A/N- Sorry for the previous cliffhanger, but not really :) People have been asking whether this is the end or if I'm continuing to Catching Fire. The answer is yes, I'm continuing.
Shock billows like a cloud of dust.
Then, someone starts to cry. Wails and angry shouts disrupt the square.
"How could they!" someone shouts.
Peacekeepers stationed around the square move in to quiet the unruly crowd. But the agitation on people's faces tells me that no Peacekeeper is going to quiet them.
Then, there are some people who just look around, stunned, as if they can't quite comprehend what's going on. Maybe that's better than understanding what Claudius meant.
Only one winner may be allowed.
So, however this plays out, only one tribute is coming out. One of these children who believed themselves to be safe at last is going to be bled white within the hour. Among these two tributes, only one can come home.
We've all been played for fools. And truly, we deserve that title. Because haven't we all watched these Games for years? Don't we know the masterminds of this event? To think for a second that they'd let these two leave… how could any of us even consider it? I did think that the Gamemakers would kill them, but not now. I thought surely they would have done away with them long before. When they didn't, I guess I assumed that they were safe. The Capitol wanted them out. But everyone here swallowed the lie fed to us and now, we've all been caught by utter surprise. No one was expecting this. No, wait. I know one person has suspecting this all along. Her cynical look on the world and the Games in particular have left her prepared for the worst.
My wife's jaw is set in a hard, defiant line. She tried to warn me. I know now that she's been right all along.
"You knew this would happen, didn't you? Or something like this?" I whisper hoarsely.
"Those Gamemakers who call themselves human would never let them come out alive," she answers, her eyes still on the screen.
"And…" I stop because we both know who's coming out. Peeta will never in a million years let himself be the one to leave alive.
"I guess this is goodbye," my wife tells me. "He's going to want it to be her."
Peeta and Katniss seem to have been taken by the same shock as the crowd. They look at each other for a long time. Katniss' eyes are full of disbelief, defiance, and fear.
"If you think about it, it's not that surprising," Peeta says quietly. Maybe he has nothing in common with his mother as far as personality goes, but somewhere in the far corners of their brains, they both recognized the depth of the Gamemaker's cruelty. He shakily gets to his feet, clearly in pain. His hand goes to his belt and draws his knife.
Katniss, who's on edge to the point of paranoia, has her bow trained on him in less than a second. But Peeta isn't going in for the kill. In fact, the knife is already plunging into the lake. With a splash, it sinks. I know that some lucky Capitol resident who goes to visit this arena will find that knife and it will become valuable beyond belief.
Realizing what he's done, Katniss immediately drops her weapons and stumbles backwards.
"No," Peeta tells her. "Do it." Limping, he moves towards her. Picking up her bow, he shoves it back into her hands.
"I can't," Katniss shakes her head back and forth. "I won't."
My son gets a hard look in his eyes. There's bravery there, but also terror. "Do it. Before they send those mutts back or something." His voices drops. "I don't want to die like Cato."
"Then you shoot me!" Now Katniss thrusts her bow at him, which is pointless because even if he wanted to kill her, he can't use them. "You shoot me and go home and live with it!"
"You know I can't." Peeta lets the weapons falls to the ground.
The square is dead silent. Nobody even dares to breath. We're all waiting for the blood to flow. We should be celebrating. No matter what, Twelve has won for the first time in years. But this feels like a loss. Because we should have two tributes leaving and the Capitol has denied us that. It's always awful when the final two are district partners, but this is different. They thought they were allies.
"Fine," Peeta says, leaning down. "I'll go first anyway." In one swift motion, he peels the bandage off his leg. Blood immediately rushes forth, like a dam shattering.
Something like a sob forces itself out of Katniss' throat. "No," she cries, falling to her knees. "You can't kill yourself." She's trying to press the bandage back on his leg now.
"Katniss, it's what I want."
"You're not leaving me here alone." She's is still on the ground, hopelessly holding the bandage to Peeta's wound. Maybe she thinks by clinging to him, she can keep him in this world.
I can hear the suppressed sobs in the square now as people watch this final sacrifice. These two tributes are braver than I'll ever be. Each willing to die to save the other.
Gently, my son pulls Katniss to her feet. "Listen," he says. "We both know they have to have a victor. It can only be one of us. Please, take it. For me. You have to go home, Katniss, because if you die in here, my life won't mean anything anymore. It'll be pointless. I'll probably just wither away or something so that I can be with you on the other side. Please, Katniss. Please, do it for me."
His words are so noble, so brave. I never deserved a son like him. How could I have spent so many years staying in the shadows, not bothering to fix our relationship? But Katniss doesn't seem to be listening. Her fingers are grappling with something at her waist. As she holds it up, I realize it's a pouch. The one she filled with berries to possibly use as bait for Cato.
I understand what's she's going to do and so does Peeta.
"No!" he grabs her wrist. "I won't let you."
"Trust me," she whispers, looking up into his eyes. Peeta holds her gaze for a long time, then his grip loosens and releases her hand. Katniss lets a few berries tumble from the pouch to his palm, then shakes out a handful for herself. "On the count of three?"
In that split second, the world stops turning. Because this is suicide. We won't have any victor at all, now. Just two dead tributes, a pair of cannons fired, and a pouch of berries that ended their lives.
Peeta leans down kisses Katniss for the last time. It's such a tender kiss, bursting with emotion, that my eyes fill with tears. It's his final goodbye to the girl he loves. The girl he's loved his whole life.
"On the count of three," he tells her.
They stand back to back, hands locked as if to stay together after death. I wonder if the Capitol will separate the corpses or leave their fingers entwined. If they do let them stay connected, I'll see to it myself that these two are buried together.
Goodbye, Peeta, I think. I know I wasn't the best father, but I promise that I'll keep you and Katniss together when the wooden box arrives here in Twelve. I promise, Peeta. And you have to know that I love you. I will never forget the way to laugh and the way your gentle personality brings out the best in everyone. You deserved more than this and I'm so, so sorry. You will be missed every day for the rest of our lives.
Others murmur their condolences. A couple of brave souls target the Capitol - defiantly bashing them for letting this happen. Most people just keep their eyes on the screen, tears rolling down their cheeks.
In the arena, the sun glints of the dark skins of the berries as our tributes prepare to end these Games.
"One."
"Two."
"Three."
Their hands rise to their mouths. The berries slide past their lips and I hear the crowd weeping. This tragedy will unite us in a way the district has never been before. Because each and every one of us know how callous this is. Can the Capitol not see what we do? Two kids. Scared. Alone. Drawing their final breaths.
Then the cannons fire. They sound different. My head snaps up. Those aren't cannons! They're trumpets.
"Stop! Stop!" Claudius Templesmith can't hide the frenzied tone to his voice. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you - the tributes of District Twelve!"
I glance around. Confusion muddles my brain. People begin to murmur. This has happened so fast. Our tributes winning. Dying. And now… winning again?
"They've let them live!"
"They're coming home!"
Katniss and Peeta are disgorging the berries now, using their shirts to wipe out their mouths. Even a swallow of that juice could still end their lives. They rinse with water, then when they're sure nothing has made it into their stomach, topple into each other's waiting embrace.
"You didn't swallow any?" she gasps.
Still clasping her body to his, Peeta shakes his head. "You?"
"Guess I'd be dead by now if I did."
Here in the square, his brothers have begun to smile. All around us, people are taking gulps of air, wiping their eyes, and hugging one another. Our tributes are coming home. In just a few days, my son will be here. With us. We won't have to face the wooden boxes showing up on our doorsteps.
My wife is blinking, clearly in shock. "How'd they let this happen?"
"Maybe the Capitol planned it," I tell her. "Maybe they intended for them both to live after all."
But she shakes her head. "Did you hear Templesmith's voice? This was no plan. They're coming home by the skin of their teeth."
"You're not complaining, are you?"
She just grunts in response.
Even though two ladders drop from the hovercraft to lift our victors, they refuse to let go of one another. Katniss helps my son onto the first rung of the ladder, then places her foot by his. As they rise into the sky, we realize Peeta's wound hasn't stopped bleeding. How can he still have any blood left to shed? The camera follows them into the hovercraft and so we get a tight shot of him as he crumples to the ground, unconscious at last.
Capitol doctors set to work at once. They get him to a table and we see them leaning feverishly over him, hooking his body up to tubes and beeping machines.
"He still might die," my wife says. "There's no guarantees they can fix him."
I turn to her incredulously. "Have you seen these doctors? If anyone can heal him, it's them."
The last shot we get of our tributes before the screen turns to the announcers is Katniss throwing herself into the glass over and over. She's screaming Peeta's name like her life depends on it.
"PEETA! PEETA! PEETA!"