A/N: Hey guys, sorry this took forever. I'm still mapping out this story and it's definitely a work in progress. Also, I recently started a summer internship and gotten sick as well. Writing this chapter was sort of struggle. The general idea was there, but all the details were added painstakingly. I was reading other HG fanfics and I think it just hit me how draining Mockingjay's content was and then with this chapter, it was the same because I'm picking up after Prim's death. Anyway, hope you like this part. Please leave me a review to share your thoughts. :)
Chapter 3: Falling
Sometimes I wish for falling, wish for the release
Wish for falling through the air to give me some relief
Because falling's not the problem, when I'm falling I'm at peace
It's only when I hit the ground it causes all the grief
Florence + the Machine
/
"She fainted from shock," Florence explains to John when Katniss wakes for the third time, but she's not sure how long she's been out. Katniss barely pays attention to what they're saying, because she is lost to what she had to witness, too awake in her grief to care because her mind remembers now. And with those memories, dauntless emotion fills her like an infinite stream, constantly flowing, flooding at her from all possible sides. The power is strong enough to immobilize her limbs. Katniss sees the tiny room more clearly from a distance, the gray, barren walls along with several other beds cramped in the space.
Instead, her mind is in the middle of chaos. It's all over the place. Civilians and members of her squad are behind her while she's further ahead than the rest of them. When she sees a flash of dirty blond hair, prominent rebel medic uniform and Red Cross on her hat, Katniss goes limp. Strength temporarily leaves her. It's not until she catches the sight of Prim's medic shirt un-tucked from her skirt that shakes Katniss into action again, allowing her to unfreeze her legs to move urgently into a run. One thought conquers her building hysteria: no, not her.
The second rounds of parachutes go off and children are blasted into grisly, monstrous fragments. Their blood steadily stains the once pristine snow.
Prim: her sweet Primrose gone in unforgiving glory of fiery-orange light. She couldn't process everything right away.
At this moment, Katniss can.
President Snow killed her and she couldn't stop what happened to Prim. Katniss failed to protect the one person she cared most for in the world.
Often times when the unexpected guilt gnaws at her conscious, they would also invade her dreams, she wishes with a terrible ache that she could go back in time, and do anything to make life as she once knew it, normal. In a place where she'd spent Sundays hunting with her best friend even if it were illegal. They would have been together in the forest, hidden from others while they struggled to bring game home to feed their families. Gale and she wouldn't have had to talk; words weren't needed. Prim would be waiting to be picked up at school like most weekdays and in the afternoons after they walked home, Prim would pet Buttercup with such fondness, Katniss would find the corners of her mouth curve into a smile as well.
If she could have known the true consequences of war, the sacrifices she needed to end it, she would have done things differently.
What use is it to think about 'what ifs' now? She can't help imagining various scenarios.
Sometimes, she likes to envision she gets to the horrible scene on time, covers her sister's fragile body with her own, protecting her from the threat of explosions. Katniss would meet her wide, innocent blue eyes and knowing that Prim was alive.
She usually wakes up from that nice dream though. It feels like on the inside she's always, silently ready to start shouting Prim at the top of her lungs until her throat becomes raw and strained, as if through her pleads she could reverse her sister's fate. No one ever hears her.
Back in the hospital room, Katniss feels all alone, trying to battle her reactions while she curls up in a ball, covered in her threadbare blanket. She knows it's too late to save them, but it's like a small part of her can't accept their deaths. The worse thing to live with is she understands the role she played in their deaths, and she doesn't know how to deal with everything.
It becomes too much and Katniss slips under.
/
She's illuminated by real fire, the flares sending her body into a panic and she can't register anything but an overwhelming sensation of agony. Now she is truly Cinna's Girl on Fire and Panem's brilliant Mockingjay. The symbolic wings of rebellion are burning black and the smell of scorched flesh reaches her nostrils. Her heartbeat is wild and beyond her control. The air in her lungs constrict and they aren't able to keep her alive for much longer.
When she's thinks, This is it. I survived two Games, started a rebellion and a war, but what kills me is fire. It would funny if it weren't oddly tragic. I can be with Prim and my father.
Strong hands grab her while she fades unconscious due to the immense pain.
Her last thought is: no.
/
Eyes like the skies. His kind smile. A constant source of calm when she's around him. Sturdy, but gentle hands used for baking and painting.
The boy with the bread.
Peeta.
/
In the end, she's failed him too.
/
"Kat. Kat," Florence's voice comes from a distance. "Can you hear me? You have a visitor."
Has another day or more passed?
Katniss still wasn't sure where she was. Florence and John never got the chance to tell her. There are too many questions floating in her head. Did she permanently fall asleep? Is this her version of heaven? Maybe that theory wasn't far off. Where else would she see her father alive again? A mother that appeared happy and complete?
Shaken by the sudden, quiet creak of a door opening, she recognizes a tall, handsome man with dark hair and Seam grey eyes entering the room.
Katniss's not even thinking when she gasps out one staggering name. "Gale."
A/N: By the way, I'm looking for a beta. Is anyone available?