A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review. :)
Most of what appears in the broadcasts comes from Canon and is the work of Suzanne Collins.
Apologies, hopefully temporary, for the strange spaces that have appeared in the text. Apparently having some formatting issues, hoping to get it resolved soon.
I'm woken by a soft knocking on the bedroom door. "What?" I grumble from under the blanket.
"There's a broadcast. Thought you'd want to see," Bear calls from the hallway.
"I'm up," I call back. I wrap the blanket around me and head down the hall to the front room, settling down on the couch next to Bear. On the broadcast, it looks like an early morning scene from the Capitol. "Is this live?" I ask Bear. We watch as a rebel troop sends a vehicle down the empty Capitol street, setting off the Capitol booby traps as it goes.
"I don't think so," he answers. "It started as a regular broadcast from the rebels. They just cut to this. It sounded like they came up with this new strategy sometime last night and have used it to open up paths toward the center of the Capitol."
After similar footage airs for several minutes, the screen returns to the rebel reporter. "Over the last twenty-four hours rebel forces have secured wide swaths of the Capitol and the front line squadrons are approaching the President's Mansion along three lines of attack. Our dedicated troops continue to push their way further into the city, though we are prepared for additional Capitol forces to move on these areas at any time. In the meantime, the Mockingjay squad remains silent and is presumed to be hiding out somewhere in the Capitol. News broadcasts will continue to update you throughout the day." The screen switches to a district reporter, who announces some local information before signing off.
"What do you think it means?" I ask Bear.
He shrugs in response. "Who knows? Sounds good anyway. Will you get to follow the broadcasts today?"
"Yeah, Naiya got a t.v. moved down to the store. We'll catch any broadcasts," I answer. Then I remember I still haven't heard about our friends. "Oh - any messages from Spinner?"
Bear shakes his head and sighs, "No."
I remind myself that there are plenty of reasons why Spinner wouldn't send messages. Maybe the communicuff is broken, or maybe command confiscated it. I refuse to think about the other reasons. It's too scary. Still I try to be upbeat, because Bear's got to be worried. "We knew it might not last. I bet they just didn't want people spreading rumors about Katniss. They're fine, they've got to be," I tell him, rubbing the palm of my hand up and down his back. The worry is written all over his face. When he turns toward me, I press my lips to his, hoping to clear his mind of it and bring him some comfort. I can feel his worried tension in the kiss. When I pull back, he reaches up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, cupping my cheek and leaning into me again. His mouth finds mine, and as he pulls me to him, I can feel his fear of losing them, and am scared by it. But after a few intense kisses, his lips soften until his kisses barely meet my lips. Eventually he seems to regain his usual calm, and all too soon I have to get ready for the day.
Naiya and I work at our local store for the day, helping Tad with distribution and keeping an eye on the broadcasts in addition to everything else. The later broadcasts show that the Capitol must have caught on to the unmanned car strategy and countered it. We still see a little of that, but the troops aren't so incautious following the vehicles as in the morning broadcast. Without Katniss and her squad, we're just shown shots of anonymous groups of soldiers with few close-ups.
Naiya hasn't heard from Rose either, and she's distracted with worry. Unexpectedly this makes me feel better; Spin and Rose were in different squads, so the way I see it the chances of something happening to both of them at the same time seem slim. Surely they are fine and just can't send messages for some reason. I try to reassure Naiya but she doesn't seem convinced. Fortunately for provisions everyone seems preoccupied with the war and none of the provisions centers report any trouble with distribution, so it's not late at all when Naiya and I finish up and head home. As usual now we walk together as far as her place, hug goodbye and I head home to Bear.
Bear looks tired; I don't think he slept well if at all but he apparently doesn't want to talk about it. He's a little more receptive than Naiya to my logic about Spinner and Rose, thankfully, and he's trying to put on a good front, but I can tell the worry over our friends is wearing on him. Soon his stress rubs off on me and we're both grumbling at nothing.
The evening broadcasts report that the rebel troops have almost reached the President's mansion at the heart of the Capitol, and that Capitol refugees from other areas are gathering in the same area. Officially they declare that the rebels want to wrest control of the Capitol from President Snow with as little bloodshed as possible. They call on the President to surrender, though I doubt anyone believes he will. There's no word from my friends, from district 4 or 12. Still, it seems like the end of the war must be near. The rebel troops have conquered every district and penetrated to the heart of the Capitol - surely there will be battles, but could President Snow possibly come back from such defeat? It's hard to keep from being optimistic about our future. Bear refuses to accept it, reminding me that we only know what the rebels choose to show us, and there could be a lot more to the story.
Annoyed with Bear's gloominess, I go to bed early. I want to stay up with him but right now I'm just mad. I figure he needs space and maybe I do too. It's not the first time we've taken the stress of the war out on each other.
The next day proves uneventful again and Naiya and I finish early despite our distraction. Bear's pessimism from the night before lingers with me. My worries - about Spinner and Rose and Johnny, about Katniss and Peeta and Gale, about Bear, about the war - it feels like an endless stream of doubts and fears and I feel exhausted by it all. In the few rebel broadcasts, things just seem confused. They show rebel troops fighting Peacekeepers, and huddled masses of Capitol residents looking for refuge from the battles being waged in their streets. Supposedly even the President's mansion is being opened up to refugees. I wonder if any rebels could be smuggled in with the throng, if they' re even trying it.
When I return to the apartment in the evening, Bear must hear me come in because he comes out from the bedroom only minutes later. I'm immediately defensive, but there's no reason for it.
"Sorry," Bear says, hugging me. "I shouldn't be so cynical." I am not sure he wasn't right to be so cynical, but it's a relief all the same to feel his embrace.
"I'm sorry too," I tell him as I press my cheek to his chest. A few tears drip down my cheek and I take a deep breath to stop any others, soaking in the warmth from his arms.
After a moment's pause, Bear admits, "It's just ... I should be there, you know? I feel like ... I don't know," he sighs. I realize then how much he wants to be in the Capitol. He's either been careful not to let on to me, or I've been oblivious to it. He's never revealed it before, but of course he wants to be there, fighting alongside his friends. I, on the other hand, am glad to be far away from the battle. All the same, I can relate to what he is feeling. I know we're both doing good work here in district four, but with the war, my work has seemed insignificant. I've wished not to go into battle, but that I could be doing something serious to help the rebels.
"I know," I tell him. "I hate this. I feel so helpless sometimes." His hand moves to my hair, holding me to his chest for a moment before he pulls back and kisses my forehead.
I pull Bear to the couch to watch the evening broadcasts. I'm curled up into his side, his fingers absently combing through my hair, when the screen changes and one of the regular rebel reporters is onscreen, looking breathless. She announces first that the rebel troops have reached the center of the Capitol and the area immediately around the President's mansion. She explains that the area is filled with Capitol refugees, but also with the deadly pods that have booby–trapped the rebels' paths into the Capitol as well, and that many of these pods were triggered throughout a day of fighting, the first sign that the Capitol had no regard for who died in the struggle. After a warning that the evening's footage is graphic and children should be prevented from watching, the screen changes. There is some chaotic video footage of the triggered pods letting loose their various traps in the midst of the refugees. A knot forms in my stomach; I'm not sure how to feel about it. On one hand, more innocent people dying seems like just another sign of the President's evil. But on the other hand, are they really that innocent? These are the people for whom the Hunger Games have been "entertainment" - the people who bought Finnick's affections, and who have lived their lives in willful ignorance of what life in the districts is like. I won't celebrate their deaths, but should I really mourn them either?
I'm pulled from my thoughts by the words of the reporter. "Despite these attacks on rebels and citizens alike, the rebels penetrated to the very doors of the President's mansion, where they were witness to even more of the Capitol's senseless carnage. We now bring you footage of the events earlier today. Again, these images are extremely graphic and may be very disturbing. Please be advised, young viewers should not bear witness to these atrocities." I look to Bear and he shrugs, his eyes looking inquiringly back at me. Silently we agree we are both watching, and I turn back to see the screen change to a mobbed square with the President's mansion central in the shot, which appears to have been filmed from a roof top. The square is an absolute mess of refugees and Peacekeepers; it's far too wide a shot to make out any individuals. The voice of the reporter brings our attention to the mass of children inside a concrete barrier surrounding the President's mansion, explaining that the rebels understood these children would be expected to find refuge in the mansion. We watch as a hovercraft appears in the sky, releasing clouds of silver parachutes from its hold doors, which are emblazoned with the Capitol seal. The parachutes float down toward the children, who grab at them excitedly. In a flash, the hover craft disappears from the sky, and as the last parachutes drift into the waving arms of the children, there is a series of explosions. They are centered there with the children, where our attention is focused. The bodies on screen are torn apart. The snow of the square is stained red. I shudder involuntarily, wishing I had not watched.
But the footage is still playing, and I have to see why. The Peacekeepers around the concrete barrier are pulling it aside, with great effort, making a path to rescue survivors. A flood of white coats flow through the opening of the barrier, medics to tend to the wounded. The uniforms look much like Johnny's, from what we can see on screen, and I wonder if these are rebel medics, not knowing what a Capitol medic might look like, or which side of the war is more likely to have medics in the area.
The white coats rush in and immediately begin tending to the children. I wish the footage would end, as the bloody red stains on the square and the snow are making me feel sick to my stomach. I'm not sure why they're still showing it. My attention starts to drift around to the other parts of the square, thinking perhaps rebel or Capitol troops may flood onscreen at any minute, and trying to guess where they will come from. The second wave of explosions much larger than the first catches me completely off guard - me, and apparently everyone in the square as well. I jerk in surprise, unable to pull my eyes from the screen. My stomach twists at the cunning and devastating attack wrought by the Capitol hovercraft. Fire erupts from the area around the earlier explosions and shoots out across the screen. Burning bodies flail through the square. When the fireballs diminish, there are still people and possessions burning in the square. The area where the children, and medics, had been, is blackened and empty, almost as if everything that close to the bomb s simply vaporized. I can feel tears in my eyes as I gasp, "How could they ... ?"
"Johnny! Oh God..." Bear cries in a strangled voice. His arms tighten around me and I can feel his body tense with feeling.
I turn to him, horrified at the thought. "We don't know that," I say quickly. "Maybe he wasn't there." I can see the pain in his eyes when he looks toward me. I refuse to even consider the possibility. I take his face in my hands, and insist again that we don't know Johnny was there. I wrap my arms around him. The reporter is talking again, and though I'd tuned her out until now, Bear turns back to watching the screen intently - almost desperately - so I turn my attention back to the broadcast as well. The reporter is saying that the remaining Peacekeepers in the square appeared as shocked as the other observers, and the square is now in the control of rebel forces. She also confirms that we did see rebel medics rushing to help the injured children before the second set of explosions. The pit of fear and hatred in my stomach grows. Bear pushes to his feet and paces angrily, his eyes flashing dangerously. Still reeling from the broadcast, I worry for what he's feeling, for what he might do. I'm not worried for myself, I am sure he'd never hurt me, but for him.
"There's nothing we can do," I tell him, quietly, hating the words but not knowing what to say. Over time, his pacing slows. "Hey," I say, "It'll be okay. We'll get through this." I am thinking of our earlier conversation, feeling powerless and sure he is feeling the same. He turns abruptly from pacing and collapses in to me, wrapping me in his arms again.
We fall asleep together on the couch. Over the next two days, we struggle to contain our emotions, which swing from fear for our friends to elation at the rebels' progress. The broadcasts are full of good news, Peacekeeper surrenders and rebel control of more area. It's reported that the Mockingjay and her allies are alive, that she was in the square outside the President's mansion and is recovering from serious burns from the second explosion. Any remaining fight left on the side of the Capitol seems to be gone. The evening of the second day, it becomes official. President Snow is broadcast surrendering to the rebels and being taken into custody. I pull Bear out into the streets, joining the crowds gathering in the city squares despite the cold, rebels like us celebrating our victory and the end of the war.