me in a black t-shirt and moss colored pants.
After what seems like hours, I speak up.
"Why don't you just join the careers, Finnick?" I ask, finally letting curiosity take over my mind and lips.
"Wouldn't they be so much more likely to to agree with you, since you're from Dstrict 4?"
He stares at me like I just asked him, 'Why don't you just stop breathing, Finnick? It'd be easier on all of us.'
"I said already Katniss...they're nothing but cocky, forceful brutes who know nothing about strategy." He looks me and has a slightly pained expression across his tan face.
"Remember what Cato said last year before he died?" I flinch as I recall his blood curdling screams; his eerie, shaky shrieks that still fill my mind with nightmares.
Suddenly, I black out from Finnick's words and I'm on top of the Cornucopia again, my hand shakily rested on top of the silver arrow. The bow string lays against my mouth and I lick my lips nervously, tasting the faint metal flavor of blood. I spit nervously on the ground, keeping my eyes trained on the two boys.
I look unwillingly at Peeta struggling under Cato's strong grip, and I bite back a scream.
"One more kill," Cato says, smiling crazily. The right side of his face is practically burned to ashes and is covered in sticky blood, the liquid running into his mouth and dripping on the floor.
"It's all I've ever known, you know. To bring pride to my district." his voice cracks and it seems remorseful. I begin to feel pity for Cato, and I resist the urge to close my eyes and cry.
"Not that it matters." as the words come out of his mouth, I see Peeta's signal and before I can think, my arrow flies in the air and lodges itself into Cato's hand. He screams and lets go of Peeta, who's now wheezing and trying to catch his breath..
Cato loses his footing and he falls three feet down, right in the middle of the growling mutations. They snarl and examine their new meal carefully; I cringe as I hear his painful screams...and the sound of ripping flesh.
My victory.
Hurray for me.
One more kill. It's all I've ever known.
"I understand." I say quietly, my timid voice almost inaudible, even to myself.
"The careers know nothing except to kill. It's all they've trained for. They live to honor their districts, and nothing else. Rebelling against the very people who love them?" Finnick snorts and looks away briefly, as if such a thing were merely illogical.
"That's why I chose you. You don't give a damn about the what the Capitol thinks. You're survival techniques are as well...unique. It could be of great use. That Nightlock that Peeta didn't notice?" he grimaces and he seems to darken a little, probably recalling Foxface's still, lifeless expression.
"He could have died if you hadn't known. You're a fairly acceptable knot tier, you have just enough confidence, and since you're a maniac with a bow and arrow, your hand eye coordination must be impeccable." I involuntarily blush, and looks down, just like I do when Peeta or Gale compliments me.
I can't help but smile when someone says something about me that's not necessarily true. It settles me in a way.
"And Peeta? He shouldn't overlooked just because he did nothing last year. Sure, he may be a bit off sometimes with...everything," he chuckles good heartedly, interrupting the flow of his rant.
" But he's crazy strong and he's good with natural ingredients-meaning, we can quickly blend in with Mother Nature if all goes wrong. And me?" The 24 year old smiles teasingly and leans back on the exposed brick wall.
"I'm likeable. Just like Loverboy. It'll get us an amazing amount of sponsors, which, according to your lovely mentor's advice...could make a world of a difference." I snicker as I hear his dead accurate explanation of himself during the 64th Hunger Games.
He was nothing but a poor, not-quite-dead-but-not-alive boy until the trident arrived in a silver parachute of hope.
Afterwards, his true identity shone through and he was crowned within a matter of days.
When I watched him at 6 years old, I informed my mother, " What a creepy boy. 14 years old and already killed dozens with an oversized fork."
Nowadays, I think of him as an intimidation.
So strange how the human brain ages.
"So. What do you say, hm? Shall we?" Finnick snaps me out of my reverie, and I stutter slightly.
"I...I should go over it with Peeta first and then I need to confirm with... Haymitch," I start rambling and even to my own ears, my excuses sound absurd.
"Katniss, we both know that's not true." he rolls his eyes and reaches in his pocket. It goes on for a couple of minutes. I silently ask myself what he could being.
My first paranoid thought was that he had a small vial of nightlock juice that he'll force into my mouth, or a small dagger that is destined to cut my heart open.
Moments later, his hands unclench and it reveals a thin ,gold pin-a mockingjay pin. My mockingjay pin. Only now, it's engulfed in dancing red and yellow flames.
"It's a modified version of your mockingjay, girl on fire," I raise my eyebrow at the nickname and examine the newly remodeled design.
. It's still cool and heavy, just like when I originally received it from Madge. I pin it on my shirt and proudly glance at it from time to time.
He held out another band-most likely for Peeta-and winked.
"So, we in this or what, Katniss Everdeen?" He mocks, holding his hand out in a businesslike manner.
I smirk and I begin with a witty comeback when catch a glimpse of another bracelet on his wrist... it's gold as well, and I recognize it immediately. 'Haymitch?' I mutter to myself.
For him to have given Finnick that bracelet, he must want Peeta and I to form an alliance with him.
I finally muster up whatever little courage I have to bring out my own hand and place it on top of his.
"I accept, Finnick Odair," I say teasingly in a formal tone. He struggles to keep a straight face. I notice that he looks so much like Peeta...it's unnerving.
"From the second we run into the arena, we fight the Careers until the death...and if we survive...?"
Finnick grins and finishes my sentence. "Then Down with the Capitol, we shall go."
I keep a still expression and briskly nod, then walk away to tell Peeta the news.
'Haymitch? If you can hear me,' I whisper quietly to myself in a playful tone.
"Well, I think I may have formed a new alliance with the Finnick Odair. The very one that I used to despise... Oh Haymitch, aren't you proud of me for conversing so well with the "enemy?"
IMPORTANT: Should I make this mutlichapter? Review and tell me if I should! And anyways, that was so crappy...I TOLD you it had nothing to do with anything...it's like, pre last half of Catching fire, post 74th Hunger Games...it's confusing, but this is how I envisioned the agreement. Ok! So, please review!