CHAPTER 44
Livia Snow
Between the waves of brief consciousness, Katniss came to a horrible realisation. She was in a Hovercraft, a Capitol's one most probable. The padded table some doctors had laid her body upon was cold, her skin shivering at the touch. Finally, it came the time when she could keep herself awake. Through an arduous process of trial and failure, she sat on the side of the bed, her blurry sight taking in her surroundings. There were two rows of beds facing each other, from which only two tables were occupied. Beetee and Johanna lay there, unmoving but breathing.
Katniss held onto the edge of the bed to peek at the other tables, but there were no further Victors. Not Peeta, Finnick, Enobaria, or whoever had survived the two cannons, who she hoped would be Olive.
"Peeta..." Katniss whispered, sliding her legs off the table to carry on with her promise, in an altered deadly way.
A syringe was the best weapon she could get a hold of, perhaps not to give Peeta a quick and painless death, but enough to rid him of the Capitol tortures. Her path was decided, though she paused a second to consider killing Beetee and Johanna too. She couldn't. The monitor's beeping would alarm the doctors eventually, stopping her from her goal, though that didn't mean she couldn't turn back after giving peace to Peeta and Olive, if she managed to find them.
The narrow hallway she had to cross led to a metallic door that, for some reason, left slightly ajar. Instead of questioning it, Katniss didn't mind and listened closely for any voices, information, or general direction of where the other victors could be.
Plutarch Heavensbee's voice came appeared first. "Communications are down in Seven, Ten, and Twelve. But Eleven has control of transportation now, so there's at least a hope of them getting some food out." There was a pause, and then another intervention came through. This time from a hoarse voice, which Katniss could barely hear, let alone distinguish the person speaking or what they were saying. "No, I'm sorry. There's no way I can get you to Four. But I've given special orders for their retrieval, if possible. It's the best I can do, Finnick."
Supposedly, if she followed Plutarch's claim, Finnick's voice appeared again, speaking in the same unintelligible form from before. It was a softer tone, if possible, but somehow it carried an amount of worry that Katniss could not place within the few words she could make out along the blabber.
To throw everything even more into chaos, Haymitch was the one to reply. "Don't be stupid. That's the worst thing you could do. Get them killed for sure. We're talking about four victors and half Olive's family. As long as all of you are alive, they'll keep every single one of them alive for bait, Olive included."
Katniss burst right through the door, practically kicking it open as she entered the white and metallic room. Two unknown men whom she had seen a few times with Olive stood at the side of the room, silent, while the third unknown person was an elder woman that now sat by Finnick's side, rubbing his back like a mother comforting her child. Apart from them, only the previous voices were in the vicinity of the room. No further surprises. No Peeta, and definitely no Olive.
"Done knocking yourself out, sweetheart?" said Haymitch, stopping Katniss before her advance could accomplish half of her self-decided duty. "So it's you and a syringe against the Capitol? See, this is why no one lets you make the plans." She said nothing, nor did Haymitch as he increased the strength with which he held her wrist. "Drop it."
Without fail, the syringe fell in a matter of seconds, leaving her weaponless in a still very much confusing situation. The elder woman got up from her seat beside Finnick, offering it to Katniss in the hopes that at least she would eat the meal on the table right in front of both chairs. Of course, in that aspect, Katniss was way too much like Finnick. Food held such a low weight on her mind that she had no time to check if she was hungry or not. All that she needed to know was if Peeta was safe.
"Katniss, I'm going to explain what happened. I don't want you to ask any questions until I'm through. Do you understand?" Haymitch asked, receiving a nod for a reply.
If there was a slower way to tell all the events, Haymitch had a clear disregard for it. He seemed not to have enough time on his hands to explain every detail, but he made sure to explain the main points, like the rebel plan undergoing from the moment the Quell was announced, that half the tributes were in it voluntarily, with variant degrees of knowledge, and their current destination, District Thirteen.
Katniss blinked, the amount of information to take in leaving her astounded. "You didn't tell me."
"Neither you nor Peeta were told. We couldn't risk it," intervened Plutarch. "I was even worried you might mention my indiscretion with the watch during the Games." He pulled out his pocket watch and made the mockingjay light up on the glass. "Of course, when I showed you this, I was merely tipping you off about the arena. As a mentor. I thought it might be a first step toward gaining your trust. I never dreamed you'd be a tribute again."
"I still don't understand why Peeta and I weren't let in on the plan," Katniss insisted.
"Because once the force field blew, you'd be the first ones they'd try to capture, and the less you knew, the better," answered Haymitch.
"The first ones? Why?" Katniss asked.
"For the same reason the rest of us agreed to die to keep you alive," said Finnick, his hand clutched with the elderly woman's.
Katniss shook her head. "No, Johanna tried to kill me."
"Johanna knocked you out to cut the tracker from your arm and lead Brutus and Enobaria away from you," replied Haymitch.
"What?" Katniss mumbled, her ragged voice not getting any better as time passed. "I don't know what you're—"
"We had to save you because you're the mockingjay, Katniss," said Plutarch. "While you live, the revolution lives."
"Peeta," Katniss whispered.
"The others kept Peeta alive because if he died, we knew there'd be no keeping you in an alliance," says Haymitch. "And we couldn't risk leaving you unprotected."
Katniss doubted. "Olive… Was she in this too?"
"No," said Finnick, "no, I kept it from her. I didn't want her to overdo it. She had enough with her mind to add this to her list of worries." His eyes locked with Katniss'. "Her actions in the Games were completely out of the goodness of her heart."
"Why are you talking like she's dead? Where is she?" asked Katniss.
Finnick's whisper was no louder than the buzzing of a distant bee, yet the pain it radiated alongside his teary eyes made a strange sensation tangle Katniss's insides. "In the Capitol. They got her, but she will never be… well, you know, she will never be Olive again. Olive's dead. If she hasn't forgotten everything by now, he'll make her." The first tear rolled out of Finnick's right eye. "She's gone. I lost her. Completely."
A gulp resounded in Katniss' ears as she tried to forget Finnick's words, an arduous fight that she didn't win. They had lost Olive. To what, exactly? Her own mind? The Capitol? Snow? What exactly? And why had nobody said a word about Peeta? Why were they the only ones not to be told a word? Because she was the mockingjay? That gave them the right to play with them how they pleased? At least in the Hunger Games, the rules were clear, whether they were written or known through years of trial and error. In there, no such thing occurred. There were no rules, no rights or wrongs. And, in all honesty, Katniss couldn't care less. She had already lost a friend and was fighting her heart not to forgive the other too soon.
During such chaotic moments, only one thing mattered to her. "Where is Peeta?"
"He's with Olive," Haymitch's gaze fell to the floor as he continued, "in the Capitol."
That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Katniss could not be held accountable for her actions, as her mind acted way after her body. She was attacking Haymitch, digging her nails deep into his face to cause the most damage possible. Blinded by rage, she could not think of another solution. She didn't mind if there was any.
Nothing other than her broken promise mattered. She hadn't protected Peeta, all the contrary. He was in the Capitol, suffering for a cause he had no knowledge of, just like Olive. All because both of them hadn't been considered important enough to be rescued first. Because she was the mockingjay and not them.
Rage couldn't guide a person forever. Her encounter with Haymitch was short due to Finnick's and someone else's intervention, pulling her away from her mentor and back onto the bed she had woken up in. She was strapped down, forced to stay still while the sedative injected into her arm started to do its work.
"Katniss. Katniss, I'm sorry." Finnick's voice came from the bed next to Katniss, loud enough to make it past her mind's fuzziness. "I wanted to go back for them, but I couldn't move." His sincerity was challenged by Katniss's unwillingness to answer. "It's better for them like this. They'll figure out he doesn't know anything pretty fast. And they won't kill him if they think they can use him against you."
"Like bait?" was Katniss's initial reply. "Like how they'll use Olive for bait, Finnick?"
Soft cries reached Katniss's ears, but she could not gather the empathy to care. Between the shock and the general loss, she could not form a single pitiful thought about the weeping ally she had beside her. How could she? He had lied like Haymitch had. And not only had they lied to her, but Peeta and Olive, too. Even if they knew nothing, that didn't mean they couldn't be punished somehow. The Capitol could always find an excuse. Although, if Finnick was right and Olive lost all her marbles and forgot everything, perhaps, and only in the greatest Capitol benevolence, she could be spared.
Contrary to Finnick, Katniss did pity Olive, who was perhaps her only friend. Though that was stretching quite a lot, taking into account the relatively few friendly interactions the two had during the past year. Still, there were things Katniss could not gloss over. If Olive had no knowledge of the events, if her actions were truly out of the goodness of her heart, it only made things more complicated. It would mean Katniss owed Olive quite a lot, to the point giving her own life could not even cut it, and yet, she couldn't do anything. She would be in Thirteen soon enough, the furthest away from the Capitol anybody could get.
"I wish she was really dead." Finnick's sudden words surprised Katniss. "I wish they were all dead and we were, too. It would be best."
No comforting words could respond to such a statement. Partly because it was true. Death was a much preferable end for Victors rather than in Capitol's hand, the one place where nobody could ever reach them again. It was clear that, by the end of the war, no matter who won, Olive and Peeta would be dead. Slayed by Snow's wrath, whether it was before his loss, or after his victory.
The sedative could not let her give into the darkness of her exhaustion, yet it helped to disregard the world for a long time. People passed, asked questions, and tried to get her to eat or drink, but she refused it all. Katniss had given up. A decision that didn't waver even as she watched District Four's mentors making a long appearance to check on Finnick, who was as quiet as he had been for minutes. Not even the elder woman, who kept on acting like a mother to him, accomplished to get a word from him apart from his continued weeping.
"They're safe," said one of the men, the eldest judging by the constant ragged voice. "All of them. The rebels hid them in a safe place before the Peacekeepers got to Victor's Village."
To the surprise of his mentors, and even Katniss, Finnick had the first reaction that deviated from overwhelming cries. He tried to control his sobbing to analyse his mentor's expression, as if trying to make out whether he would lie in such a situation, or perhaps if there was some information missing.
"But?" asked Finnick.
"There are rumours that the Peacekeepers are looking for the Victors to punish them for what happened in the Quell," replied the younger man, who could perfectly be in his forties. "Meaning, if the Peacekeepers find them, there's no way to know what could happen. Maybe they could 'spare' Clem and Librae to punish us, but we're not so sure about the rest… Especially Olive's family."
"They'll kill them," replied Finnick. "They already have Olive, why bother? Annie's not worth keeping alive when Olive is, and the same goes for Theo, Gianna, Angel, and Joe. They're as good as dead. All of them."
Finnick got back to his uncontrollable weeping and Katniss could no longer pay attention to any attribution the mentors could have. Even if it hurt her, Finnick was right. All victors outside the Hovercraft were as good as dead, and even those who weren't Victors. The innocent families that knew nothing and had only kept on with their lives. They would all suffer for reasons that didn't even involve them directly. How pitiful they were.
Many days later, with the news of Twelve's bombing still fresh in her mind, Katniss had a large difficulty adapting herself to District Thirteen. She spent most of her time in the medical wing, where they forbid her from leaving for a few days. Somehow her fellow victors' company was as pleasant as a blooming flower in a cactus, yet as constant as the breeze outside the bunker she had to call a 'safe place' from that point on. Not a house, let alone a home, just a safe place. That underground district could be nothing more to her. Not ever.
By the second week, in her lessened confinement in the medical wing, she had already forgiven Johanna and Finnick. Both were too pitiful not to, and Mags's abilities to persuade were far greater than any could think at first glance. The eldest victor and mentor was a frequent visitor, just slightly over Ron and Rhett, the other two mentors that Katniss had met the moment she woke up in Thirteen's hospital.
They were good people, as far as she could tell. Just distracted by the chaos, which did nothing but increase as the days passed. Instead of being glued to the television in search of news regarding the Victors, they had grown apathetic towards any talk about it. The effects of being told that everyone they cared about disappeared into thin air, Katniss guessed. It was no wonder, to be honest. Actually, it was a better reaction than any of them had. Finnick hadn't managed to keep himself awake for more than half an hour since the Hovercraft. Johanna's humour had turned almost cynic. And Katniss could barely hold to a single trail of thought before her worries pulled her back to her worries about Peeta. Compared to them, the elder victors were pulling themselves together quite nicely. Even if Rhett yelled at times for his own powerlessness, Ron cried when he thought nobody could hear, or Mags zoned out at the sound of the Capitol's anthem.
Johanna and Katniss shared their meals together most nights. Regardless if Finnick was awake or not, they sat around his bed or stayed seated on Katniss's bed with the curtain out of the way. Somehow, it made them feel better, like they weren't alone. Someone understood their pain, and that was partly enough. Of course, Prim tried to join as soon as she could, but rules were strict in Thirteen, and few times did they let her eat in the hospital for no good reason. It wasn't possible to take food from the canteen either. It was regarded quite severely among people, as if they were stealing despite only taking their already designated rations of food.
Days went by in the blink of an eye, and the third week within District Thirteen came to an end, and with it Katniss's and Johanna's stay in the medical wing. They were given the best present to have in District Thirteen to them, the 'mentally disorientated' bracelets, and were sent off to their respective quarters. Katniss with her sister and mother, and Johanna alone. For now. It could be the illusion of being understood, but both victors had found comfort in the other's understanding, leaving them to require it more often than not. Who else would understand their suffering if not each other? Despite her big heart, Prim could not imagine such horrors, nor would Katniss wish for her to do so. If her little sister could remind oblivious to her suffering, it would be best. But it was too late.
The next morning all District Thirteen was in an uproar. Many hushed whispers reigned among the district people, but none dared to say a thing whenever Katniss or Johanna were within hearing range. Oblivious to what was going on, the two went on with their day, stumbling through the hallways until they were allowed to visit Finnick in the hospital, the one place that was peaceful.
Inside a hiding place big enough for two at the back of the classroom at the highest levels in Thirteen, Johanna and Katniss finally had the chance to know what all the fuss was about. Two teens from Thirteen were chatting carelessly among themselves, criticising some Capitol propaganda they had seen by change during breakfast, which Johanna and Katniss had skipped.
The two victors shared a concerned glance, fearing either Peeta or Olive would be soon mentioned as another casualty showcased in the Capitol's propaganda. There was no such thing. Instead, the two teens mentioned a name that they had never heard before, Livia, followed by a last name that had scarred any living Victor known to date, Snow. Livia Snow. Just who was that? The teens seemed to have a better idea than either of them, as they went on to call the Capitol woman a 'traitor' and a 'mentally disorientated' person.
"She was crazy from the start, anyway."
"Yeah, there's no helping the demented."