AN: I'm back! I wrote a whole lot of material over NaNoWriMo for this fic and hope to be editing it into story form on a regular basis for you. Missed you. Love you forever. Enjoy!
The next day I awake before daybreak in my own bed. Everything is too quiet compared to the background of my own whirring brain, which has not stopped spinning since yesterday's visit to the Seam with Haymitch and Cinna. Trying to go back to sleep is useless, even though I could use the sleep, having barely slept more than a few hours all night. So, as the morning light is just beginning to crown the District streets, I slip off to the woods to calm my storming mind. And to see Gale. Maybe my oldest friend can give me some perspective on this face-of-a-rebellion thing.
On my walk over I realize this is my last Sunday out here with him. Not "last" last, as it could've been in the Games - the tour's only for a number of days, two weeks or so - but next week this time I'll be on a high-speed train to who knows what District, fulfilling my duty on the Victory Tour. I still feel a sense of loss pulling at me, though, as I finish the tread to out our spot in the woods, almost as if I was about to leave for my Games, not knowing if I'd ever come back, but forcing myself not to think that way. Forcing myself to be strong, if not for myself then for the people I loved. That was always the easy part.
If there's one thing the Games have taught me, it's that I'm an expert at survival. First making it as long as I did in District 12, then getting out of that Arena alive. The world seems fit to break me though. I've lived through everything they've thrown at me, and still I have to keep fighting to stay alive. And now that means being the face of a revolution that I'm not sure I can support, knowing from experience that for some to survive, many must die. I'm still trying to grapple with that as I make my way through the familiarity of the woods.
When I break through the trees, I can see Gale's hunched form on the ground ahead.
"Hey," I greet him as I pad my way through the weeds of the grassy knoll that is one of our spots.
"Hey, Catnip," he greets me. For once Gale's not hunting, he's simply leaning back into the weeds blanketing the earth below.
I join him on the ground, and we sit in silence for a while. I'm drinking in the view, attempting to commit it to memory even now. My mind unfurls into blankness, yet I break the silence after a few peaceful moments. "Say goodbye to Sae for me," I speak, still looking out over the landscape and not at Gale except out of the corner of my eye as I finish, wanting to see his response in my periphery.
"Goodbye time, is it?" he asks, not looking at me either.
"Yeah..." I trail off vaguely. I realize that this isn't what I want to say to him, but this is how my subconscious is already thinking about the rebellion. About losing people, and fast. About saying goodbyes to the people I care about. For what - survival? What good is survival without the people that have made your life worth living?
None of this is not what I truly want to say to Gale either, but I do want to warm him up before breaking something as big as an uprising to him, so I further drag out the Sae conversation with, "I can't go back to the Hob since I've got a camera crew on my tail all the time."
"And how does that make things between you and Haymitch?" He looks my way, and though I'm not looking at him, I can tell he's smirking by the tone in his voice. I turn to him then, and sure enough, he's smirking like mad.
"Shut up, Gale."
He laughs, which fades into a silence. I'm looking out over the sprawling view again, shredding a weed between my fingers.
When he breaks the silence this time, there's a serious edge to his voice.
"Why are you acting like this is some big goodbye again? You're just going on a Victory Tour, Katniss. It's less than a month."
"Two weeks," I correct him, "About."
Stop wasting your words, Katniss! I inwardly shout at myself. Just say it! Why is it so hard to say?! I think it's because, once I tell someone about the uprisings, it will suddenly become real for me. Validate their existence, in a way.
"It's different this time," I say turning back to him, deciding to take the plunge. "There's something else. Some districts are…. the people aren't happy, Gale. Something in my Games made them think that they could speak out againt the Capitol, and there are…" I find myself at an increasing loss for words as I see Gale's eyes growing wide as saucers with each word I speak.
"Uprisings?" he whispers when he finally realizes I've stopped for good. His voice is hopeful, so desperately, strainingly hopeful.
"Uprisings," I finally articulate, as if it's a pill I'm trying to flick off my tongue. "They're small, but they're happening. In more than one District."
Gale slings himself into a squat and throws his arms around me.
"Uprisings!" His grip on me is hard and true, brimming with his reaction to this news. "I knew they'd happen again, I knew it was just a matter of time…" he pulls back from me, his hands remaining clasped on my upper arms, demanding information. "Where? What Districts? Katniss, do you know what this means…-!"
"Yeah, it means I'm the one responsible for it." I pull away from him, not wanting to look him in the eye; not after seeing his physical reaction, the pure relief, excitement, hope in his entire being because of uprisings that I can't even bring myself to talk about, let alone consider supporting as a spokesman like my Team - like Haymitch - wants me to.
"Katniss," Gale doesn't let go of my arms, but gives them a light tug as if to bring me back into the reality I'm avoiding. I know he wants me to look at him, but I'm not sure I want to hear what he has to say. It's because I know that Gale can be very convincing, and maybe I really do want to be a part of this uprising, even if it would put my family in more danger than ever. It makes no sense - didn't I enter the Games to save my sister? - and yet, at the same time, changing the way our District, our country, is treated... "You realize what this means, don't you? Things could change around here, around Panem. We can stand up for what we deserve as human beings, and stop living like animals caught in a live trap. If there are enough of us - enough Disrticts - we could do it, you know. You could do it."
"Why does it always have to be me?" I beg him for an answer, an out.
"Because you're so fucking brave, Katniss," he tells me. "Because you're a thoughtful and terrific fighter who's got a heart. You don't come across that every day."
He smiles his lopsided Gale smile at me, and my stomach starts to sink... He's affirming everything Haymitch and Cinna had said to me yesterday. He's making it seem like there's only one obvious plan of action, and making me feel like I'm up to taking it on.
"And what happens to Prim? My mother? You? They slaughtered Haymitch's family when he wasn't even trying to start a rebellion, so how can I justify-"
"Don't you dare worry about me during an uprising," Gale's smile gleams. "You know that's all I've been waiting for my entire life. As for Prim and your mom, they're stronger than they've ever been. I'd think you would've noticed the change after your... " He didn't finish his sentence, but I could fill in the blanks. "And I'll never stop looking out for them, you know that."
He was right. I had seen a change in my family after my return from the Games. I guess I'd always just thought of it as my changing, not theirs. Slowly, I turn my head to meet Gale's eyes.
"Thank you for that," I say. He nods solemnly, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
I move to push myself up off the ground, and find Gale doing the same. Before I take off, I turn to Gale and wrap him in a familiar hug. "For everything," I whisper against his shoulder, and I feel his body rumble an affirmation.
I leave the woods that day without even touching my bow, an answer taking shape in my head.
o0oOo0o
That afternoon finds me marching up the wooden steps to Haymitch's house, yanking open the front door and letting it clatter shut behind me. The way I enter the house already begins to portend my answer to Haymitch, who I find sitting on his couch, elbows on knees, hands clasped in a death grip in front of him. He scrambles to turn off the television and reposition himself when he hears my footsteps coming down the hall.
"What was that?" I ask him referring to whatever he was watching that was getting him worked up. I'm about to throw myself down on the couch next to him before I think better of it, settling for leaning against the wood detail on the wall instead.
"Nothing," he sort of whispers, not looking at me when he answers. I decide to let it be as I look him over, his back hunched as his elbows reconnect with his knees, one hand rubbing his forehead like he does when something's going wrong. I can't comfort Haymitch the way I want to, can't curl up next to him or wrap my arms around him or talk to him about what's really going on, not if there are cameras in here watching my every move. So I say the only thing that has a chance at making his disposition better - the conclusion I'd come to after my talk with Gale and the few hours following:
"I'll do it."
Haymitch looks up at me slowly, the realization dawning upon his face quickly replaced by a look of avid appreciation.
"Sweetheart," he says, unfolding himself and walking over to me, enclosing me in his embrace. When I begin to pull away, he lifts his hands to my cheeks, but, as if checking himself, lets one hand drop to my shoulder, the other simply clasping my neck in a gesture that he'd used before my Games to wish me luck, to bid me to stay alive.
"We didn't pressure you into it, did we?" he asks, suddenly serious.
"No," I shake my head in vigorous, short flicks like a stray dog shaking off rainwater. "I got to this point on my own. Well," I have to add after a moment's consideration, "not totally alone." I smile, my lips hovering closer to his. I can feel his light, pulsing breath on my cheeks, I can hear its growing raggedness, yet there is absolutely no way that we can let ourselves... Not when... Cameras... Yet the air, it is nearly crackling in the small space between us...
He steps away from me then, his hands burying themselves inside the pockets of his pants. "Well then," he says, before hurriedly trying to extract his right hand. "Shake on it, shall we?"
I am totally thrown by whatever Haymitch is trying to do here - seriously, what is he trying to do here? - but follow his lead as his eyes find mine and burn with intensity, as if really saying to me, c'mon, sweetheart, take the bait, this is important, and when I reach out my hand to clasp his, I feel a scrap of paper in his palm, transferring itself to mine.
That's it, sweetheart, just lie low...
"You've got my word." I continue to hold his gaze as our shake slows, until at last I pull my hand from his, paper resting casually in the slight cup of my palm as I lower it to my side, letting the sleeve of my jacket fall over my hand to cover it.
I stand awkwardly for a moment, wanting to do something, anything, that would keep me here longer, but I can't risk letting something slip if there really are Capitol cameras planted here like Haymitch warns me there are. "I should go," I finally say, turning away from Haymitch and wanting to sprint down the hall and out the door… but I force my feet to move at a normal pace, only looking back at Haymitch once I've reached the door and am closing it behind me. His eyes are turbulent. His shoulders are hunched. His hands are in his pockets. He is watching me leave when expectant begins to swell in his features. In the sleeve of my jacket, my fingers start to flatten the scrap of paper in my palm.
I close the door behind me. Halfway to my house, I slip the tips of my fingers out of my jacket's sleeve to read the note:
7:00
The Seam