I don't know where he would have gotten that image from. Peeta obviously wasn't there to witness Gale and me in the act, which means someone must have told him. Peeta can draw things from his imagination or abstract thoughts besides nightmares or those implanted directly into his mind. But to come up with this?
I storm out of the room after Peeta calls me a name I would have never in a million years expected to hear come out of his mouth; or anyone else's for that matter.
What did these drawings mean, anyway? Was he making a slanderous attempt to attack my character? If these got out, even as art, it would be scandalous, especially coming from him. All of Panem sees me as the Pure One, so any indication that says otherwise could damage the image Coin and Plutarch have worked so hard to create.
And if they were to end up anywhere in the Capitol - I gag at the thought of them waiving their money to be the highest bidder.
What emotions have been extracted to make him put pencil to paper in such a way? Was it venom induced or has something scratched a hidden surface to excavate deeper feelings he had for me? Were they pushing the idea back down his throat that we were meant to be lovers again for Cressida's new propos? That instead of biting, clawing, stabbing and choking, he was meant to kiss and hold me gently? Was he struggling to differentiate between what was broadcast and what was for his eyes only?
In my hasty exit, I run right into Gale just outside the office door. He catches me by the shoulders, halting me in my tracks. His hands grip my shaking shoulders.
"What's going on, Catnip? Everything okay?" Gale asks, leaning forward trying to gauge the emotions on my face, flushed with embarrassment and anger, as I recover from Peeta's vicious attack.
I wipe my watery eyes with my sleeve and I realize I've got Peeta's drawing clutched in my fist and suddenly, I shove Gale away from me, making him step backwards. He raises his hands in front of him, "Whoa, what-"
"What did you tell him?" I yell. I imagine Peeta, strapped down in his hospital bed with Gale leaning over him, whispering our intimate details in his ear making him squirm in some sick superior claim to me.
"I don't -" Gale shakes his head in confusion and dismay.
I wave the paper in his face, "You told him about us."
"What is that?" Gale tries to take it from me, but I pull it out of his reach.
"He's been drawing pictures of you and me together. Why did you tell him? Why would you tell anyone?" I shove him again, harder this time, however, he somehow doesn't budge an inch.
"Stop that," Gale says calmly even though his face shows discontent. "I don't talk to that whack-job."
"You must have told someone then," I say through gritted teeth and go to shove him again, but Gale captures my wrists before I can make contact and pushes me against the wall, pinning my hands above my head. His body is pressed against mine, keeping me still.
"I said, stop it!" Gale snaps back. I am frozen in consternation by his actions. His Seam eyes turn dark and serious. I've never seen him this way, even when he had to reprimand his siblings. It wasn't anger, no, more like when an alpha dog pins another into submission.
He shifts his eyes to the paper that is clutched in my fist.
"If you are going to push me around and accuse me of something, you'd best have some proof," Gale says gruffly.
I shake my head and a single tear falls, frightened by his use of his body against mine.
He lets go of my other hand and reaches up to take the page from me, but I refuse to release my grasp. The thin scrap of paper crunches in his fist. Gale looks at me again, and without having to say anything more, I comply.
With both hands now on the paper, Gale tugs it flat, and turns away from me. His shoulders are hunched over as he closely examines the illustration conjured by Peeta.
"You said he drew us," he says softly.
I step towards him and reach for the drawing, but he sidesteps me and holds it up so both he and I can view it together.
"This isn't us, Katniss!" Gale says, raising his voice and points angrily at the drawing.
My stomach lurches at his discovery. He was only meant to see the other side of the paper, which depicted the two of us in a tangled passionate embrace. "That one isn't real," I say quickly and reach for the paper again.
"It sure looks real!" Gale exclaims, holding his hand up and away from my reach.
"Peeta's confused. Look at the other side," I say, trying to get his attention away from the edge of a dark truth.
"You're confused. Who were you with?" Gale's finger jabs at the image of me being groped and caressed by strangers.
Tears sting again in my eyes and heat blossoms in my face. I can't find any words to start to explain. How could he even begin to comprehend what the Capitol was like. How we were complete slaves in every way.
"They made us," I whisper, and wipe my nose with my sleeve.
"They made. . ." Gale stutters, ". . .You? So this is Peeta?" He points to the bottom of the sketch where a set of hands grip my thighs. Peeta's point of view illustration depicts only his lower torso where his hips meet mine, shrouding his participation in the act in anonymity.
"They forced us to," I choke out the words. A mix of embarrassment, shame, anger, and disgust swarms in my chest.
"Doesn't look like anyone was forcing you."
His words sting just as fiercely as Peeta's and I gasp. I want to slap him, but my hand can only find the strength to cover my mouth instead.
"Do we have a problem here?" Cressida interrupts our argument. Gale and I turn to see her standing a few feet down the hall with her arms crossed.
Gale looks back at me and crumbles the paper in his hands before throwing it at my feet.
"You lied to me," he says sternly and walks away.
Cressida had come back to check on how my meeting went with the doctors and to weigh Peeta's mental state for tomorrow's training propos. I can't decide if her presence at all benefited the situation. There was so much more that needed to be explained to Gale. I couldn't let him walk away thinking I was a willing participant in any of this. He was sympathetic when he found out about what Thread did to me. How could he not understand what happened in the Capitol, in that red room, was no different than what happened on that kitchen floor?
I look at Cressida and let my tears fall. She's seen me cry so many times before and at this moment, I don't have to explain to her or to any cameras why.
She pulls me into a hug and her only words to me once I regain most of my composure is that she will talk to Gale for me. Before I leave, I look at the ball of paper on the ground and sigh.
Cressida picks it up and assures me she will chuck it in the next incinerator chute she sees. Good, I think. Better in the fire than in some folder somewhere. I wish there was a way to destroy the rest of them, but this one will have to do for now.
I head back to my quarters even though I so desperately want to crawl into one of my cubby holes, but those will forever be corrupted by Thread. The thought of being watched still haunts me.
So, I plan on tucking myself in the bathroom again, but I find Johanna sitting on her bed flipping through a firearm training manual.
"Oh, there you are. I was wondering where you went after dinner," Johanna says, closing her little book around a finger to hold its page.
I slowly make my way to my bed and sit down, leaning my elbows on my knees. I chew on my thumbnail and struggle with how to approach my roommate with this new development. At first, I wanted to tackle her right there, knowing she was the only other one I know that could have revealed my private involvement with Gale to Peeta.
"Did you tell Peeta?" I finally ask, looking up at Johanna.
"Bout what?" Johanna asks, tilting her head to the side.
I am so tired of this whole situation, yet I am driven to get to the bottom of it.
"Me and Gale," I say through gritted teeth.
Johanna's eyes dart around the room in confusion, "You and Gale, what?"
I want to pound it out of her. The betrayal I feel has left me in a rage. First Gale, now Johanna, and I am still not getting any answers. But I stay my actions, struggling to wait for all of the information before I make any more rash, physical decisions like I did only moments ago.
"Don't lie to me, please!" I beg. My knee begins to bounce in anticipation.
"What in the ever-loving fuck are you talking about, brainless?" she asks, obviously taken aback by my sudden interrogation.
"You must have told Peeta about me and Gale. You know," I clear my throat, "what happened back in 2. You are the only other person who knows we, well, you know? And now," I groan, throwing my hands in the air, "now it's like everyone knows!"
"It takes two to tango, sweetpea," Johanna says with a cocky smirk on her face.
I give her a puzzled look. She tosses her book aside and holds up both of her hands. With one, she makes a circle with her fingers and thumb and says, "You." And the other, she extends her index finger and says, "Gale." When she begins to make her two hands interact with each other, I cut her off.
"Okay, enough!" I rub my face with my hands and get up from the bed and begin to pace.
"You need to ask Gale for yourself, is what I mean," Johanna says simply.
"I already did," I groan again in defeat. "He said he never talked to Peeta. But now he knows that Peeta knows."
I walk over to my bed and flop down on my belly, burying my face in the pillow.
"This 'Love Triangle' is gettin' complicated, huh?" Johanna teases.
I answer with a muffled scream.
Since I had already given Johanna a brief hint as to what happened during the Sponsor's Ball as well as confirming her suspicions of sleeping with Gale, I figure I should fill her in on the rest.
"I guess it can be a good thing," Johanna says, seated with her legs dangling over the edge of her bed. "Peeta's finding actual memories."
"True, but why draw that? That wasn't a memory."
"What was the pose he drew? Was it doggy style?" Johanna says, wriggling her eyebrows. No matter the situation, she always has a way of inserting some kind of crude comment.
"I don't know why I even bother talking to you about this," I say, insulted by her obvious lack of empathy.
"Because, I am everything your bad little self wants to be, but can't," she says with a grin.
"He called me a whore," I choke on the word, feeling the sting of it all over again. I have to fight back another round of tears.
"Oh, you sweet child. Don't you see?" Johanna leans forward and rests her elbows on her knees, "he's jealous!"
It's like a bow string has snapped in my brain and I am absolutely speechless. How could he be jealous at the same time as hating me so fiercely?
"The old Peeta is in there somewhere," she says, quietly. "It just took thinking about your tits to bring him out."
I stammer, trying to find the right words. "I⦠but," I sigh, "the thing is, yes, he drew pictures of me. But they weren't really me, you know? I have never been that person to Peeta. Those damned drugs made me someone I'm not. And I hate that that is one of the few real memories he has of me," I choke out and start to cry. "I don't even know who I am anymore."
"It's Peeta who doesn't know who he is. I mean, you heard what he said to Finnick about Annie. Do you really think that was him who said it?" Johanna says. "Whatever little bits of toxic narcissistic mutts are left in him, they are fighting like hell on the way out."
"I guess, but the worst part is, Gale saw the drawing," I say, squinting my face in embarrassment.
"Oh, spicy. What did he think? Is he gonna put it over his bunk?" she says, with a mischievous grin.
"No, not that one. The bad one."
Johanna shrugs as if not being able to tell the difference between the two.
"He got really mad at me. Super jealous. I tried explaining it to him, but he wouldn't have it," I say, defeated. "He has no idea how nasty the Capitol can get."
"Baby girl, you only kissed the surface of that nasty world. You got lucky," Johanna says, wringing her hands together.
"Lucky was when I grabbed that wine that makes you puke," I say, rubbing my stomach at the memory.
"Wait, what?" This obviously perks Johanna's interest.
I smirk and nod my head. "Yup, took a break from the, ahem, party and drank the first thing I could get my hands on. Didn't realize until I ruined their carpet."
Johanna falls back onto her bed in a fit of laughter. "I should have thought of that! Just puke on 'em instead of. . ." she trails off and then shakes her head before sitting up. "Eh, but that could have backfired if they turned out to have a kink for that kind of thing."
I wrinkle my nose at the thought.
"I still don't understand why he's so upset with me," I can't help but steer the topic back, desperate for some kind of resolution to such a ridiculous problem.
"Fuck 'em," Johanna exclaims. "Best to ignore both of them and get back into Kill Snow mode."
I agree. Just like with archery I have to aim small to miss small, meaning, to not get distracted by everything else around my target.
The next day, just as Cressida promised, Peeta joins us for training to fill up more minutes of film for the propos. No matter how they try, Cressida and Plutarch receive verbal lashes from me when they even mention having me interact with Peeta, even for a second for the cameras. What frustrates them even more is Gale and I also refuse to work together.
I turn my focus back to my training and to Snow; my small target in the center of all of this chaos. His death by my hand is my driving incentive and I succeed through every task and trial Coin's team drags me through.
When I find out about Johanna falling right before the finish line, my heart breaks.
After I take her a bundle of pine needles wrapped carefully in a bandage and she makes me swear on my family's life that I will kill Snow for her.
For a while, I sit with her as she floats on her morphling drip.
"I miss them," she murmurs.
"I can only imagine," I reply softly. Haymitch mentioned that unlike Cashmere, Finnick and Johanna, he didn't have anyone to use against him to force him into the dark rooms of the Capitol. His family and those he cared about were dead within two weeks of his Victory as punishment for his misuse of the forcefield in his arena. Johanna had been indentured after her Games and she lost her family thanks to one of Snow's rules and conditions to her contract of servitude - not because of some other insubordination like the ones I was constantly close to committing.
"I still hear them," Johanna says, barely a whisper.
I remember her saying this the last time she was lulled to sleep by the morphling after finding out Thread had somehow made his way into our fortress that is 13. However, she remains barely conscious. This round of morphling must be a lighter dose or a cocktail with another drug to calm but not completely sedate.
"I did everything and anything they wanted," she continues, "but that was never enough. The one time I say no. . ." Her fingers stroke the precious package of pine needles she keeps nestled in front of her face. ". . . I should have killed that Capitol fucker instead of scaring him. I didn't want to do it."
Thousands of scenarios fill my head. What Cressida had shared with me, I am curious what had finally broken Johanna. How long into her contract did she finally have enough.
Johanna slips into an old life, and I sit in silence, curious to watch it unfold.
"If I had killed him, it would have made sense for what they had done. All I did was tell him no, that he hadn't paid enough," she says, her voice tightening in her throat. "When he turned me over. . ." she shutters and coughs, ". . . it was like I was back in the woods with him. I only wanted him to stop. To scare him. But because I scared him with a knife," she says gritting her teeth, "it was all over after that."
By her choice of inflection between him and him, I understand the differences to be between the client and her father. Similar in deviousness, but different in how their demands were met. Johanna could have very well killed the client just as she did her father, but Snow's rules stripped her of that power. One little threat doomed her entire family.
Johanna tightly grips the tiny ball in her hands and nestles it against her nose. I wipe tears from my eyes and continue to sit in silence.
"They waited for me. Waited for me to come back home. Those fuckers held me down and made me watch." Johanna's body begins to shake, her breath catching. "The windows. The doors. All boarded up." Her hand reaches for mine and she pulls me against her in her bed. I hold her tightly as she sobs and screams.
Between coughs and tears, I only make out a few more words before she finally cries herself to sleep.
Fire.
Family.
All gone.
That night, all alone in the quarters Johanna and I share, my dreams are filled with smoke and flames. When I am jolted awake, slapping my sheets to extinguish my imagination, I decide to go across the hall to my family's compartment and crawl into bed with Prim and hold her tight.
-'-
The next morning, I find that my mother and Prim are now the ones to rise before the sun and quietly leave for their work duties and I am left holding onto Buttercup instead. Since my family's dwelling was damaged in the bombing and Buttercup's portal to the outside world was no longer available, he didn't smell like mud and soot anymore, rather grease and rock dust. It didn't matter his surroundings, he was bound to get into anywhere he wanted, especially if there were rats. And his breath smells like he had recently found some, too.
I shove him away and keep my hands between the mangy ball of fur and my face, unsure of how he'll react when he discovers it was me cuddling with him and not his darling Prim.
Sure enough, when he turns to see who jostled him from his slumber, he greets me with a loud hiss and growl.
"Good morning to you, too!" I say and pull the blankets over him so I can make my escape unscathed.
I am reluctant to go back to my room and stay for a while in the place that stores the relics of home, still unsure of how to motivate myself without Johanna around.
On the small metal table, I find the photograph of my father and hold it in my lap. His life was torn away from us because of an accident, but after hearing Johanna's story, I can't help but wonder if there was more to the explosion in the mines. Even Gale said they spoke of rebellion those hundreds of feet underground, and my father was obviously known to break the rules. Or was it another family that persuaded the retaliation from the government? Either way was plausible. If my father stepping out of line was the case, why didn't they eliminate me, my mother and Prim? I think of 13 and how they cherish those who are fertile and fit to help contribute to their population. Plus, how much trouble could two young girls and a mentally disoriented woman get into?
I smile at the thought of how greatly my family had been underestimated - they were wrong about us. Albeit far underground, we are thriving and so close to taking Snow down for good.
Begrudgingly, I go back to my compartment and shower before getting my schedule applied to my arm.
When I see 0700 - Spec. Defense on my arm, I groan. I know this will be more special weapons training and the only ones who primarily use that facility for training are me, Finnick, and Gale. I won't have a troop of soldiers to hide among down there. However, the exploding arrows are what I look forward to the most.
After keying through several doors and riding several sideways elevators, I make my way towards my assigned destination. Sure enough, Gale is waiting for me by the large double doors and he pulls me aside before I can put my key to the security console. The doors open anyway when Finnick taps his card to the reader instead. I am tempted to follow Finnick, but Gale grabs hold of my wrist. His actions dictate my decision to pull away from his grasp and follow Finnick into the range anyway. I roll my eyes when I hear Gale's footsteps close behind me.
Finnick turns around and walks backwards, looking at me to make sure I'm alright. Before I stop and turn to Gale, I give Finnick a nod that I'll be fine, but he still gives me a look that he's there if I need him.
"What is it?" I spin around, confronting my stalker.
"Cressida told me about what happened to you," Gale says, his eyebrows furrowed in desolation.
My mouth presses into a hard line as I wait for him to continue.
He rubs the back of his neck and looks at the ground, "I'm really sorry I didn't listen to you before."
I refuse to speak, making him wallow in his shame. Frankly, there wasn't much else for me to say; I said what I needed to back at the doctor's office.
"Before the Games, we knew everything about each other. Never lied once. After the Capitol got their grubby fingers on you, I don't know what's happening with you anymore," he says, still not looking at me. It feels as if he still sees me as that person in Peeta's drawing.
"They kill entire families if you don't comply," I say finally. "You have to remember, anything I did in the Capitol, I had to do for my family. For you."
Gale finally looks at me.
"I know," he says, shaking his head. "After what Thread did, and whatever that was with Peeta, I was still hurt you never told me."
I look down range and see Finnick chatting with Beetee, his new trident sparkling in his hands. Finnick glances over at me for a moment, gauging the temperature between me and Gale.
"I didn't really tell anyone," I say with a sigh, crossing my arms tight across my chest and look back at Gale. "So much had happened since then. There wasn't time to. I've had to handle way worse on my own. I can't break down everytime Snow attacks me with something."
"But you told Cressida."
"I did. She has a way of getting me to talk I guess. I feel comfortable with her."
"She said that that kind of thing is common. I assumed Finnick was just bored and liked the attention," Gale says, biting his lip when he sees me wince at his words. "Was that the only time that happened?"
I nod in confirmation.
"But it wouldn't have been the last if things went down differently. Like say, you never went back into the arena."
"You should have known that things between us were never going to be the same the second my sister's name was pulled."
"No kidding. And with Peeta," Gale's eyes roll at the mention of his name.
"If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be here right now. So enough with that."
"True, but he's not here now," Gale says, mirroring my body language and crosses his arms. "Why are you concerned with what he thinks about us?"
I'm baffled by his statement. "That's not fair," I say, shaking my head in disgust. "He is here. You can't see him yet, but he is. He's getting better." I think of what Johanna said about Peeta's recent behavior and how it was caused by the last ditch effort the hijacking had on him, digging its claws into him, sabotaging any possible path to the light he was so close to reaching ā keeping him away from me.
"And you want to be with that?" Gale asks.
"No," I snap back at him. Where is this coming from, I wonder? "I want him to be okay. I can barely live with the fact that I couldn't save him in the arena. The least I can do is be there for him when he gets better."
"Like he was for you on the train?"
"What the hell, Gale? Nothing happened on the train. That is the truth. Why won't you believe me nothing else happened between us?" I can't believe how this conversation has turned from an apology back into accusations.
"You really are beautiful, you know that?" Gale says, placing his hand on my cheek. "You were just as beautiful in that drawing like when we were together, and I was really sad that you lied about sharing that with someone else."
I shake my head away from his touch.
"You know what? We're done!" I say pointedly and throw my hands up. Gale steps back from my words, easier than any shove to the chest I gave him.
"If you want us to be like we were before all this," I say, circling my finger between us, "our partnership will only be based on survival from now on. Focus on taking down the Capitol. Focus on taking down Snow. I've got enough to worry about than your feelings, especially since you don't care about mine."
"Wait, wh ā" Gale stammers.
"Look, Gale," I pause for a moment, making sure he really hears me this time, "we work best when we have a common goal. When we are protecting our families, our home, working with the rebellion. I never said I wanted more between you and I. You did that. And I am sorry that I gave into those moments of weakness. I don't know exactly what I want, but I don't want this. I'm already being pulled in a million directions by Coin and Plutarch and Snow, I can't have you pulling at me too. So that's it," I exclaim, waving my hands.
Gale opens his mouth to say something, but I stop him with a pointed finger, "It's done. Now let's get to work."
And that was it. The final outer ring of mental and emotional distraction to my ultimate target has been removed. Even though it saddens me it has to be like this, to hurt my best friend, but it is for the best if we want to succeed in our mission. I have to ignore Gale's brooding for a few days, but soon, he finds purpose in his work and we slowly find peaceful ground between us. In another week, we are finally in the Capitol and working together again as our old selves; hunting for traps and enemies, moving step by step, block by block closer to Snow.
