A/N: Okay, three things.
One, sorry this is late.
Two, thanks for all the reviews.
I. ADORE. ALL. OF. YOU.
And Three, enjoy the chapter. :)
Movie quote of the day comes from . . . The Dark Knight Rises.
"My mother warned me about getting into cars with strange men." - Catwoman
Random Disclaimer: I do not own CF, though I do own a rather fantastic fedora; "Think you used enough dynamite there, Butch?"; "Why is the rum always gone?"; "Why so serious?"; "I'll get you my pretty! And your little dog, too!"; "I am Asneeze, father of Achoo."; "Dobby did not mean to kill . . . only to maim . . . or seriously injure."; "My precious!"; "Puny god"; "So that's what it feels like"; "Yeah, I can fly."; "There's only one God, ma'am, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't dress like that."; "Your skin is pale white, you dress fashionably, and you abstain from sex. . . I know what you are . . . Jonas brother"; "Snakes. I hate snakes."; "When you marooned me on that god forsaken spit of land, you forgot one very important thing, mate: I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."; "It's like Christmas, but with more . . . me."; "It's the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more."; "It's beautiful isn't it, Harry? The moon."; "Hang on, everybody! I wanna try something I saw in a cartoon once!"; "Well that's as clean as it will ever be."; "Slimy, yet satisfying."; "You may not like it Minister, but you can't deny . . . Dumbledore's got style."; "Over that boy hand!"; "Don't ever hit your mother with a shovel. It leaves a dull impression on her mind."; "Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya! You killed my father! Prepare to die!"; "There's a jungle cat in the bathroom!"; "Any guy can sweep a girl off her feet; he just needs the right broom."; "I suffer from aviophobia - it means fear of dying in something that flies!"; "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."; "I should have brought you a sedative."; "What's your secret? Mellow jazz? Bongo drums? Huge bag of weed?"; "My mother warned me about getting into cars with strange men."
Chapter 31
I can't decide which is worse. The pain or the itching. My blisters from the fog have scabbed over and they itch like hell. I glance over at Finnick and Peeta, seeing that they too are itching just as bad as I am, scratching at their faces. "Don't scratch," I admonish them, though I'm just itching to scratch at my skin as well. Wow, that was a bad joke. "You'll only bring on infection."
I'm sure this is the advice my mother would give. I focus on the fact that itching is synonymous healing. Healing wounds are always a good thing, especially in the arena. My hand drifts to my stomach without my permission. How have the events of the night affected the baby, if at all? The fog. The monkeys. The stress. Lack of a steady diet. My fears of miscarrying ignite within me once more, filling me with an urgency to do something. Anything that would be good for the baby.
Water. Water is always good. "You think it's safe to try for water again?" I ask, glad when my voice doesn't carry any of the urgency I feel.
Nonetheless, Peeta studies me for a moment, knowing that something is off. It's unreal how well he knows me, picking up on cadences or catches in my voice that I myself don't hear or even know exist. As we all stand to venture back to the tree Peeta was tapping before the monkeys attacked, he takes my hand and raises his eyebrows in a silent question. I shake my head, not wanting to worry him, but he seems to realize this and frowns. "I'm fine," I tell him, trying to sound as sure as I can.
Peeta seems to buy it. Either that or he's just leaving it alone for now.
Finnick and I stand guard as Peeta works in the spile. Each of us takes turns drinking our fill and allowing the warm water to pour over our itching bodies. We fill some shells with drinking water and then head back to the beach. Once we get settled again, the stress and exhaustion of the previous hours show, and all of us begin to sag and drag our feet.
Peeta lies on his back and closes his eyes. Out of all of us, he's probably the one who's feeling the worst. He's barely gotten a break since the gong sounded, fighting with Gloss, hitting the force field, running from the fog, and then our battle with the monkeys. It's a true testament to his strength that he was able to keep fighting throughout it all. However, despite his obvious exhaustion, I know that he will not allow himself to sleep until I'm lying beside him.
But I need to keep watch. Finnick needs his rest, too. "You two rest," I say. "I'll keep watch."
"No, Katniss, I'd rather," Finnick speaks up and I falter. His eyes are filled with tears and I remember how Finnick has suffered today as well, though his ailment is nothing that I can fix. After my talk with Peeta on the beach, Finnick came up for air only a few seconds later. He didn't say a word, just stayed in the water, where he was comfortable and at home . . . and most likely swimming in memories. Mags.
"Alright, Finnick." The least I can do is allow him to grieve in peace. "Thanks," I add, but I'm not thanking him for taking watch. I'm thanking him for saving Peeta.
Finnick doesn't respond, but I know he understands. I settle on the sand next to Peeta, who immediately pulls me into his arms. My eyes flutter closed as I drift off to sleep, listening to the sound of Peeta's heartbeat, and rejoicing in the fact that it's still beating.
I wake up hours later and immediately feel the need to vomit. Oh, this day is starting off great. I startle Finnick with my abrupt sprint to the sea, sailing past him without acknowledgment, and toss up everything in my stomach. Sensing a presence behind me, I look over my shoulder to see that Finnick has apparently followed me. His eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, but I pretend not to notice.
"That's gross," he says, cringing a little. "How do you deal with that?"
"It's a pain," I reply as I wash my hands in the water. I notice the blood caked under my nails. I must have been scratching my skin in my sleep. "But it won't last. Actually, it should be going away soon." The thought brings a small smile to my face as I do the math in my head. It's really odd how much knowledge you can learn without really trying. Just years of overhearing my mother and Prim have given me more information that I would have ever thought. I just have to take a moment and think. "I'm about twelve to thirteen weeks along."
"Hmm," Finnick hums. "When do you start getting fat?"
For the first time in my life, I think that I'm truly insulted. "Excuse you?" I raise my eyebrows, slowly rising to my feet and beginning to advance on him. "Did you seriously just ask me that?"
Finnick holds up his hands in surrender. "Just curious."
"I will not be fat." The idea is nearly as comical as it is ridiculous. A person from District 12 being fat. Ha. "I will be pregnant."
"You are pregnant," Finnick reminds me as he continues to back away from me.
"Fine," I snap. "I will be more pregnant."
"Now, that just doesn't make much sense."
"Yes, it does."
"Can't say I agree."
I draw my knife from my belt, pointing it menacingly in his direction. Finnick stiffens, but then adopts a lazy smile. "You know how to use that?"
"I could always use your face as practice," I retort. "A nice big scar to mar that pretty face."
"Aw, you think I'm pretty?" Finnicks says with a smile. "Careful, Peeta might get jealous."
The idea causes me to forget my ire at being called fat. Well, my ire at the allusion to the fact that eventually I will be fat. Peeta, jealous? Ha. "Peeta doesn't get jealous," I tell Finnick.
"Katniss, every man gets jealous," Finnick tells me knowingly.
I shake my head. "Peeta's different." We've made our way back to camp by now, and I finally take note of what I missed in my haste to reach the sea to retch. Finnick's fingers have not been idle in the night. Peeta lies under a low roof of woven grass and near where Finnick was sitting are grass-woven bowls filled with water and shellfish.
Knowing that I need to eat something, I pop a piece in my mouth. The meat is slightly sweet, different from anything I've ever had, but I like it. Finnick sits down beside me and begins breaking open more shells and popping the meat into his mouth.
"So Peeta doesn't get jealous?" Finnick asks me, reverting back to our previous conversation.
"Nope." I pop another piece of shellfish into my mouth. "Possessive, maybe. Especially when we're in the Capitol."
A light shines in Finnick's eyes. A haunted, very knowing light. I don't understand, but I don't question him. "I could understand why," he eventually says.
Our conversation is over after that, and both of us content ourselves with mutual tasks. Finnick keeps cracking open shellfish, and it might be my imagination, but it seems that he's using a bit more force than he was previously. What about our conversation bothered him? I busy myself with letting down my hair and running my fingers through it. The action causes it to thin out considerably, the fog having damaged it. As I braid it back, I entertain the thought of waking Peeta. I know that he needs his rest, and I'm hesitant to wake him, but he needs to eat something and the shellfish are better fresh.
Absently, I scratch at my itching skin. "You know, if you scratch you'll bring on infection," Finnick tells me smartly, speaking for the first time since our conversation abruptly ended.
"So I've heard," I mutter. Now that he's pointed out the itching, it quickly becomes unbearable, and it's all I can think about. It reminds me of when I was really young and had the chicken pox. My mother had me wear some of my father's gloves so my fingernails wouldn't do much damage. Well, I have no gloves now, and the urge to scratch is overpowering. After ten minutes of intense internal struggle, I break.
I get to my feet, look up balefully at the sky, and shout, "Hey Haymitch! If you're not too drunk, we could use something for our skin!"
The words are hardly out of my mouth before I see a silver parachute floating down toward me. Well, that's great Haymitch. Glad to see you could've sent this so much sooner, apparently. Sometimes, I wonder if he really cares about me. "Love you, too, Haymitch," I mutter under my breath, not caring if the Capitol's microphones pick me up. Let them see the bond I have with my mentor. Let them see how they're ripping my family apart.
Attached to the parachute is a tube of ointment. I grab it and unscrew the cap. My nose crinkles at the foul smell that immediately reaches my nostrils. Tar and pine needles. Odd combination and yet extremely potent. The ointment itself is a charcoal color, and I stare at it dubiously for a moment before squeezing out a small glob in my palm and then rubbing it into my leg. The sigh of pleasure that escapes me is involuntary. Like most Capitol remedies, the effects are immediate. Where the ointment has touched my skin, I no longer itch. It's wonderful.
Less wonderful is the sickly greenish-grey color it turns my scab-ridden skin. Oh, well. I'd rather be itch-free than pretty. Unlike Finnick, who is eyeing my ghastly-colored skin dubiously. "It looks like you're decomposing," he says distastefully, grimacing.
I toss the tube to him anyway, knowing that the rampant itching will win out over his desire to stay pretty. Finnick caves within thirty seconds and begins to slather his skin in the ointment. I can't help but laugh at the pained expression on his face. "Poor Finnick," I tease. "Is this the first time in your life you haven't looked pretty?" Honestly, the combination of the scabs and the ointment is horrifyingly hideous. We look like the walking dead.
"It must be," Finnick retorts. "The sensation is so incredibly foreign. How have you managed it all these years?"
I shrug. "Avoid mirrors. You'll get used to it."
"Not if I keep looking at you."
We busy ourselves with coating our skin in the ointment, taking turns rubbing it into each other's backs where our undershirts leave us unprotected. "I'm going to wake Peeta," I say as I stand.
"Wait, let's do it together," Finnick says with a mischievous smile. "Put our faces right in front of his."
I can't help but smile wickedly at the idea. I love scaring Peeta. His reactions are so funny. I nod my head quickly in agreement, and Finnick and I position ourselves so that our faces are hovering right above Peeta's, barely two inches of space between our faces and his.
"Peeta," I say in a soft, singsong voice, unable to keep myself from lightly trailing my fingers up his arm. "Time to wake up, Peeta."
Peeta's eyelids flutter open lazily, but immediately widen comically. "Gah!" He shuffles backward quickly, breathing heavily, trying to get his bearings.
Finnick and I have already collapsed in a fit of laughter, holding our stomachs. It feels good to laugh, considering everything I've been through the past twenty four hours. Peeta tries to keep a disdainful expression on his face, but it's a losing battle as his lips begin to quirk up in a smile. Eventually, he chuckles, though he eyes me with a look that says he only puts up with me because he loves me. I just smirk.
Just then, another parachute drops down from the sky, landing right beside Finnick. Attached to the chute is a loaf of bread, and by the green tint of the loaf I know that it's from District 4. Finnick turns over the bread in his hands in an oddly possessive way, but maybe I'm looking too much into things. Maybe he just realizes how precious it is. But all he says in reaction to its arrival is, "This will go nicely with the shellfish."
Peeta looks me from head to toe. "Going for a new look?"
"Ha. Ha," I deadpan before moving to sit behind him in order to rub the ointment into his shoulders. "It's for the itching," I explain. "Now you can be as ugly as me and Finnick."
Truly, we all look ghastly. The ointment has caused some of the scabs to peel, but I'm grateful for the medicine, not only for eradicating the itching but because it provides at least some protection from the hot sun. I guess that it's around ten o'clock, so we've been in the arena for about a day . . . and what a day it's turned out to be. Eleven dead. Thirteen alive.
Finnick, Peeta, and I eat the sweet shellfish with the salty bread and drink tons of water, making multiple trips back to the tree to refill our bowls. I make sure to stay as hydrated as I can, and I'm feeling much better about myself and the baby now that I've eaten and have a steady source of water. Now, I just have to avoid being killed by a tribute or a mutt.
I end up sitting in between Finnick and Peeta, an arrangement that I'm sure is not coincidence, but I can't find it within myself to be annoyed by their overprotectiveness—if there is such a thing when in the arena. I expect this from Peeta, but I'm mildly surprised by Finnick. Despite his accusation that I will one day be fat—I scowl—he really seems to care about me. And I know it's not because of my future involvement in the rebellion. Finnick doesn't strike me as the kind of man who follows blindly. Maybe he sees me as family, too.
I'm torn from my thoughts when I hear a scream. All three of our heads turn toward the direction of the sound. A wedge of the arena appears to be swallowed by a great wave of water that descends from the top of the slope with a roar toward the sea, drowning everything and everyone in its path. The wave hits the sea with such force, that despite being as far away from the wave as we can be, the surf still rises to our knees before retreating back, taking some of our possessions with it. However, between the three of us, we manage to snag everything before it's too far out to sea. Well, except our jumpsuits, but they're worthless anyway.
The cannon fires twice. Two more dead. Only eleven left now, eight of which are lurking in the jungle. Three of those tributes are Careers. I hope that Beetee and Wiress are still alive and that the two cannon shots we just heard weren't them. And where's Johanna? Despite the fact that she makes me uneasy and I still resent her for the 'posing nude' comment, I don't want her to die. Especially since she said that my child would be a fighter. I don't know why exactly, but that means a lot to me, coming from her.
I glance back behind me at the jungle. What I thought was a safe place is turning out to be a death trap. I know that eventually we'll have to move back into its depths and face its horrors, to either hunt or be hunted, but at the moment I'm perfectly content sitting on this little narrow strip of beach. Judging by the fact that neither Finnick nor Peeta has suggested that we move, I don't think they want to face the jungle either. Fine with me.
My eyes threaten to close as I lean my head on Peeta's shoulder. He has such nice shoulders. Nice and strong and broad and . . . pillow-like. Good pillow. Another thing about being pregnant. I tire quicker and sometimes nothing sounds better than a nap. This is one of those times.
I must not have drifted off for more than five minutes before I'm awakened by Peeta. "What?" I ask, slightly irritated that my respite was so brief. Peeta doesn't answer, placing a hand at the small of my back and steering me toward the jungle. Realizing that something is amiss, I don't ask anymore questions. We don't go far into the greenery, just far enough so that we can't be seen.
"What are they?" Peeta asks, his eyes trained on something in the distance.
I follow his gaze and see three figures stumbling around on the beach two spokes over. They're coated in a dark red, almost a rust color from head to toe. One of the figures is turning absently in slow circles, while a second is dragging the third onto the beach.
"Mutts, maybe?" I reply as I eye the trio. I begin to load an arrow, but I pause when the one being dragged collapses. The dragger stomps the ground in frustration and in a fit of temper shoves the one spinning in loopy circles to the ground.
Finnick and I arrive at the same conclusion at the same time. "Johanna!"
"Finnick!"
Finnick takes off running toward them, but Peeta and I take our time. "How are you today?" he asks softly. "Tired?"
"More than I should be," I reply with a huff of frustration. "It's annoying."
Peeta doesn't say anything. He simply takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. I love the fact that he knows when to shut up. His words can be so soothing and comforting, but there are times when I don't want to hear them. Like now. And I don't want it to appear to the Capitol that I'm more susceptible to their tricks. I don't want them to think that I'm weak just because I'm pregnant. If anything, I'm stronger and more determined than ever to live. I'm just as dangerous this year as I was last year.
My eyes focus on Johanna's two companions. "It's Wiress and Beetee."
"One of them doesn't look so good," Peeta notes and I leave his side to rush to Beetee, who still hasn't moved from his position lying face down in the sand.
As I kneel beside him and begin to look him over, I listen to Johanna speak rapidly to Finnick, "We thought it was rain, you know, because of the lightning, and we were so thirsty. But when it started coming down, it turned out to be blood—thick, hot blood. You couldn't see. You couldn't speak without getting a mouthful. We just staggered around, trying to get out of it. That's when Blight hit the force field."
"I'm sorry, Johanna," Finnick says, as I try to place Blight. No picture comes to mind. I don't even think he came to any of the training.
"Yeah, well, he wasn't much, but he was from home," Johanna shrugs. "And he left me alone with these two," she says nudging Beetee with her shoe.
I bite my tongue to keep from snapping at her. An even angrier Johanna Mason is the last thing I need to deal with, and Beetee requires my attention. "He got a knife in the back at the Cornucopia," Johanna continues. "And her . . ."
I glance up to see Wiress, who's still spinning in dazed circles, murmuring, "Tick, tock. Tick, tock."
"Yeah, yeah, we know. Tick, tock. Nuts is in shock," Johanna says snidely. This seems to send Wiress stumbling into Johanna, who shoves her violently to the ground. "Just say down, will you?"
"Lay off her," I snap, jumping to my feet, unable to keep quiet this time.
Johanna turns on me, anger making her brown eyes seem black. "Lay off her?" she hisses at me, but I don't flinch. "Why you—" Johanna raises her hand as if to slap me, but Peeta and Finnick interfere. Peeta steps in front of me as Finnick throws a now screaming Johanna over his shoulder and then tosses her into the sea, where he continues to dunk her underwater as she yells insults at me.
I ignore her.
"Peeta, can you take Beetee?" I ask and Peeta nods as he carefully picks up Beetee and carries him back to our little camp.
I go over to Wiress, who is sitting in the sand. "Tick, tock. Tick, tock."
"Wiress?" I kneel down beside her and gently take her arm. "Can you come with me?"
Wiress doesn't answer, but she doesn't fight me when I pull her to her feet and lead her back to camp. She's caked in a thick layer of blood, so I sit her in the shallows. The change doesn't affect Wiress, she just keeps murmuring, "tick, tock" every few minutes so I decide that she can hang out in the water on her own for a little while. I turn my attention to Beetee. Peeta has already unhooked Beetee's belt and I notice a heavy, coil of wire tied to it with a rope of vine. Wire. The wire. The wire that is somehow our salvation and the key to breaking out of the arena.
Peeta and I exchange loaded a look before we realize where we are. We can't afford to let the Capitol know that anything is amiss. I have to come up with a reason as to why the sight of the wire made such an impression on me. "I bet that's what he went to the Cornucopia for," I say. "Didn't he win his Games with a wire?"
Peeta nods. "Yeah. He set up an electrical trap." Peeta holds up the wire. "Maybe he was hoping to do the same thing this time around."
That's a solid excuse for our notice of the wire. Peeta and I don't linger on the subject. Attending to Beetee is much more important, but his suit is so caked with blood that it's adhered to his skin. We move him into the water, and after a few minutes we manage to get his jumpsuit off him. That's when we find that his underclothes are just as soaked with blood, so we have no choice but to strip him naked. The situation reminds me of last year in the arena when I had to strip Peeta naked because he was so caked with mud. However, unlike last year, the idea of a naked man doesn't bother me. Maybe it's because of all the naked men I've seen on my mother's kitchen table this year. You just kind of get used to it.
But I still can't deny that I'd much rather be stripping Peeta naked than Beetee.
We lay Beetee on one of Finnick's grass mats and examine the wound on his back. It's not near as bad as the gash on Peeta's thigh that I had to deal with last year. Beetee's cut is about six inches long, stretching from his right shoulder to below his ribs. It's deep, though, still oozing blood. And judging by the pallor of Beetee's skin, he's lost a lot of blood already. What can I use to staunch the blood flow?
Moss. I remember the handful Mags had given me to blow my nose. It's absorbent and soft and just what I need. I look up at Peeta, "I'll be right back."
I dart into the jungle before he can protest. I'm not being reckless. Besides, I can take care of myself, and I have my bow with me. I don't have to go far to search for the moss anyway. It seems to be a rather prolific plant, and in no time I have a handful of the stuff.
Peeta shoots me a disapproving look when I plop down next to Beetee, but I ignore him. I make a thick pad out of the moss and then cover Beetee's wound, securing the dressing with vines. Together, we move Beetee into the shade and get some water into him. "I think that's all we can do," I say.
"You're better at healing than you give yourself credit for," Peeta tells me, but I scoff. "Hey, you kept me from dying. Twice."
I roll my eyes. "I'm going to take care of Wiress."
Wiress is still sitting in the shallows where I left her. She doesn't resist when I take off her jumpsuit or her underclothes and begin to wash the blood from her skin. But her eyes do begin to reflect more and more fear, her murmurings of "tick, tock" becoming filled with urgency. I know that she's trying to tell me something, but without Beetee to translate, I'm at a loss. So I simply reply, "Yes. Tick, tock. Tick, tock."
This seems to calm Wiress and she goes back to her soft murmurings. I'm eventually able to wash the vast majority of the blood out of her jumpsuit and underclothes, and I gently ease her back into them. I buckle her belt around her waist, thinking that it provides at least some protection. I lead her back to camp, and sit her beside Peeta, who offers her some water that she gulps greedily. Satisfied that Wiress is taken care of, I return to the water and begin to clean Beetee's jumpsuit. I've just about finished eradicating every drop of blood from his jumpsuit when Johanna and Finnick reappear.
Johanna is shiny and clean and immediately plops down onto the sand and begins to drink water and feast on the tasty shellfish. I try and coax Wiress to eat with mild success while Finnick tells of our battles with the fog and the monkeys in an oddly detached voice, leaving out the most important detail.
Everyone offers to take watch to allow the others to rest, but in the end it's Johanna and I. Me, because I'm so well rested. Johanna simply doesn't want to sleep, despite having barely gotten an hour's worth since the Games started. I have no idea how she's still going. We sit side by side in silence for the longest time before Johanna speaks. "So how did you lose Mags?"
I frown at the reminder, hugging my knees to my chest. "In the fog." Memories of our run from the acid mist flit through my mind. The fact that I would have left Peeta to die to save myself will always cause me pain. And I will never forget the image of Mags running headlong into the fog before collapsing as the convulsions took over her body. "Finnick had Peeta," I continue, my voice soft. "I had Mags for awhile, but then I couldn't lift her. My legs weren't working, and Finnick said that he couldn't carry them both. She kissed him and ran right into the poison."
"She was Finnick's mentor you know," Johanna says harshly. "She was half his family."
"I'm sorry," I say, cursing the tears that enter my eyes. Damn hormones.
"Oh, don't cry on me," Johanna complains in aggravation. "I can't stand tears."
I snort as I wipe them away. "Neither can I," I reply. "But I can't really control them anymore."
It might be my imagination, but I think Johanna's face softens slightly. We're silent for a few more minutes, but in my mind I'm still running from the fog. Everything is so clear. The desperation I felt to get away and then the despair when I realized that I had to leave Peeta. My worst nightmare coming to fruition. I can't help but glance behind me, my eyes immediately finding Peeta and making sure that his chest still rises and falls.
"What else happened in there?" Johanna asks. She's more perceptive than I thought.
"What almost happened," I correct, before a shaky sigh escapes me. I turn to look at Johanna, studying her for a moment, wondering whether I'm going to answer her question fully. While I may not like Johanna, I do respect her. We're alike, in a way. Both of us carry a fiery determination that deserves to be acknowledged, and I don't see Johanna playing by anyone's rules but her own.
"At first, I wasn't carrying Mags," I tell her. "Finnick was, and I was running with Peeta. But he'd hit the force field—"
"He survived?" Johanna interrupts, and I shake my head sadly, a tear sliding down my cheek.
"No." My voice is soft. "He didn't. It took Finnick nearly five minutes to bring him back."
"Must have been scary."
"I can't remember being scared. I guess I was. All I knew for sure was that Peeta was dead, and my heart felt as though it had shattered into tiny pieces."
Johanna looks uncomfortable at my admission, so I swallow and get back to the story. "Anyway, Peeta was weak from the force field, so we weren't moving near as fast as we needed to be. The fog, it targeted our nervous systems. My arms started to spasm, but Peeta's legs gave out. He couldn't run anymore, and there was no way I could carry him . . ."
"So you had to leave him," Johanna finishes. "To save yourself."
"To save the baby," I correct, before turning away from her and gazing out at the sea, watching the bright light of the sun reflect off the water. "I love Peeta more than I ever thought possible . . . but I love our baby more." I return my gaze to Johanna, and she seems to be listening to me intently. "It makes me feel guilty. I love them both so much. And Peeta's no help at all," I add with a sad laugh as I wipe away another tear that's escaped me.
"He does have a noble streak," Johanna says, and though she says it in a distasteful way, I see the begrudging admiration in her eyes. "Let me guess, he doesn't mind dying to save you and the kid?"
"Not a bit," I answer with a sad smile, my hand finding my stomach. "But Finnick showed up at the last second. He saved Peeta, and, well, you know the rest."
Johanna and I fall into silence once more and I can't help but reflect on our conversation. I wonder of the reaction it got from the Capitol. It irks me that they're probably swooning over my words about the baby and Peeta, but at the same time feeling anguished that I almost had to choose between the two people I love most. Fickle people. But I still hope that they see my plight and question the Capitol. I hope that they question a regime that will send a pregnant woman to her death.
"Why'd you let yourself get knocked up?" Johanna asks, sounding angry and confused. "Not even a Victor's kid is safe from the reaping. And your kid? The kid of the star-crossed lovers from District 12? Bet they'd get reaped right when they turned twelve. Too good of an opportunity to pass up. See if the kiddo is as deadly as mom and dad."
There's the derisive Johanna Mason I know.
"I know," I reply. My respect for Johanna just soared, despite the fact that she just demeaned me. What she just accused the Capitol of isn't supposed to be acknowledged, and certainly not in a place like the Hunger Games. She's got guts. "Peeta and I discussed it, and I didn't want kids in the first place. I never have. I couldn't bear to see them reaped and be unable to volunteer. No parent should be forced to watch their child die."
"Safe to say the little guy wasn't planned?" Johanna guesses.
"Definitely a surprise." I rub my stomach. "A very, very scary surprise."
Johanna lets the subject drop, apparently having received her answers, but our silence doesn't last long.
"Tick, tock," I hear from behind me and both of us turn to see Wiress crawling toward us.
"Oh, great, Nuts is back," Johanna complains. "I'm going to sleep. You two watch."
Johanna gets up and then flops down onto the ground beside Finnick. I guide Wiress to lie in front of me and soothingly rub her arm. She falls into a restless sleep, occasionally murmuring, "Tick, tock."
I frown. Tick, tock. What does Wiress mean? Obviously, she thinks it's important, and if someone as smart as Wiress thinks that something is important, I'm inclined to believe her. What could she mean, though? Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
Suddenly, a great bolt of lightning cracks in the sky, hitting the massive tree that seems to tower above all the others in the arena. Just like last night, the lightning storm begins, right in the same wedge of the arena. I think back. The bell tolled twelve times and then the lightning began. Like it was midnight. And now, with the sun overhead, like it's noon. Lightning.
Tick, tock.
"Tick, tock," Wiress whispers, and suddenly I understand her.
I get to my feet and spin in a slow circle, eyeing each and every section of the arena. The lightning in one wedge and next to it would be the blood rain, where Johanna, Wiress, and Beetee were trapped. Peeta, Finnick, and I would have been in the third wedge, where the fog chased us. And then as soon as the fog disappeared, the monkeys came. Tick, tock.
And then at about ten o' clock, there was that giant wave. My head snaps toward that direction. Tick, tock. The lightning storm ceases and the rain begins in the next section. Tick, tock.
It all makes sense.
"Tick, tock. This is a clock."
Well, there you go! Hope you enjoyed the little extra with Johanna and Katniss. They're quite a pair, don't ya think?
So, in summary for this chapter: Finnick tells Katniss she'll get fat and plays in the water with Johanna, Katniss plays "Doctor" and gets hormonal after a heart to heart with Johanna, Johanna is continuing to pretend she doesn't have a heart in the first place but we all know she does, Wiress finally got Katniss to guess her hint for Catchphrase, Beetee is down but not out, and Peeta's shoulders are incredibly good pillows.
Quote from Come Rain or Come Shine comes from . . . Gale!
"I can see it in your eyes, Katniss. Half of you isn't here, and I know it's because of him. I'm not even going to pretend that I understand what you have with Peeta because I don't got a clue. But I do know that you can only live with half of yourself for so long."
Lots of love,
AC
