CHAPTER 48

Poison, The Weapon Of A Snake

An echo of fear and anticipation spread around the bunker with the first few bomb hits, shaking their entire surroundings into invisible death traps. The lights went out at the perfect moment for desperation to kick in. People cried out, huddled closer, and awaited their inevitable deaths.

Coin's voice overthrew it all, appearing along the soft humming of machines that cued the emergency lights to turn on. Like a saviour ready to rescue, she congratulated everyone on an exemplary evacuation of the upper levels and assured it was not a drill. In her own words, 'Peeta Mellark and Olive Cresta's information was sound, and we owe them a great debt of gratitude'. Finnick could only hope that those words were not simply empty, merely to win the people's favour and trust back into the cause; the bittersweet rebellion.

"Sensors indicate the first missile was not nuclear, but very powerful. We expect more will follow. For the duration of the attack, citizens are to stay in their assigned areas unless otherwise notified."

Johanna left for her compartment with her new bunk-mates, Muscida, Rhett, and Clem. It was, after all, Coin's orders for everyone that had a bunker assigned to their names to leave immediately, and a couple of patrolling soldiers made sure those rules would be respected.

The diary had just disposed itself of the cover to allow Finnick into the madness of crossed-out pages and ink stains that the first few pages contained. Hardly anything was readable. There was only one phrase that had been left alone, 'Forgetting is shit'. His eyes trailed around it back and forth, trying his best to decipher a single word between the endless sea of layers made of pitch-black ink. All he could read for a good four pages was the date, which didn't jump as much as he would have initially expected, merely days or weeks apart, depending on the entry.

Longer days had yet to be found. Everything blended together in the large bunker's greyness, no matter how many walks Mags suggested taking, how often Johanna visited for her own sanity, or how close the bunker for the Crestas had been placed. It was too wide, too cold. Finnick missed a very important part of his own self, one he wasn't so sure if he would ever get back, though the thought alone repulsed him. Hadn't he promised Olive that he would listen to her, that he wouldn't simply cross his arms and wait for her old self to come back? Although, what good were promises for in there? He would likely not see his wife again, and it wasn't for no other reason than his own death. The bunker could collapse on him, the Capitol could get rid of the brief life Thirteen had regained outside their own underground prison, or Johanna could end up killing him for never really paying attention to her rambles.

Against all suggestions, Finnick lay alone on the bottom bunk, deep into the night. He had asked to be alone, and, despite Mags' reluctance to do so, she had complied, though only for a few hours. The diary was wide open beside him, trying to pull itself shut. Annie had warned him, and he hadn't listened at all. Tears had just stopped streaming down his eyes when someone cleared their throat at the opening of the cave-like bunker.

Katniss fidgeted by the entrance, the lights too dim for her to see the state her friend was in. "Hey, can I sit?"

Under the comforting vicinity of the emergency lights, Finnick closed the diary and sat up, leaving enough space for Katniss to take a seat beside him. She remained silent for a second, glancing from her hands to the diary's simplistic cover. Then she told him everything she had found out earlier; Peeta being used to punish her, how he was a simple taunting puppet, and how she had come across such a realisation, her sister's cat.

With the lack of reply and the general change in his lost sight, Katniss came to yet again another realisation. "This is what they're doing to you with Olive, isn't it?"

A rope that had so far been kept hidden in Finnick's pocket appeared in his hands in the blink of an eye. "Snow knows I could never have risked telling her anything about the rebellion. For her own protection."

"Oh, Finnick. I'm sorry," said Katniss.

"No, I'm sorry. That I didn't warn you somehow," he replied, an intricate knot disappearing from the rope with a simple tug at the end of it.

Katniss nodded absentmindedly. "You did warn me, though. On the hovercraft. Only when you said they'd use Peeta against me, I thought you meant like bait. To lure me into the Capitol somehow."

"I shouldn't have said even that. It was too late for it to be of any help to you. Since I hadn't warned you before the Quarter Quell, I should've shut up about how Snow operates." Finnick caressed the diary's cover while keeping the rope steady in seemingly non-solvable knots. "It's just that I didn't understand when I met you. After your first Games, I thought the whole romance was an act on your part. We all expected you'd continue that strategy. But it wasn't until Peeta hit the force field and nearly died that I—"

Katniss's confusion overpowered her voice as she asked, "That you what?"

Contrary to her, Finnick managed to pull himself together just long enough to show his friend a gentle upfront. "That I knew I'd misjudged you. That you do love him. I'm not saying in what way. Maybe you don't even know yourself. But anyone paying attention could see how much you care about him."

Silence was the only answer to be heard for a while, until, in the lurking fear of her own thoughts, Katniss gathered enough strength to speak. "How do you bear it?"

"I don't, Katniss! Obviously, I don't. I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there's no relief in waking." The general tone of disbelief died down the moment Finnick came to see Katniss' expression. "Better not to give in to it. It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart." He waited for a reply or confirmation of any sort that she was still listening, but nothing other than silence came to be heard. "The more you can distract yourself, the better. First thing tomorrow, we'll get you your own rope. Until then, take mine."

Hardly a day had gone by when the same dullness got labelled as morning. Twenty-four hours had passed by since the last attack, allowing District Thirteen to let its citizens and refugees trot back into their quiet and peaceful lives.

Some people, however, had no such luck. Boggs appeared right after all bunkers were cleaned up and ready for, hopefully, a very distant need for them, and motioned for Johanna, Finnick, Gale, and Katniss to join him. The four were silently guided into Special Defence, surprisingly untouched by the horrors of the bombing that had left people in need to change compartments right after leaving the bunker. Sat tiredly around the circular table in the room, Coin, Plutarch, Haymitch, Cressida, and a significant part of the usual crew, livened up somewhat at the sight of Katniss.

"We need you suited up and above ground," said Coin. "You have two hours to get footage showing the damage from the bombing, establishing that Thirteen's military unit remains not only functional but dominant, and most important, that the Mockingjay is still alive. Any questions?"

Finnick shrugged and pointed at the table. "Can we have a coffee?"

With her head bound to fall off her shoulders, Johanna leaned on Finnick to not fall. When the crew complied, her eyes livened up and was the first to dash into a mug. Finnick, unsurprisingly, reached out for the sugar cubes first, and everyone who held his stare for longer than a second got to be asked his famous question, "Want a sugar cube?" with the Capitol tone that Thirteen's crew showed to be outrageously disgusted at. Katniss simply chuckled when it was her turn to be asked, and couldn't say a word as he went ahead and dumped a couple sugar cubes in her mug. "Here, it improves the taste."

"You can bet on that." Johanna finished her mug in one sitting, her tongue flaring into three unique tones of red, but not stopping her from refilling it.

"Your tongue will go numb at this rate," said Finnick. "At least drink some cool water before you go and—" Another mug got chugged down with the backwards dive of Johanna's head, leaving more than one person to wonder if she had ever known coffee or basic etiquette—"or you can just do that and burn your entire throat. That's fine."

Johanna left the mug back in its place with a loud bang. "I needed that."

Once the coffee had disappeared from every single mug, the crew made a point to rush them all through Thirteen to the location of the propos at the odd peacefulness of the outside world. Before they knew it, they were scrambling through the ruins of what had once been an exit. The fresh air slammed against their faces, forcing them to backtrack for a minute to take in the beauty of the woods before continuing the walk towards the 'perfect location' as the refugee Capitol crew named it.

They had just made it out of the woods and were near the fence area when Haymitch managed to ask the one question that Katniss had been mulling over in her mind. "How much of an edge did the warning give you?"

"About ten minutes before our own system would've detected the missiles," replied Boggs.

"But it did help, right?" Katniss carried on the task that Haymitch had initiated, fearing with every centimetre of her body that she could receive a negative answer.

"Absolutely," said Boggs. "Civilian evacuation was completed. Seconds count when you're under attack. Ten minutes meant lives saved."

The sudden interrogation came to an end pretty soon. Cressida carried on her job to perfection, motioning Katniss to her position exactly; a rock only metres before the ruins of the old Justice Building. They had just made it halfway when Gale's warning caught everyone off guard. Two dozen freshly pink and red roses lay on the ground. Perfect, gleaming, and beautiful roses that had no business standing in the middle of nowhere.

"Don't touch them! They're for me!" Katniss yelled, stepping closer while explaining why Snow had sent them. The red and pink colours of love, the roses directed to no other than the recent Capitol-favourite lovers.

A specialised crew, dressed in funny head-to-toe suits, collected a dozen roses and brought them back to Thirteen, leaving the rest behind for their propo duty. With nothing as much as an ounce of calmness remaining in her body, Katniss stumbled around the ruins in front of the destroyed Justice Building before facing Cressida. "So, what exactly do you need from me again?"

"Just a few quick lines that show you're alive and still fighting," Cressida promised.

"OK," Katniss mumbled, her eyes darting to the red dot of the camera, the same dull light that told her that she was being recorded, that everything she was about to do would only harm Peeta further.

Minutes could have very well passed when Cressida spoke up again. "Katniss, just this one line, and you're done today. I promise," she said confidently. "Thirteen's alive and well and so am I."

Katniss couldn't do it. Her lips parted, then sealed back up. Images of Peeta, skinny and decayed and bloodied, filled her mind. There was nothing other she could focus on. Not the crew staring at her impatiently, nor the pity that Finnick's eyes showed. Nothing but Peeta and the tears that had rid her body of all strength, forcing her to drop to her knees as she cried her anxiety away in front of the camera. What a sight to see; the Mockingjay breaking down.

"What's wrong with her?" Plutarch asked for those who hadn't the audacity to bother the symphony of cries and sniffs.

"She's figured out how Snow's using Peeta," was all Finnick could say.

There were many attempts at consoling Katniss, but only one prevailed, as it was she who directly sought it. Haymitch wrapped his arms around Katniss' shoulders, bringing her closer as he whispered beautiful lies. "It's OK. It'll be OK, sweetheart."

"I can't do this anymore," said Katniss, digging her head further into Haymitch's grey shirt. "It's my fault!"

Katniss had been sobbing and shouting for an entire minute into Haymitch's arm when the crew did the only right thing, taking her out. A needle pinched her for half a second when she dropped unconscious. The effect of her words, however, had not disappeared along with her consciousness.

On the side, Finnick sat between the rumble and ruins, hugging his head between his arms as he tried to rock the intrusive thoughts away. "It was my fault. It was all my fault!"

He felt a pinch in his arm, and then nothing at all. Katniss woke him up hours later in Thirteen's medical wing, her hospital gown hugging her figure just enough to notice the serious physical condition that a year and a month of decent food hadn't been able to fix. But she wasn't just there to welcome him back to their pathetic excuse for lives, she had news. A rescue party had been sent into the Capitol not long ago. Worrisome enough, she didn't name anybody in specific.

"Who's gone?" He asked.

"Ron and Johanna," Katniss replied. "Librae almost killed them when she heard of it. Seems they didn't have much time to say goodbye."

Finnick nodded into his pillow, the effects of the sedative restraining his movements, but not his mind's clarity. "This will decide things. One way or the other. By the end of the day, they'll either be dead or with us. It's… it's more than we could hope for!"

To their not-so-pleasant surprise, Haymitch yanked the curtain back. He, or more specifically, the higher-ups in Thirteen, had a proposal. Post-bombing footage was more valuable than ever. "If we can get it in the next few hours, Beetee can air it leading up to the rescue, and maybe keep the Capitol's attention elsewhere."

"Yes, a distraction," said Finnick. "A decoy of sorts."

"What we really need is something so riveting that even President Snow won't be able to tear himself away. Got anything like that?" Haymitch asked, leaving Finnick to nod mindlessly into the darkness of his own thoughts.

Without a doubt, they accepted. Right after breakfast, which was highly mandatory, they got prepped for the cameras and launched back into the open. They had a chance to breathe it all in before the camera crew got ready, leaving them to stand right in the middle of the ruins, hearts and minds prepared for whatever course their actions could lead into.

Katniss was first, following her mandatory and rather necessary 'Question and Answer', with Cressida, which simply led her to explain her extended and most truthful story with Peeta. It wasn't all teen romance plots, though. "President Snow once admitted to me that the Capitol was fragile. At that time, I didn't know what he meant. It was hard to see clearly because I was so afraid. Now I'm not. The Capitol's fragile because it depends on the districts for everything. Food, energy, even the Peacekeepers that police us. If we declare our freedom, the Capitol collapses. President Snow, thanks to you, I'm officially declaring mine today."

With that, Katniss' interview was over. However, that didn't appease the hungry beast of the past Gamemaker. There was something missing, a little flavour, that would put any good mention of President Snow to shame. Soon, he was talking with Finnick, proposing something that the young Victor clearly was not excited about.

Nevertheless, the next minute, Finnick had taken Katniss' interview spot.

"You don't have to do this," said Haymitch.

"Yes, I do," Finnick replied, clenching his rope tightly in his fist. "If it will help her." The cameras rolled with his indication, everyone's eyes carefully analysing his expression as he figured out a way to explain the harsh reality. "President Snow used to…sell me… my body, that is." He paused to breathe in and out. "I wasn't the only one. If a victor is considered desirable, the president gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them for an exorbitant amount of money. If you refuse, he kills someone you love. So you do it." He ignored Katniss' pleading look of regret and carried on. "I wasn't the only one, but I was the most popular. And perhaps the most defenceless, because the people I loved were so defenceless. To make themselves feel better, my patrons would make presents of money or jewellery, but I found a much more valuable form of payment."

Katniss awaited impatiently to know what else she would find out about her friend that day alone, but what followed wasn't something she could have ever expected at all.

"Secrets," said Finnick. "And this is where you're going to want to stay tuned, President Snow, because so many of them were about you. But let's begin with some of the others." With that, he didn't miss a beat to explain every little detail of the gossips and secrets that he had been told over the years. "And now, to our good President Coriolanus Snow. Such a young man when he rose to power. Such a clever one to keep it. How, you must ask yourself, did he do it? One word. That's all you need to know. Poison."

A list longer than it would take to count the deaths of all Hunger Games combined got the live audience behind the cameras to gasp. The unsolved mystery deaths and the suspicious political ascension of President Snow left some with their jaws hanging, though most of them were Capitol refugees. In Finnick's words, there had been reports of people dropping dead at a feast or slowly or inexplicably declining into shadows over a period of months. Allegations like such didn't shock the victors much, though the Capitol refugees were only having a harder time wrapping their heads around the massive amount of information.

It took until Finnick could gather enough strength to say, "Cut", that the cameras stopped recording.

His nightmare was not over, though, as Plutarch felt his overpowering need to lead him away for a chat, as he put it. He wanted to hear any other powerful secrets that he could know before finally letting him off, clearly, but that couldn't be put into words in front of such a large crew. But the recording was already under editing, and their jobs were done, so they could only wait.

Finnick joined Katniss in Special Defence hardly an hour later; tying knots, eating lunch with the rest of the District Four victors, and blowing stuff up in the shooting range. At 15:00, the designated hour, both stood tense and silent in the back of a room full of screens and computers, watching Beetee and his team try to dominate the airwaves. Katniss' interview had just barely made the cut. Finnick's, however, had received close to no cuts.

Sixty minutes passed in a continued battle against the Capitol's attempt to block the images with standard broadcast or poor attempts at blacking Finnick's presentation out. It wasn't successful in the slightest, as his image was almost constant the whole time.

"If they're not out of there by now, they're dead," said Beetee, spinning in his chair to face both victors, completely shocked at his words. "It was a good plan, though. Did Plutarch show it to you?"

Katniss and Finnick shook their heads, powerless, and even more so as they followed Beetee to another room, where he showed them what the plan was about. The team, with rebel insiders, had just attempted to free Olive, Minerva, and Peeta from an underground prison. They had required the use of knockout gas through the ventilation system, which he assured wasn't toxic and had been thoroughly considered its minimal, but yet possible, side effects. There was, as well, a bomb detonation in a government building far away from the prison, creating another distraction to the rescue team's advantage.

"Like your electricity trap in the arena?" Katniss asked, looking as perplexed at the screen as she had been at the beginning of it all.

"Exactly. And see how well that worked out?" answered Beetee.

Again, neither Finnick nor Katniss could say much in its favour, so they simply nodded and walked away to Command, where the first word would supposedly arrive. They weren't allowed to stay for long as there was an important war discussion being carried out. With no idea of where else to go, they ended up in the Hummingbird's room, the second place closest to Command where they could stay without people bothering them.

Once they sat down, there was no moving them. Finnick took out his rope right away, while Katniss took significantly longer. She had tried to process everything, but she simply couldn't. The rope could leave their fingers sore, perhaps even get them to bleed, but it was a way to not think of Peeta. A way to distract herself past anything that had to do with the world around her, even dinner time.

Katniss raised her head from the intricate knot just in time to see Finnick give up. He hunched down, hands over his ears as he had done during the Jabberjay attack in the Arena. To that reaction, there was only one thing that she could think of asking, "Did you love Olive right away, Finnick?"

Finnick took his time to find a coherent trail of thought. "No. She crept up on me."

A melancholic smile overthrew Finnick's distant look long enough to find Haymitch's out-of-breath figure dashing into the Hummingbird's room. With sweat covering his forehead and a worried expression overtaking his exhaustion, all Haymitch could answer to the inquiring stares was, "They're back. We're wanted in the hospital. That's all I know."