Chapter 18: 75th Annual Hunger Games
The sound of the gong is like an earthquake shuddering in his core, and he dives on instinct, straight into the waves. He does not fear. He knows water better than he knows earth, and he's betting very few of the tributes feel the same.
The waves are rough, but Finnick cuts through them effortlessly and is barely breathless by the time he hoists himself onto the island and races across the hot sand to the Cornucopia. The provisions are piled high at the opening, and he grabs the trident he'd been staring at from his platform just seconds ago. There. He feels much more secure with the weapon in his hands. He's about to rummage through the rest of the goods when irregular splashing alerts him he's not alone. His jaw drops as none other than Katniss Everdeen crawls onto the beach, and he just has time to grab a net and duck behind the supplies before she looks ahead and starts running to the horn.
He almost laughs, noting most of the other tributes still stranded on their platforms. Even water can't put out the Girl on Fire.
If he was ever on the fence before, he's now fully on the side of Plutarch Heavensbee. This little stitch of a thing, at seventeen years old, can do anything.
He waits for a moment, allowing her the opportunity to grab the bow and arrows in plain view, before stepping out from hiding and coming up behind her. She'll want to kill him. She might even try if he doesn't convince her fast enough. His Capitol charm begs to be switched on, but he's determined it's useless on her.
Sensing a presence behind her, she arms herself and turns, the arrow aimed straight at his chest. Finnick reacts instinctively, trident at the ready.
"You can swim, too," he says, intent on engaging her in conversation to stall her. "Where did you learn that in District 12?"
Keeping her cool, she replies, "We have a big bathtub."
He chuckles softly. "You must. You like the Arena?"
Her expression darkens. "Not particularly. But you should. They must have built it especially for you."
Oh, Katniss, he thinks. If only you knew.
Her hands are steady on the bow, and his eyes flicker down and then back up. He'd be grateful for another minute or two of their banter to gain her understanding and cool acceptance, but from the corner of his eye, he sees that a couple of other tributes have made their way into the water. They don't have much time.
So he grins, throwing caution to the wind. "Lucky thing we're allies. Right?"
With a flick of his wrist in the sunlight, her eyes are drawn to his token: the gold bangle. That's all he can do in the time they have. Show her the token and hope she understands. Her eyes narrow with curiosity, and Finnick grips the trident as the male from District 5 makes his way to the shore.
Katniss hears him, too, and he sees that she's torn. In a split second decision, she exclaims, "Right!"
That's all he needs to spring to action. The tribute from 5 is just behind her now. Capitol switch: off. Kill switch: engaged.
"Duck!" he yells to her, and she's so surprised by the change in his voice that she does exactly as he says.
The man from 5 doesn't have time to react before Finnick impales him with his trident. Just a thrust of his weapon and a life is gone.
He's forgotten what it felt like, and what jars him most of all is just how easy it is.
Leaving Johanna behind, terrified and without strategy on her platform, causes a tug in his heart even in his focused mindset. He whispers her a good luck before hauling Mags over his shoulders and heading with Katniss and Peeta into the jungle.
Katniss has second thoughts as they begin the incline away from the Bloodbath. Finnick senses her swaying thoughts and lifts his trident once more, only to be interrupted by Peacekeeper Peeta, who doesn't seem to realize there's any tension whatsoever.
And then he walks into a wall. An invisible wall, Finnick will give him that, but a wall nonetheless. A force field knocks him out cold and Finnick has to perform CPR while a frantic Katniss watches like a hawk from the sidelines. As he's blowing air into the boy's lungs, Finnick can't help but think that this is only the beginning. He has to keep the boy alive for the girl's trust, but the boy is stupid enough to get himself killed outside of battle. If he dies on Finnick's watch, he's lost Katniss for certain.
He pumps Peeta's chest without mercy, bringing him back to life but also releasing his anger. Bringing them both back alive has always been a daunting task, but all of a sudden, he wonders why it had to be placed on his shoulders, and only his shoulders.
There's Mags to think about, too. He doesn't know how long she has left, but he'll tote her around with him until it's physically impossible, just as they planned. But with Peeta almost dead under his hands, he's not sure he can go through with it. Losing Mags… he can't bear it. And to what? To a stupid boy who's only going to get himself killed anyway?
"Peeta," Katniss whimpers as Finnick repeats the process. When the boy finally gives a small cough, Finnick wipes his brow and sits back, knowing he'll live.
Katniss is shocked at his survival, and lunges forward as soon as he stirs. Finnick gives them space to reunite, frowning as he watches their interaction. Tears stream down Katniss' cheeks, and she brushes away Peeta's hair so tenderly. That's curious, Finnick thinks. The girl is no actress, and people don't change overnight. But from the way she's sobbing, one would think her feelings were genuine…
"Katniss?" Peeta asks, his soft voice saturated with worry.
"It's okay," Finnick jumps in. "It's just her hormones. From the baby."
This gets Katniss crying harder. When he meets her eyes, he's puzzled and quizzical. He's almost certain there's no baby. Not from these two. But love… could there be love?
It doesn't matter. He shakes his head to rid himself of the thought. Love or no love, Katniss is the one who must survive.
Katniss appears furious with him. He can't quite figure out why – he did just save the boy's life, after all.
As they pick up and move on, Finnick runs a hand through his hair and breathes out. He's part of an underground political conspiracy, and yet he suddenly feels as though he's the one in the dark.
Must be this thickly humid jungle air.
Finnick and Mags construct a shelter out of woven vines for their first night. When the anthem sounds, all four tributes gather at the opening of the shelter to stare into the sky at the images of the fallen. Though the air is wet and sticky, his throat is parched and dry as bone. He tries to swallow away the guilt when the image of the male from 5 is projected onscreen, but he can't, and it sits as a lump in his throat.
Next is Calix. Massacred in the Bloodbath. Finnick hangs his head and Mags gives his hand a squeeze.
Both tributes from 8, both from 9 – he thinks of Theia, the one who was always quick to flash him a glare, and feels a stab of regret for never getting the chance to change her mind – and the women from 10 and 11. Out of their alliance of, four are dead. Just like that.
Only eight remaining to carry out the mission. And Katniss and Peeta, of course. All that really matters is that they're still alive.
They all watch the silver parachute float down from the sky. Finnick is too drained to reach for it, and as it doesn't look like a gallon of water, he can't find the strength to care.
Eight dead. Eight of the Games' finest.
Is that enough for you, Snow? Or can your power only be sustained by crushing us all?
When Katniss wakes him, he's on his feet in an instant, trident poised for attack. But it won't be much use against the impending enemy: the fog, gliding slowly towards them. His first instinct is to grab Mags and run.
He expects Katniss and Peeta to follow suit, but a hundred yards into the jungle, he realizes he can't hear their footsteps.
That's not good.
He shouts encouragement while rooted in place, panic growing in his chest as he realizes that it's not only Mags, but Peeta who's not fit to run. There's no choice but to give Mags to Katniss and to throw the boy over his own shoulders.
Peeta may not be tall, but he's broad and muscular, and it slows Finnick down considerably. As the fog creeps over them, Finnick feels his limbs loosen and shake involuntarily. He grunts from exertion with every step, nearly screaming with pain as his skin blisters. Whatever chemicals are in the fog, they're there to kill.
The gamemakers certainly intend to keep the audience amused this time around and won't waste any time drawing out the Games. It's on the tip of his tongue to curse Plutarch Heavensbee, to demand why he's making it so hard to succeed in his mission.
But he knows. When he looks back at Katniss, who has fallen yet again from Mags' weight on her shoulders, he knows. She's too small. She asks if he can take both of them, Mags and Peeta, but he can't. As his eyes shine with frustration and struggle and panic, he knows this has to happen. Heavensbee has to kill them, one by one, to throw Snow off his scent. Tonight it will be Mags. Tomorrow it might just be him.
With gathered strength, Mags stands herself up and walks to him. Eyes watery with resolve, she kisses him goodbye. He can't even find the words to say. It's happening too fast. His limbs are out of control, his arms jerking and his legs on the verge of collapse, and he wishes he could find words for Mags. But there are none, and she doesn't need any. The look in her eyes says it all.
She walks into the fog.
He can't watch, so he runs. With Peeta on his shoulders, he takes off, careening through the jungle as fast as his weary, affected legs can carry them. He can only hope that Katniss is following somewhere behind. If not, he's failed, but what does it matter now? The fog burns his skin and warps his mind until all he can see in front of him is Mags' decrepit figure stumbling into the mist. He chases her and chases her, begging her to come back, until he can't chase her anymore and falls to the ground with Peeta still on top of him. Moments later, there's an added weight – must be Katniss. Maybe not.
They lie there, panting and twitching, for who knows how long. Finnick's mind feels heavy and dragging, and he only follows the others downhill to the Cornucopia at a crawl because they tell him to and he can't think anymore. Every second, his body screams at him to stop, but he keeps saying 'Just one more step', and that's how he gets there. The water around the Cornucopia is so appealing, but one touch sends him through a whirlwind of excruciating pain, and he backs away with animalistic wariness.
I'm not far behind, Mags, he thinks as the world fades to black.
He wakes days – hours? – later to a pair of steel grey eyes looming over him. The eyes of the mockingjay.
His body aches – no, throbs – with agony, and the first thing he thinks is that he's sorry they didn't let him die. With stinging sensations all over his body, like frozen skin exposed to sudden heat, he knows he is very much alive, for death wouldn't feel like this.
At least, he doesn't think so.
It takes a few moments of staring quizzically into those grey eyes before he realizes that his head rests in Katniss' lap, his entire body submerged in the saltwater. And the longer he sits there, eyes fixated on hers, he slowly realizes that it's helping. The water, that is. It seems to be drawing out the poison that has seeped into his skin.
The last time he was in the Arena, the lake was poisoned on them and they lay jerking on the shore until medical aid was sent in. This time, it's the very air that's poisoned, and only the water can save them.
Clever, he thinks dryly.
But with those hard grey eyes latched onto his and her hand to hold onto while he submerges his blistered face in the water and nearly blacks out all over again from the pain, he wonders if he should be glad for it all – if, perhaps, Mags' death was orchestrated by Heavensbee to demonstrate to Katniss how fully Finnick is on her side.
She and Peeta could have left him there by the lake. He had already lost consciousness; it would have been a drawn-out but peaceful death. Instead, they brought him back to life. Nursed him to health.
All it took to gain their trust was the life of his mentor and nearly his own.
The monkeys swarm them in droves, and Finnick has never met creatures he disliked more. Aside from the fact that they are clearly Capitol muttations, they are frighteningly human-like in appearance and abilities, yet so very animal in their behaviour. The darkest creatures in District 4 are the sharks, and he'd happily face one right now in place of a monkey.
They make the most horrifying screeching sound when met with his trident, their orange fur growing growing red with blood. Their stench carries in the humid air, and Finnick holds his breath until he can't anymore.
These are creatures programmed to kill. He curses himself for missing the one who almost took out Peeta, but by then it's too late. The female from 6 has already materialized from nowhere to sacrifice herself.
The female from 6. There's no way she'll make it. She gasps as they drag her to the beach, blood gurgling in her throat from the holes in her chest. Just like Calix, she is emaciated and grey, sick from the morphling. As she takes her last few breaths, Finnick has to walk away. He knows he should stay, but he can't. The guilt gnaws away at his heart, for he knows it was on his suggestion that Calix and his partner were accepted into the conspiracy, and he knows that they are now dead. Any likely scenario would have had them dead anyway, but it's hard to make predictions or assumptions where the Hunger Games is concerned.
Once her body is retrieved by the hovercraft, he and the teenagers make camp, too exhausted from the day's events for any further exertion. With his skin itchy and tarnished by monkey claws, Finnick offers to take first watch. Katniss is about to insist when she sees the desperation on his face and decides to leave him be. He's grateful for that.
Though there are undoubtedly cameras pointed at him, he can only hope that it's too dark for them to catch the tears that well in his eyes and eventually drip down. He didn't cry the first time he was in the Arena, not as a hopeless young boy, but he cries now as a bitter man. For Calix and his partner, who may not be dead if it weren't for his meddling. For Theia from 9 who never liked him anyway. For the man from 5 who added another line of blood to his stained hands.
But most of the tears are for Mags, one of the only people he's ever truly loved. If she were here with him, she'd take his hand in hers and tell him he was strong and brave and so very, very good. But she's not here, so all he can think is that he's weak and cowardly and so very, very careless.
When darkness falls and her image flashes in the sky, he puts three fingers to his lips and then extends them to her. He's seen that somewhere, once. Katniss did so to the little girl who died in her Games.
He's not sure what it means, exactly, but it seems a peaceful way to say goodbye.
Katniss eyes him strangely in the morning, and he avoids her gaze, suspecting that there are dried tears on his cheeks or redness in his eyes. He did cry through the night, unable to keep his switch turned on in the dark of night. The events of the day caught up with him and the image of Mags walking so bravely into the fog tortured his thoughts. How could Panem revere Snow now, watching the oldest and humblest victor succumbing to a nasty trick of the gamemakers'?
When there were no more tears left, he resolved with ferocity not to let Mags' death be in vain. He would carry on.
And carry on he does, by weaving two bowls of grass and collecting water from the spile in a nearby tree and gathering shellfish in the third bowl. He has everything prepared for Katniss when she wakes and though she regards him with a melange of sympathy, caution and discomfort, she eats and drinks and rewards him with an ointment she asks for from Haymitch, delivered almost instantly. When applied to the skin, the itchiness from the monkey scratches is relieved in seconds, though it certainly does nothing for their appearances.
He feels better after that, like a little piece of himself – or the Capitol piece of himself; it's hard to tell anymore – is still alive somewhere. He jokes around with Katniss and, venturing a step further in determination to solidify her trust in him, suggests they play a joke on Peeta. To his delight, she agrees.
It's a cruel joke to play on a tribute in the Arena, but they put their hideous, ointment-covered faces right in front of his and wake him. The terror in his eyes shouldn't be funny, but it is, and it only is because he has nothing to fear.
It seems like Katniss gets the message, too. She allows herself to laugh with him, assuring the unimpressed Peeta that it was just a joke. Finnick catches her watching him while she helps Peeta apply the ointment to his back. When Peeta's not looking, he smiles at her and gives a gentle nod of his head.
Just like Peeta, she has nothing to fear. Nothing to fear as long as he lives.
Nothing relieves him more than the sight of Johanna, no matter how weathered and bitter due to her assigned mission, appearing just down the beach. He's so overwhelmed with happiness that he forgets to mention to Katniss and Peeta that it's alright; she's a friend. Instead, he takes off running toward her, and it's a testament to the teenagers' trust in him when they do not shoot or target the tribute from 7 and two from 3, but instead follow him silently.
He wants to lift her up in an embrace and squeeze her so tightly, she cries, but as he nears, he can see she's not in the mood for that – not that she ever would be. Johanna does not embrace. She fights and complains and rebels.
That's what he loves about her.
Very quickly, before Katniss and Peeta arrive, she attempts to explain to him all that she's been through with the helpless Beetee and Wiress, but the tributes from 12 are just as eager to hear what she has to say as he is. With annoyed glances their way, she continues her story at rapid pace, finishing with Blight's death by running into a force field – just as Peeta had done – and the downpour of blood that rained from the skies.
Beetee is in terrible shape, having received an untreated knife in the back during the Bloodbath, and Wiress is out of her mind from the horrors of the Arena, pacing on the beach and murmuring in repetition, "Tick, tock. Tick, tock."
It's apparent that Johanna's heard enough of this in the past two days, for she snaps in interruption, "Yeah, we know. Tick, tock. Nuts is in shock." When Wiress bumps into her, she shoves her in exasperation.
She may have been made for rebellion, but she certainly wasn't made for teamwork.
Katniss, who isn't at all accustomed to Johanna's harshness, jumps to the older woman's defence. "Lay off her," she snaps.
"Woops," Finnick mutters under his breath, for he knows Johanna doesn't take kindly to commands.
"Lay off her?" she hisses, approaching Katniss with a menacing glare. Before the Girl on Fire has time to draw a bow or even duck, Johanna's palm connects with her cheek. A fresh, stinging slap.
Finnick reacts quickly to this, and as Johanna begins to ream out the girl from 12 they all took an oath to protect, he throws her over shoulder and carries her into the water. She pounds at his back and thrashes in his arms, but he's taller and stronger and can easily dunk her underwater while she screams obscenities every time she draws breath.
With all he's been through since diving off that platform, he'll be damned if Johanna Mason destroys the trust he's built with the tributes from 12 in mere seconds by shooting off her fire-spitting tongue.
Unaffected by Johanna's crude insults, Katniss moves with the rest of them further onto the beach to tend to Beetee. Finnick continues to dunk the raging Johanna until all she can do when surfacing is gasp for breath.
He holds her above water, testing her as she gasps and blinks, and finally she splutters, "You fucking—"
He dunks her again.
She coughs out water this time, but can't help finishing, "—asshole."
He goes for one last dunk when she shouts, "No!"
"You done?" he asks her, grinning in amusement.
"Done yelling at her," Johanna spits. "What does it matter if I tear into you?"
He chuckles. "That's true."
While he relaxes his grip on her, her hands find his shoulders and she latches on. He frowns, wondering if this is her idea of a hug, but then as she continues to pant heavily he realizes that they are far enough into the lake that her feet can't touch the sandy bottom. From the fear in her eyes at the beginning of the Games, he remembers that she can't swim.
"Take me to the beach," she orders.
He wraps his arms around her waist, whispering into her ear out of reach of the cameras, "Only if you promise not to touch her again."
"I didn't hurt her," Johanna hisses back. "She doesn't know what I've been through for her. It was just a little slap to remind her to keep her mouth shut—"
Finnick dangles her head close to the water again. Johanna shuts her eyes and holds her breath, but he does not push her under. After a moment, one of her eyes opens.
"Fine," she sighs, and he allows her to lock her legs tightly around his waist and climb onto his back, where she feels less subjected to random dunkings.
He begins to swim with the feisty tribute from 7 on his back. "You look hideous, by the way," she remarks as he swims.
He'd forgotten about the ointment on his face to heal the oozing blisters and scratches. Of course Johanna wouldn't let a physical flaw go unnoticed. When the water is to his hips, she lets her legs fall to the ground.
"Johanna?"
"What?" she asks, wringing out her cropped brown tresses.
He smiles. "I'm really glad to see you."
She steps ahead of him and makes it quite clear that she's mad at him, but before doing so, he sees her eyes flicker in his direction, caught off guard. As he follows her to the others, he's sure he hears her mutter, "Thanks."
So the Arena is a clock. Wiress was onto something. If he didn't believe her before, he does now, as the spokes begin to whirl and the land seems to divide around the Cornucopia. Of course, it doesn't matter much anymore – Wiress is dead.
Her crude death at the hands of the Careers would affect Beetee the most, but Finnick is too busy scooping his body out of the water that he doesn't ask him how it feels. Finnick lost his own district partner not long ago and took Enobaria's blade in his thigh to defend the teenagers, so he thinks that he and Beetee are on the same sort of level.
Johanna's shouting again, and when he has Beetee on land, Finnick turns to see why. While the rest of them are catching their breath on shore and mulling over the sudden deaths of Wiress, Cashmere and Gloss, Katniss has taken to the water again, swimming to Wiress' lifeless corpse afloat.
At first, like Johanna, he wonders if she's gone mad. But then he sees the glint of gold wire in Wiress' hands and knows exactly what she's up to.
"Johanna," he says, shaking his head when she looks at him. "It's fine. Look."
She does, and raises a questioning eyebrow.
"She gets it," Finnick says under his breath, a ghost of a smile gracing his face. "She knows we're helping."
It's like taming a wild animal, he thinks, and just as rewarding. From the look on Johanna's face, he can tell she's suppressing another biting comment.
He nudges her in the side to keep her mouth shut. She nudges him back, harder.
He sighs. Somehow, keeping the mockingjay alive has become less of a chore than maintaining the hot-tempered Johanna.
Finnick is pleased when Katniss agrees to accompany him to tap a tree for water. No words are exchanged as they wander into the jungle in search of the right tree and he begins to dig while she keeps guard. That's okay with him. It's the teamwork that builds her trust in him, and he's going to need that trust more than ever as they near the moment of the rescue. Finnick isn't quite certain how it's all going to work, yet, but he senses that Johanna and Beetee have been given very specific instructions and tasks before being sent into the Arena.
For someone who's supposed to be keeping watch, Katniss seems unusually removed from reality, and he calls her to attention by asking for the spile. She hands it over and he begins to twist it into the tree. He has it halfway in place when a piercing scream echoes through the jungle. He snaps his head up to see that Katniss is already on high alert. The change in her expression is instantaneous, and before he can ask her who she thinks the high-pitched scream belongs to, she takes off.
"What?" he asks to himself. Water begins to drip from the spout of the spile, but allowing Katniss to venture senselessly through the jungle is out of the question. He can't let her out of his sight.
"Katniss!" he yells, leaving the spile in the tree and breaking into a run. He follows her shouts – Prim! Prim! – and hopes the Careers are nowhere near to hear her. In the flurry, he left his own weapons back at the tree.
Prim. He knows it's not another tribute, and he wonders if this the name of the sister Katniss left behind. It must be. Other than Peeta, he's not sure she cares for much else.
But if those screams belonged to her, then where is she?
He crashes into a clearing where Katniss has succeeded in locating the source of the scream. A bird lies dead at her feet. Finnick's eyes dart from Katniss, to the bow in her hand, to the bird.
There comes another scream. It's further in the distance, different from the first in tone – not as high-pitched, but even more frantic.
And it only takes a breath for Finnick to realize who it belongs to.
His head whips around, panic rising in his chest, and this time, it is Katniss who calls his name and he who takes off at a run.
Annie. The mere name running through his mind sends a stabbing pain in his chest, for it's taken every ounce of strength not to think of her in the Arena. And now she's here, and he's sure he hears her calling his name…
What have they done to her? Fear grips his every muscle as he sprints through the jungle toward the shrieking. No, no. It can't be. Have they taken her? Did Fletcher fail to protect her? He wouldn't have. He promised not to let them take her. Did they kill him first?
It's Annie's voice; he knows it. And when he gets within range of the sound, he frantically circles the tree in which the jabberjays sit, their sweet voices morphing into bloodcurdling shrieks.
Finnick knows about jabberjays. They do not create; they can only imitate. So where did they get those screams?
"Annie!" he shouts up at them, trying to find a branch to climb. Their beady eyes stare down, taunting him. "Annie!"
Then the birds lay dead at his feet, and Katniss is hopping down from a nearby tree, bow in hand.
It's not enough, he thinks as he picks up the bird. Killing the birds won't stop her from screaming.
They stand, horrified, for a few quiet moments as they images of their loved ones in the hands in the Capitol flood their minds. They've done it – unhinged him again. He'll never push Annie from his mind now. Her screams will ring in his ears until the very end.
Another scream finds them then. A male voice that Finnick is relieved not to recognize – but Katniss does. It's written all over her face.
So he begins to drag her away, assuring her it's just the birds, there's nothing they can do by chasing them. After a few moments, she seems to agree with him despite the torn expression on her face, and they run downhill toward the beach. They run and run and run, and when they see Johanna and Peeta just up ahead, Finnick only has a brief moment to wonder why they didn't come after them when he runs smack into an invisible wall.
An invisible wall? This is just another hand on the clock, then. And until the hour is up, he and Katniss will be separated from the others.
The force of the impact sends his head snapping back, and when he rights himself, he lifts a hand to his nose and brings it away covered in blood. The pain is real and brings a tear to his eye, but it's not distracting enough when the birds descend in nearby trees. He watches them with dilated pupils, knowing in an instant what's about to happen.
They begin to scream.
He's already worked it out, knowing they'll be driven to insanity before the hour is up. Katniss tries to take out the birds, but the more she kills, the more that appear. With his nose gushing blood, Finnick simply gives up, curling his knees to his chest against the invisible wall and covering his head with his hands in a vain attempt to muffle the sounds.
Annie. Annie. Oh, Annie, I'm sorry…
Later, once the invisible wall has receded and Finnick and Katniss rejoin the group, she joins him again at the shore where he's woven another basket for water and crafted a net for fishing. He stands with the water up to his knees and waits for the fish to come and Katniss sits just a few feet away, happy with the mindless activity of cleaning his catches.
The sun sets, rendering fishing useless, so he takes a seat next to Katniss and helps her with the cleaning. He sniffles every few minutes, scrunching his nose and blinking – he's washed away the dried blood but the dull ache still remains.
"Katniss?" he asks after a long silence.
She pauses. He won't go on if she doesn't want him to.
"Yeah?" she finally responds.
"Do you think there's someplace we go when we die?"
She stiffens again, holding a beheaded fish in her hand as she glances at him. "What do you mean?"
"Annie thinks there is," he says, though the name probably means little to her. "She thinks there's more than just blackness. Nothingness. That there could be a whole life after death… that it could be perfect and safe, like dreaming."
He shouldn't be talking about this, not in the Arena, not in front of the cameras. But he just needs an answer. Any answer.
"That sounds nice," Katniss muses, her tone gentle. "I haven't thought about it much, I guess. Do you believe in nothingness?"
He shrugs. "The worse things get, the more likely it seems." The sun has almost vanished and he catches her eye with a half-smile. "But it would be a nice surprise. If there was more than nothing, I mean."
Katniss returns the smile with a shy one of her own. Quietly, she replies, "It doesn't seem like too much to hope for."
Johanna demands her dinner, so they pick up their baskets and head back to the beach. Finnick trails behind Katniss, smiling to himself. Something more than nothing. Maybe she's right – maybe it's not too much to believe in after all.
He can't stop the nightmares that night as they tear through his walls and suffocate him. He wakes with a bolt of lightning hitting the Arena, and he's sure he won't sleep again. He offers to keep watch until morning so that he can be alone with the torturous images of his Annie. So that he can plead for her forgiveness in the dark silence.
Another set of rolls is delivered by parachute in the early morning, same as the evening before: twenty-four rolls from District 3. Finnick counts them possessively and then counts them again, just to make sure. District 3 – the third day. Twenty-four rolls – midnight. Katniss watches him strangely but seems to forget about it as soon as he divides them equally and shares them with her and the others.
It's Beetee who begins to plan their attack on Brutus and Enobaria, the two remaining Careers from 2, by suggesting a complex scientific orchestration involving his coil of wire and a lightning bolt. Finnick isn't entirely sure he understands, but he trusts that this is what Beetee has been instructed to do, as the plan will unfold at midnight on the third day. He and Johanna exchange a glance, and when she nods in affirmation, he agrees to the plan.
Finnick helps Beetee while the others gather supplies and prepare, and as if they needed any more confirmation, there is another bread delivery in the afternoon. Twenty-four rolls from District 3. Yes, it will happen tonight, and Finnick is anxious beyond belief. So much can go wrong. There are still two Careers on the hunt for Katniss and Peeta and the rest of them, and they're a piddly problem compared to Snow and the eyes of the Capitol.
Night falls. Finnick jitters with excitement and fear when Beetee suggests that Johanna and Katniss unravel the coil of wire through the jungle and back to the beach. He senses that Johanna has a task to complete, too, and when she looks to him before departing with Katniss, he nods with a gulp. He's done what he can – now he must leave Katniss safely in her hands, because he doesn't know if he'll make it out alive.
Peeta is restless as they prepare the tree, always glancing over his shoulder and remarking on the length of their journey; that he hopes they'll make it back in time. Those musings soon turn into, "They should be back by now," and "I should have gone with them."
It worries Finnick, too, but they must not be distracted. Beetee, he realizes, is not really trying to kill the other tributes. It's made clear to him the more he helps with the preparations on the tree. No – Beetee is going to blow up the Arena.
It terrifies him at first. It doesn't become any less terrifying as his shaky fingers perform whatever duties Beetee asks of him, but Beetee is steady and sure, and Finnick chooses to keep calm. He is prepared for death. Beetee is prepared to complete his task. All they can do is trust that Katniss will be safely removed from the Arena before it implodes.
When he looks over his shoulder to ask Peeta for help, he realizes that the boy is gone.
"He went after her," Beetee says, eyes on the wire.
Finnick takes a few steps across the jungle floor before swallowing his instinct and convincing himself it's no use now. Just like Katniss, he protected the boy as best he could. In a few minutes, he'll probably be dead whether Finnick fetches him or not.
But he can't. He can't stand idly by.
"I'll be back!" he shouts to Beetee, and then he breaks into a run, downhill to the beach. He knows if he stays on the path, he'll find who he's looking for. He shouts their names over and over – Katniss! Johanna! – not caring who hears him. If Brutus is hot on his trail, he'll welcome the challenge.
He makes it more than halfway to the beach and then turns around at the sound of a cannon. He leaps up the hills, desperately hoping the cannon isn't for one of his own.
When he makes it back to the tree, the fanged tribute from 2 is there, and her knife has found Beetee. Where did Enobaria come from? Why isn't Brutus with her? Has he found Katniss? Johanna? The notion angers him so that he breaks into a blind run after Enobaria, trident clutched at his side. He'll kill her. Kill her for hurting Beetee; for ruining everything.
The storm has arrived. Lightning is threatening to strike, and it would be any moment now if Beetee was still alive, if the plan were to come to fruition. He doesn't know if that's possible. Was the cannon Johanna's? Was it for Katniss? And when will Beetee's cannon ring?
All he can do is keep chasing her, the demon from 2, in hopes that he'll either kill her or distract her from killing anyone else.
They come full circle. They race behind the wired tree. Finnick is close now; hot on her heels. With his trident at the ready, he steadies it in his hands. One thrust and it's done.
But he doesn't get the chance. Before he can strike, he's knocked off his feet. There's an explosion of light. A thunderous noise that deafens him. And when he hits the ground to see the sky raining down on him, all he can think are two triumphant words:
It happened.
So, I didn't get to update last week as I suspected. I'm hanging my head in shame. But I want to thank you guys for being so patient! This story will be coming to a close in just a few chapters, and I anticipate having it completed by the end of June at the very LATEST. If I'm able to update every Sunday in May (which has proven difficult with my workload so far, but it's what I aim for!), then it'll be finished by mid-June, tops.
I hope you are all experiencing gorgeous weather this Mother's Day and I promise to reply to all reviews this evening! Thank you again :)