A/N This takes place during the events of Chapter 22 in Mockingjay.
Mockingjay (pg 301) A single word. Echoing throughout the tunnels. One word. One name. Repeated over and over again. "Katniss."
"Have you eaten?" Her voice penetrates the fog that I've slipped into since we first entered the tunnels. We had been following Pollux for hours through the dank twists and turns. I had wryly encouraged him when we first took refuge in the underground. Castor had revealed that his brother had worked in this wretched place for five years before managing to buy his way out. For a brief instant, I felt whole again. The laughter and half-hearted smile from Pollux pulled something out of me that I thought had long since withered and died. The Capital had been thorough in its efforts to eradicate everything that defined who I was. It turned me inside out and I'm still finding my way back. This realization bears down on me as I trudge between Gale and Jackson, following Pollux through the dark.
We spent hours in the misty gloom, dodging Avoxes, cameras, and mutts before she finally called a halt. It's three in the morning and walking combined with the pressing weight of what I've become has left me exhausted both mentally and physically. I lay down with the others but my eyes won't close. I can only stare at the flashing lights and listen to the soft breathing of those around me. I don't know how much time passes before she stirs and sends Jackson to bed. She eats and talks quietly with Pollux as they examine the Holo in an attempt to discover the safest passage. I stare blankly at the wall but let the sound of her voice wash over me. It comforts me. I feel safe just listening to her, knowing that she's close by. That, at least, is one thing the hijacking didn't change.
My mind registers that she's asking me whether or not I have eaten. Wordlessly, I shake my head and she hands me a can of soup, retaining the lid. I chug the contents, hiding my smirk behind the motion. She is oblivious about so many things. Her thoughts were clearly written on her face when she palmed the lid. She thinks that I will harm myself if given the opportunity. She's still trying to protect me even after all this time. When I'm finally finished eating, she questions me about the shiny memories. I don't want to discuss this in front of Pollux but can't leave the inquiry unanswered. I can't do that to her. "I can sort certain things out. They have a pattern. The altered memories are too intense. They are shiny and tend to shift and change."
"So you can sort out what's true and what's not. That's good, isn't it?"
She eyes me carefully but takes the can when I down the last bits and hand it back. "If you say so. And if I could grow wings, then I could fly. Only I can't grow wings. Real or not real?" I whisper.
"Real," she returns. "But people don't need wings to survive."
I smile sadly, "No, they don't. But mockingjays do." She stiffens and then gestures feebly; telling me that I should get some sleep. I lie down and rest my head on my folded arms. Her hand finds my face and brushes the hair back from my forehead. I freeze before I can stop myself, sure that the voices will be screaming for her blood at any moment. I'm surprised that the only reaction it brings is a skim of gooseflesh that dances on my arms and down my spine. "You're still trying to protect me. Real or not real." It comes out as a low whisper. I'm almost certain that she doesn't hear.
My heart thuds in my chest when she mouths back, "Real. That's what we do. We protect each other." She continues to absently smooth back my hair. It's the first time since the Quell that she's touched me of her own free will. My eyes close of their own volition and I slip into sleep. I don't know how long I'm out before something shakes my arm. My eyes fly open to meet Pollux' blue ones. He nods and then makes his way to Cressida. I see her moving amongst the others gently shaking those awake who have managed some form of rest. She pauses and glances around, cocking her head as if listening. I strain my ears but am unable to pinpoint what has caught her attention. Her expression grows more and more focused as her eyes search the tunnel. I see them widen at the same moment my ears register the low, almost inaudible sound. It comes in quietly, a low hissing whoosh that seems to ebb and flow. It sounds like a steam escaping a pipe. It sounds almost like breathing. She waves at the group, gesturing for silence. Then I hear it, and the blood freezes in my veins. One hissing sound broken into two drawn out syllables. The first comes hard, caught in the throat and hastily spit out. The second slips off the tongue smoothly. The breath releasing, the end rolling free. Repeated over and over. Calling her name. Katniss. Kat-nisss. Kat-niiissss.
It hits me with the force of a tribute train. One moment, I'm listening to the sibilant rasping and the next the world goes black. My breathing slows down and stutters...then races to catch up with the panting whispers that seem to echo throughout the chamber. She hastily scans the surrounding areas, her eyes wide and frightened. Her eyes fall to look disconsolately at me and she staggers back, bow coming up to aim unerringly at my head. I realize then that the reverberation is coming not from the sound enhancing qualities of the stone walls enclosing us; it's coming from me.
My mouth is moving as I unconsciously repeat her name over and over again. It pounds in my head, ricocheting backward and forth; demanding that I join them. Hunt her down. Rip her apart. Tear her to shreds. Cut and carve until no trace of her remains. I feel myself split, one part abhorrent at the action I am considering and the other eager for the sight of the light leaving her eyes. Katniss. Katniss. Katnissss. The avalanche of sound and emotions push me down and roll over me like a tidal wave. End it now. End her. It will all stop if she stops. Help them and I can finally be free of this poison that invades every corner and crevice. I can be me again. I feel myself moving, climbing to my feet and shuffling toward her. My intentions are as clear as the words that fall from my mouth. The arrow aimed at my head means nothing. It's a futile last resort that will buy her moments only. They will be here before she can finish me. I only have to keep her occupied until they come. Then and only then will it finally be over. She will be gone. I will be free.
The snap back to reality comes like a spring that has been stretched taut and then recoils on itself. The release brings total chaos to what's left of my mind. I freeze and sit up abruptly. My eyes widen as they take her in, standing at attention; bow drawn back and arrow trembling as it awaits flight. My breath comes in short spurts and I raise my hand to stay her. "Katniss," her name slips free but this time it's me speaking and not the monster that he made me. My head jerks toward her. The urgency is still there but the reason behind it has changed. I have to get her out of here. She has to move now. There is no time. "Get out of here!" I shout. My throat spasms as I force the words past the knot that has lodged in my throat. "Go now!"
She hesitates. Damn her and her stubbornness. For once, I wish that she would just listen and do as I ask. Not her. Not Katniss Everdeen. She stands her ground, bow lowered but still ready to let go at a moment's notice. "Why? What is making that sound?" What the hell does it matter? She knows that they are coming. She knows that she is the target. She knows that I'm one step from joining them. The urge to take her head hasn't left me. I'm able to put it aside. The hold is tenuous and fleeting. I know that the break can happen again. It's only a matter of time. Why won't she just go? Why does she have to make everything so damned difficult? My eyes find Gale's in the half-light. I beg him silently to just take her and go. Useless bastard. He stands there, fingering his bow and watching me warily. The choking wheeze that makes up her name continues to rebound in the tunnel. She has to go. She can't go... Ebony ribbons twine through my mind, flailing and flaming my awareness to a fever pitch. Hunt her down. Save her. Kill her. Kiss her. Hold her in my arms. Hold her here. The knife edge I stand on quivers beneath me and I can't move.
"Go! They're here to kill you!" I grate out as I grab on to the few fleeting remnants left of myself. "Run! Get out! Go!" My voice is no longer quivering. It's weak and thready, but not crazy. I've managed to find some semblance of strength in the act of falling apart. I cling to it and ride the waves of madness swirling around me. "Go!" I shout again! Hell and fire! What is it going to take to get this girl to move? She lets go of the bow, letting the string go slack and then offers to act as bait. My fists clench and I furiously seek Gale's eyes once more. He sees my anxiety and frowns. Finally, I think to myself. He declares that he won't be separated from her and my relief is palpable. If I fall, she will still have someone to watch her back. Even if it is from me. They shuffle the available weaponry until everyone is armed. Except me. Not that I blame her. Hell, I was practically chanting her name along with whatever is following us. I'm not trustworthy. I am more apt to use the weapon against her rather than to protect or defend.
We make our way out of the room, glancing around hesitantly as we enter the main thoroughfare. They have to be tracking us through scent. It's the only explanation. It's a flimsy hope that the stench of the sewage will mask our passage. They have been made for one purpose: to track Katniss. The moment they found Boggs in the rubble and realized that we had survived, they would have pulled out every available option to make sure that the Mockingjay was neutralized. Snow couldn't risk letting her run loose. She had stirred up too much trouble already. He would have been prepared for every contingency. He won't leave things to chance. Clearly, whatever is following us has been held in reserve for a long time. What else could explain my urge to join them? I was programed to help them. I'm a puppet still dancing on Capital strings. I've managed to cut a few but there are more not as easily detected. Nor will they be so lightly shed. Whatever is back there will be engineered to scare her, unhinge her. He will want her to bolt for the first convenient exit. I follow blindly, closing off as much of my attention as possible. I can't afford to let them distract me again. I might not be able to come back this time.
She's falling into his trap and there is nothing that I can do to stop it. She has let haste and terrors govern her path. She is leading us frantically toward the promise of a safety that will kill us all. We're making too much noise to pass through unheeded. Voices carry, guns bang against low hanging objects, and boots scuff on stone. Distant screams begin ringing through the tunnels causing steps to falter and heads to turn. Memories gained in the white surround me. Flashes of blue ring my vision. The phantom scent of burning flesh and hair scrunch my nose. Pollux clearly knows what is happening just as well as I do. His white face and clenched fists are testament to that. He meets my resigned look with a hopeless one of his own. Since he can't give it voice, I take up the task. "Avoxes. Darius made those sounds when they tortured him. They made me listen as they took him apart. I couldn't help him. I had to hear him die." Tears roll unnoticed down my face, overlooked by all but one. Pollux reaches out and grabs my hand. I squeeze it back in silent thanks and then let him go. He looks at me with entirely too much understanding. "Listen," I choke out softly. The screams go silent and the whispers resume. Her name floats uninterrupted through the tunnels. They are on our trail now, on a lower level and still behind us but gaining steadily.
We begin to run, following closely on Pollux's heels as he leads us to a stairwell. Katniss is directly behind him, glancing intermediately at the Holo clasped firmly in her hand. They have paused briefly to examine the route when she bends over, gagging and choking. Jackson calls for masks but she is the only one reacting. "Roses," she gasps. The others look around confused. There are no blooms, no perfume, nothing to pull that observation from her. I'm the only one who winced in sympathy. I know now what he has done, what weapon he has brought to bear on her. I, too, had smelled the cloying heady scent of the blossoms he favored. She stumbles out into the Transfer, a hidden roadway to facilitate the easy passage of delivery vehicles without interfering with the aesthetics of the pretty painted streets aboveground. She fires into the first pod and kills the mutant rats inside. She then skirts the next intersection carefully, shouting back at us to follow her steps exactly. There is something hidden in the middle of this pretty passage called a Meat Grinder. No one is exactly sure what that entails nor are we in a hurry to find out. The unmarked pod takes all of us by complete surprise when it triggers.
Finnick grabs her and spins her around. She pulls the bow up to unleash an arrow but Gale has beaten her to the task. Two arrows fall unimpeded to the ground, bouncing carelessly off the shaft of golden light. Within its embrace, Messalla stands frozen as his flesh dissolves. The rest stand, jaws agape. The sight is apparently more than they can process. Strangely, my mind is clear. "We can't help him!" I shout. I grab Pollux and shove him gently. He gives me a despairing look but hurries down the walkway. The rest follow quickly. I touch her shoulder, shaking her slightly to pull her attention away from the horrifying form bathed in golden radiant light. She shakes her head, as if awakening from a trance and bolts. She barely manages to halt her momentum before she stumbles into the next intersection. The gunfire that erupted at our appearance quickly takes care of any questions as to why she didn't just make a run for it.
Damned Peacekeepers have cut us off. With the Meat Grinder guarding against a hasty retreat, the only option available to our group is to return fire. They run toward us and straight to their death. The Star Squad lives up to its name. The Peacekeepers continue to move forward, and my companions obligingly put them down. It's a turkey shoot and the Peacekeepers are on the ground before they even register that they have been shot. It's a far more merciful death than we would have been accorded. The white forms are soon reinforced by others. My throat closes when my brain screams that what is emerging from the tunnel isn't another squad of Peacekeepers but the stuff of nightmares.
They are pale, four-limbed, humanoid forms. Their jutting heads, arched backs and lizard like tails clearly point up their unnatural origins. They slither forward and fall on the Peacekeeper both living and dead alike. Apparently, they have an affinity for heads if the tearing and severing of necks is anything to go by. Once the last head is noisily detached, they lose interest and creep toward us. She screams at us to follow her and lets an arrow go into the intersection. With a heavy metallic clang, the Meat Grinder engages. The teeth erupt through the painted and lacquered surface. They rend and cleave everything in their way leaving bloody torn bits to mark their passage. "Forget it. What's the quickest way out of here? We need to get up top." She yells to Pollux. He leads us to a door, then down a concrete pipe that bubbles and reeks with foul smelling runoff. The path runs into a miniscule ledge that leads to a narrow bridge. We slip and slide our way across and gradually come to an alcove that shelters a ladder leading upward. Pollux smacks the ladder and gestures upward. This is the way out.
A quick count shows that we are short a couple of members. She curses fluently when told that Jackson and Leeg One have stayed to hold the mutts at the Grinder. She moves to retrace our steps but is halted both by the appearance of the mutts on the ledge and Homes' hand. Gale yells for us to stand clear and lets an explosive arrow go into the bridge. The mutts, hands and mouths smeared with blood and gore, fling themselves into the bubbling torrent. They shriek her name in a constant refrain punctuated with howls and screams when an arrow or bullet finds a tender spot. They keep coming. Hit over and over again, flesh torn and chunks ripped from limbs and torsos; they keep coming. An endless supply flows like hell's own fury from the tunnels. They don't hesitate to enter the sewage but dive in, flailing and falling as they fight toward us. Her name is a curse on their lips. The blood from Jackson and Leeg One combine with the cloying scent of roses until the very air around us stinks of him. His phantom form taunts us with the promise of approaching death. I scream at her to move, to climb, and to get away...but she doesn't listen.
Desperate, I grab her and slam her bodily against the ladder. "Climb," I scream as I force her hands to grasp the rung. Moving as if in a trance, she slowly obeys. Pollux went ahead of her. I climb just behind her, my head turning to make sure that Cressida is still behind me. Pollux clamors off of the ladder and pulls her up the remaining few steps. She turns, and grasps my hands. She heaves and I am pulled up beside her. I reach down and grab Cressida by the collar, hoisting her up the remaining few feet. She collapses in a heap beside me, breathing coming short and furiously as she scans the ladder for the rest of us. Katniss blanches when she realizes that none of the others have made it to up the incline. She darts toward the ladder only to be knocked back by Gale as he hastily ascends. His neck is slashed and split. His uniform hangs in tattered shreds. He pulls her back and shakes her as she attempts yet again to descend the ladder.
"There's nobody left. They're not coming." He screams at her. The terrified cries ringing through the cavern underscore his statement. She shakes her head in disbelief and shines a light back over the edge. A glint of copper flashes and a battling form takes shape. He's being pulled down like a stag. He continues to struggle, the gun in his hands as alive as the mutts that surround him. Three take hold and attempt to pull him off the ladder. He manages to free one arm and uses that to climb up one rung. That one step costs him dearly. The moment his hand touches the ladder, a mutt tugs his head back and another voids his throat. Then it's over.
She pulls the Holo from her belt and whispers to it. She drops it down the shaft and covers her head as the flames shoot upward along with a rain of flesh. Pollux slams the lid down and she rallies, pulling the others to their feet. She grabs a length of bandage from a pair of hands and winds it around Gale's neck then gently guides him toward the rest of the group. She pauses and turns back. Her eyes sweep the alcove and find me huddled on the floor with my head in my hands. "Peeta," she says. She kneels down and pulls my hands away from my face. "Peeta?" she questions softly.
I can't answer. I can't move. The cuffs around my wrists dig into the flesh, mercilessly cutting into them. Blood wells up and coats the metal along with her fingers as her hands slide up my arms and our fingers are intertwined. The mutts are gone but the hissing sound of her name echoes in my ears. Sparks and flames spiral in my gut. Even now, I feel myself breaking. My arms tense until the muscles are as hard as concrete. I shake my head, my vision blurs and blackness threatens to overwhelm me. My hands shake in her grasp, fingers trembling as I long to wind them around her neck. I fight it back, rein it in. She stares at my face, willing me to focus. I close my eyes, clenching them tightly together as I fight to remain myself. The voices scream, her name a chorus in my ears. Kill her. End it. Find peace at last.
I loosen my hold on her hands and jerk the cuffs tight. A moan escapes my lips as the metal bears down. "Leave me," I whisper. "I can't hang on." I finally manage to meet those eyes. Those beautiful gray eyes that stare at me so desperately. I'm losing myself and when it's done then I won't be able to stop. I'll do whatever it takes to close those eyes forever. Stop that heart. That fierce protective, fragile heart that breaks so easily for those she loves. I'll break my own when I stop hers from beating. But the poison is too strong and I can't stand any longer. He's won and I hate him for it. I will kill what I love most in the world and die doing it. "Yes, you can!" Her fierce words ring in my ears. They act as a tether, steadying me even as I slip over the edge. I shake my head anyway. "I'm losing it. I'll go mad. Like them." She has to understand that I'm not the boy she knew any longer. Once control has slipped, I will be just another mutt bent on her destruction. She will have to kill me before I kill her. That act alone will hand Snow his final victory. The star-crossed lovers forced to slaughter each other. It's the ending of the Games that he wanted. He won't rest until he finally has his victor.
She leans forward unexpectedly and kisses me. My whole body shakes as she presses tightly against me, her lips locked firmly on mine. Two opposing forces are fighting for control. The voices shriek and heat envelopes me. Remembered cobalt tongues of fire flash across my eyes, blinding and burning me. Kill or be killed. Her blood on my hands. Love. Hate. Reverence. Repugnance. Play for the cameras. Play with my heart. Break me down. Love me. Be with me. Let me love you. How the hell did I get here? How did it come to this? My breath comes hard. Her mouth against mine. She begs, "Don't let him take you from me." Her voice pulls up images that I've tried so hard to overcome. Johanna broken and bleeding as the water pours over her head and the current scorches blackened char into her skin. Me begging for just one minute's respite when the beatings are at their worst. When I can't even feel the blows land anymore. When red flows freely and all I want to do is give them whatever it will take to make it stop. I pant and gasp as the tightness in my chest refuses to let the air in. "No. I don't want to..." She squeezes my fingers until the pain blends and runs with that emanating from my mangled wrist.
The plea that rises from her lips pulls me back. It's the one request that I can never fail to answer. It's the one promise that I refuse to break no matter what. It's the one thing that can keep me whole when everything else is falling apart. "Stay with me." Her voice is frantic. She's scared and her face shows it. She's already seen and lost too much. She can't let anything or anyone else go.
I feel myself steady. I ease my hold on the cuffs and let them slip free of the bloody grooves that they've dug into my wrists. My eyes blink rapidly, adjusting to the low light. My breathing slows to something approaching normalcy. I swallow noisily and let my gaze wander over her face. She peers at me hopefully, clearly noting the changes. I smile hesitantly and the word slips out. I look at her and repeat the promise that I made long ago. The answer I gave her when she was drugged and didn't realize what she was asking. I knew then just as I know now. I give her the only possible answer that I can ever give to this request. "Always."
End Part 5.