AN: It's been a while, and, as usual, I regret keeping you waiting. However, this story was going too slow and not in the direction I wanted it to as I kept trying to write and rewrite this chapter, but now, we're finally headed in the right direction! A shout-out to all of you still reading and reviewing; I usually write fics as sprints, but this has turned into more of a marathon, and we've got a ways to go. Thank you for sticking with me! *all the love*. To those joining me recently, welcome aboard, and don't be afraid to review your heart out, as well as give me criticisms, points of improvement, and plot predictions. I love to see what you're thinking, plus your words make me a better writer.
As usual, disclaimer in that I am not Suzanne Collins, the real mastermind. I just make her characters love the wrong *coughRIGHTcough* people :)
As a brief reminder in case it's been a while...
Recently, Katniss and Haymitch have declared their love for one another. However, growing dissension from Peeta and suspicions from Katniss's mother keep things on the DL. Meanwhile, Effie, Cinna, and the Capitol's many crews have come back to District 12 in time to get some footage - of Peeta and Katniss heating things up, to be exact - before the upcoming Victory Tour.
Screams 13
Our arms linking us together, our human chain of Cinna, Haymitch and I weaves its way through the pelting blizzard of snow. I'm not sure where we're going, nor can I see through the heavy snow whipping into my face, but before I know it we've reached my old neighborhood - we're back in the Seam. I briefly wonder if Cinna has ever actually been to the Seam before, but it's not really worth talking about since he can't really see the place this time anyways. I'm not sure what the purpose of being here is exactly, but realize that Haymitch has been leading us as he slips purposefully down alleyways and obscure pathways, cutting through the snow and then breaking off from our chain of arms to go ahead solo. Immediately after he leaves a chill rushes through me, and though it's because of the coat I'm not wearing, I look to Cinna before rushing off to follow. I almost run into Haymitch as I come upon him pushing his shoulder to a front door a few yards ahead.
"Haymitch, what are you..."
But then he bursts into the door, and swings out an arm motioning me to get inside. I'm frozen in place on the doorstep.
"Well?" he prods, wanting to get me inside.
I want to stand my ground, have him stop treating me with mystery and chivalry, but the cold gets the better of me and I trudge inside, Haymitch and Cinna close behind.
Haymitch slams the door shut behind us, sliding the lock into place before turning back to face us, rubbing his hands together and blowing into them to create heat.
"Where are we?" I question.
"The Seam," Haymitch answers, eyes focused on warming his hands.
I narrow my eyes. "I know that, but where -"
Cinna pipes up. "What Haymitch doesn't want to say is, this is his old house."
For a minute, I'm dumbfounded. It has to be traumatic returning to a place once inhabited by people you loved, only to come back to their ghosts. But the feeling soon leaves me and a more pressing issue takes over... If this is Haymitch's old house, that means it is probably bugged too, or at least was at one time, right? "But won't the Capitol..."
"You don't think they know about everything, do you? That they have the resources to bug every place in the District?" Haymitch spits out.
Lately I've been feeling like the Capitol is omnipotent, so I don't answer, just scowl in response.
"Okay. So what's the game plan?" I ask finally, folding my arms into myself and shivering in the cold as the house, now abandoned for a good 24 years, lets the draftiness in. Yeah, I definitely shouldn't have ripped off my coat then gone running off into a blizzard.
"You idiot," Haymitch says as he moves to take off his coat to give to me.
"I don't need your coat," I say raising an arm in protest, but my teeth chatter, completely destroying my case as I try to be self-sufficient.
"Ha!" He spits. "Clearly you do. Maybe our brilliant stylist could've dressed you in something more weather-appropriate today."
"Au contraire, I did my job, its life was simply too short-lived," Cinna shrugs. "Life of a designer."
"Take it," Haymitch holds his jacket out to me.
"No."
"Goddamn it, woman," he says shrugging it back on, "do you want to catch hypothermia?" He strides over to me then, steps in behind me and opens up the sides of his jacket only to wrap them around my body. I shiver again, this time at the sudden warmth his body is radiating towards me.
"You're like a friggin icicle... A stupid friggin icicle," he mutters as he buries his nose into my hair.
"I am a little cold," I admit in a mutter, still shivering as I acclimate to his sudden warmth. One of Haymitch's hands is pulling the edges of his coat around me, and I wrap my fingers around his, and he plants a kiss to the side of my head.
Cinna clears his throat, bringing us back to attention.
"Oh, shove off," Haymitch jokes, but shifts his stance and pulls his nose out of my hair, opting to perch his chin on my shoulder instead.
"While I just adore watching you two love birds together, the sooner we get this hashed over the sooner we can get out of here."
"Touche," I shiver.
"That being said..."
"Katniss," Haymitch cuts off Cinna, grumbling urgently into my ear. "There's something you need to know about."
"Oh please, this is not the time to air your dirty laundry, Hay-"
"Oh, he is quite serious." Cinna is crossing his arms and touching his chin, the way he gets when contemplating serious matters. That's when I know I should listen up.
"We've got a problem on our hands. And it's not about the Victory Tour or you and the boy, or even you and me. This is bigger than everyone here in 12. It's about all of the districts - all of Panem - and the Capitol." I'm looking at Cinna while Haymitch talks into my ear, gripping my shoulder for meaning. I'm trying to piece it together... what, what is he trying to tell me? That the Victory Tour is more than a Victory Tour? That I can stop pretending Peeta and I might have a spark? That I don't have to go on the Victory Tour at all? The shadowed look in Cinna's eyes tell me I haven't got it yet, because I'd be reacting differently if I had.
"Sweetheart," Haymitch finally says, "we have an uprising on our hands."
I feel my mouth open in a slight and silent gasp. Uprising. The first thing that passes through my mind at the word is the video they play every year at the Reaping, the footage of the uprisings and the Dark Days and the stone-cold voice narrating, the images of destruction, of screaming children... My mind immediately switches to Gale, to how he's talked of rebellion for so long, of escape, of standing up to the Capitol and their sick, twisted ways... How, if he were the one receiving this news, he'd feel like his life finally meant something…
Cinna was right, I am reacting. Why? Because it means something to me, this uprising. It means something might finally have the chance to change. I'm immediately filled with a mix of fear, apprehension, and panicky joy.
"Other districts?" I ask, my voice quiet as if I can't quite believe it. Everything suddenly seems surreal, like I can't quite see straight, and everything looks a little blurred around the edges. "How many? Which ones?" I turn and grip onto Haymitch's arm, staring up at him, searching. I suddenly start to feel desperate, jumpy, terrifyingly anxious as my mind replays the Capitol's yearly footage of fire, bombings, destruction... but I imagine it in 12. "How many people have... are...?" I can't even finish my question because, suddenly, a bigger, even scarier thought hits me.
"It doesn't matter," Cinna says, walking over and putting a hand on my back. "It has begun, and there's no going back. The people of Panem are making their choices." I barely hear him, though. I know why they're telling me this. Not just because I might think it's great or something, but because of who I am. Who I've become. I'm the "Girl on Fire." Tributes don't often get nicknames for no reason; and usually, the ones that do get killed off in the Arena: The arena that I managed to manipulate my way out of. Girl on Fire... I think. That must mean my image... My personal rebellion... Has somehow been conflated into a connection with these uprisings.
"It isn't a coincidence that these uprisings are happening right after my Games, is it?" I finally say.
The look that Cinna and Haymitch give each other is as much confirmation as I need.
"So the Districts see two kids fake a romance and they start an uprising over it?" I ask spittingly. I revert to speaking drastic nonsense sometimes when I'm feeling defensive. For instance, "I volunteer as Tribute". Regardless, I wonder how much truth there is to it: The fact that there are two surviving Victors is the most rebellious act I participated in. And it wasn't because I loved Peeta, not in the way everyone thinks at least, but will that image, that connection, have its hold on me for the rest of my life? And just as I'm finding peace in Haymitch?
"You were a catalyst," Haymitch tries to explain, taking me by the shoulder and turning me to look him in the eyes, like he does when he feeds me strategy. "Life in the Districts, especially the outer ones, has been shitty for quite a while now, as you've lived through. You gave people hope with the star-crossed lovers act, sure, but you did something much bigger than that."
"I know, I know, the stunt with berries," I cut in. "But I didn't do it because I'm in love with Peeta! I did it because I couldn't stand the thought of him dying in there! That's different, you know?"
Haymitch slowly nods his head. "Yeah, I get it. But do you know what this looks like? What this makes you?" he asks earnestly.
I nod, staying silent for a minute as I look at the floor. "It makes me a problem," I eventually mutter.
I feel Haymitch's fingers beneath my chin, slowly raising my head up to meet his eyes.
"It makes you the face of a rebellion."
"But what about this?" I ask fervently, pointing a finger between the two of us and motioning.
"Sweetheart," his tone grows hard, with that lick of mischief I've become accustomed to, "I'm trying to tell you about an uprising and you're worried about me?"
"Duh," I respond. "Because, what you're saying is..." that I still had to be with Peeta. Right?
"What I'm saying is, we have a plan. More than anything you just have to show solidarity with the boy during this Victory Tour. When it comes down to it, the important thing is that the people in the districts are more interested in how you stood up the Capitol than how you're in puppy love with some teenager. What they care about is how you stayed true to your district and did good with your power in that Arena. Now you just have to do the same as a Victor."
"And us?" I ask Haymitch.
"Well this doesn't exactly leave us kissing and telling, but it certainly doesn't leave you backed into a wall either, which is where the Capitol wants you. We just can't let the choice between Peeta and I be an option. We need to be a team. Solidarity, remember."
I nod, slowly, keeping an eye on Haymitch. Solidarity...
"But I've already been playing up some fake romance to Peeta on the cameras," I argue. Honestly, why did I - why did everyone - think that was the only option up until now?
"I know," Haymitch nods, "Just leave that to me. I've known Effie long enough to be able to pull a few strings."
I must look as doubtful as I feel, because Haymitch suddenly takes my hand and curls my fingers into his so he can lay a row of kisses on my knuckles. "Hey," he says, "stop worrying about everything."
I don't say anything, just vaguely look anywhere but at Haymitch. I know I shouldn't be as melancholic as I'm feeling right now, but considering that Haymitch lost everything - everyone - he loved just because he used his Arena's force field... It makes my own future look like it'll be heading the same way, especially if I go through with this "face of a rebellion" thing. It's not something I wanted to compromise on - Panem desperately needs this rebellion - but at the same time, I sure as hell didn't want to compromise the lives of my loved ones.
My eyes focus and I realize I'm looking at Cinna as he peers out the window.
"We should get going," Haymitch finally says. "Here," he continues, shrugging off his coat for the second time and shoving it at me. "Take it for the walk home."
This time I don't turn it away.