#where Peeta’s were from running into the flames to save Katniss

[mollywog]

THG Chapter 3

The baker sits awkwardly on the edge of one of the plush chairs. He’s a big, broad-shouldered man with burn scars from years at the ovens. He must have just said good-bye to his son.

He pulls a white paper package from his jacket pocket and holds it out to me. I open it and find cookies. These are a luxury we can never afford.

“Thank you,” I say. The baker’s not a very talkative man in the best of times, and today he has no words at all. “I had some of your bread this morning. My friend Gale gave you a squirrel for it.” He nods, as if remembering the squirrel. “Not your best trade,” I say. He shrugs as if it couldn’t possibly matter.

Mockingjay Chapter 26

Through the water in the glass, I see a distorted image of one of Peeta’s hands. The burn marks. We are both fire mutts now. My eyes travel up to where the flames licked across his forehead, singeing away his brows but just missing his eyes. Those same blue eyes that used to meet mine and then flit away at school. Just as they do now.

[imkylotrash]

Whatever It Takes

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader

Request: They’re getting ready to go into the Quarter Quell, and essentially have a super sweet conversation where they confess their love, and are like “damn the revolution I’ll protect you”. Anonymous

A/N It’s been a long time since I read the books so if I accidentally used the wrong word for something please let me know and I’ll correct it 💛

Tagging: @bitchwhytho​ @music-of-melody​

You called it before they even announce it. You knew all the victors would get involved in the Quarter Quell because how else would he get Katniss to be in the arena without letting the public know that it’s purely to kill her? When you hear Finnick’s name get called out, there’s no choice. But was there ever one to begin with?  

“I volunteer as tribute,” you say raising your hand to let them know that you’ll be going into the Quarter Quell and not that poor girl they’ve got on stage. You don’t look at Finnick because you know his face will just mirror back the pain you feel. No matter what the revolution has planned, you highly doubt that both of you gets out alive. The focus will be on Katniss because she’s the one that’s been fuelling the fire while the rest of you can die a martyr and inspire the people then Katniss’ death would squash the tiny flame. It’s not fair but she made everything possible when she took out those berries. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Finnick tells you once you’re on the train travelling to the Capitol. 

“There was no way I was going to let you go alone.” Not to mention that innocent girl who got drafted. You’d have been a proper piece of shit had you not volunteered. 

“But you could’ve survived. Don’t you understand that’s all I care about?” 

“Careful, Finnick. Someone might hear your declaration of love and think it means something else.” It’s a warning that the walls have ears and not necessarily just the Capitol’s ears. Although you both want to think only the best of the lovely Coin, you can’t help but feel like it’s too good to be true. And you have no doubt that she’s got as many spies all around as President Snow. 

“I just want you to live,” he says hearing your warning loud and clear. Katniss and to some extent Peeta are untouchable, you are not. He takes your hand without another word. The rest of the train ride you remain quiet, too worried about saying the wrong thing and jeopardising this whole thing. Haymitch is counting on to keep Katniss alive until the rescue mission and your lives can’t matter more than the entire of Panem. Even if you want to say screw that sometimes.

“God, you’ve gotten old,” you smile spotting Haymitch next to the star-crossed lovers. He scoffs but can’t help but laugh. You’ve known each other for quite some time now and learned a long time ago that humour is how you all get through this with at least some level of sanity.

“I see your kindness have only grown over the years,” he mocks before giving you a massive hug. Being a victor and having to mentor the kids every year creates a certain bond between you all but Haymitch has always been one of your favourites. It’s the reason you know you can trust him to do you a favour. 

“We should talk once all the celebrations die down. Catch up on old times,” you smile giving his shoulder a friendly squeeze. He agrees suggesting the rooftop for a gorgeous view. When Finnick sneaks his arm around you, there’s a slight pang of guilt but you force it to the back of your mind. He’s going to survive the Quarter Quell if you can do anything about it. 

“What did you talk about?” he asks quietly and you keep a smile on your face not even looking at him. 

“Just good old days,” you utter hoping Finnick will understand not to ask more questions right now. There are too many people around you to speak freely and, in a minute, you’ll have to get on that carriage and pretend you’re proud to be fighting once again. 

“Katniss, Peeta!” you call out catching their attention just as they’re about to get on their carriage, “nice costumes.” You’re trying to be nice and establish some sort of positive relation between you but all it does is make Katniss stare at you like you’re personally responsible for putting her in the Quarter Quell. 

“I already tried. Tough nut,” Finnick tells you. It makes sense why the revolution needs a face but why they would ever choose someone like Katniss is beyond you. She’s not kind or caring expect when it comes to the people she loves. The future of Panem seems oddly low on her list of priorities but then again when has war ever made sense? And you certainly can’t say you’re morally better than her. 

“Is holding hands a cliché?” You look over to Finnick who’s doing his very best to put on a brave face.

“I think it’s perfect.” You intertwine your fingers with his not letting go until the carriage has driven through those gates at the end where the public can’t see you anymore. And even then, it’s just to get some blood flow back. 

“I just want some sleep,” Finnick says itching to get the costume off and you’re thinking the same thing. You ride up in the elevator with Katniss, Peeta and Joanna which makes for an interesting end to the day. 

“Never a dull moment,” you say before exiting the elevator with Finnick. Joanna laughs loudly while both Katniss and Peeta looks slightly mortified. If she’s trying to win over Katniss, Joanna is doing a poor job. 

“Let’s take a shower,” Finnick suggests now that you’re finally alone and you’re all too happy to comply. In the shower you can finally speak freely with the sound of water drowning out the sound of your voices. 

“I know it’s horrible to say but the revolution doesn’t matter to me if I don’t have you next to me when it’s done.” He slowly lets his hands slide down your arms until they reach your hands. 

“I know,” you whisper feeling the exact same way. The guilt returns tenfold this time but you keep quiet knowing that when he’s sleeping tonight, you’ll be bargaining for his life. 

“I say damn the revolution. I swore to protect to you a long time ago and I’m not breaking that promise now.” He kisses you with a fire that tells you just how badly he wants to keep you safe. Desperation takes over your body as you kiss him back. You wish you could leave now and hide somewhere far away from everything. If it were up to you, you would’ve fled the moment you heard about the Quarter Quell. But it’s difficult leaving behind so many decent people who needs your help and the few moments of hesitation had been enough for the peacekeepers to show up and make sure you didn’t take off. Snow always knew you were a runner. 

“And I say you’re sounding crazy. We can’t change the plan now. There’s nowhere to run.” As much as you’d love to run away and hide with him, you know it’s too late for that now. You wouldn’t make it out of the building. 

“I don’t care if I sound crazy. We can protect each other in the arena, make sure we never part. And when they come get us, we make sure they grab both of us.” It’s cruel really to give hope to him because you know it won’t work but you wish it could be so easy. 

“And then when we’re out, we hide. No more war, no more revolution. Just you and me and a small cottage near the water.” Hope may be cruel but it’s a strong motivator to survive and if anything you need Finnick to survive. You hide your face in the crook of his neck allowing yourself to feel a pang of sadness at the prospect of the future you’ve lost. Your lives ended the day you got drawn for the Hunger Games. 

“And you can finally have enough quiet to paint,” he adds and you don’t have to see his face to see the affection in his eyes. 

“It would be perfect,” you say closing your eyes to picture the cottage and the life you could’ve had with Finnick. The water hides the tears that fall from your eyes and it’s a good thing because you’re not sure you would be able to hold your secret from spilling out if Finnick noticed. 

“I promise I will make it happen. I promise we’ll be alive to spend the rest of our lives together. Whatever it takes,” he says. Instead of answering him, you kiss him again. When the water turns cold, you get out and dry off. You both know that your safety is gone now and they can hear whatever you say so you keep quiet letting your eyes do the talking. You cuddle up in bed where you wait for him to drift off before you head to the roof where Haymitch is waiting. The wind is loud tonight working as a noise diffuser. 

“I want you to save him.” It doesn’t surprise Haymitch but you both know he can’t make any promises. 

“I know Katniss is the main goal and that’s she’s probably made some demand for Peeta. But if there comes a choice between saving Finnick or the rest, you save him. Do you understand?” It’s the least he can do for you after everything you’ve sacrificed for President Coin and the revolution. You could’ve had a life if things had gone differently. 

“And that includes me, Haymitch. Once you’ve gotten Katniss and Peeta out, Finnick is your priority,” you add knowing that if Haymitch could choose, he’d pick you. 

“Finnick will make more sense for the revolution. I won’t be an asset the way he can be.” He knows you’re right. Of course he does but it doesn’t mean he has to like it. 

“I know,” he grumbles. You both know there’s a good chance you won’t make it out of that arena but then again none of you have been safe ever since you became victors. Snow made sure of that. 

“Promise me. I need to hear you say it.” You’re not satisfied until you hear him say those words that will give Finnick a chance to make it. As much as you’d love to believe his plan of getting out of the arena together, you can’t afford to entertain the idea. Even if Finnick isn’t ready to admit it, you both know it’s a fairy tale ending you won’t get. 

“I always thought he was just your way of getting through it, you know. That he offered some sort of relieve.” Maybe at first Finnick was your escape from reality but not now. He’s your world and everything else. 

“He has my heart, Haymitch.” You hug him tightly hoping he knows how much his friendship has meant to you over the years of being a mentor.

“Take care,” he says before you spin around hurrying back. Finnick doesn’t wake up until you crawl back to bed but a quick excuse about the bathroom satisfies his curiosity. 

“I love you,” you whisper looking over at the man who’s given you so much more than you’ll ever be able to explain. 

“I love you more.” 

[seasonsofeverlark]

Amazing and Corny

Author: @hutchhitched​

Prompt: Corn Maze [submitted by @sunsetsrmydreams​]

Rating: T

Summary: Stressed over classes, Katniss gives in when her friend Gale insists she join their group of friends at a corn maze. Somehow, she finds herself lost with Peeta, the golden boy she’s admired from afar since their freshman year of college. As a thunderstorm rumbles overhead, they find their way out of the maze and discover each other, too.

Author’s Note: Thanks to @mandelion82​ for the extra set of eyes.

____________

Katniss Everdeen looked around her, wondering how in the hell she’d been dragged along on what her best friend Gale Hawthorne insisted was an adventure. As far as she was concerned, this qualified as a misadventure more than anything else. She didn’t have time for this, anyway. Only six weeks left in the semester, and she was at a damn corn maze an hour from the middle of nowhere.

“I don’t know how I let you talk me into something so stupid,” she grumbled, but Gale just knocked his shoulder against hers and laughed.

“Oh, come on, Catnip,” he chided. “It’ll be fun. Besides, I hear a certain someone might make an appearance, and I know how tantalizing that can be for the young co-eds such as yourself.”

“Shut up,” she snapped and immediately blushed the same shade as the sugar maple across the road. Ducking her head to hide the distinctly scarlet hue her cheeks had flamed, she crossed her arms over her chest and shrunk in on herself. Besides, who talked like that? Apparently Gale when he was messing with her.

Peeta Mellark. That’s who Gale meant, and her stomach fluttered at the possibility he might attend the evening’s event. Peeta was friends with Delly Cartwright who knew Annie Cresta who dated Finnick Odair who was friends with Johanna Mason who her traitorous best friend happened to be dating. It was not her favorite relationship of his.

“Relax. He might not come. Anyway, it’s not like you’d talk to him if he was here. You haven’t managed to yet the entire time we’ve been on campus together.”

Katniss hung her head because Gale was right. Peeta seemed to be friends with everyone at Panem State, the mid-level public university in the Midwest she and her friends attended. Everyone, that was, but her. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried. She’d run into him multiple times over the past two and a half years, but every time she clammed up, unable to speak and overwhelmed by his warmth. As far as she was concerned, Peeta Mellark was amazing. She adored his affable nature and the corny jokes he told. Her family always called them groaners, but he’d often joked he was practicing for when he became a dad. Peeta shone like the sun, and she paled in comparison.

And that made her feel even worse. Peeta had dad jokes, and Katniss quaked at the thought of future children. She wasn’t even 21 yet, and she didn’t understand the tendency of those around her who had baby fever. At least that was one thing Gale’s girlfriend had going for her. Johanna Mason didn’t seem to have a maternal bone in her body.

“But what if he does?” she mumbled and scuffed the toe of her shoe in the dust.

“Peeta?” At her nod, he sighed. “If he shows up, you might want to actually speak to him. At this point, it’s obvious you’re uncomfortable around him. He’s even asked the group if he did something to offend you.”

“He is offensive,” Katniss groused. “He’s too bright and shiny. Too nice. Too charming. I mean, give the rest of us a break. We can’t live up to his golden boy perfection.”

Gale rolled his eyes and looked over her shoulder. “Hey, Jo,” he called. “Delly, Peeta, Finn, Annie. Good to see you.”

Katniss’ stomach dropped to her feet. There was no way he hadn’t heard her. No possibility that Peeta Mellark hadn’t witnessed her confession that she thought his perfection was rivaled by none. How in the world could she play this off? She needed a place to hide. She was just about to bolt when Gale grabbed her forearm and tugged her against his side.

“Stay put,” he growled under his breath. “You avoiding him is ridiculous.”

Katniss elbowed him in the ribs, but he only acknowledged it with a barely audible grunt. Instead, he turned to his girlfriend and kissed her, which devolved into a filthy, open-mouthed, possibly pornographic grope fest that only ended because Finnick wolf whistled.

“Get a room! We’re here for the corn maze, not a tryst with a corn cob.”

“I don’t know. I think the corn might be jealous of Hawthorne’s cob,” Johanna retorted and turned her lascivious grin on Gale. “Later, lover,” she promised.

“Gross,” Katniss mumbled, and Peeta snorted. He hid his mouth and covered the chuckle with a cough, but his eyes sparkled mischievously when he glanced her way.

“Let’s go,” Finnick said, enthusiasm practically vibrating out of him as he led the way to the corn maze entrance. He purchased tickets for their group of seven and then tugged Annie into the maze. Katniss trudged along at the back of the group.

It didn’t take long for them to spread out, the couples drifting away from Katniss, Delly, and Peeta as the duos held hands and snuggled together. Delly and Peeta chatted companionably, while Katniss glowered and tried not to feel like a third wheel. Peeta attempted to engage her a few times, but she brushed off his efforts and stopped paying attention until they were fairly deep into the maze.

“Uh, Delly, do you have any idea where we are?” Peeta asked, shocking Katniss out of her stupor.

The night had cooled, humidity and the threat of rain making the air seem colder than it should. Katniss glanced upward and blanched at roiling clouds and lazy lightning sparking in the atmosphere. She shivered involuntarily and shifted closer to the other two.

“Not a clue,” Delly answered cheerfully. “Let’s try this way.” With that, she was off, leaving Peeta and Katniss in her wake. They stood together in semi-stunned silence before Peeta turned to her with a sheepish expression.

“Well, alone at last,” he said in an attempted joke that fell flat.

“We need better friends,” Katniss sighed. “The whole lot of them are terrible people.”

Amused, Peeta returned, “I feel like that says something about us, that we’d both choose crappy friends and allow them to, first, talk us into a corn maze on the night of a predicted thunderstorm during a really busy time in the semester and, second, abandon us like this. It feels like a plot to a bad horror film or something.”

“Horror or Hallmark?”

Peeta ran a hand down the back of his neck nervously and cocked his head. “What do you mean by Hallmark?”

“Oh, you know. Those corny movies where a woman goes back to her hometown and reconnects with some hot guy who convinces her the country is more wholesome than the city and she forgets all about her job and friends and the life she’s built for herself,” Katniss explained. “They always make me so mad. Like the female lead isn’t smart enough to have made decisions for herself, and she has to be saved by the noble, hot stranger who’s got it all figured out. It’s mansplaining at its finest.”

“What if the guy’s right?”

“Why? Because he’s hot and feels an inordinate desire to protect a woman who doesn’t need his help? If anyone ever tried that with me…” Katniss trailed into silence, unsure what the rest of her threat actually was. It wasn’t like she didn’t appreciate help; she just wanted help from someone who understood she could do it by herself, even if that wasn’t necessary.

Peeta studied her carefully, his expression unreadable, and she wondered if she’d offended him, somehow. He licked his lips and tugged the collar of his jacket up under his ears before speaking.

“Well, that explains some things.”

She bristled immediately. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean,” he sighed, clearly dejected, “it makes more sense why you haven’t given me the time of day the past two years.”

Katniss gaped at him, completely taken aback at this statement. It took her a second to form a coherent thought, but she finally managed to stammer, “Wh-what?”

Peeta’s mouth twisted into an expression of misery. “You seem to hate me, and I have no idea why.”

Flustered, she blurted, “How does that have anything to do with hot guys from small towns? I— You’re— Yeah, hot. You really are, but… I’m so lost.”

Peeta flushed, his cheeks flaming red, and he stubbed his toe into the ground and refused to look at her. “It doesn’t matter,” he mumbled. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Brought—?” Katniss stopped herself and held up her hands in surrender. Gently, she prodded, “Peeta? What are you saying?”

He shook his head and hunched his shoulders, shielding against the chilly weather and his disappointment. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to be that guy,” he whispered.

“What guy?” she asked, using every ounce of her strength to quell her frustration.

He lifted tortured eyes and answered softly, “The guy that seems to think he’s entitled to a girl’s attention. The one that mansplains. The one who takes over the room when he walks in. I’ve never intended to do that, but you’ve always shied away from the popular crowd. You have every right to ignore me if you want. I didn’t mean to imply that you owe anything to me.”

“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, that makes way more sense than… Well, than anything I was thinking.”

Curious, he asked tentatively, “What were you thinking?”

“I was trying to figure out how you were the hot, small-town guy luring me away from the city,” she laughed, and he grinned a little.

“Well, you did say I was hot.”

“You are hot,” she sputtered. Peeta coughed to cover a pleased smirk. His response was so soft, she almost missed it.

“Thank you.”

“I wouldn’t ever try to insinuate you weren’t smart enough to make your own decisions.”

The tips of his ears burned red, which she thought was about the cutest thing she’d ever seen. She opened her mouth to speak when her phone interrupted them. Grimacing, she tugged it from her pocket and glanced at the screen.

“Oh, hell,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Gale,” she offered in explanation. “He wants to know where we are.”

“We’re in the corn maze. Where else would we be? Is everybody else done or something?”

She nodded to affirm. “They’re all waiting at the picnic tables. Even Delly’s there. They have cider.”

They glanced around them and realized they still had no idea where they were. Katniss hadn’t been paying attention as they wound into the maze, and Peeta had clearly followed Delly’s direction. In short, they were lost. Katniss glanced upward, as a few fat drops of rain spattered around them.

“Would it be corny to say I’d rather be lost in here with you than anyone else?” Peeta asked, his lips quirked into a crooked grin.

“Oh, I don’t know. There’s a crop of freshmen on campus. Wouldn’t you rather be with one of them?”

Peeta’s eyes twinkled. “Punny.”

“Same to you.”

“You’re amazing,” he laughed, and they grinned at each other, content to joke about their predicament. Seconds later, the sky opened, lightning flashed, and they both jumped. “We need to get out of here.”

Katniss extended her hand to him. “Together?”

“Together,” he agreed as he took her hand.

They walked quickly then, alternating right turns with lefts until they began to see a pattern. Corn stalks guided their way as they wound through the maze, hopeful they were on the right track, as rain poured from the heavens. Soaking wet, they clung to each other, a lifeline in their confusion. They hadn’t seen anyone else for several minutes, and Katniss started to shake—from cold, anxiety, and frustration.

“It’s going to be okay,” Peeta assured her. Letting go of her hand, he shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. When she protested, he insisted. “I’m all right.”

“I thought you trusted me to make my own decisions,” she retorted, but her clacking teeth and shivers undermined her argument.

He wrapped his arm around her and guided them down another corridor. “I do. I promise, but your sense of direction is as terrible as mine. Let’s get out of here, and then you can go back to resisting my advances.”

“Have you been making advances?” she asked, curious.

“Since the moment I saw you across the room. You have no idea the effect you have on me.”

She’d have to ponder that once they’d escape the maze. She was too cold, too disoriented, and too woozy from the heat of his jacket and arm curled around her. The stress of the semester had been weighing on her more than she’d thought, and there was something really compelling about allowing someone else to take charge.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you,” Peeta sputtered as they rounded another corner and spied the flags marking the maze exits. His curls were plastered to his head in dark blonde waves, and he looked absolutely miserable in his soaking wet navy blue Henley and dark washed jeans.

“Wait,” she pleaded. “Wait.”

Peeta stopped immediately and turned questioning eyes to meet hers. His willingness to take her seriously without question made her smile. “What’s up?” he asked, rubbing her arms to warm her.

Katniss reached for him, grabbing his sopping shirt and tugging him to her. Their lips met as thunder rumbled above them, and she leaned into his heat. He wrapped his arms around her, cradling her to him and increasing the pressure of his mouth on hers. They stood there, tangled together, until an echoing boom of thunder shook them apart.

“Electrifying,” he murmured as lightning flashed.

Katniss giggled and burrowed into his chest. “Such a dad joke.”

“They’re coming out my ears.”

“No. Stop. That was terrible.”

“I can’t help it. They just pop up when I least expect them.”

“So corny,” she grinned.

“So amazing,” he corrected and grabbed her hand. “Let’s get out of her, ditch our friends, and get to know each other.”

Katniss nodded. At the moment, there was nothing she wanted more.

[thegirlfromoverthepond]

Fire Is Catching

Once upon a time, I decided to join the list of contributors for @fandomforoz​. The ever generous @justajjfan​ made me the honor to “buy” a story from me.

At her request, here is Everlark in Paris, with a bit of museum, and a bit of fire.

This fic would be nothing without the help I got from @xerxia31​ for her awesome beta skills as well as for her help with the image :) Thank you my friend for making everything better.

Katniss was late.

Katniss was never late. 

It had become their weekly Monday routine, to meet in the Grande Galerie. Peeta would show her a painting, or a piece of art he particularly liked, or she would take him to the hidden places of the Louvre only a few people knew. She had the keys to all the rooms, knew all the secret stairs, her nightly routine taking her throughout the whole museum.

She was one of the firefighters whose place of work was the most beautiful museum in the world, yet she had almost no knowledge of art.

She had laughed at the Joconde, wondering aloud why people would line up to take a picture with her.

“Look at her,” she had told him. “She isn’t even beautiful. Why do people make such a fuss about her ?”

Peeta had moved towards the painting. It was such a privilege to be able to approach such a masterpiece so closely, without anyone around.

“For today’s tastes, she’s not special. But for Italian Renaissance she was everything. The thing is, it’s all in the eyes and the smile. If you look at her while moving, it’s like she follows you. Try it, Katniss.”

He had smiled when he had seen Katniss cautiously walking around the painting, staring at Mona Lisa, while he could see the astonishment in her features. 

“And if you look at her, you’ll see her mouth will fall and turn from a smiling face to a sad one.”

To this day, Peeta still remembered how Katniss’s face had shifted from disbelief to admiration, from curiosity to understanding.

The memory brought him back to reality. Katniss was late. He hoped everything was okay, that the strange sensation he was currently feeling in his stomach was nothing to be worried about.

Yet…

The sound of the sirens brought him to the large, beautiful windows. On the street, dozens of fire trucks were speeding towards the Pont-Neuf with their lights flashing. A few seconds later, another convoy of trucks passed by, again at full speed, heading in the same direction.

Something was going on. Something bad.

He tried not to think of the last time he had seen so many fire trucks, but he took his phone out anyways. He needed to know.

The news had already made the headlines.

Notre Dame is on fire.

Five little words that took the wind out of him.

Peeta had to reread the short sentence several times to be certain he understood it.

Notre Dame, the masterpiece of all cathedrals, the most elegant building of all of the city of light was on fire.

He felt his knees starting to buckle under him, had to lean onto the wall to support himself.

Notre Dame was on fire.

A treasure born in the 12th century, proof of the genius of the men who built it, a splendid building with treasures inside, with unparalleled elegance and grace.

Notre Dame was on fire.

Peeta read that firefighters from all over Paris and the suburbs had been called to join the fight, to try to save the building, the treasures, the stained glass.

The stained glass he wanted to show Katniss one day.

Katniss … As her name entered his mind, he realized what had happened.

With trembling hands, he dialled the internal number nobody ever wanted to use. The one that would reach the team of firefighters of the Louvre.

“Thresh.”

 “Hey Thresh, it’s Peeta, Peeta Mellark, from the -”

“The guys from the paintings, I know you. Sorry but Katniss isn’t here tonight.”

“How do - “ Peeta started before realizing with the amount of cameras in the museum, their private visits maybe weren’t that private.

“She’s at the fire. She volunteered.” Thresh answered the question Peeta hadn’t dared ask.

Peeta closed his eyes.

Of course she had volunteered to go. He hung up, not caring anymore what Thresh had to say. Surely something like ‘it would be too dangerous to go’, or that she wouldn’t be able to see or answer him anyway.

The words were lost in a haze. 

Peeta ran through the corridors of the museum, for once never stopping to look at the paintings lining the majestic walls, not even taking the time to stop by his office to grab his jacket.

He had walked the Rue de Rivoli so many times, looking at the lovely shape of the windows, the imposing stature of the former kings’ palace, or taking a detour through the Place Vendome, savouring the pleasure of the architecture. This day, though, he ran the whole length of the so long street, ignoring the other pedestrians, running until he reached the Place de la Concorde.

That’s where he spotted the column of smoke for the first time.

From behind the two towers of the building, elegant against the blue sky as always, a dark cloud of smoke was rising, threatening the wooden spire.

Peeta stopped, his breath taken away by the sad sight in front of him. 

Something deeper, though, made him start running again. A litany, in his head. Katniss is there, she’s at the fire. Katniss is there, she’s at the fire playing in loop, over and over, with the rhythm of his feet on the pavement.

He couldn’t tell how he managed to get so close to the building, despite the amount of people who rallied towards the cathedral, so close he could almost touch the fire trucks. Yet, instead of looking at the cathedral, he could only focus on the men and women working with their heavy PPE, focusing on the small ones, so he could try to spot who he was looking for. Katniss.

As the day melted into the night, as the spire of the cathedral fell, as people on the perimeter sang, Peeta grew worried.

There were just too many things. 

Too many flames licking the heavy stones of the cathedral. 

Too many columns of smoke escaping through the stained glass or the open arches of the building.

Too many litres of water that seemed to do nothing to extinguish the fire.

Too many people rushing around, carrying the heavy material, doing their best to save the cultural heritage of the building.

Peeta never thought that one day he would see stone burning. Never thought it would be possible.

He never stopped looking for Katniss whenever he caught sight of a slender frame.

There were just so many firefighters, so many of them running around, connecting fire hoses to the trucks, or to the boats that were pumping water directly from the Seine. 

He finally caught sight of her, when she took her helmet off, her braid falling down on her fire jacket, black against red.

He could see the exhaustion radiating off of her when she sat down on the pavement, her head hanging between her hands, shoulders slumped. 

“Katniss!” he shouted, hoping his voice would carry over the wind, over the noise of the sirens, over the crowd chanting hallelujahs and ave marias. He thought he saw her turn her head towards him, before she turned back to the tall and lanky man in front of her. It was only a matter of seconds before she was back on her feet, hauling her equipment on her back, as if she were getting ready to dive back into the fire.

She was walking towards the entrance of the cathedral.

“NOOOOOO”

He couldn’t let her go there, couldn’t let her enter a building on fire - yet he wasn’t able to cross the barriers and the policemen blocking the access.

There was nothing he could do. 

Nothing.

He felt what heartbreak meant that instant. His soul was torn, his body ached to be close to her.

He had no idea his feelings for her were so strong. So pure. So deep.

He had no idea he even had feelings for her, prior to seeing her entering this burning cathedral of stone.

Now it felt like his heart was breaking into pieces.

After what felt like an eternity, he spotted firemen coming out of the building, heavily loaded with what seemed to be paintings and small statues, stopping only to drink some water before diving back into the furnace.

It was a never ending cycle, in and out of the fire to the hymns of the people who had spontaneously gathered around the cathedral, needing to see what was happening with their own eyes.

To Peeta it was endlessly terrifying when he spotted the familiar silhouette coming in and out, again and again.

The cries of the crowd turned his attention towards the building, towards the flames that could be seen above the two towers, so high in the sky.

The forest was burning.

The 1300 oak trees from the 13th century that made the framing of the cathedral were burning to ashes.

Loud cracks could be heard, even from a distance.

Not loud enough to mask the sounds of the ambulances coming near the building.

It took hours and hours of relentless battle, thousands of tons of water, hundreds of firefighters who fought until the very last minutes of the night to extinguish the fire.

As dawn started to rise, as the sun made its lazy ascent, the fire was out.

The cathedral was still standing.

Burnt, injured, but still standing.

Torn, empty, dirty, but still standing.

Peeta couldn’t believe his eyes as the cathedral remained firmly in place, beaten but not broken.

He saw the Paris firefighters taking off their PPE. Exhaustion was written on their faces, along with something else … pride.

He heard the crowd cheering, the bells of the other Parisian churches ringing, yet he couldn’t join them for now. His eyes were scanning the faces of the men and women who had spent their night fighting against the fire.

Until he saw her.

“Katniss!!!” He shouted in the hopes of being heard, over the shouts and prayers, over the sirens and the water still being thrown on the cathedral.

He thought she couldn’t hear him, until he saw her move her head, as if searching for someone. He felt her eyes pass over him, then saw the perfect moment when she realized he was there.

He hoped the smile that graced her face was for him. He really hoped.

Then she was running towards him, leaving her PPE behind, the loud stomping of her boot clad feet echoing on the pavement. In no time, she was at the barrier, jumping over it just in front of Peeta, ignoring the shouts of the policemen around.

She was in his arms the next second.

-- 

April 15th 2020.  

 He checked the time on his watch, smiling.

Katniss was never late, he knew that. That day, though he was a bit more nervous than usual, was a bit unsure of how the day would go.

He finally saw her, looking even more beautiful with every day he had the chance to spend with her.

“Sorry! I was with Prim, she’s the one who insisted on the beret!” She pointed to the little hat she had on her head, that she was wearing a bit on the side like most Parisian women did.  In his opinion, it was a game of equilibrium on how they never fell. He was just happy she had left her hair down, as he had every intention of having his hands tanngle in her locks later that day.

“She was right. You are cute.” Peeta grabbed her hand as they started strolling along the quays of the Seine, one of their favorite walks. For once, they were both off work on the same day of the week, something quite rare with their schedules. The Louvre was open every day but Tuesday, yet there was still so much to do in the museum besides ensuring it didn’t catch fire for Katniss. 

She had to go through training on how to save the masterpieces displayed, to prioritize which ones to save in case of a fire (which led to a lot of disagreements from Peeta who clearly didn’t agree with the choices of the firefighters), or simply memorizing the museum’s rooms.

Even the small alcove they both had started to visit, trying to find a bit of intimacy out of the eyes of the security cameras. They still both blushed when they remembered the comment from Thresh, about the arrow tattoo Katniss had on her left hip.

They had kept their private sessions to just making out from then on.

(Even though they never walked through the Egyptian Department without thinking of that time Peeta made her cum next to the statue of Amon).

He was brought back to reality when she slapped his arm at his comment.

“I do not look cute!” She scowled, but he could see the spark in her eyes. He knew better, knew she liked his compliments.

“If you say so, Love, if you say so. You ready for a session with Monet?” 

“Monet, Monet, Monet, must be funny, in a rich man’s world….”

“Katniss ….” he sighed, trying to prevent the smirk he could feel forming on his lips.

“What? You can’t go wrong with ABBA!” She laughed, making his heart grow even bigger.

Before their first kiss on a sad April morning, a kiss of tears and ashes, Peeta had never thought he could be able to love so much, so fiercely, so deeply, and yet feel so free.

“Where are we going? Orsay is the other way?” Katniss asked, looking around them. “We’re not going to see your painter friends?” 

“Surprise, Love, surprise.”

“You know I hate surprises.”

“Yup.”

“Yet you keep on planning them.”

“Yup.”

“You’re irritating.”

“And you love me for that.”

“No, I don’t love you for that.” 

When Katniss spoke those words, Peeta felt his heart break a little.

Sure, she had never told him she loved him in such terms, rather shown him in so many different ways …

“Sit down with me…” he hadn’t realized that she was now sitting on the quay, her hand held out for him to take it. He hoped he was able to conceal how much he was hurting at the moment.

“There’s something I need to tell you, Peeta. That I have wanted to tell you for some time now..”

He could feel the cool pavement under the fabric of his jeans. It felt like cold was spreading inside of him. Katniss wasn’t even looking at him, her head turned towards the other bank of the Seine, facing away.

He saw her take a deep breath before she turned to him, before her hand went to his head, cradling it in her warm palm.

He was sure the killing blow, the coup de grâce was coming.

“Peeta, look at me…” Her voice was soft as the wind, light as a feather. He mustered all the strength he had in him before raising his eyes, before blue met grey. She had the most fascinating eyes he had ever seen. That would never change.

“Peeta, you keep calling me ‘Love’…” He closed his eyes, willing the tears to fade away, wishing for the heartbreak to stop. “Nobody’s called me ‘Love’ before. I’ve been… damn, this is hard!”

This was hard? He couldn’t believe his ears.

He was opening his mouth to tell her to go for the kill directly when she put her hand on his lips.

“Don’t, Peeta. This is something I have to do. For me, for you… for us.” He could feel her fingers shaking as she took a deep breath.

”You took me by surprise, Peeta. I never thought I would… feel so much. At first I blamed it on the fire, on the pain that it brought us, you, that it brought me. It was so awful being inside the cathedral, seeing all this stone being eaten by the fire. I thought something inside me had broken… and then I saw you… you’d been waiting for me all night. All night. And I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t know what was happening inside me then. Didn’t know the effect you’d have on me, Peeta.”

She turned to look at the water, letting her hand fall from his face before she continued.

“I never thought I had so much joy in me, how the little things could become so important. How a single person could have such an impact on me. How three words could make my heart grow so big I thought it would explode.”

Peeta listened, as she went on. It felt like he was living a dream.

“You call me courageous and strong, Peeta. You rave about how you’re impressed when I run into a fire, on how strong I am. Yet, I am not strong enough to say these three words, even though I want to. I’ve wanted to tell you them since the day you told me… Why is it so hard?”

She turned to him, her eyes shining.

He felt something blossoming inside of him. He knew it was love, spreading its wings. Peeta moved closer to Katniss, taking her hand in his.

“It’s hard, because once you say it, it becomes real. The question is… Do you want it to be real?”

She nodded. He went on.

“You don’t have to shout them. You can whisper them in my ear if you want…”

She smiled, and her smile was brighter than the sun. She seemed to hesitate for a second, before leaning into him. He felt her breath on his neck, on his jaw as well as the kisses she left there., Her hair tickled him. It was not enough, yet it was too much at the same time. He wanted to take her lips with his, wanted to ravish her mouth, wanted to take her to his place where they would make love until the early hours of the morning, wanted her.

He knew though that it would have to wait a few seconds. Because Katniss was about to give him the gift he hadn’t dared wish for.

He felt her take a small breath, before the words were spoken softly, for his ears only.

“I love you.”

Something exploded inside of him. It felt like he could achieve anything.

The only thing he wanted to do in that moment though was to kiss her until they ran out of breath.

So he did it.

When the bells of Notre-Dame rang for the first time in a year, they were still kissing.

[marzaid]

TodoDeku Hunger Games AU

The Hunger Games are a battle to the death between 24 tributes from the ages of 12 to 18 where they compete for the title of Victor so they can bring resources to their district. The tribute that wins is awarded money, fame, and a house in the Victor’s village provided by the Capital. 

  I have 2 ideas for this AU.

  Idea 1: 

  Izuku lives in District 12, which is the poorest district out of the 12 in the country. His father was killed in a mining accident, leaving his family in poverty and despair. Inko did her best to provide for Izuku, but resources were scarce. She adopted Kouta Izumi after his parents died in the same mining accident and she has taken care of her two boys since. Izuku has worked odd jobs and has developed physical strength because of it, lifting heavy objects and doing other sorts of strength-related work to make some extra money. Inko has been keeping an apothecary and has helped others with injuries, teaching Izuku and Kouta about first aid and medicine so they know how to do this, too, someday. Izuku has put in his name for reaping a few extra times to obtain more resources for his family since he was 12, despite his mother begging him not to do so as doing this would just increase his chances of getting reaped for the Games. He doesn’t want Kouta to do this, though, because he doesn’t want his little brother to get picked. 

  The day of the reaping arrives and Kouta is nervous, and Izuku tries his best to calm him down.  It’s his first reaping so obviously he’s nervous. When it’s time to pick the names of the kids who will get reaped, Kouta’s name is drawn and Izuku’s heart stops. His body moves before he has a chance to think and rushes forward, calling out to him in desperation. He volunteers to take Kouta’s place in the Games and Kouta is spared, but Izuku has to go now. 

  Inko is obviously devastated, but Izuku tries to cheer her up the best he can. Kouta tells him he needs to win and Izuku makes the promise that he will. 

  I don’t know who to pick as the female tribute because she will have to die. I don’t want to kill anyone from class 1A. I dont’ have that kind of heart. 

  Anyways, Izuku and the female tribute go to the train that will take them to the Capital and they meet Toshinori, their mentor for the Games. He won 24 years ago and their district hasn’t had a victor since. That means all of Toshi’s tributes have died in the Games and his hope is fragile. But he sees potential in Izuku, at least, and he has to give more support to one tribute over the other so that at least one of them can win. Izuku is sturdy and strong, and has a good chance at winning. 

  He gets A LOT of attention because he has been the first person to volunteer for the Games in decades so it’s a really big deal. He has a lot of guts. He looks scared and upset, but he’s doing it for Kouta. He has to win for him. 

  I haven’t thought of who his stylist will be (the person that makes him look good and groomed for the camera), but I was thinking maybe Aizawa. But I need someone who would motivate Izuku. Katniss’ whole deal is that she is the Girl on Fire because she bursts into flames during the Tribute Parade along with Peeta. But idk if Izuku will do something like this…it has to be a big impact. 

  Anyways, there’s the tributes parade where all of the tributes go on a parade to showcase their district. Izuku has to look amazing so he can entice hope in people. He has been the first volunteer, so that can’t go to waste. I would imagine that he has an effect of electricity like full cowling, so that would be lit. 

  After the parade, he and his fellow tribute are being praised by Toshi, but he guides them away from the grounds because another tribute has his eye on Izuku and that’s dangerous. Izuku getting singled out is not good because that means other tributes will target him. The one looking at Izuku with an intense gaze is Shouto, a tribute from District 2, which is one of the richer and stronger districts, and they are usually Careers. Shouto has been trained from childhood to be a Career by his Victor father, Enji, who won his Games 20 years ago. Enji was brutal and wanted for his children to be Victors, too. Shouto gave him the most promising results and so when he was reaped, Shouto had the highest chance out of everyone to win because he’s a skilled archer. 

  The tributes have to go to training sessions to practice with weapons and learn new skills. Toshinori advises Izuku not to show off his strength so that way he isn’t singled out again by other careers, seeing as how one has already analyzed him. During these trainings, Izuku learns different skills like knot tying, camouflage, starting fires, setting snares, survival skills. He’s already really good with picking out plants and herbs thanks to his mom’s apothecary business, so he’s very skilled in that aspect. He’s just trying not to show off his strength. 

  He’s practicing with some net stuff (in the movie, Peeta falls from a net his climbing and he falls), and falls, and the careers laugh at him because of that. Izuku brushes it off, trying to ignore them, but then Shouto approaches him and helps him up. And he tells him to throw the medicine ball that’s beside the weights. Izuku doesn’t even know this boy, yet he’s telling him what to do. Izuku does this and throws the medicine ball (heavy shit heavy s h i t), and that makes the careers shut up. After that, Shouto and Izuku talk and practice stuff and hover over each other, even if Shouto makes Izuku nervous. He doesn’t quite trust Shouto yet, but Shouto is not being hostile, at least he’s good at acting decent. 

  I feel like I should make Shouto challenge him, though, but Idk how to do that. Maybe he could challenge him when he sees hi m in the parade, but idk. I want them to have a neutral relationship from the start. Or, I could have him challenge him and when they’re in the Games and they’re trying to kill each other, Izuku saves Shouto and Shouto values that and agrees to work with Izuku. 

  But it’s hard to do that when the interviews come before the Games. And I want for the interviews to give a huge impact. Each tribute is interviewed to speak about themselves. Shouto is handsome and everyone loves him and the interviewer (probably Mic) brings up Shouto’s father being a Victor and asks him if he’s going to follow up with his own victory. Shouto answers that he hopes so, …even though there is another tribute that he really likes and even has a crush on them. This leaves the audience wondering who he has feelings for. 

  Izuku’s interview is heartwarming because he’s nervous and down to earth and Mic brings up his volunteering for his little brother and Izuku goes off on how much he cares about Kouta and how he will try to win just for him. 

  The Games start and Izuku has to get resources, but if he goes to the Cornucopia, he will get killed trying to get a weapon. He manages to snag a backpack and escapes being pursued by the other tributes (he runs really fast, this boy is Speedy Gonzalez goodbye). I would imagine he has agreed to work together with his fellow tribute and Shouto, and they all agree to meet up somewhere if they can. 

  Shouto, on the other hand, is a total beast and manages to snag a few weapons as well as another backpack. He gets his bow and arrow and oof there he goes. It takes a day or two for them to finally meet up, but Izuku is being pursued by the Careers when Shouto arrives and kills one of them. I’m trying to have that big “It’s your power!” equivalent to this, but idk how to do that. Maybe Shouto sets fire to their resources of something. Using fire was how his father won and would probably be called the Flame Victor or something. So Shouto can use this as a weapon, too, idk. 

  Izuku and Shouto manage to get away from the rest of the careers. However, Shouto gets hurt and Izuku has to carry him away. 

  There has to be a child that reminds Izuku of Kouta, and it hurts my heart to pick Eri because she’s so smol, but Izuku will team up with her and protect her. Maybe…she can be his fellow tribute. Unfortunately, she gets killed. This is before Izuku and Shouto meet up btw. Izuku will feel horrible for not being able to save her and makes a makeshift funeral for her by laying flowers and decorating her hair. He’s devastated and cries and feels very depressed about it. There is an announcement that says that 2 tributes can go home together even if they are not from the same district. As long as they are working together, they can win. 

  So after Izuku and Shouto rescue each other and find each other, Izuku finds a good cave where they can rest and hide. Shouto has a fever and in his delirium, admits he was talking about Izuku when he said he has a crush on someone. Izuku is shocked and flattered and oh m y God, he has a crush on Izuku. Izuku.exe has stopped working. But he can’t fall in love when he’s trying to survive so what can he do??? 

  This whole romance? The Capital is eating it up so good that there are sponsors lining up for Toshinori to send Izuku and Shouto resources. Enji is really angry about this turn out but at least his son is getting sponsors, too. Enji does not want to work together with Toshinori, but they have to since their kids are in this together for now. 

  As Izuku takes care of Shouto (thank goodness he knows about healing and medical stuff), they share a kiss and Izuku feels so light and oh God, he just kissed Shouto. The kiss garners them a lot more sponsors and they send them medicine and food that saves their lives. The medicine heals Shouto’s injury and the food gets them through a few days until Shouto recovers. Once they are able to get back on their feet and go again, it’s getting towards the end of the Games and they have to fight whoever is left.

  Now Idk who the last tribute could be. He has to be stronger than Izuku and Shouto. My money is on Inasa just because I don’t like him. And I’m saving Katsuki to fit Gale, who is Katniss’ hunting friend. Gale takes care of Katniss’ family while she is in the Games. He also kinda likes her, but she never develops feelings for him. Anyways, yeah, in this au, Katsuki doesn’t like Izuku like that. They’re just friends who have worked together and know each other since childhood. Katsuki looks out for Inko and Kouta while Izuku is away. So yeah, Inasa fits Cato…because they’re both overly zealous and obsessive. So Shouto and Izuku have to fight Inasa. Izuku and Inasa wrestle each other (OH NOW I REMEMBER WHAT PEETA USED TO DO, HE USED TO WRESTLE) and Izuku is winning, but Inasa manages to pin him and so Shouto has to get a clean shot so he doesn’t kill them both. He manages to shoot Inasa and spare Izuku and Inasa falls off the Cornucopia where the mutant dogs are waiting for them. And you could just…imagine how that goes, he gets bitten and basically eaten. He begs to be killed and so Shouto kills him to end his suffering. 

  When Shouto and Izuku are the only ones left, there is an announcement saying that only one person can be the victor and now Izuku and Shouto must fight to the death for the title. Except they don’t want to do that. Shouto throws his bow and arrow to the ground and tells Izuku to kill him so that Izuku can go home. But Izuku refuses to do that. They had gathered wild berries called nightlock, which are poisonous, and Izuku suggest they eat them to commit suicide instead of one of them dying while the other one lives. Izuku couldn’t bear going home knowing Shouto was dead. And Shouto couldn’t do the same. 

  So they are about to eat the berries when the announcer stops them and declares them as Victors. 2 districts with a victor each ohmg! 

  This is dangerous because Izuku has caused a rebellion by refusing to play by the Games’ rules and win by their standards. Toshinori warns him to be careful because he will be watched carefully now. Shouto and Izuku are interviewed because they won and their romance gets more attention than what they did in the Games, which is good for them in a way…but also bad because the districts want to rebel. If Izuku, a boy from the poorest district could rebel, why not the rest of the districts? 

  So that’s why there’s the 75th hunger games where they get reaped again and have to be in the games with former victors.

  Because Shouto is from a different district, he has to go back to his district by law. However, because he won with Izuku and they are “in love”, Shouto is allowed to move to Izuku’s district and live in the Victor’s village from district 12. This obviously angers Enji, but it’s something Shouto actually wanted. 

  Izuku and Shouto do like each other, but the tension of the Games and the politics is so much and they don’t know how to handle it. They are still close and amicable and support each other and they’re romantic, but Izuku is still confused because it was so sudden and he wasn’t able to explore his feelings. He trusts Shouto and has feelings for him. He just wants to fall in love with him properly. 

  They announce an engagement to appease the Capital so they can back off, but the districts are rebelling and using Izuku as a symbol of peace for their rebellion, something Izuku silently supports, but cannot speak about it out loud. The President wants him dead so that’s why they get the 75th hunger games with all the past victors. Because there are no female victors in district 12, 2 male victors must represent the district so Shouto and Izuku go again, this time as a couple and they are on fucking fire. They’re beautiful and attractive and the crowd loves them. 

  Toshinori is working behind the scenes with the rebellion to help these two escape the Games. Their allies are all in on the plan and they look out for them without tododeku knowing. They get rescued, but not before there is a clusterfuck going on where everyone is confused and nobody trusts each other. 

  Izuku is rescued, but Shouto gets captured and neither of them know what’s going on. Izuku gets taken to district 13, which had been thought to have been annihilated by the Capital, but they were actually underground this entire time. They are the rebellion and want Izuku to be their symbol of hope. And Izuku doesn’t want to be part of a war, but if it means helping everyone, he will do it. 

  Shouto gets taken to the Capital and is used as their own sort of symbol to arouse sympathy for the Capital. But in reality, he is getting tortured and brainwashed and abused. Izuku doesn’t know this. But he does see that with every new interview, Shouto doesn’t look healthy and he looks hurt and like he’s lost weight. He looks unhinged and nervous. That’s so unlike him. Izuku is obviously concerned and as one of his conditions to help district 13, he has asked for Shouto to be rescued at the earliest convenience or else he would not help them. So district 13 goes to rescue Shouto and they bring him back. And Izuku is excited to see him and he wants to hold and kiss him because his boyfriend is back by his side!!!

  But because Shouto was tortured so much, he attacks Izuku on sight and tries to choke him to death. Toshinori manages to knock him out and Izuku is under hospital care. Toshinori explains that Shouto has been brainwashed so badly that he doesn’t know what’s real and what is fake, and he believes that Izuku is his enemy. When Izuku goes to see Shouto outside his room, he sees how he’s going crazy and is fighting his restraints and this hurts Izuku so much because he couldn’t do anything to help Shouto. Shouto thinks he’s his enemy. 

  It takes time for Shouto to calm down and to even talk to Izuku and they have a horrible interaction in which Shouto says that Izuku has been the source of all his problems and Izuku leaves in tears. He has hope in Shouto’s recovery, but it still hurts to be told such hate filled words. 

  Izuku is used for promoting the rebellion, but he’s really bad at commercial work, so Toshinori suggests that the camera crew gets him in action. They go to district 8 where there is a lot of rebellion going on and Izuku gives a speech and motivates them all to keep fighting. It ends in disaster, though, because the capital comes and basically bombs the hospital they’re in. And the camera crew gets some beautiful shots of Izuku being intense and genuine and motivating everyone to fight the capital. 

  (I think I have my sequence of events mixed up but whatever i’m really excited writing this alfakjfalk). 

  Anyways, Izuku has to train to be a soldier for the rebellion and goes through some intense training and he passes woot, he has to pass because he’s the symbol of hope, alfajfaklfa. So he gets sent with the camera crew and other victors and soldiers like Katsuki to go to the capital to bring them down. But district 13 discharges Shouto and they send him to the battlefield with Izuku and the rest, too. Shouto is calm for the most part until there is an attack and he goes feral and attacks Izuku, almost killing him. The crew has to separate them and one of the victors (Finnick, who is my 2nd favorite, deserves the world, deserves better, and I will fight for him) uses a tranquilizer on Shouto to get him to sleep. Izuku and the crew end up in an apartment where they have resources for now and get to watch the reports of the capital saying that he and the rest of the crew are dead. But they’re not, they’re hiding lmfao. 

  They go into the sewers to try to get to the capital faster, but the president sends mutts (mutant creatures) after them and they get attacked in the sewers. Shouto is the one that is able to warn them about it because he can’t sleep and also he recognizes the noises the mutts make. So the crew is able to get a headstart on their escape, but they still have to fight against them. Izuku is holding his own and fighting, but then gets knocked down by a mutt and almost gets killed. But Shouto saves him and gets him out of the water and helps him get away. They save each other so much here ohmg. 

  Izuku and the crew are able to escape (BUT THEY LOSE PEOPLE, INCLUDING FINNICK), and Izuku feels so incredibly guilty about the whole situation. Katsuki is also hurt so they have to help treat his wound, but it’s not that bad. Shouto helps Izuku realize that it’s so important what they’re doing and that everyone is depending on Izuku. Please motivate each other, boys, please I’m begging. 

  So they set up a plan for them to raid the President’s mansion and go in and kill him. Izuku and Katsuki go together and Shouto stays behind them so they don’t arouse suspicion. But there is an attack between the capital and district 13. Izuku, Shouto, and Katsuki are fighting, but Katsuki gets captured and tells Izuku to kill him, but Izuku doesn’t do that. He can’t do that. However, Izuku is witness to a mass bombing courtesy of district 13, which kills a lot of people from the capital who are gathered outside the president’s mansion. Medics are coming in to help and Izuku recognizes them as district 13 uniforms, and one of the medics is Kouta (he had been training to become a doctor, but the president from district 13 sent him along with other medics to ‘help heal those in need’). Izuku spots Kouta and calls out to him and hurries to him and Kouta sees him, but more bombs go off. And that kills not only the other medics and citizens, but also Kouta. And Izuku is sent flying backwards and gets knocked out, but Shouto comes to him and puts out the fire that was on Izuku from the bomb explosion. 

  The reason I have Katsuki as Gale is because Gale designed a plan using bombs. This plan is what’s used against the capital. This is what kills Kouta. Bombs and explosions…yeah that’s totally Katsuki. Plus Gale is angry and aggressive as shit and well, we all know who is like that, too. 

  After this, Izuku is struggling with processing what’s going on. The capital has fallen and the districts have won, but Izuku lost his little brother. He was the reason he volunteered in the first place, to keep him safe and alive. Izuku gets to talk to the president (All For One) and AFO tells him that he wasn’t the one who set those bombs, but rather district 13. He wouldn’t kill his own people from the capital. And that has Izuku thinking about it, too. 

  The president of district 13 (idk who this could be, this has to be someone Izuku is neutral with at the beginning, but feels betrayed by them later on) announces that there will be a Hunger Games for the capital children to participate as a way for retribution for the rest of the districts. Shouto is obvioulsy against this as well as a couple of other victors, but 2 other victors are in favor. Toshinori and Izuku have to give their votes and Izuku says he agrees to have those Games, but he gets to kill AFO. The president is delighted about this answer. Toshinori looks at Izuku and understands what he is doing and also agrees to these terms. But Shouto is not happy about it at all, saying the games are what caused all this problems in the first place. He’s disappointed in Izuku. 

  Izuku can’t forgive Katsuki for what happened to Kouta. Katsuki does apologize, but Izuku dismisses him, not forgiving him. 

  When it’s time to kill AFO, Izuku comes in with the rest of the rebels following him and the president of district 13 announces this like a ceremony. I imagine that Izuku was really good with using spears because he’s super strong, so this could be what he uses to kill AFO. However, because of what AFO said, Izuku understands that the president of district 13 caused all this destruction and SHE was the one that killed Kouta and the other medics and the capital citizens with the bombs. So instead, Izuku kills the president of district 13, and this causes the rebels behind him to charge at AFO to kill him. In the midst of the chaos, Izuku reaches for a suicide pill that he was given for the raid of the capital, and is about to take it when Shouto stops him. (This scene is so heart wrenching because Katniss tells Peeta to let her go, and he tells her he can’t.)

  So Izuku gets taken by the guards (I want to say not arrested, detained), and is tried for what he did, but because of his deteriorating mental state, he is excused as being mentally insane. He’s let go and is able to go back to district 12 with Toshinori and Inko, but Izuku falls into a heavy depression because he can’t accept Kouta is dead. It takes a long time (I forgot how long) for him to like finally start to recover, but it’s because of Shouto’s return that he gets to breathe again, basically. And Izuku goes out to work on things again, building and lifting and doing all sorts of things now and Shouto is there for him, and Shouto is getting better, too. He was discharged some time after Izuku went home, but stayed in the capital to recover some more before he goes back to district 12 with Izuku, Inko, and Toshinori. 

  In the end, Izuku and Shouto move in together and get married. In the end, Katniss and Peeta have 2 kids and are happy together. I want for Izuku and Shouto to be happy, too, maybe adopt a couple of children. They’re set for life with their Hunger Games royalties, so they have more than enough money to spare, so they can raise their children happily. They still are mentally ill, those hunger games shits will never go away. But they manage it well. Shouto still has episodes where he has to grab on to things so that his mania can pass (he doesn’t go apeshit anymore, he just needs to hold on to something solid so it can pass), and Izuku and Shouto still have nightmares and depression and anxiety and PTSD, but they can live their lives. Shouto hunts. I don’t know what Izuku can do, but given how strong he is and how he can lift things, I image him building. Houses, buildings, idk? Or maybe his analytical mind led him to another line of work. I’m not sure, but they get to be happy in the end and they get to be together. 

  Idea 2:

Shouto and Izuku live in the same district and have a similar childhood encounter to Katniss and Peeta with Peeta giving Katniss bread and saving her family and her from starving. There is no gendered reaping and Shouto and Izuku are reaped together for the Games. Shouto in his interview reveals he has a crush on Izuku and Izuku would be thrilled a lot more if they weren’t going to die. Then the rest happens like idea 1. 

  I just want a hunger games au. *cries*

I want to thank @edwardslostalchemy for this beautiful submission!!

[talesofpanem]

A Wasteland No More

Title: A Wasteland No More.

By @mega-aulover

(Please note lines from Mockingjay were paraphrased.)

PROMPT: Wilderness means an uncultivated, uninhabited, and inhospitable region; neglected or abandoned area of a garden or town; or  a position of disfavor, especially in a political context. In religious context, a wilderness experience refers to a period of pain, struggle, discomfort, and trials.

Rating: M Mature subject as this deals with Katniss’ captivity in Mockingjay after she shot Coin, and her wanting to die. Trigger Warning - This goes right into the Epilogue. Canon Compliant. 

A/N: Not the usual fluff I write, this is a little darker but the prompt spoke to me on many levels. I’d written about Katniss being Willie Loman in Death of a Salesman and this stuck with me. Both were used, dried up shells and were being abandoned by the very same system that created and fostered them. Un-beta’d all mistakes are mine. 

She was the phoenix who burned herself at the altar. A sacrifice to rid Panem of another mutt.  Unbeknownst to those gathered to see President Snow executed, there were plans to have another Hunger Game to continue the massacre of innocent children. In Katniss’s private opinion there’d been enough innocent lives killed, including that of her 13-year-old sister by the hands of that mutt.   

Shooting the arrow straight at Coin was the only solution Katniss could come up with. In that moment Katniss self-imploded. Like, a Phoenix whose flame had been extinguished, all she wanted to do was die. Instead, she found herself locked up in a room, a cage of sorts, forgotten.

Her voice raw and cracked filled the air. “You are my Sunshine my only sunshine-” 

She was a discarded scrap of human flesh, trapped in a wasteland of thoughts. Time stopped. There was no day or night, only the cosmic vacuum where nothing existed except for her voice. Her voice was raw and pink like the grafts on her skin.  It filled the room, today, flickering like a small candle in the midst of darkness.

“The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping

I dreamed I held you in my arms

But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken

And I hung my head and I cried…” Katniss sang to an invisible boy.

Oh, how she missed those arms that comforted her in the dead of night. She lamented and cried over the steadiness they offered. “Peeta,” She half sang half wept, “She’s gone, my sister, my Prim.“ 

Like a Jabberjay her voiced mocked back. "PRIM, is gone. You couldn’t save her. You’re an evil mutt. The mutt. Mutt.”

 The word mutt reverberated in the room, in her ears,and in her soul.

Shaking her head, Katniss began to sing again. “You are my sunshine…”

Katniss rocked back and forth on the floor recalling the moment she’d killed Coin. She’d tried to kill herself by taking the nightlock pill, but Peeta stopped her taking the pill away. Katniss bit his hand accidentally. The taste of his blood still lingered in her mouth as she foamed at the lips, like a feral beast. His desperate look was seared in her brain.  The recollection of their last moments together like one of Peeta’s vivid paintings.

“Let me go!” she snarled at him, trying to get free from his grasp. 

“No.“ He shook his head violently his eyes clouded.  "I can’t,” he said, right before the guards grabbed Katniss and threw her here in this cage.

"Peeta,” She cried. Tears fell from her face. Laying down on the floor she held herself but her spindly arms were not the ones she craved. 

‘PEETA’, her mind the logical, stoic part of her being cried out to her soul. Her heart the part that was concerned with her emotions, was far too damaged and  whispered back.‘He’s dead, the Capitol killed him.’  

The sweet gentle boy she’d known died at the hands of the Capitol. Everything died in the Capitol, Coin, Peeta, Prim, and soon her, for assassinating Coin. Katniss wondered why they were taking so long for her to be executed. Why not kill her quickly? Unless this was the plan. Abandon her to die. Exhaustion gripped her like a vice, forcing her to sleep as she waited for the end. Katniss became a willing participant believing she needed to die.

Time flowed forward like a river determined to reach the shore. To her great shock Katniss was set free from her prison and sent back to District 12. She settled in the Victors Village a different type of prison, a self-imposed one. 

In a near comatose state, Katniss gazes out from her grey orbs into the world. Unable to speak or move. She does not dare close her eyes for what comes next are visions a senseless death and blood and burned children. 

A dead useless Phoenix, whose beautiful feathers have been plucked or singed by the fire. Her gilded cage was her scared burned shell. A taxidermied mutt. Lifeless she’s stuffed daily with enough food to keep her from dying too quickly. She watches from her perch, hungrily waiting for something. No one has what she needs to shed the scarred chrysalis she’s formed around her beaten and battered soul. 

Katniss watches Greasy Sae, who shuffles about the kitchen humming an endless tune. Katniss recognizes the tune, her sunshine song. ‘You are my sunshine,’ mocks her ears. Her sunshine, dandelion is gone, and she’s at the tree hanging waiting to be set free.  

A slight movement to her left causes her eyes to shift. Greasy’s grandchild stands before Katniss. The child gawks like a visitor at a museum. Peering at an odd collectable item. Katniss stares as well until the girl leaves with her grandmother.. 

In the silence she watches the way a speck of dust floats in the air dancing about in the sunlight and settles on the floor once the light is gone. Night descends, and shadows invade her space.

In the darkness the struggle begins to stay awake and keep the nightly terrors away. Once more, she craves for those strong arms. She is in an unspoken agony knowing those arms will never find her again. Peeta is gone, her heart, mind, and soul tells her spirit. Her spirit once more tastes the sweet soft flesh of his hand as he denied her a swift end. He’s still alive her spirit whispers. But this is quickly shoved to the side, in favor of death. This path she’s chosen is longer but her end is near. And she waits for the void to consume her.

Katniss is nearing that point in the fabric of space. Time, like the river is nearing its final destination when the scraping sound of metal and dirt wakes her from her terror. The sound spills forth from her dream  into her reality. In her dream she was being buried, dirt filled her mouth, and was clogging her throat. In her reality it’s the very air she breathes mingled with her screams that have clogged her throat. Her her eyes looked about the room. She expected to see a grave surrounding her not a couch and certainly not a cracked ceiling. 

As she lays there something happens to the cage she so skillfully built. Katniss can see the cracks and the door swung open. She ran through the door. Katniss found herself standing outside. Staring at a wasteland until her eyes find him. 

 Peeta’s face is red from digging. An orange wagon has five small bushes.

“You’re back,” Katniss whispered incredulous. She thought perhaps she was hallucinating. But the light was blinding and she could feel something happening, stirring deep within her. 

“Dr. Aurelius didn’t let me go until yesterday,” Peeta said. “By the way, he mentioned he can’t keep pretending he’s treating you anymore. You need to pick up the phone.” 

Peeta looked thin and had burn scars like Katniss. However, his eyes no longer look tortured. 

He was frowning at her, as though being able to detect she was morphing from the inside out.  It didn’t matter if her hair was matted into clumps or that she was dirty. Her heart pumped with the smoldering embers of liquid fire. Katniss opened her mouth, to try to explain to him but her eyes fell on the wagon. “What are you doing?” 

“I went to the woods when I arrived and dug these up. For her,” he said. “I thought we could plant them along the side of the house.“

At first she thought they were the odious roses people used for funerals. The very same roses Snow preferred. She’s about to spew righteous fire at him when she takes a close look at the bushes. They aren’t the dreaded rose, but evening primrose. The flower her father used to name her sister. Peeta has given Katniss back her sister.

The image of the burning girl is now replaced are the delicate flowers growing other side the house. 

Running back inside she found the source of her discontent. A single perfect rose. With liquid fire running through her veins she tosses the hated bloom into the fire. Katniss feels her body change, her wings stretch from her shoulders and she once more begins to morph into the fiery phoenix. Snow nor Coin could not dampen her fire.

On that day Katniss rose from the ashes and soot. It was a long hard won path but slowly she and her boy with the bread are transformed into a glorious state. Katniss recognizes she is a tamer Phoenix, gentled by sunshine of love. The void is gone and where silence reigned now laughter and giggles fill the air.

Time brought Katniss not to a vast ocean but to a gentle lake. Where she set roots and grew. Today years after Peeta returned, Katniss watched her precious fledglings, as they leap and dance. One day they were take to the air, but for now she will hold them close to her bosom. Katniss hums once more as strong arms surround her.

"You are my sunshine…”

[ellanainthetardis]

Will they save Prim? Will they stop the vampires? Will they all survive? Let me know your thoughts! 

[ff] or [ao3]

7.

Haymitch’s fingers were restlessly drumming on the wheel and it was driving Katniss crazy.

Peeta caught her eyes and looked away fast but it was enough for her to know he shared the sentiment. They were both in the backseat of his SUV, working on cramming pieces of clothes into bottles of liquor. They didn’t know how much they would need so they had opted for bringing as many as possible just to be on the safe side.

Katniss tore up strips of cloth and Peeta thrust them into the bottles. They had a good rhythm going on.

The car was rushing past the meadow when their hands accidentally brushed. Katniss didn’t pay it any attention but Peeta cleared his throat.

“Everything will be fine.” he promised, grabbing her hand with a bit more purpose. “We’ll get Prim back.”

She caught Haymitch glancing in the rear-view mirror but she didn’t understand why he was smirking like that so she ignored him.

She didn’t let herself think about Prim too much because she would have gone crazy with worry if she had. She had to believe the plan would work.

“You will be safe.” she answered, squeezing his hand. “Just remember the plan. I distract them while Haymitch gets Prim out. The moment they’re out, you start tossing.”

“And then you get out.” he added. “Right?”

“I get out once I’m sure the bitch is dead.” she corrected, taking her hand back to give him another piece of cloth.

Haymitch didn’t look happy with that either but he didn’t say anything. Probably because there wasn’t much to say.

Cashmere needed to go down. Not only because she had gone after her sister but because they couldn’t let her try to open the Hellmouth. He might not have had time to give a full lecture on it but she wasn’t dense enough to not understand it was the kind of mouth that was better left closed.

“Katniss…” Peeta breathed out with entirely too much… She wasn’t sure what it was but she found she couldn’t look at him anymore. Something was gripping her heart and squeezing it tight. It was confusing and she didn’t have time for confusing right now.

Fortunately, that was also the moment Haymitch stopped the car, saving her from the odd tension.

“That’s as far as we go with the truck.” he announced. “We need to finish on foot. You’re sure you know where the cabin is?”

She didn’t even bother offering an answer. An old cabin next to the lake deep in the woods… There weren’t many and she and Gale had found that one out years ago. They had used it as a hiding place once or twice even. It was a good spot when you wanted to hide from the world. There were only two empty rooms full of dust – and, apparently, vampires.

She took the lead, carrying as many bottle as she could. Haymitch and Peeta followed closely behind her and she couldn’t help but cringe at how loud they were being. Haymitch, at least, was making an effort but Peeta was hopeless. Animals could hear them coming from miles away. It was a good thing they hadn’t waited until nightfall to attack.

As it was, they reached the cabin without any trouble at all and they all flattened on their bellies at the edge of the clearing to study their surroundings. The cabin was entirely made of planks and was situated on the short amount of flat land between the shore of the lake and the border of the trees. A little too close to the forest for what they had in mind, maybe.

“Try not to start a forest fire.” she advised.  

“So… No pressure, right?” Peeta joked.

The windows of the cabin were boarded. She wondered if vampires slept during the day or if there was one of them on watch… Most of the ones she had met tended to be stupid so she hoped the ones inside would prove to be of the same variety.

She made sure her bow was ready to use and then she turned toward Haymitch. He had a hard look on his face and she wondered if he would mourn her if she died that day. She hadn’t gotten the feeling he was really pleased to be her Watcher. He had treated the whole thing as a chore since the very beginning. How had he put it again?

I’ve been sent to help you until you kick the bucket and someone other than me draws the lucky ticket to coach the next dead girl to be.

“Don’t look so glum, Haymitch.” she taunted. “Look on the bright side. If I get myself killed you can go back to drinking full time.”

“I don’t drink full time.” he denied and then rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah, I drink full time but I also freelance as a demon hunter when I don’t have to play babysitter to arrogant little girls who think they know better than everyone else just because fate flipped them the finger.”

“See?” she snorted. “You’ll be happier when I’m dead.”

“You are a strangely dislikable person.” he deadpanned and then softened a little. “But you do have your virtues. Try not to get killed so soon. It’d look bad on my resume.”

“Fair enough.” She smiled. “Try not to get killed either. If you’re the best Watcher they’ve got, I’m scared of who they’re going to send next.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt your weird bonding moment but if nobody could get killed, it would be great.”  Peeta cut in.

“You be careful, boy.” Haymitch ordered sternly. “Stay out of troubles.”

“Okay.” Katniss took a deep breath. “Haymitch? One last advice?”

“Stay alive.” he retorted without hesitation.

It was a good one, she decided.

And then she was running.

Haymitch was behind her to her left, much slower than she was. She brought the door down with a powerful kick and she didn’t wait for the surprised scream inside to register. There were three vampires in that room, two of them were already smoking from the sunlight. She shot two arrows and they burst into dust, the third one moved at the last moment and she missed the heart. She threw her leg out and sent him flying just when Cato, Cashmere and another of her minions rushed out of the other room, stopping short of the long stripe of light that stretched between her part of the room and theirs.

Another well launched arrow took care of Cato but it also cost her the advantage. The vampire she had missed earlier jumped on her from the side. Her bow clattered to the ground and she fought him out, trying to pull out her stake.

“Go close the door, you idiot!” Cashmere ordered to the other minion.

Katniss wasn’t sure what happened next. She thought Haymitch must have made his surprise entrance because there were fighting noises and when she risked a peek, she saw her Watcher slamming a stake through the vampire chest.

It left Cashmere between him and the other room where Prim was presumably hidden…

“Wanna dance, lady?” he taunted, falling into a fighting stance he had tried – and mostly failed – to teach her. “Ain’t much into blondes but for you I’m gonna make an exception…”

That wasn’t the plan at all.

Her vampire was stubbornly refusing to die - well, to die for good. They traded blows and she herded him toward the streak of sunlight but it was a slow process and Haymitch wasn’t fairing well. He had rushed on Cashmere with a war cry and ended up hitting the wall when she swept him off with her arm like an annoying fly. He slid down to the floor and Cashmere lifted him back up by his collar. Her features morphing into her demon face, she opened her mouth...

Katniss couldn’t wait anymore. She leaped away from her opponent and tackled the blond vampire. Haymitch fell back down with a thud.

“Get Prim and get out!” she ordered, herding the two vampires away from him.

Cashmere snarled. “I was going to kill you quickly but now I’m going to make it last. I really don’t need a Slayer poking in my business…”

Katniss wasn’t aware of much past that point. The fight took her whole focus. She took more hits than she gave and she was relying on instinct more than on training. She did glimpse Haymitch rushing back out of the cabin, her sister tossed over his shoulder, but she couldn’t tell if she was alive or dead or injured or…

Cashmere’s foot sent her flying across the room. She rolled in the dust and came back in a crouch. She spotted her bow a few feet away and leapt in that direction just as the second vampire tried to grab her. A lucky backward hit with her elbow hurled him directly into the narrow pool of sunlight that separated the main room of the cabin in two. He burst into flames and, at first, she thought he was responsible for the sudden explosion.

Then, of course, she realized Peeta must have began the next phase of the plan.

And it was working a little too well.

Flames were catching quickly. Smoke burnt her throat and Katniss dashed toward the front door but Cashmere blocked her path, far much quicker and deadlier than anything else she had ever seen. Far more dangerous than the fire that was raining down on the cabin roof, thanks to Haymitch’s liquor stash.

“You think you can stop us?” Cashmere hissed, baring her fangs. “When the others will be here, you will regret this. They will bring Him back. He will rise and may the odds be in your favor then!”

The flames were running up the walls now. The cabin was turning into a deadly trap.

The heat was unbearable, Katniss couldn’t help small coughs. Her eyes were watery. She nocked an arrow and let it loose, not entirely surprised when Cashmere simply sidestepped it. The vampire looked mad in the dancing light of the surrounding fire. The flames tossed changing shadows on her skin, her yellow eyes seemed to glow…

“You will all burn.” the vampire laughed.

“If we burn…” Katniss retorted, the effect a little lost in the coughing fit. “You burn with us.”  

She needed to get out and now, the ceiling was about to collapse. Cashmere was blocking her way to the door so she needed another way out. She did the only thing she could think of: she dropped her bow, took a long-run and cannonballed into the wall where the flames were the thickest, shoulder first.

If the wood was as rotten as it had looked, she would be fine.

If it was solid, she was done for.

It turned out that bursting through a wooden wall on fire was painful... But she did go through. She landed badly but rolled with it anyway, ending up on her back in the grass, gulping down air only to cough it out.

“Katniss!” Haymitch called and, before she could try to even think about moving, he was pulling her up. All she could do was try to put one foot in front of the other while he dragged her away from the cabin that was quickly being swallowed by the flames. She heard Cashmere scream but then there was only the sounds of her own blood throbbing in her ears and her Watcher’s panting.

He only slowed down once they were in the middle of the woods and only because he tripped on a root. Katniss seized the opportunity to sit down for a second even if she knew they should keep moving because forest fires could move quickly.

“Prim?” she asked once she managed to get her parched mouth to form a coherent sound.

“She’s alright. I told the boy to get her to the car and to call the fire station.” he explained, offering her a hand. When she simply ignored it, he waved it in front of her face until she let him haul her up again. “You sure like the old school method. Girl on fire.”

“Don’t call me that…” she grumbled and then coughed some more.

“We need to get you to the hospital.” he commented and he sounded worried.

“I’m fine.” she lied.

“Sure, you are.” he humored her, forcing her good arm around his shoulders so he could support her better. With their height difference, it probably looked ridiculous. It certainly wasn’t very efficient.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get a better Slayer.” she muttered, as they were nearing the car. Her eyelids were drooping, her chest felt very tight and she was pretty sure something was very wrong with her shoulder this time.

He tightened his hold on her. “What?”

“You were disappointed…” she mumbled. “I’m not as good as your other ones…”

“No. Fuck, sweetheart… No.” he breathed out. “You’ve got to understand… My Slayers… They all ended up tributes in a fucking hopeless war… They were heroes. And so are you. And you ain’t dying on me right now so quit talking like you are.” He was almost completely carrying her by now and she could see the rear-end of Peeta’s truck. “You’ll be a great Slayer, Katniss. Thing is… I’m a bitter old drunk. I wasn’t sure  I had it in me to play mentor one more time, that’s all.”

She didn’t ask if he had come to a decision on that point.

Some things were better left unsaid.

“Katniss!”

She caught a glimpse of blond disheveled hair and then her sister was crashing against her and Haymitch, making them both lose their balance.

She blinked and she was lying on the ground, Prim’s face hovering over her.

“Little duck…” she whispered but it didn’t sound very coherent to her own ears.

She blinked again and Prim was gone. There was only the blue sky above and clouds that looked like the bird on the pin Madge had given her.

“Get her in the car. She needs a doctor and fast.” Haymitch was saying.

She blinked and she was cradled against someone’s chest. She was in a moving car. It was going fast. Prim’s frightened face looked back at her from the passenger front seat. A hand brushed her hair away from her face.

“Hold on.” Peeta’s voice murmured in her ear. “Hold on. Hold on. Hold on.”

She smelt the appetizing scent of bread just taken out of the oven. It was in her head, she thought, but it made her feel safe. Happy. Nothing bad could happen if there was hot bread nearby.

“Katniss. Stay awake.” he urged. “Haymitch, go faster.”

She let her head roll on his shoulder and she closed her eyes.

The last thing she saw was Prim’s lips forming her name.

[everlark-your-own-adventure]

Powder Keg - Ch 3

Happy Monday, Everlarkers! Last week’s episode of EYOA’s Powder Keg left our Katniss with a dilemma - call in Grumpy Gale on his day off, or spend an entire day with archnemesis Peeta, who somehow broke her heart.

You chose for Katniss to throw caution to the wind and spend the day with Peeta. What happens next? Our own @burkygirl continues the drama (hang on to your hats, kids, this one’s a doozy!)

As always, you have 48 hours to vote, until noon, Wednesday, November the 22nd. Remember, vote in the comments or reblogs, not in the tags! And as always, share with your friends, more voices = more fun! Ready? Here we go…

The door to the staff room slams behind me as I storm away. I have got to get some fresh air. I need to be alone for 10 seconds or I’m going to scream. Fucking Johanna. She might as well have stuffed us into a get-along shirt like a couple of bratty kids. And what kind of choice is that anyway? As if I’m going to drag Gale up here on his day off to deal with a bunch of kids just because Dickwad is doing a tap dance on my very last nerve. That's not fair to Gale. He works two jobs to help his mom take care of his brothers and sisters and this is the only day he gets to sleep in. And anyway, I definitely don't need him running up here and trying to save me.

The cold air slices through my lungs the minute I step outside. I close my eyes and breathe deeply; each sharp, frosty inhale forcing the red haze just a little bit farther away. When I’m calm, I go back inside and find Peeta in the staff room packing up his gear to go home for the day.

“What are you doing?”

His expression is flat, emotionless as he methodically packs his bag. “What does it look like? I’m obviously not going to get any work here today. I might as well go home and help Dad at the bakery if I’m going to work for free.”

My attempt at another calming breath comes out like an impatient huff instead. “We have a class, like, any minute.”

His eyes snap to mine. “You didn’t call Hawthorne?”

I throw myself in a scruffy armchair that must have gotten dragged in here when it was no longer presentable for the guest area. “No. I am not going to do that to Gale on his day off. Just stay away from me, Mellark, and it’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to do that if we’re supposed to work together all day.” Peeta runs his fingers through his hair until it’s standing on end. “I just don’t get why we can’t be friends, Katniss. We used to be, or at least, I thought we were. I don’t understand why you’re so determined to hate my guts.”

“Are you kidding me right now? You completely humiliated me and you don’t even remember it?”

He leans against his locker with a puzzled grimace painted on his features. “No. Elaborate.”

I don’t - I can’t - answer that. Three years later, the wound is still too raw. I’ll cry or kill him. Neither option is acceptable so I jump out of my chair and go back outside to wait for the kids.

The worst, most painful part of all of this is that he can't even recall what he did to me.

Three years ago, I thought Peeta and I were well on our way to being a couple.

Nearly every morning, he’d greet me on the slopes, his eyes as bright and blue as the sky behind him. We’d spend the day carving up the slopes, skiing in and out of each other’s turns just like he did today. We drank hot chocolate in the lodge while we warmed our toes by the fire, Peeta’s arm thrown over my shoulders. I’d laugh at his corny jokes and tell stories about the time I spent here with my dad. Some nights, we’d stay for night skiing and we’d fly down the mountain together, the snow beneath us a sparkling carpet of sugar as we whooshed along under the glow of the lights. Then Peeta would drive me home and we’d listen to classic rock as we bumped down the mountain.

Gale tried to warn me about him. He said I was reading too much into Peeta’s friendly gestures, that he was a player and I needed to be careful. Gale had been hinting at wanting to be more than friends with me for awhile, so I just brushed it off. I told him he didn’t know Peeta, that he wouldn’t do that to me.

A few days before Christmas, Peeta and I were lingering in the warmth of his truck, listening to tunes and reliving the best parts of our day when he turned toward me and his crooked smile grew serious.

“You’re a really great girl, Katniss,” he said, and then his gaze flicked away. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip and his thumb drummed on the steering wheel.

“Thanks,” I managed to choke out. “I like hanging out with you too.” The drumming stopped and Peeta reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. My pulse skittered as his fingers trailed along my jaw. I stirred in my seat, my body yearning to close the space between us. As if of a will of its own, my chin lifted and I admired the way the dashboard lights made him look like he’d been sculpted from marble.

His lips were firm and warm when they met mine and my body melted beneath them. His fingers threaded through my hair tugging me closer and I gasped in response, giving him the chance to capture my bottom lip between his own. My hands flew up to his shoulders, enjoying their strength and revelling in the warmth of his presence and the spicy goodness of his cologne. He tasted of chocolate and cinnamon and it made me greedy for more. I welcomed his tongue as it slipped past my lips, sliding against mine, twisting around it before flicking across the roof of my mouth and backing away, forcing me to chase it into the warm darkness of its cave where I plundered its depths.

A light flickered on the front porch of the house and Peeta dragged his lips away, framing my face in his hands and lowering his forehead against mine.

“I think someone is sending us a signal,” he panted. “I should let you go inside.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Peeta pressed his lips against my forehead and then climbed out of his truck. While he got my skis out of the back, I pulled the rest of my gear from the cab. He carried my skis to the door and then a shy smile crossed his face. “Did you hear about the party in the dorms at the lodge tomorrow night? The instructors have been inviting some of the guests our age. Are you going?”

I’d heard about it. Gale had asked me to go with him. I’d said no. Parties weren’t exactly my scene, especially with the out of town ski instructors, but with Peeta at my side, it might be worth my time.

“Yeah, I think so.”

His smile turned to a grin and he bent down to kiss my cheek. “I’ll see you then,” then he turned back to his truck, his hands stuffed into his pockets. I went inside and, ignoring the questioning looks from my mother, headed straight to my room.

When I arrived at the party the next night, it was in full swing. The air was filled with smoke and the clinking of bottles as people relaxed to the music. I scanned the room for faces I knew. Johanna, not yet a manager, was wrapped around a hulking blonde instructor named Gloss. A guy named Finnick had his head in the lap of a shy girl whose name, I think, was Annie. Gale was scowling in a corner, his beer clutched in his fist. And in the middle of it all was Peeta, his arm wrapped around another girl our age named Bristel who was snuggled up beside him. A wave of emotions crashed over me, extinguishing any flame I might have been tending for Peeta. It was a potent brew, a blend of humiliation and disappointment. Tears threatened and I bit down on my lip so that I didn’t give them both a piece of my mind.

I stood there, waiting for him to notice my arrival. When his gaze fell upon me, he gave me a wave and returned to his conversation with her. I’d been dismissed. Clearly, the night before had just been a lark, something to do because he was bored. He was a jerk. An ass. A party-barge-sized douche.

My thoughts were swirling so fast I heard nothing as I walked out, starting back for my mother’s car that I’d borrowed for the evening. As I sat in the dark trying not to cry, I heard a tap at the window. Gale needed a ride home. I told him to get in and we drove back to town in silence.

I never spoke to Peeta after that night and to this day, Gale has never so much as offered me an “I told you so.”

My dismay when I heard Peeta and I would be both hanging around the instructor’s lounge this winter was almost too much to bear. I was going to have to deal with him everyday, just to have a shot at this sweet job that is double what anything else pays in town. And now we have to spend all day teaching a bunch of nine-year-olds to ski? My life sucks sweaty balls.

The bus rumbles up the road and I can see the kids bouncing up and down in their seats. The door opens wide and they all pile out, jabbering away at the top of their lungs.

A young teacher is the last to disembark. She makes her way to me and shakes my hand with a smile.

“I’m Madge Undersee,” she says, “and this is my class. As you can see, we’re very excited.”

“Katniss,” I tell her. “Welcome to Mt. Mockingjay.”

“And I’m Peeta,” says my nemesis, who has appeared beside me, and I watch as Madge falls under his spell. She giggles. Giggles! It’s disgusting.

“We’re your instructors for the day.” He turns to me. “Shall we get started?”

At my nod, Madge claps her hands and calls out to her students who soon fall into silence.

When they are quiet, I speak up, unwilling to let Peeta establish himself as the leader for the day.

“Welcome to Mt. Mockingjay,” I say to the wriggling masses. “I’m Katniss and this is Peeta. We’re going to get you on skis in a bit, but first we have to go over some rules. These are for your safety and-”

And just like that, they’ve tuned me out and returned to talking to each other. A sharp, “Class!” from their teacher brings them back in line.

Peeta holds up his orange helmet. “This is your brain bucket,” he calls out and the kids laugh. “You put it on before you put on your skis and you don’t take it off until you take your skis off. Got it?”

Twenty-two heads nod.

“Peeta and I are your teachers today,” I tell them. “No one leaves the bunny hill until we say you’re ready.” A couple of boys in the back of the crowd roll their eyes.

Beside me, Peeta clears his throat. “But we know you all can do it and even if you don’t get down a big hill today you’ll learn enough today that you might be able to do it next time.”

Ugh. He’s so good at this stuff. It makes me crazy. I’m the one who’s been practically raising a kid since I was one myself and with a cheesy grin and a bad joke, he's won them over.

It’s a bit like the way my dad used to handle his students, which annoys me further.

“Are we allowed to have snowboards?” pipes up one of the eye rollers.

I look to the teacher who gives a slight nod. The potential for a clear division of labour emerges.

So now I’ve got a choice to make. I can divide them up, boarders and skiers, and cross my fingers that they won’t all choose boards just to hang out with Peeta, or we can go with them to get their equipment and test them together.

One option means Peeta and I each have a separate class to teach today, lowering the risk of a blow-up. It also means I run the risk of having his success compared to mine, again, when I’m already in serious jeopardy of losing this job.

What should I do?

[javistg]

Prompt idea: an alternate ending for the Hunger games where katniss chooses gale instead of peeta

Hello there! First, I’d like to apologise for not writing the story that you requested. 

I really tried, I promise, but I just couldn’t do it. It’s not because I hate Gale, because I don’t. But, honestly, I think that to have the ending you want, I’d need to re-write the entire trilogy. Because, IMO, Katniss didn’t choose Peeta at the end, when they’re both back in D12. I think she chose him before. 

Maybe she didn’t know how to put it into words, but the feelings were there. More importantly, I think that there are many moments through the trilogy (especially Mockingjay) when we see her NOT choosing Gale. Their relationship becomes strained and distant. The more I thought about it the less likely it seemed.

In the end, Katniss says it best. What I need is the dandelion in the spring… And only Peeta can give me that.

Now, this whole intro doesn’t mean I didn’t write anything. It just means I wrote something else. Canon divergent. There’s a lot of Gale here, but it’s still Everlark.

For those of you still reading, hope you enjoy.

She had been sitting by the fire, drifting in and outof sleep for two weeks, when he knocked on her door.

Sae answered and let him in, making a big fuss abouthis appearance and his new position in District 2.

For the first time since she’d come back to Twelve,Katniss looked up from the flames.

Gale looked good. Healthy. Well fed. His hair was abit on the short side, but Sae was right, the dark uniform he wore suited him.The almost black fabric made his eyes pop.

Gale smiled. His gray eyes soft and worried as he tookher in.

“Hey, Catnip,” he whispered.

“What are you doing here?” she bit back.

“Came to see how you were doing,” he explained.

Katniss looked away. She didn’t want him there,bearing witness to her pain –pain he had partially caused. But she was tiredand lonely.

Her mother was in Four. Her sister was dead.

Haymitch was too busy drowning his sorrow away. AndPeeta… Wherever Peeta was, she hoped he was safe.

Still, she was stubborn, and she had every reason tobe mad at him.

Gale was a big boy –who, apparently, had a big job inTwo—he could take her anger. “Well, you’ve seen me. You can go now,” sheinstructed.

Gale nodded. “I’ll let you be for now. But I’m notleaving. Not yet anyway. I’ll be staying down the street, with the cityplanners. They’re using the house that’s closest to the gates. I’ll be back tosee you later.”

With a quick goodbye to Sae, he was out the door.

Katniss released a slow, deep breath.

She closed her eyes and listened to the wood cracklingin the hearth and let tears, warm and fat, stream down her cheeks.

XXXXX

True to his word, Gale came back.

His visits were never long, but hey were frequent. Henever said much half of the time, just pulled a small stool and sat byKatniss’s side to watch the fire.

These long, shared silences –so similar to the timethey’d spent while out hunting in the woods– reminded her of a different time.Of a different girl and a different boy and the special bond they’d shared.

Katniss said nothing, did nothing. She had nothingleft. The darkness in her soul ran too deep.

On the third day of his trip, Gale removed the shawlcovering Katniss’s shoulders and pulled her up to her feet.

“What are you doing?” she grumbled.

In one swift motion, Gale wrapped her in a thick woolblanket. “I’m taking you out for a walk,” he stated.

Katniss glared at him, but she didn’t resist.

Gently, Gale pushed her out the door.

Cold winter air kissed her cheeks as she walked downthe steps of her house. Katniss tightened her hold on the blanket, wrapping itsnugly around her body to keep the biting chill at bay.

Gale placed his hands on her shoulders and slowlydirected her towards the main gate.

After the months of inactivity, every step was astruggle. But the cold air filling her lungs and Gale’s soft insistence kepther going.

By the time she reached Peeta’s house, she was winded.She stopped and looked up. The place was as dark and empty as it had been whenshe’d last seen it.

“Where is he?” she asked before she could stopherself.

“The Capitol.”

Katniss nodded. A moment later, she turned and headedback to her house.

The next day, Gale repeated the process. This time,Katniss made it all the way to the gates of the village before coming back.

Slowly, Katniss recovered her strength. Each day sheventured further away.

One morning, Gale offered her one of her jacketsinstead of the usual blanket. The sight of the beautiful garment created byCinna’s hands brought tears to her eyes.

Fueled by anger and despair, she snatched the jacketfrom Gale’s grasp and, clutching it against her chest, went back to sit by thefire.

She didn’t leave the house that day.

XXXXX

“The mayor’s coming in tomorrow,” Gale saidone afternoon.

Intrigued, Katniss turned to look at him. “MayorUndersee?”

Gale’s face went paper white. “No. A new mayor.Mayor Undersee is… He didn’t escape. The cleanup crew found five bodies inthe remains of his house.”

A soft, shaky sigh escaped Katniss’s lips as sheconsidered this new information. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hadhoped that Madge had somehow managed to run away on the night of the attack onTwelve.

Her eyes, sharp and pained, locked with Gale’s.“Did you ever thank her?”

He scrunched up his nose. “Who?”

“Madge. She gave you her mother’s medicine, Gale.She saved your life.”

Gale released all the air from his lungs and hunchedforward, burying his hands in his hair. “I didn’t know,” he mumbled.“I didn’t know.”

XXXXX

Days became longer. The snow began to melt. Gradually,Katniss remembered the person she’d once been but, with the memories came thepain, the sorrow, the acute realization of everything she had lost.

They were coming back from one of their walks whenthey heard Katniss’s telephone ringing. It wasn’t unusual, the phone rung everyother day. Katniss always ignored it.

Without giving her any notice, Gale went into thestudy and answered the call.

The conversation was short —just a series of ‘yeses’and ‘nos.’ When it was over, Gale stepped out of the room.

“That was Dr. Aurelius,” he explained pointing at thephone.

A chill ran down Katniss’s back. “What did he want?”

“He says he’s been assigned to your case. He needs totalk to you once a week to fill out a report.”

Katniss scowled. She remembered Doctor Aurelius andhis long naps by her bedside. As far as head doctors went, he wasn’t that bad.But these telephone conversations sounded like a lot of work. She didn’t wantto talk, she just wanted to be left alone.

“Next time the phone rings, just let it ring,” sheinstructed.

For the first time since he’d come back, Gale’s eyesdarkened. His loud, booming voice bounced off the walls. “Enough! This has gotto stop!”

Katniss took a step back. Her hands balled into tightfists at her sides. Her eyes hardened.

“You need to pull yourself out of this funk!” Galeyelled. “You can’t spend your life sleeping in that rocking chair and lookingat the fire, eating the bare minimum and going out for short walks.” He shookhis head and crossed his arms over his chest. “You need to wake up, Katniss!”

Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “And youneed to shower, you’ve barely changed your clothes in all the time I’ve beenhere.”

“I have towake up?” she bit back, her chest heaving and her eyes wild. “How about you? Whatare you even doing here, Gale? Don’t you have a job back in Two?”

“Never mind about my work,” he muttered. “I’m here tohelp you.”

A dark chuckle escaped her lips. “Help me? How? Byforcing me out of the house and telling me to shower? Do you think that’shelping me?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted throwing his arms in theair. “But I’m not going to stop trying. Whatever you need, I’ll do. Just talkto me, tell me what you want, and we’ll figure it out together.”

“You want to know what I want?”

Gale nodded.

Katniss closed her eyes and swallowed back her pain.Her whispered words echoed in the room like a clap of thunder. “How about yougive me back my sister?”

Right between the eyes.

Wasn’t that how Peeta once described her archeryskills? She could still see him —the shy, innocent boy who rode with her to theCapitol— telling Haymitch about the squirrels she traded with his dad.

She had never been particularly good with words, butthe hurt in Gale’s face told her she’d done it again. With one clean shot, shehad brought her target down.

Gale’s face crumbled. His anger and frustration seepedout of him leaving nothing but a defeated, empty shell.

Without another word, Katniss ran up the stairs. Thesound of her bedroom door slamming shut reverberated through the building.

XXXXX

Gale was still pacing in circles around the hallwaywhen Katniss rushed back down the stairs with a flower vase in her hands.

Without stopping, she reached the kitchen and threwthe vase’s contents into the embers.

The flowers flared up. A burst of blue flame envelopeda single white rose and devoured it.

With a sharp cry, Katniss smashed the vase on thefloor.

Silence followed.

“He’s gone,” Katniss whispered after a moment.

Gale moved to stand by her side. “Who?”

“President Snow,” she explained. “That was his lastrose, his last message. He’s gone.”

Gale nodded.

A peaceful silence settled over them as they watchedthe rest of the flowers go up in flames.

Looking up to find his eyes, so similar to her own,Katniss asked, “How’s your family?”

“They’re ok. Posy’s going back to school in a coupleof weeks.”

A sad smile settled on Katniss’s lips. “That’s why wedid it all, isn’t it? That’s why we went under the fence every day, why wehunted, and fought, and bled.” A tear ran down her cheek, she wiped it away.“That’s why I volunteered. For her. To keep her safe, to give her a shot at abetter future.”

With a shaky sigh, she continued, “You shouldn’t behere, Gale. You should be there, with them. It may not look that way, but Rory,Vick, and Posy need you a lot more than I do. You are their brother.”

Gale’s voice was broken and full of sorrow. “Katniss,I–,”

“No,” she interrupted, “you fought to give them abetter world. You should be teaching them how to live in it.”

Gale nodded. Tears streaked his cheeks, he didn’t hidethem from her. His pained whisper pushed the air out of her lungs. “Catnip, I’mso so–,”

“Don’t!” she snapped. “Don’t apologize. I know you’resorry, but I’m not ready to forgive you. I know you’re in pain. I know you wantto help. I appreciate what you’ve done, but you need to go back to your family,Gale. There’s nothing left for you here.”

XXXXX

The scraping of a shovel woke her up from a nightmarea couple of days later.  

Dazed, she ran out the front door and around the sideof her house only to stop short.

There, in front of her, was her district partner, herfriend, her neighbor.

His face was flushed from digging the ground under thewindows, but he looked well, thin and covered in scars –like her.

His deep blue eyes had lost the clouded, tortured lookshe had grown used to.  

“You’re back,” she said.

Peeta’s voice was soft and warm in the morning breeze.“Dr. Aurelius wouldn’t let me leave the Capitol until yesterday,” he explained.“By the way, he said to tell you he can’t keep pretending he’s treating youforever. You have to pick up the phone.”

Katniss nodded. “I know. He left me a message theother day. I’ll call him back.”

“He’s not that bad, you know?” Peeta said digging thetoe of his boot into the loose earth.

“What are you doing?” she asked, suddenly curious.

“I went to the woods this morning and dug these up,”he said, pointing to a wheelbarrow loaded with scraggly bushes behind him.

Katniss looked past him. Evening primrose, she thought as soon as her eyes landed on theflowers.

“For her,” Peeta added. “I thought we could plant themby the side of the house.”

Without a word, Katniss closed the distance betweenthem and threw her arms around Peeta’s neck. “Thank you.”

Peeta nodded. His arms wrapped around her frame andheld her tight. “I’m sorry, Katniss,” he whispered.

After a long moment, she pulled back. Her eyes wereheavy with tears, but she smiled. “Want to come over for breakfast? Sae iscooking.”

“Sure.” Letting go of her, Peeta took a small stepback. “I’d love to.”

Katniss smiled. “See you later then,” she said, beforeturning and making her way back into her house.

[readbookywooks]

21 That makes two requests for Peeta's death in less than an hour. "Don't be ridiculous," says Jackson. "I just murdered a member of our squad!" shouts Peeta. "You pushed him off you. You couldn't have known he would trigger the net at that exact spot," says Finnick, trying to calm him. "Who cares? He's dead, isn't he?" Tears begin to run down Peeta's face. "I didn't know. I've never seen myself like that before. Katniss is right. I'm the monster. I'm the mutt. I'm the one Snow has turned into a weapon!" "It's not your fault, Peeta," says Finnick. "You can't take me with you. It's only a matter of time before I kill someone else." Peeta looks around at our conflicted faces. "Maybe you think it's kinder to just dump me somewhere. Let me take my chances. But that's the same thing as handing me over to the Capitol. Do you think you'd be doing me a favor by sending me back to Snow?" Peeta. Back in Snow's hands. Tortured and tormented until no bits of his former self will ever emerge again. For some reason, the last stanza to "The Hanging Tree" starts running through my head. The one where the man wants his lover dead rather than have her face the evil that awaits her in the world. Are you, are you Coming to the tree Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me. Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree. "I'll kill you before that happens," says Gale. "I promise." Peeta hesitates, as if considering the reliability of this offer, and then shakes his head. "It's no good. What if you're not there to do it? I want one of those poison pills like the rest of you have." Nightlock. There's one pill back at camp, in its special slot on the sleeve of my Mockingjay suit. But there's another in the breast pocket of my uniform. Interesting that they didn't issue one to Peeta. Perhaps Coin thought he might take it before he had the opportunity to kill me. It's unclear if Peeta means he'd finish himself off now, to spare us having to murder him, or only if the Capitol took him prisoner again. In the state he's in, I expect it would be sooner rather than later. It would certainly make things easier on the rest of us. Not to have to shoot him. It would certainly simplify the problem of dealing with his homicidal episodes. I don't know if it's the pods, or the fear, or watching Boggs die, but I feel the arena all around me. It's as if I've never left, really. Once again I'm battling not only for my own survival but for Peeta's as well. How satisfying, how entertaining it would be for Snow to have me kill him. To have Peeta's death on my conscience for whatever is left of my life. "It's not about you," I say. "We're on a mission. And you're necessary to it." I look to the rest of the group. "Think we might find some food here?" Besides the medical kit and cameras, we have nothing but our uniforms and our weapons. Half of us stay to guard Peeta or keep an eye out for Snow's broadcast, while the others hunt for something to eat. Messalla proves most valuable because he lived in a near replica of this apartment and knows where people would be most likely to stash food. Like how there's a storage space concealed by a mirrored panel in the bedroom, or how easy it is to pop out the ventilation screen in the hallway. So even though the kitchen cupboards are bare, we find over thirty canned goods and several boxes of cookies. The hoarding disgusts the soldiers raised in 13. "Isn't this illegal?" says Leeg 1. "On the contrary, in the Capitol you'd be considered stupid not to do it," says Messalla. "Even before the Quarter Quell, people were starting to stock up on scarce supplies." "While others went without," says Leeg 1. "Right," says Messalla. "That's how it works here." "Fortunately, or we wouldn't have dinner," says Gale. "Everybody grab a can." Some of our company seem reluctant to do this, but it's as good a method as any. I'm really not in the mood to divvy up everything into eleven equal parts, factoring in age, body weight, and physical output. I poke around in the pile, about to settle on some cod chowder, when Peeta holds out a can to me. "Here." I take it, not knowing what to expect. The label reads Lamb Stew. I press my lips together at the memories of rain dripping through stones, my inept attempts at flirting, and the aroma of my favorite Capitol dish in the chilly air. So some part of it must still be in his head, too. How happy, how hungry, how close we were when that picnic basket arrived outside our cave. "Thanks." I pop open the top. "It even has dried plums." I bend the lid and use it as a makeshift spoon, scooping a bit into my mouth. Now this place tastes like the arena, too. We're passing around a box of fancy cream-filled cookies when the beeping starts again. The seal of Panem lights up on the screen and remains there while the anthem plays. And then they begin to show images of the dead, just as they did with the tributes in the arena. They start with the four faces of our TV crew, followed by Boggs, Gale, Finnick, Peeta, and me. Except for Boggs, they don't bother with the soldiers from 13, either because they have no idea who they are or because they know they won't mean anything to the audience. Then the man himself appears, seated at his desk, a flag draped behind him, the fresh white rose gleaming in his lapel. I think he might have recently had more work done, because his lips are puffier than usual. And his prep team really needs to use a lighter hand with his blush. Snow congratulates the Peacekeepers on a masterful job, honors them for ridding the country of the menace called the Mockingjay. With my death, he predicts a turning of the tide in the war, since the demoralized rebels have no one left to follow. And what was I, really? A poor, unstable girl with a small talent with a bow and arrow. Not a great thinker, not the mastermind of the rebellion, merely a face plucked from the rabble because I had caught the nation's attention with my antics in the Games. But necessary, so very necessary, because the rebels have no real leader among them. Somewhere in District 13, Beetee hits a switch, because now it's not President Snow but President Coin who's looking at us. She introduces herself to Panem, identifies herself as the head of the rebellion, and then gives my eulogy. Praise for the girl who survived the Seam and the Hunger Games, then turned a country of slaves into an army of freedom fighters. "Dead or alive, Katniss Everdeen will remain the face of this rebellion. If ever you waver in your resolve, think of the Mockingjay, and in her you will find the strength you need to rid Panem of its oppressors." "I had no idea how much I meant to her," I say, which brings a laugh from Gale and questioning looks from the others. Up comes a heavily doctored photo of me looking beautiful and fierce with a bunch of flames flickering behind me. No words. No slogan. My face is all they need now. Beetee gives the reins back to a very controlled Snow. I have the feeling the president thought the emergency channel was impenetrable, and someone will end up dead tonight because it was breached. "Tomorrow morning, when we pull Katniss Everdeen's body from the ashes, we will see exactly who the Mockingjay is. A dead girl who could save no one, not even herself." Seal, anthem, and out. "Except that you won't find her," says Finnick to the empty screen, voicing what we're all probably thinking. The grace period will be brief. Once they dig through those ashes and come up missing eleven bodies, they'll know we escaped. "We can get a head start on them at least," I say. Suddenly, I'm so tired. All I want is to lie down on a nearby green plush sofa and go to sleep. To cocoon myself in a comforter made of rabbit fur and goose down. Instead, I pull out the Holo and insist that Jackson talk me through the most basic commands - which are really about entering the coordinates of the nearest map grid intersection - so that I can at least begin to operate the thing myself. As the Holo projects our surroundings, I feel my heart sink even further. We must be moving closer to crucial targets, because the number of pods has noticeably increased. How can we possibly move forward into this bouquet of blinking lights without detection? We can't. And if we can't, we are trapped like birds in a net. I decide it's best not to adopt some sort of superior attitude when I'm with these people. Especially when my eyes keep drifting to that green sofa. So I say, "Any ideas?" "Why don't we start by ruling out possibilities," says Finnick. "The street is not a possibility." "The rooftops are just as bad as the street," says Leeg 1. "We still might have a chance to withdraw, go back the way we came," says Homes. "But that would mean a failed mission." A pang of guilt hits me since I've fabricated said mission. "It was never intended for all of us to go forward. You just had the misfortune to be with me." "Well, that's a moot point. We're with you now," says Jackson. "So, we can't stay put. We can't move up. We can't move laterally. I think that just leaves one option." "Underground," says Gale. Underground. Which I hate. Like mines and tunnels and 13. Underground, where I dread dying, which is stupid because even if I die aboveground, the next thing they'll do is bury me underground anyway. The Holo can show subterranean as well as street-level pods. I see that when we go underground the clean, dependable lines of the street plan are interlaced with a twisting, turning mess of tunnels. The pods look less numerous, though. Two doors down, a vertical tube connects our row of apartments to the tunnels. To reach the tube apartment, we will need to squeeze through a maintenance shaft that runs the length of the building. We can enter the shaft through the back of a closet space on the upper floor. "Okay, then. Let's make it look like we've never been here," I say. We erase all signs of our stay. Send the empty cans down a trash chute, pocket the full ones for later, flip sofa cushions smeared with blood, wipe traces of gel from the tiles. There's no fixing the latch on the front door, but we lock a second bolt, which will at least keep the door from swinging open on contact. Finally, there's only Peeta to contend with. He plants himself on the blue sofa, refusing to budge. "I'm not going. I'll either disclose your position or hurt someone else." "Snow's people will find you," says Finnick. "Then leave me a pill. I'll only take it if I have to," says Peeta. "That's not an option. Come along," says Jackson. "Or you'll what? Shoot me?" asks Peeta. "We'll knock you out and drag you with us," says Homes. "Which will both slow us down and endanger us." "Stop being noble! I don't care if I die!" He turns to me, pleading now. "Katniss, please. Don't you see, I want to be out of this?" The trouble is, I do see. Why can't I just let him go? Slip him a pill, pull the trigger? Is it because I care too much about Peeta or too much about letting Snow win? Have I turned him into a piece in my private Games? That's despicable, but I'm not sure it's beneath me. If it's true, it would be kindest to kill Peeta here and now. But for better or worse, I am not motivated by kindness. "We're wasting time. Are you coming voluntarily or do we knock you out?" Peeta buries his face in his hands for a few moments, then rises to join us. "Should we free his hands?" asks Leeg 1. "No!" Peeta growls at her, drawing his cuffs in close to his body. "No," I echo. "But I want the key." Jackson passes it over without a word. I slip it into my pants pocket, where it clicks against the pearl. When Homes pries open the small metal door to the maintenance shaft, we encounter another problem. There's no way the insect shells will be able to fit through the narrow passage. Castor and Pollux remove them and detach emergency backup cameras. Each is the size of a shoe box and probably works about as well. Messalla can't think of anywhere better to hide the bulky shells, so we end up dumping them in the closet. Leaving such an easy trail to follow frustrates me, but what else can we do? Even going single file, holding our packs and gear out to the side, it's a tight fit. We sidestep our way past the first apartment, and break into the second. In this apartment, one of the bedrooms has a door marked utility instead of a bathroom. Behind the door is the room with the entrance to the tube. Messalla frowns at the wide circular cover, for a moment returning to his own fussy world. "It's why no one ever wants the center unit. Workmen coming and going whenever and no second bath. But the rent's considerably cheaper." Then he notices Finnick's amused expression and adds, "Never mind." The tube cover's simple to unlatch. A wide ladder with rubber treads on the steps allows for a swift, easy descent into the bowels of the city. We gather at the foot of the ladder, waiting for our eyes to adjust to the dim strips of lights, breathing in the mixture of chemicals, mildew, and sewage. Pollux, pale and sweaty, reaches out and latches on to Castor's wrist. Like he might fall over if there isn't someone to steady him. "My brother worked down here after he became an Avox," says Castor. Of course. Who else would they get to maintain these dank, evil-smelling passages mined with pods? "Took five years before we were able to buy his way up to ground level. Didn't see the sun once." Under better conditions, on a day with fewer horrors and more rest, someone would surely know what to say. Instead we all stand there for a long time trying to formulate a response. Finally, Peeta turns to Pollux. "Well, then you just became our most valuable asset." Castor laughs and Pollux manages a smile. We're halfway down the first tunnel when I realize what was so remarkable about the exchange. Peeta sounded like his old self, the one who could always think of the right thing to say when nobody else could. Ironic, encouraging, a little funny, but not at anyone's expense. I glance back at him as he trudges along under his guards, Gale and Jackson, his eyes fixed on the ground, his shoulders hunched forward. So dispirited. But for a moment, he was really here. Peeta called it right. Pollux turns out to be worth ten Holos. There is a simple network of wide tunnels that directly corresponds to the main street plan above, underlying the major avenues and cross streets. It's called the Transfer, since small trucks use it to deliver goods around the city. During the day, its many pods are deactivated, but at night it's a minefield. However, hundreds of additional passages, utility shafts, train tracks, and drainage tubes form a multilevel maze. Pollux knows details that would lead to disaster for a newcomer, like which offshoots might require gas masks or have live wires or rats the size of beavers. He alerts us to the gush of water that sweeps through the sewers periodically, anticipates the time the Avoxes will be changing shifts, leads us into damp, obscure pipes to dodge the nearly silent passage of cargo trains. Most important, he has knowledge of the cameras. There aren't many down in this gloomy, misty place, except in the Transfer. But we keep well out of their way. Under Pollux's guidance we make good time - remarkable time, if you compare it to our aboveground travel. After about six hours, fatigue takes over. It's three in the morning, so I figure we still have a few hours before our bodies are discovered missing, they search through the rubble of the whole block of apartments in case we tried to escape through the shafts, and the hunt begins. When I suggest we rest, no one objects. Pollux finds a small, warm room humming with machines loaded with levers and dials. He holds up his fingers to indicate we must be gone in four hours. Jackson works out a guard schedule, and, since I'm not on the first shift, I wedge myself in the tight space between Gale and Leeg 1 and go right to sleep. It seems like only minutes later when Jackson shakes me awake, tells me I'm on watch. It's six o'clock, and in one hour we must be on our way. Jackson tells me to eat a can of food and keep an eye on Pollux, who's insisted on being on guard the entire night. "He can't sleep down here." I drag myself into a state of relative alertness, eat a can of potato and bean stew, and sit against the wall facing the door. Pollux seems wide awake. He's probably been reliving those five years of imprisonment all night. I get out the Holo and manage to input our grid coordinates and scan the tunnels. As expected, more pods are registering the closer we move toward the center of the Capitol. For a while, Pollux and I click around on the Holo, seeing what traps lie where. When my head begins to spin, I hand it over to him and lean back against the wall. I look down at the sleeping soldiers, crew, and friends, and I wonder how many of us will ever see the sun again. When my eyes fall on Peeta, whose head rests right by my feet, I see he's awake. I wish I could read what's going on in his mind, that I could go in and untangle the mess of lies. Then I settle for something I can accomplish. "Have you eaten?" I ask. A slight shake of his head indicates he hasn't. I open a can of chicken and rice soup and hand it to him, keeping the lid in case he tries to slit his wrists with it or something. He sits up and tilts the can, chugging back the soup without really bothering to chew it. The bottom of the can reflects the lights from the machines, and I remember something that's been itching at the back of my mind since yesterday. "Peeta, when you asked about what happened to Darius and Lavinia, and Boggs told you it was real, you said you thought so. Because there was nothing shiny about it. What did you mean?" "Oh. I don't know exactly how to explain it," he tells me. "In the beginning, everything was just complete confusion. Now I can sort certain things out. I think there's a pattern emerging. The memories they altered with the tracker jacker venom have this strange quality about them. Like they're too intense or the images aren't stable. You remember what it was like when we were stung?" "Trees shattered. There were giant colored butterflies. I fell in a pit of orange bubbles." I think about it. "Shiny orange bubbles." "Right. But nothing about Darius or Lavinia was like that. I don't think they'd given me any venom yet," he says. "Well, that's good, isn't it?" I ask. "If you can separate the two, then you can figure out what's true." "Yes. And if I could grow wings, I could fly. Only people can't grow wings," he says. "Real or not real?" "Real," I say. "But people don't need wings to survive." "Mockingjays do." He finishes the soup and returns the can to me. In the fluorescent light, the circles under his eyes look like bruises. "There's still time. You should sleep." Unresisting, he lies back down, but just stares at the needle on one of the dials as it twitches from side to side. Slowly, as I would with a wounded animal, my hand stretches out and brushes a wave of hair from his forehead. He freezes at my touch, but doesn't recoil. So I continue to gently smooth back his hair. It's the first time I have voluntarily touched him since the last arena. "You're still trying to protect me. Real or not real," he whispers. "Real," I answer. It seems to require more explanation. "Because that's what you and I do. Protect each other." After a minute or so, he drifts off to sleep. Shortly before seven, Pollux and I move among the others, rousing them. There are the usual yawns and sighs that accompany waking. But my ears are picking up something else, too. Almost like a hissing. Perhaps it's only steam escaping a pipe or the far-off whoosh of one of the trains.... I hush the group to get a better read on it. There's a hissing, yes, but it's not one extended sound. More like multiple exhalations that form words. A single word. Echoing throughout the tunnels. One word. One name. Repeated over and over again. "Katniss."

[cataclysmicrp]

MERCURY FLATSTAR | 80TH HUNGER GAMES VICTOR | TAKEN

TRAITS:

+ Intelligent, Empathetic, Sensitive - Unstable, Reactive, Desperate

BIOGRAPHY:

TW: Death, Gore

Sometimes people are collateral effects of other people’s lives.

It shouldn’t be like that but it turns out some people are just by products of the place they come from. Mercury, for instance, was one of those. He was born to a mother who didn’t make through birth to see her child, no father to be spoken of, he was a child taken to custody care of the District’s orphanage. He was just one of a handful – unlike the more miserable districts, even if Three wasn’t particularly wealthy, it wasn’t as desperate as some others.

Mercury’s childhood was that of all orphans. No luxuries, nothing but the bare necessities, no warm hugs from a father, no solidary hand from a mother. But the orphaned kids, the abandoned ones, those whose parents had died from disease or accident, those whose parents had been taken away for saying things they shouldn’t have – they were a family, after all. There were very few that had never saw the resemblance of a regular family like Mercury but most of all, he grew up sided by Venus and Terra. With him being the youngest of the three and the two girls being just a couple months ahead, though they had nothing alike in looks, they were the three musketeers, inseparable, unstoppable and as happy as three orphans could be.

The good thing about being raised in an orphanage was that they never had to sign up for Tesserae, there wasn’t food to spare but they had at the very least two warm meals a day and a roof over their heads. They were all brilliant in their own rights and went to school regularly knowing from age 4 they were all going to be put one way or another. Mercury was considered a smart child from the moment he learned how to speak – well, from the moment he learned how to read more specifically. The talkative one of the trio was Venus, Terra was the leading one and Mercury tried to keep them out of trouble, mostly. Shy by nature, a bright kid who wanted to figure the world out, asking way too many questions at school.

He was seven when he finally learned to stop asking questions, at least certain types of questions. The ones who would get him a steadfast punishment in the form of getting whipped with a cane or a belt, which was better than being taken by a Peacekeeper any day. At age eight they were separated at school, with Terra being sent to technical training for a future in the factories, Venus in a prep course for architecture and Mercury put in the mathematics and engineering. At home they remained inseparable, as if the world couldn’t tear them apart. But oh they were so wrong.

Studying and studying, they watched Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark’s romance unfold on the screens, children at the time, young and knowing they could be reaped at any moment after that. Thanking every year their district was one of the most populated so maybe they’d all make into adulthood without being dragged into the horrors of the Arena. The 74th Hunger Games came and ended, life went on as always for everyone in the Third District. They weren’t starving, they weren’t happy either – they studied, knowing they’d all eventually be cogs in the great Panem Machine.

But then the Quarter Quell happened and with it came the rebellion. With it came the bombs and the fights, the darkness. Together all of the orphans did their best to survive but what better way to demoralize a community if not by killing their sick, wounded and the children? Bombing the orphanage was just one of the many, countless collateral damages of the rebellion. Still, Mercury, Venus, Terra and four other orphans managed to survive the gruelling months that followed. They joined with the rebel forces, trying to survive, helping however they could. In the midst of war, Mercury was still the same sweet, shy boy, who tried to tend to the wounded and fix whatever he could in the wake of destruction.

As the rebellion won and the Hunger Games were supposed to end, the trio of friends did their best to ignore Alma Coin and the Capitol, going back to rebuild their District, the only home they knew of, the only life they knew how to have. Back to their studies, back to their buildings, then the second Victor’s Purge came – and everyone feared what would come next.

Then the Games restarted.

Nowhere to run, no Gods to pray to, helplessly their names were still in the pool but soon they wouldn’t. Soon they would be free. (More or less at least.) Just one more year, they’d be all eighteen and free. Borders didn’t exist any longer, right? They could move to a different District. Mercury tried to ignore the questioning, he tried to ignore the despise he felt for Coin simply taking over Snow’s government. He was smart, he was good at solving puzzles and this wasn’t a hard one but he was just another cog in the machine, he had no place in saying anything.

But months after Terra and Venus turned eighteen and before he did, he found out he had a place in the District Three reaping stage. He stood there, stick thin, unprepared for anything that wasn’t mental labour, preparing himself to die. He knew he was going to die. His district companion was a fourteen years old girl that had many brothers and sisters, he could see, but unlike Katniss Everdeen no one volunteered to save her. Mercury was no hero, he was no career, he wasn’t like their own district’s former Victors. He knew nothing of traps or bombs – he knew of puzzles, of mathematics, statistics, he knew biology and chemistry. But still he vouched to try and send the little girl back home, afterall, no one would miss him if he was gone. Maybe Venus and Terra, but they had each other. Still they were orphans, his life was meaningless.

He won hearts at the Capitol with his shy smile and soft words, fidgety hands curling the black locks around one finger. His score was an amazing two, he was harmless, of course he was harmless. A small, underfed, stick thin boy with a nervous shake in the hands who could count a thousand numbers of pi back and forth.

What no one was counting on was the fact his Arena would be a Maze. Sixty feet tall concrete walls permeated of vines and poison ivy that delved into thirty feet tall hedges and back to concrete, some parts were bricks. The Cornucopia at the centre of said Maze, Mercury lost no time going for anything, he grabbed the girl’s hand and ran, and ran and ran.  He didn’t stay for the bloodbath, he also didn’t stay to see the walls shifting and trapping the Career tributes separately, breaking their pack apart.

Her name was Ty Lars and he would not ever forget that girl.  

His eidetic memory and knowledge of puzzles gave him the full advantage, Ty was a good partner too even if she lacked knowledge of puzzles, she was good with engineering. They managed to come back to the Cornucopia twelve hours later where there were supplies still. Not much but enough so they could have sleeping bags, knives and water. As the Underdogs, with his shy demeanor and Ty’s bright smiles despite their situation, District 3 tributes became popular with the Capitol and most of other viewers. But their games were far, far away from ending.

Of course the broken apart Career pack and the other tributes weren’t their biggest problem. The labyrinth was as deadly as any other Arena. Maybe deadlier. It turned out the tributes weren’t each other’s biggest problem. The gamemakers put up a game of creative ways to kill trapped mice – the mice in question, being the children.

Poison ivy, violent mutts, toxic water, flames, acid rain, trap holes, elaborate pods – with an average of two deaths per day, those games wouldn’t drag. No, it was just a display of how many cruel ways Alma Coin could get your children and loved ones dead. A power display. A gruesome reminder that if anyone tried to rebel against her, these were the things she could do. Reaching the final six, Mercury and Ty had allied themselves surprisingly with the two tributes from District two. All of them beaten, bruised, starved. Mercury had been mauled by a panther-like mutt, an ugly bite that pierced his abdomen. He had watched a fellow tribute being beheaded by a flying blade and another have her head crushed under a rock.

It was the dawn of their ninth day when Claudius Templesmith’s voice boomed through the Arena – those who made out of the maze, would be sent home, either be one or two or all of them. But they had to run. And so they did as every pod, every trap set active in the maze – he knew he could make it out, he knew he could bring Ty home back to her family. The statistics in his mind, the calculus, the maze algorithm, he knew he could. It was the hope of knowing the maze science that kept him going, with the infection eating away, with the pains and dehydration. Maybe he meant nothing to the world but that small girl meant the world to someone out there and maybe he could save her. He was no Katniss, he couldn’t save their country, but she would mean something.

However, as his calculations failed he watched Ty and the district two girl run ahead of him, step up on a pod and get dismembered instantly by wires in front of him. Showered in their blood he stood there in shock for an hour while it dried over him, every inch of his covered in blood and guts. The other tribute from Two ran the other way, Mercury didn’t turn to look at him but he heard the scream as a horrible death came his way. Slowly he started walking through the maze, mind empty and short-circuited. Left hand pressed to the left wall as he made his slow and calculated way out of the maze. As he saw the Cornucopia gleaming in the clearing it sat, across from him the only other tribute left as Claudius Templesmith’s voice again announced there could be only one left.

Was that any news after Katniss’ and Peeta’s games? No one was delusional to think President Coin would be as lax as President Snow. If no tribute was left, it didn’t matter. These games weren’t for hope, they were for oppression. It wasn’t senseless slaughter, thatwere very well calculated slaughter (Mercury knew a lot about statistics to be fooled). In the end, no one thought that Mercury the underdog would make it. He wasn’t like Katniss, he wasn’t like Rhys the former Victor from his own district. He wasn’t an engineer, he was a mathematician. But when the boy from District Four latched at him and jammed a knife into his chest – instead of just accepting death as it was, Mercury stabbed him back, on the eye socket. A reflex, a stupid fight and as it started, it was over.

Capitol’s medicine could heal anything in the body. The kneecap he had busted, the missing tooth, the broken ribs, the infection eating away his guts, all of that mended. But what they could not mend, was whatever broke in the mind and the heart. Like a shell of a person, unresponsive, the ending ceremony of the games was steadfast since no one could get a reply out of Mercury, only absent looks and piercing silence. The press said he just needed some time, that he was elated with the victory. Not going back to District 3, they put him in a mental facility in the Capitol. For the following month the doctors put on extensive work to try and get a raise out of their latest Victor.

It worked. Mostly.

The soft, kind personality of the mathematician shows through most times, he’s quiet and solicitous, polite. But at any given moment he can become absent, unresponsive. The dissociation grants him to become uncaring, functioning in a raw, crude personality, unempathetic, confused and so on. Moody sometimes, he’ll harm himself and others if pushed. Truth be told, Mercury has yet to recover. He’s isolated himself, unable to uphold relationships, panicky and fidgety, unable to actually keep himself steady, he’s been kept on a strict watch by his mentor and everyone else who doesn’t want the most recent Victor to just drop dead. Everyone’s optimistic that time will help him heal but no one’s entirely sure he will ever be sane again, a common side effect of the games. In a small attempt to make Mercury comply with schedules, though he’s still “mentally confused”, he’s encouraged to teach some classes to Capitol resident children and make public appearances in his good days.

Faceclaim: Devon Bostick

[ellanainthetardis]

This story is part of the 52 stories in 52 weeks challenge created by ourwritingtherapy on tumblr. Week 3 : A retelling of a fairytale

I chose Beauty and the Beast with a twist! Also I think there’s a prompt for this in the “to do” file so… two birds, one stone. ;) I considered putting it out in chapters but I decided to leave it out as a one shot so… It’s very long and asked a few hours of work, I would love to hear your thoughts!

[FF] or [ao3]

The Mentor & The Beast

Haymitch let the front door slam behind him and headed straight to the living-room where Prim was exactly where he had left her: digging a hole in the floor with her pacing.

“Did you find her?” the twelve years old asked before he could even open his mouth.

“Peeta hasn’t seen her and Gale said she left before he did.” he sighed, running a hand in his slightly too long hair. “She still hasn’t called?”

He didn’t really need to ask. If Katniss had called her sister, Prim wouldn’t have been so worried. It wasn’t like her to disappear like that. She had gone two towns over for an archery competition and she should have been back more than six hours ago. She wasn’t answering her phone and her friends didn’t know where she had disappeared to. It wasn’t like Katniss at all. Sure, she was independent and she didn’t tell them where she went every minute of the day but… Six hours were too long. They hadn’t started to worry immediately but the fact that she hadn’t called…

“She’s not answering her phone.” Prim confirmed, her face crumpling with anxiety. “Do you think she’s alright? Maybe we should call the police…”

Haymitch looked at the quickly darkening sky through the window. Katniss should have been there a little after noon. It was almost seven p.m. and he was really starting to get worried but to involve the police…

Katniss didn’t have the best track record and he wasn’t sure they would be willing to help. She had gotten arrested quite a few numbers of times before Aster had signed away her parental rights to him. Hell, it was the whole reason Aster had signed off her parental rights to him in the first place, to save both kids from being sent into the system because Katniss’ recurrent shoplifting stemmed from their mother’s inabilities to feed her daughters…

Aster was depressed and getting treatment. He was always careful not to blame her in front of the girls because he knew only too well how easy it was to fall in that dark pit – he had spent his share of months in that pit after he had come back from the army and his had usually been full of whiskey – even though Katniss wasn’t always that charitable. The death of Malo Everdeen had left his wife unable to function and his daughters with no other options than to fare for themselves.

“You checked she’s not at your mom’s?” he asked.

That too was an unnecessary question. Katniss drove Prim over there when the twelve years old requested it but in the last three years of them living with him, he hadn’t seen Katniss  going there alone or of her own volition once.  

“Mom was asleep.” Prim said. “She hasn’t seen her. She doesn’t even know what day it is.”

His grey eyes darted back to the kid, surprised by the unusual bitterness in her tone. Prim was very forgiving and understanding when it came to Aster. Katniss had always shielded her from the worst of it.

But, then again, the blond girl in her blue sweater and her long braid looked frantic with worry like she rarely was.

He rubbed his face, trying to think but it was almost impossible to get rid of the feeling something was very, very wrong.  

Right. So. The police.

Maybe they should call the police and ignore that Katniss had a colorful past with the local sheriff because Thread was an ass. An ass who would tell him again that Katniss was a bad egg who had probably run away and get punched for his troubles which would lead to him getting arrested and Prim sent to a foster home.

“Shit.” he spat, fishing his phone from his pocket. How many times had he called her already? Fifteen? Sixteen? He tapped on the screen again and waited for the call to connect. It went straight to her answering machine.

“Maybe she doesn’t have a signal…” the girl suggested.

“Maybe.” he repeated, striding to the window. He pushed the curtains aside, hoping to see the familiar sight of Katniss’ beaten up pick-up coming up the street. The Village was quiet and deserted as it always was at this time of night.

The gated community was a great place to raise kids and for people who loved their peace – or at least that was what the realtor had claimed decades ago when he had purchased the house with his first special ops bonus. He had had other plans for the place at the time. But, then again, at the time he had still had a girlfriend, a mother and a brother he intended to share it with. They had gone up in flames and he had been left with a house too huge for him and emotional baggage the size of Texas.

He had that same bad feeling now he had felt years earlier when the base commander had summoned him into his office even though the plane that had brought back his team in the States had barely touched ground. The General had sat him down and told him there had been a gas explosion and, just like that, without his knowing, it had turned out he had been girlfriend-less, motherless and brother-less for days.

He chased those thoughts away.

He couldn’t lose one of his kids and he wasn’t going to.

“Do you think…” Prim hesitated, worrying her hands one way and then the other.

“She’s alright.” he promised quickly, hoping to hell that wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass. He left the window and the deserted street alone to draw the kid in a hug. She immediately hugged back and he rubbed her arms, concerned when he realized she was trembling a little. “Sweetheart, listen to me. Your sister’s tough. She’s alright. There’s probably a good explanation. Maybe the car broke down and it’s like you said… She doesn’t have a signal so she can’t call us.”

That sounded like a logical explanation to his ears and it even managed to calm himself down a little. Until his treacherous mind whispered that, in that case, she had been stranded somewhere for hours and anything could have happened to her and…

But Katniss had her bow and she was deadly with that thing. He pitied anyone who would try to hurt her when she was armed.

“I’m stupid!” Prim suddenly exclaimed. The girl escaped his arms and rushed to the purple laptop that had been abandoned on the couch. “I can track her down. Remember that app she downloaded on my phone? The one I was so angry about?”

Technology wasn’t his best friend and he frowned, vaguely remembering a fight at dinner the other day about Katniss being her overprotective self and uploading a tracking app on her sister’s phone. He had wisely refused to get involved in the siblings’ quarrel. “Yeah?”

“Well, I downloaded it on her phone too when she wasn’t looking.” the girl huffed. “Fair is fair.”

“Sneaky.” he approved with a proud smirk.

Prim flashed him a delighted grin that made him momentarily soften. Katniss had always been a small adult even at eleven but Prim… Prim had been a regular kid and it was strangely satisfying to see her grow up. A little sad too because the little girl who used to cling to his pants’ leg would soon turn into a young woman and…

“I should have remembered before.” the girl replied, clearly angry at herself.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” he promised. “You’re sure it’s gonna work if her phone’s off?”

“It should tell us where she was the last time the phone picked up signal.” Prim explained with a small wince. “I think.”

The computer pinged a location and they both breathed in relief.

“Okay.” he said, quickly entering the GPS coordinates in his phone. “I’m gonna drive there to check.”

“I’m coming with you.” the girl declared.

Haymitch was already shaking his head. “You’re staying here in case she comes back or she calls. You need anything you call Hazelle, yeah?”

“Haymitch…” she protested.

“I need you to hold the fort, sweetheart.” he cut her off. “Lock the door behind me. I’ll call when I find her.”

He pressed a quick kiss on the top of her head and rushed to his SUV. He drove too fast but the location Prim’s app had given them was at least a good hour away and he hated the thought of his kid alone on a road at night.

It was probably ironical that it was how they had met.

He had been very drunk that night, five years earlier, and he had had no business being behind a wheel. What he hadn’t expected on his way back from the bar at three a.m. had been the two little girls that had suddenly appeared in his headlights. It had been a miracle he had managed to swerve at the last moment and only a small mercy the only victim had been the streetlamp post. It certainly had sobered him up though. Adrenaline could do marvels.

Katniss had barely been eleven and she had stepped protectively in front of the seven years old who had been crying in fright.

What the fuck are you doing here at this time of night?, he had raged before he could keep his temper in check. He had been furious. With them for almost getting themselves killed. With himself for being so stupid as to get behind a wheel when he was that torched.

He hadn’t touched a drop since that night.

It had taken a while to convince Katniss he wasn’t about to murder them and for Prim to stop crying. It had taken longer to coax the story out of them. They had been looking for a runaway cat and had categorically refused to go home before they had found him. Hunting a cat had certainly not been how he had pictured his night going at the time…

Buttercup – who nowadays spent his days happily sprawled in front of his fireplace getting fatter and fatter – had been the most ugly cat he had ever seen in his life. Missing ear, broken tail, dirty as possible… And Prim had cried in joy when she had spotted him and had hugged him tight to her chest even though Haymitch had been pretty sure anyone else would have gotten hands and face clawed to death… And the ugly thing had started purring like a turbine.

He had driven the kids home after a lot of negotiating with Katniss who wisely hadn’t wanted to get into a strange man’s car, regardless of the time he had spent helping them locate the cat. It had been Prim who had slipped her tiny hand into his, looking up at him with so much trust and innocence his breath had caught.

The mother when he had finally brought them back had looked concerned by the fact her daughters had been out after dark but clearly out of her depth – if not her mind. The dazed look in her eyes, the state of the house, the way Katniss had ordered her sister to bed as if she had been the one in charge…

Haymitch had come back to check on them.

And that was how he had gotten involved really.

Katniss had been adamant about not accepting charity but she hadn’t been above stealing in the shops for the food they couldn’t afford. More often than not, Haymitch had been the one picking her up from the police station because Aster had begged him to, unable or unwilling to leave her house and face the world.

So he had regularly picked her up for two years, grateful that Sae – the local grocery shop’s owner – never pressed charges… Until Thread had come on the scene and had refused to close his eyes on what most officers were happy to ignore. It had all come to a head when social services had gotten involved and Haymitch had had to call in a few favors from friends from his time in the army to stop the girls from being taken away.

The transition hadn’t been smooth.

Katniss had been too used to being in charge and she had been resentful of what she saw as him stepping on her toes when it came to Prim. Prim had always been sweet and very attached to him but she had barely been nine at the time and hadn’t understood why they couldn’t live with their mother anymore. As for Haymitch… Haymitch had long abandoned any hope or dream or even thought of being a father and…

The transition hadn’t been smooth.

But they had built a home.

There had been ups and downs. Aster often relapsed and talks about the girl possibly going back to live with her had long been abandoned. Privately – and maybe unfairly – Haymitch thought the arrangement suited Aster just fine. She was their mother once a week but he was the one handling everything, particularly the difficult parts. Katniss had toyed the line with the law more than once and it was only the knowledge that they would be taken away from him if she got arrested again that kept her on the straight and narrow. She wasn’t a bad kid but she was too much of a survivor to adapt to a regular world of proms and high school drama. The archery club was the only thing that really kept her in school as it was. Her priority had never changed and that was Prim’s wellbeing, no matter what it cost.

She had done stuff before, even after the girls had moved in with him. Nicked things she thought Prim would like or want instead of asking him for money… Tried to get involved in not quite legal stuff to earn some when he had made it clear he wouldn’t tolerate stealing… But it had been a long time ago. It had been three years now and in the last year and a half, aside for the surprisingly normal boy drama the girl was practically oblivious about, to Peeta’s and Gale’s despair, she hadn’t gotten into any trouble.

And now she was missing.

And he couldn’t help but wonder…

He groaned half in relief and half in annoyance when his phone’s GPS brought him to the woods that separated The Seam from the next town. There was a perfectly nice road a few miles away but Katniss hated the interstate and she always insisted the woods were shorter. He had forbidden her from taking her car in there.

Then again, if he had had his way she wouldn’t have taken that car anywhere. No matter how many times he insisted, she refused to let him buy another one though. Not for Christmas, not for her birthday…

She had paid for that one herself – and barely allowed him to help her with it – but there was a reason it had been relatively cheap. It was old and battered and it looked like all that was keeping it together was glue and tape. Haymitch was forced to tinker with the engine practically every week to keep it running.

With a sigh and a curse for stubborn teenagers who couldn’t listen, he carefully guided his SUV on the narrow trail in the woods. It wasn’t long before he got completely lost. He followed the GPS rather than the main dusty path and ended up with no idea whatsoever of if he was going left or right. He usually had a very good sense of direction but right then…

Of course, it was the moment his phone chose to suddenly go dark. There was no warning, no beeping to alarm him that the battery was about to die – and how could it die when it had been at thirty-two percent the last time he had glanced at the screen? – it just went dark and dead in its holster.

“Shit, shit shit.” he grumbled under his breath as he forced the car onward at a snail pace, mindful of the trunks that were closer and closer together… He had been focused on the trees and he didn’t notice at once how cold it had became until he spotted the first traces of snow. “What the…”

It was spring. It was warm. He had barely bothered grabbing his jacket before leaving the house.

And yet there was snow on the forest ground. And the deeper he went, the worse it got.

A flash of red finally caught his attention, distracting him from the impossible sight – he supposed in the darkness of the deep woods some snow may have held from last winter but so much? He stopped the car behind Katniss’ red pick-up and bolted out of his car.

The pick-up was empty but locked.

Katniss’ bow was abandoned on the passenger side with her quiver and her phone but he didn’t immediately panicked. The snow had one advantage and that was that it was easy to track someone’s footsteps.

There was only one set of them, which made him relax even more.

She hadn’t been forced out of the car by anyone. It must have broken down and her phone must have run out of battery – she was worse at keeping it charged than he was – and she must have left the bow because she felt safe. So…

He followed the tracks of her footsteps down a narrow trail, burrowing into the thin leather of his jacket, wishing he had his sturdy grey coat or even the black beanie the girls always made fun of in winter because they claimed it made him look like a burglar. He could see his breath coming out in white puffs in front of his face, his skin prickled in the icy wind… He automatically hugged himself, placing his hands under his armpits to keep them warm.

He had been walking for ten minutes when he heard howling in the distance. Wolves, was his first guess but wolves had long disappeared from this state. Coyotes were more likely but he hadn’t heard of any pack in the area and… He shook his head, comforted by the familiar weight of his knife at the small of his back. Paranoia was harder to kick off than a drinking addiction and two decades in the Special Forces had left traces. He never went anywhere without his knife.

Darkness reigned supreme – which wasn’t so surprising given the time and how deep in the woods he was – and it was getting difficult for him to glimpse Katniss’ tracks so he was relieved when the creepy woods gave in on what seemed to be a clearing.

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting but it wasn’t that.

The house appeared out of nowhere.

Well… House wasn’t a good word for it. It looked like one of those modern manors in the reality shows Katniss and Prim sometimes watched to make fun of the contestants. It was three-stories high, L-shaped, with a huge fountain in  front of it, rose bushes all around, and it was completely dark. Not one single light. The moon was shining bright though and he could see most of the walls seemed to be made out of windows. Everything else was red bricks. On the left side – the shorter side of the L – the roof was flat and he could guess at weird shapes up there… Maybe a garden.

It was a very weird place to have a house in. Never mind something that huge.

Haymitch followed Katniss’ boot-shaped tracks to the few steps that led to the front floor, tossing a disturbed glance at the fountain. He wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be but it looked like something out of a Munch’s painting. The sculpted guy was twisted, his face one of agony.

Welcoming.

Who lived in the middle of the woods in a glass house with a creepy fountain? For a second, he couldn’t shake off the thought that Katniss had walked straight into a serial killer’s house. Then he told himself it was ridiculous.

There was no doorbell, which was peculiar but probably less than a weird manor lost in the middle of woods mysteriously stuck in winter. He knocked. Twice, for good measure.

No answer.

He took a couple of steps back to get another look at the house and, through the huge bay windows, he thought he saw something move inside. With a frown, he knocked again. When there was still no answer, he tossed caution to the wind and tried the doorknob. It turned easily under his palm.

“Hello?” he called out once he was inside. “Look, I mean no trouble. I’m just looking for my kid…”

As far as he could tell in the dark, the front door gave on a huge open space. He could guess at the shapes of couches, armchairs and a coffee table on the left, there seemed to be a dinner table and chairs right in front of him and he thought something moved behind a potted plant…

A clanging sound and muffled noises came from the right, Haymitch turned in the direction of what seemed to be a big kitchen with a central island… His nape was prickling. He took a few steps in that direction, squinting to see better… And when he finally saw, his blood ran cold.

Katniss was tied up to a chair in the kitchen, gagged and very obviously pissed off.

“What the fuck?” he spat, darting to her in a second. So much for the serial killer theory. He ripped the gag from her mouth. “Are you hurt, sweetheart?”

“You have to go! You have to go now! It’s going to come back!” the girl shouted, hysterical like he had never seen her.

He wedged his knife loose, intending to cut off the ropes. “We’re both going.”

“You don’t understand.” Katniss snapped. “It’s… It’s monstrous and…”

“I swear to god if someone touched you I’m gonna slit their throat.” he cut her off, angry like he had rarely been. Nobody hurt his girls and lived to tell the tale. It was as simple as that. The ropes were solid and he was having trouble slicing them off… “Let’s get you out of here and…”

“Leaving so soon?”

He startled, all the hairs on his body rising to attention. The voice was almost unnaturally shrill. He turned around, knife at the ready. His priority had been to get Katniss out but if he had to kill a creep along the way… Well, it wouldn’t have been the worst thing he had ever done.

“Your daughter is very rude.” the voice informed him with a hint of amusement. “Breaking and entering…”

He tried to locate the speaker but while he could guess at an impressive shape in the darkness – the guy must have been huge – he couldn’t exactly see him.  

“I was cold!” Katniss protested, still sounding unusually panicked. “And I needed a phone. The pick-up died and… I should have brought my bow.”

“What about the theft?” the voice accused. “Who allowed you to pilfer my roses?”

“I took one.” the girl retorted defensively as if, really, kidnapping someone was an appropriate response to stealing a flower anyway. “I thought my sister might like it.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter.” Haymitch cut in, adjusting his grip on the knife’s handle. “You hurt my kid, I’m gonna hurt you.”

“Do not be preposterous.” the kidnapper huffed. “I did not hurt her.”

“Yeah. You just tied her up for fun, that’s it?” he scowled, his mind going straight to the kind of fun someone might tied up a girl for and… He saw red.

“She would not stay still.” the shape answered as if it was all a great inconvenience. “And as rude as she might be, I believe I am inclined to keeping her. At the very least until I manage to teach some manners into her. She is amusing.”

“Over my dead body.” he sneered. “Or, more likely, yours.”

He attacked before the kidnapper could, ignoring Katniss’ shout of “Haymitch, don’t!”. He might not look the part anymore but he had been a soldier for long enough. That didn’t go away. Ever. He could handle a creep who hid in the middle of the woods.

Except it quickly turned out, he couldn’t.

An arm rose and he was flung into the wall as if he hadn’t weighted one hundred and eighty pounds. The crash wasn’t pleasant and his shoulder throbbed when he hit the floor. The air was knocked out of his lungs and he struggled to get up.

He was obligingly helped by a hand wrapping around his throat and slamming him against the wall again.

Katniss was screaming but his ears were ringing so badly he could barely hear her.

His fingers wrapped around his opponent’s wrist… He had expected skin and all he found was… He looked up, startled.

The gulp was probably far from being manly but fuck if he cared. It might have been darkness in the house but the moonlight streamed directly on it through the huge bay windows and… It was a beast. A fucking monster. It looked a little like a cat but a human shaped one with fangs and claws and a tail switching behind it with obvious irritation… It was ugly, uglier than Buttercup and that was saying a lot.

It was also impossible.

Blue eyes stared into his grey ones and he swallowed hard, aware that the hand wrapped around his throat could have strangled him to death if it had wanted it to. He could feel the strength in its fingers, knew it was very careful not put too much pressure on his trachea…

“You are as rude as your daughter.” it remarked. “Attacking a lady with a knife? How unsavory.”

“Lady?” he croaked out despite the strong grip on his throat. “Sweetheart, you’re overdue for a wax job.”

It growled.

She growled, he corrected himself.

“One would think someone in your position might not want to antagonize me further.” she hissed.

He was aware that Katniss was ranting behind the beast, trying to wriggle free of the damaged ropes, swearing she would kill the monster if she hurt him…

He couldn’t look away from the beast.

Was she wearing make-up? It was hard to say because of the fur. He couldn’t even try to guess at the color in the darkness.

“One hasn’t met me.” he snorted with more casualness than he felt.

She tilted her head to the side, studied him for a moment and then she let him go. He collapsed in a heap at the foot of the wall, coughing hard. He gulped air greedily, his lungs burning.

The beast moved back a few steps, her thoughtful eyes darting between him and the girl a few times.

“Now, your daughter stole from me and tried to attack me with one of my own chairs.” she declared. “I see now where she gets her charming manners. It so happens that I would welcome a new face around here so… I am keeping her.”

“Lady, you’re crazy.” he scoffed. “I’m really sorry you look like a circus freak but you can’t just kidnap people and expect…”

“Can’t I?” she hummed and in that shrill voice of hers it sounded terrifying. “Perhaps I wish to eat her. And if that pathetic attempt at stabbing me right now is any indication, I cannot think how you would stop me.” She looked down at him, flicking her tail hard, flashing her razor-shaped fangs. “And for your information, I am not a circus freak, I am a beast.”

“Sure.” he nodded, carefully standing up. He used the wall to get back on his shaky legs. His grey eyes darted around but the knife had disappeared in the looming darkness. “Of course, you are. What was I thinking.” He studied her for a second and then licked his lips. “I’ll take her place. You wanna keep someone tied up around, I’m more fun. You let her go, I’ll stay.”

He ignored the girl’s protests. It wasn’t ideal but it bought him time and it got Katniss out of the way. That woman was crazy and he liked crazy people well away from his kids.

The beast seemed to frown. “Why?”

“Cause she’s my kid.” he shrugged. “And there’s no way I’m leaving her here so…”

“You won’t try to leave?” she asked. “Because I should warn you right now, if you are simply planning on running away later, it will annoy me. I will chase you and I might just be hungry enough to eat you then.”

“You’re really into cannibalism, yeah?” he taunted, rubbing his throbbing shoulder. He squinted to see her better but she had retreated into the darkest part of the kitchen. “Can you turn on the lights? Cause I’m gonna tell you, the whole lurking in the dark thing… It’s getting old.”

She seemed to hesitate and then reached out to flick a switch. Light flooded in the room and he blinked, momentarily blinded by the bright neon lamps. She looked even more monstrous in the light and he almost regretting asking her to turn it on.

She was gracious despite everything. The way she moved… It was feline. Her fur was between cider and copper and she was wearing a pink silky dress that was torn in some places, long gashes as if it had torn on something… Her claws more likely than not. The dress was out of place on her. It looked expensive, extravagant, the kind of stuff you saw on fashion shows not…

There was nothing human about her.

He had thought it might be a freaky gene mutation or something but… There was nothing human about her except maybe her eyes.

He didn’t know what she was but…

Was it his imagination or did she look self-conscious?

“Let my kid go, sweetheart.” he demanded.

Katniss hadn’t stopped protesting and trying to get free but neither of them were listening, they were locked in a battle of wills.

“Do I have your word you will not try to run away?” the beast insisted.

“Yeah.” he promised. Anything to get Katniss out of there.

A swift swipe of her claws and the girl was free from her bindings. Katniss immediately ran to Haymitch.

“You can’t!” she shouted. “She’s going to kill you!”

He didn’t think so. If she had just been about to kill him, she would already have done it. And Katniss along with him.

“Think about Prim.” he replied before the girl could say anything else. And those were the magic words because Prim always came first. He could see her resolve caving to that logic, to the need to go back to Prim. “She’s alone at home and worried.” He fished his car keys from his pocket and pressed them into her palm. “You go home, sweetheart. You take care of your sister. And you never ever come back here, yeah?”

“I’ll call the police.” she growled, tossing the beast a hateful look over her shoulder.

“And you will tell them what?” the beast mocked. “That a cat holds your father hostage? Suit yourself. Nobody will ever find my manor anyway. Nobody ever does.”

“We did.” Haymitch grumbled. That was just their luck, wasn’t it?

“So you did…” the beast answered, her voice betraying both curiosity and anger. Anger seemed to win and, suddenly, in a graceful leap she was right there, her clawed paw wrapping around Katniss’ arm and easily tearing her off him. “Enough of these effusions. How unladylike. Off you pop, dear. Back home to that sister of yours. Tell your mother I am simply borrowing your father until I get bored with him.”

“He’s not my fucking dad, you ugly beast.” Katniss snarled, trying to struggle out of her grip.

The cat-lady seemed to falter, tossing him a curious look over her shoulder.

He rolled his eyes. “Long story.”

“I am sure it will be a riveting one.” she replied and then, just like that, she threw Katniss out the door and slammed it shut.

“Hey!” he protested, trying to rush to the girl’s rescue.

“Tigris.” she called out. “Be a dear and make sure the child gets to her car without any trouble. Venia, if you would take our guest… Haymitch, wasn’t it what she called you?” She barely waited for his nod to continue. “Take Haymitch to his room. Do make yourself at home, you are free to wander anywhere you like except for the west wing.”

Haymitch, who had strongly been expecting to get tied up just like Katniss had been or tossed in a cellar, frowned, wondering who she was talking to, if she was even crazier than he had thought…

And then he saw them.

They looked more human than she did. There were no fur or claws but their features were strangely feline, too much to be comfortable, and one of them had whiskers, cat ears and cat-like eyes. She went straight for the door on which Katniss was still pounding with only a disdainful look for him so he supposed she was Tigris. She was also the only one who didn’t look afraid. The three others were shaking where they stood.

“Do stop acting so ridiculous.” the beast huffed, glaring at them. “He won’t hurt you.”

“The girl kicked me.” one of them complained. A woman. There were two women and a man, he figured. At least he thought so. Those three didn’t have whiskers or cat ears but… They still looked weird.

He felt proud of Katniss for having defended herself.

“The girl is gone.” the beast retorted.

“But you wanted to keep her.” the man argued. “Even though she said she would kill us all.”

The beast’s patience seemed to have run thin.

“Show him his room.” she roared.

They all squeaked and squealed and before Haymitch could really wrap his head around it, he was steered down a corridor and up the stairs by the three…

“What are you?” he asked, resisting the urge to strain his neck to keep the beast in sight.

If she had wanted him dead, he would already be. He told himself that firmly.

He could have easily broken out of their cluster but then what? If he tried to run away now, the beast would go after him and Katniss… No, it was better to wait until he was sure Katniss was safe. Then he would try but… He would need a car or a sure way to get out of the woods. A map preferably.

“Oh, I am a nail artist.” the one closer to him answered. “My name is Octavia, by the way.”

“Venia.” the other woman said with a shy smile. “I am a beautician.”

“Flavius.” the man offered a little warily. “I do hair.”

Okay.

Really not what he had been expecting.

“And the other one…” he frowned.

“Tigris?” Octavia asked, now completely relaxed. Apparently she had decided he wasn’t a threat. “She is a stylist. And our boss.”

“Not that we are not happy to be here!” Venia squealed.

“Oh, no!” Octavia confirmed. “It is an honor! An honor!”

“Sure.” he nodded as if it made any kind of sense. They were all crazy, he decided. All completely nuts. He focused on his surroundings with the feeling it could be very easy to get lost in this place. Corridors twisted. It wasn’t the only twisted things. The artworks on the walls, the sculptures… It all looked very expensive but it was all as disturbing as the fountain. Dark.

The place itself looked very modern, a little soulless. The only incongruous things were the mirrors. Every mirror he passed by was smashed.

He could relate.

He had punched his fair share of mirrors. It was hard to look at the monster on the glass.

“Here you are!” Octavia chirped. “This is the best room! Feel free to hunt one of us down if you need anything and if you want a manicure…”

“Or a hair trim.” Flavius cut in, looking at his hair with a small wince.

“Feel free to ask!” Venia finished. “You are much nicer than the girl. I am glad we are keeping you. You will see… This is a nice place and I am sure you will soon love it!”

She almost pushed him in the room and closed the door behind him.

He waited for the noise of the key that would lock him in but it never came.

After a whole minute glaring at the door, he tried the handle. It opened without problem.

This night was getting weirder and weirder.

Was the cat-beast truly trusting him to keep his word? Stupid.

And what was up with those three? Had the beast kidnapped them too? Was it Stockholm syndrome?

He closed the door and looked around the room, having no trouble believing it was the best one. Two of the walls were entirely made of glass and the view was… Well, he hated to admit it was breathtaking but it was. It overlooked the woods – and he wasn’t happy to realize they stretched as far as the eye could see because it would seriously complicate any attempt to escape. The bed was king-sized and looked brand new, there was a huge TV screen mounted on the wall, a bookshelf full of classics and a wardrobe that was mostly empty. The en-suited bathroom had the hugest bathtub he had ever seen, a shower that looked complicated to work and the whole thing was more luxurious than anything he had ever seen in his life.

He checked the cupboards for anything useful, found disposable razor blades that he taped to the brand new toothbrush. It wasn’t quite his knife and he doubted it would be much use but he felt better even if his new weapon was ridiculous.

He sat at the foot of the bed and let out a deep sigh, rubbing his face.

It all seemed so surreal…

Half of his mind was worrying about Katniss, the other one was screaming at him that this was all a nightmare.

He scratched his palm with the blade. The pain was really real. So was his throbbing shoulder.

He flopped down on his back and stared at the ceiling.

He had been taken prisoner once or twice before. It had never been as nice as this. Which begged the question what did that beast woman wanted?

Nothing good.

Maybe he should just sleep it off.

Maybe he would wake up in his own bed, to Prim and Katniss bickering in the kitchen because Katniss had once again shoved Buttercup off the counter a little too abruptly for Prim’s tastes.

He pictured Katniss driving back to their house… Would she call the police or would she be smarter than that? Thread would never listen to her, never mind the odd tale of a beast in a manor lost in the woods. And social services might get involved again and with him gone…

No, she would do the smart thing and protect Prim. She would keep her mouth shut. He liked his peace and it wasn’t unusual for him not to leave the house for days, weeks sometimes if his past haunted him too much. She could get away with it for a while.

The bed, at least, was comfortable.

He turned on the TV, noted that the beast had more cable channels than he and the girls did and switched it off again.

Make yourself at home, the beast had said. Well, he had no intention of doing that but exploring a little wouldn’t hurt anyone. Knowing your enemy was the first step into defeating it.

He checked the corridor was empty, not keen on finding himself face to snout with her again, and eventually wandered off. He checked rooms as he went. Most of them were guest rooms, empty and slightly dusty. He found what seemed to be a recreational room on the first floor with a pool table, a couple of armchairs and shelves stocked with board games. He spent a few minutes distractedly toying with the pool balls, staring at the dark snowy woods through the window.

Why was everything so weird around there?

Antsy, he abandoned the idea of exploring to get back to the ground floor. The flat screen mounted on one wall of the living-room was the biggest one he had ever seen. There wasn’t a thing in that manor that didn’t spell money.

The chair and the ropes had disappeared. Everything looked so perfectly ordered in that house… Aside from the broken mirrors, nothing was out of  place. It looked like one of those show houses realtors made you visit in some suburbs.

There was no hint a beast was living here.

It took some probing but he eventually found a door that seemed to lead to the other wing of the house.

You are free to wander anywhere you like except for the west wing.

He had never been very good at doing what he was told.

He was careful to be silent as he roamed around. That wing couldn’t have been more different than the main part of the house. It must have been very similar at some point because the furniture and the artworks were the same but in here… Everything was destroyed.

The artworks had been clawed, the furniture upturned, the potted plants were dead or on their way there…

He found a room that was even worse than the others after half an hour of poking around. There were bottles of liquor, some empty and some not quite full… He felt the pull like he always did faced with alcohol but he ignored it, rummaging around the bedside tables instead. Amongst the usual knick-knacks, he found sleeping pills and a crushed packet of cigarettes. The sheets were slashed and there seemed to be quite a lot of torn clothes.

Claws.

One of the pieces of art on the wall soon caught his eyes. It was a framed picture of a very gorgeous woman. It was black and white but her hair was light, her figure gorgeous… She was wearing one of those long sparkly gowns and she was giving the photographer a smoldering look…  He was pretty sure he had seen it before. Some famous model or something…

It was hard to identify her for sure because the protective glass on top had been clawed and smashed to the point it was really difficult to see the actual picture.

He lost interest and soon found something else to be fascinated with.

On a low table next to the bay window that seemed to be giving onto a balcony, there was a glass case and in it…

He stepped closer, almost forgetting everything in his haste to inspect it. There was a white rose inside that seemed to have lost most of its petals but the interesting thing about the rose was that it seemed to be… floating.

Added to the beast woman, the mysterious winter and the weird people inhabiting the house… It was starting to be a lot.

Roses simply didn’t float.

He lifted the protective glass case but the rose remained right there, hovering over the table as if it was perfectly normal. He checked under the wood but could find no magnet that would explain it, he passed his hand under the rose’s stem a few times… He picked up one of the fallen petals… It looked like a regular rose petal.

At a loss, he reached for the rose, intending to pluck it out of the air and put a stop to the craziness once and for all…

The roar startled him enough that he jumped. He barely had time to glance over his shoulder before he was pushed aside and the beast was there, slamming the glass case back in place and hugging it protectively to her chest. Her blue eyes were glaring at him and the low growl wasn’t encouraging.

“Okay.” he said, lifting his hands in front of him in a peace offering. “So, I shouldn’t have…”

“What have you done?” she snarled.

“Nothing.” he said defensively. “I just…”

“Get out!” she roared again and it was so powerful he almost had the wind knocked out of him. The fear that gripped his guts was primitive. It was the terror of the prey finding itself face to face with the predator that was going to devour it. “Out!”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He ran out of there as if the devil was chasing him – and let’s be honest here, it very well might be – and didn’t let himself think before rushing out of the house. Fuck planning, fuck doing the clever thing… Maybe he could get Katniss’ pick-up to work and if he couldn’t… He would just have to think of something else.

He ran like he hadn’t run in decades.

He dashed through the woods, ignoring the slippery patches of ice under his feet, ignoring the branches hitting him in the face or the thorns tearing off his clothes…

His heart was beating so hard, all he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears. It probably explained why he didn’t hear the howls until it was too late.

He saw the movements to his left and right, the ruffling bushes, the long shadows…

“Shit, shit, shit.” he muttered, out of breath.

Of course, that was the moment he tripped on a root and found himself rolling down a small slope. He didn’t have time to get his bearings back, the first wolf – because it was a wolf not a coyote but an actual wolf, complete with snarling snout and grey fur – leaped out of between the surrounding trees and stood in front of him, crouched low.

He tried to scramble back but he heard the answering growls behind him and he froze.

He didn’t bother trying to pull out his makeshift weapon, already knowing it would be no use against a pack of hungry wolves. Fuck, but he had never even seen a real one before at a zoo… Where did they come from?

Probably from the same place as winter, the she-monster and the cat-like weirdoes, a wise voice suggested at the back of his head.

Slowly, impossibly slowly, he outstretched his hand for a heavy looking stick on his left…

He barely had time to lift it before the first wolf, the one that must have been the pack leader, jumped. The animal’s jaws closed on the stick instead of Haymitch’s throat, which was already something, but it didn’t do him a lot of good when claws dug in his chest and…

A roar echoed around the woods, making his blood run cold once more. It promised death.

Before he could really understand what was happening, the cat-monster entered the fray, sending the wolf on his chest flying against a nearby trunk. The rest of the pack attacked and she soon was covered with enraged wolves who all tried to bring her down…

Haymitch got to his feet, adjusting his grip on the stick, not sure what to do…

Before he could decide, it was over, the pack leader had attacked again and she took a wild bite before sending it flying again… It ran away whining and the rest of them soon fled after him.

The beast turned toward him, their eyes met.

Haymitch had the certainty he would be next. Any second now she would advance on him and…

She collapsed.

It took him a moment to actually come to terms with that. One second she was up and staring at him, looking terrifying feral, the next she was crumpled in a heap of snow that was quickly reddening with blood.

He would need to thank his lucky star later, he decided as he turned away, ignoring the gnawing feeling of guilt at leaving an injured… whatever in the woods. The injured whatever in question would probably have eaten him simply because he had been a little too curious.

He had perhaps taken five steps when the low whimper made him stop.

He closed his eyes, thought about Prim and Katniss, and fustigated himself for being so stupid.

With a sigh, he turned around and cautiously approached the injured beast. Her pink dress was definitely ruined now. It was torn and bloody. He couldn’t really guess at the bites and the scratches under her fur in the dark but he knew they were there.

“Alright.” he mumbled. “I’m gonna lift you up. Try not to claw my head off, yeah?”

Blue eyes looked at him in confusion and he wondered if she had really expected him to leave her there. Probably. After all, it was what anyone gifted with any kind of common sense would have done.

She was enormous and he debated about how to carry her exactly until he threw caution to the wind and simply flung her over his shoulder, ignoring her snarls of protest.

“Yeah, well… Ain’t how I pictured my night going either.” he grumbled. “Suck it up, princess.”

She was heavy and he only had a vague idea of where he was going but was it fate or luck, he stumbled upon the clearing after only a couple of minutes. It was enough for him to be sweating and shaking under her weight though.

The three weirdoes were huddling on the porch, the one who looked most like a cat was standing a little apart and she was the one who rushed to them.

“Oh, no!” Octavia exclaimed, clearly fearing the worst.

“She’s hurt.” Tigris hissed as if it was his fault.

“That’s what happens when cats play with wolves.” he retorted, pushing past her and into the house. “You’ve got a first aid kit?”

He wasn’t sure why he cared or what exactly he was going to do about her injuries. It wasn’t like he was a veterinarian and she had kidnapped his kid.

But she had also gotten hurt saving him so…

He carried her to the bedroom he had been chased off earlier and dropped her on the bed with less care than he probably should have shown for an injured… person. But she was heavy and his muscles were already sore from the strain. The three weirdoes had followed him and were now watching him with hopeful eyes. He wasn’t sure exactly what they were hoping for.

The beast rolled on her stomach with a small pathetic whimper just when Tigris came in, carrying a well-worn first aid kit. She handed it over with a worried glance at the monster and quickly stepped back, clearly expecting him to do the work. He checked inside the bag, noticed how low they were on antiseptic and raised curious eyebrows.

“She hurts herself a lot.” Venia offered.

“Not on purpose.” Flavius piped in. “The claws, you understand.”

“But not for long!” Octavia chimed. “Once you break the…”

“Enough.” Tigris snapped. “Let’s give them some privacy.”

The cat-eared lady ushered the three weirdoes out of the room and closed the door behind them. Soon he was alone with the beast who growled every ten seconds. He sighed, estimated he would need to get rid of the clotted blood on the fur first if he wanted to take a good look at the wounds underneath and, so, he fetched some towels and some water from the en-suited bathroom.

The mirror over the sink had clearly seen better days.

“I’m gonna take the dress off.” he warned, easily locating the zipper at the back of the ruined dress.

He wasn’t sure why he was feeling so awkward. Maybe because it had been a very long time since he had taken a woman’s clothes off. Never mind that she wasn’t really a woman. The beast’s face was buried into the pillow and he wondered if she was trying to suffocate herself.

It was weird to slip that dress off her shoulders, weird to feel the fur under his hands, weird to look at that unnatural feline spine…

But, then again, weird was the theme of the night.

He sat on the edge of the mattress and started cleaning the wounds, wondering why he had ignored his chance of running away. She flinched a lot and her whining was so pathetic he was torn between rolling his eyes and reminding her she had taken out a whole pack of wolves by herself earlier so she should cut the act. He didn’t think she was really acting though. And he soon figured out it wasn’t the towel she was protesting as much as his touch.

The impossible beast was actually flinching under his perfectly normal hands.

Maybe she was scared he would hurt her.

How he could hurt an impresive mountain of muscles, claws and teeth remained to be seen but…

“Stop fidgeting.” he snapped with annoyance once he was done cleaning and had started using the antiseptic spray.

“It hurts.” she complained.

Could cat-beasts pout? Because he was sure he could hear a pout in her high-pitched voice.

“Shouldn’t have tried to play with a pack of dogs, then, yeah?” he snorted.

“I wouldn’t have had to attack them if you hadn’t run away.” she retorted. “You are not a man of your word. I should have my prep team tie you up.”

“They’re welcomed to try.” he mocked. The thought of those four freaks trying to get the upper hand on him was ridiculous. And what on Earth was a prep team? “I wouldn’t have run away if you hadn’t roared at me.”

“I wouldn’t have roared at you if you had shown some manners and not gone poking at my personal belongings when I very clearly told you not to.” she shot back without missing a beat.

His lips twitched. Damn but she was good for a woman beast.

“You started it when you kidnapped my kid.” he accused.

She remained silent for a very long time, long enough that he finished tending to her wounds. He hesitantly combed the fur on her back to make sure he hadn’t forgotten some scratches or bites. He was surprised at how soft it was.

“I would never have hurt her.” she whispered.

“You tied her up to a chair.” he growled.

It certainly wasn’t a beast’s threatening snarl but it was as close as it could get.

“My prep team frightened her and when she saw me…” She stopped and sighed. “Truly, it was for her own good. She was hysterical. She would have run off into the woods and you see how dangerous they are. And… I was angry, I will admit. It has been a long time since someone new saw me and her reaction…”

“Doesn’t excuse anything.” he spat. “And doesn’t explain why you wanted to keep her or why I’m here.”

“I am lonely and she really could do with learning some manners.” she retorted. “As for you…”

Her sentence trailed off. He waited for her to finish it but she never did so he let out a long breath, realizing only a second to late that his inspection of her fur had somehow turned into a petting session. He blamed Buttercup. That stupid cat often made himself at home on his lap and it had become automatic to pet him. This was the same thing. He wasn’t moved at all by the genuine distress he could hear in her voice.

He was ready to believe living in a manor lost in the woods when you were a freak of nature wasn’t exactly the dreamed life but she still had tied up his adopted daughter to a chair.

“I am sorry I lost my temper.” she continued eventually. “Please, never touch the rose again.”

“What is it?” he asked, his grey eyes turning toward the glass case as if by reflex.  

She shifted to her side, facing him, holding the dress to her chest in a very womanly way despite the fact he doubted there was anything under there he would have liked to see. “Do you believe in magic?”

“No.” he shrugged without any kind of hesitation.

Something weird was happening to her face and it took him a second to realize she was smiling. And that smile looked very bitter. “I did not use to either.”

“I don’t know how that rose works but it’s just a trick.” he dismissed. “Magnets or something. Magic doesn’t exist, sweetheart.”

“Euphemia.” she said.

He frowned. “What?”

“That’s my name. Euphemia.” she clarified.

“That’s as ugly as you.” he teased.

She flinched again and he felt like an ass.

“My friends call me Effie.” she offered before he could try to think of some sort of apology.

“Effie.” he repeated, studying her. “What’s the deal with the rose?”

She sighed or she huffed – it was difficult to say. “It is a reminder that my time is running out. Believe it or not, I was not born a beast. I was cursed.”

“Cursed.” he scoffed. “That doesn’t make sense, sweetheart.”

“Nothing makes sense since that night.” she replied. “I was young, famous and arrogant. I made fun of this so called witch at a friend’s party. I was cruel because I could be and my friends laughed with me because… Well, I reigned supreme. I was the queen of their little world. Next thing I knew, the witch cursed me. I kept laughing until I caught sight of myself in a mirror.”

She lifted her paw and inspected it.

He was startled to notice that what he had mistaken for clotted blood on her claws until then was, in fact, nail polish. She was actually putting nail polish on her claws.

Cursed or not cursed, she was crazy.

“Magic doesn’t exist.” he insisted.

“You are trapped in a manor in woods frozen in winter with a terrible beast and her equally cursed prep team and you still doubt magic exists?” she challenged.

When she worded it like that…

“Maybe you’re delusional.” he suggested.

She laughed. At least, he thought that it was what that sound was.

“Will you tell me the story?” she asked next.

“What story?” he frowned.

“The story of how you can have a daughter without being her father.” she smiled.

He hesitated a second and then shrugged, not seeing the wrong in telling her.

It was probably alarming how quickly he relaxed.

And it didn’t get any better in the following days.  

She had a gift for getting under his skin. They kept arguing. All the time. About everything. And yet she kept seeking him out no matter where he hid in the house .

After only one day he understood completely why she was so lonely in that big house. It wasn’t that Venia, Flavius, Octavia and Tigris weren’t nice but they were… simpler. There was no use trying to have a serious conversation with them. They were silly, completely obsessed with hair, make-up and fashion and if he had been less charitable, he would have called them stupid.

Effie was anything but stupid.

She could keep up with his wits like nobody he had ever known.

She was bossy and annoying and insisted on table manners even though she couldn’t handle a fork properly and twice a day he swore loud and clear he was going to strangle her only to end up listening to her prattle about something or other. Sometimes he tuned her out, sometimes he actually gave his opinion.

Did he notice their exchanges were slowly but surely turning into flirting? Of course, he did. She was very much not human-shaped and he was very much not into animals though, so he wouldn’t really have been able to explain why he indulged her in that regard… She was just so… She was smart and witty and bossy and impossible and if she had been a woman…

He hadn’t renounced the idea of escaping the manor but it wasn’t a matter of life and death anymore.

Despite her size and the impressive claws and fangs, it was obvious to him Effie would never hurt a fly – except maybe hungry wolves who tried to eat her friends.

Truth be told, he really felt sorry for her.

She could talk for hours about the life she used to have in New York, the parties, the glamour, the dresses… It was the clothes she regretted most. Tigris was very good at making her a brand new wardrobe every time her claws – accidentally or not – destroyed the old one but… It wasn’t the same.

She was trapped in that manor and Haymitch desperately wanted to help.

He just wasn’t sure how.

He still wasn’t sure he believed her curse story.

He told her all about his kids. It eased the pain in his heart to talk about them. He missed them. So much it felt like being stabbed in the chest every time he uttered their names but he knew they were alright – he knew Katniss would make sure they were alright. It didn’t make it any easier.

Sometimes, he missed them so much he couldn’t breathe.

He found himself in such a mood one night. They were on the roof, lost in the impressive garden she kept up there. There was a nice relaxing area with lounging chairs, a small table and a radio that was playing in a soft hum. She was sitting on a chair that had protested under her weight to her clear embarrassment and he was lying on the cold ground, staring up at the stars.

She had been talking about… He hadn’t really been listening but he did notice when she suddenly stood up and cranked up the radio’s volume. The paw she outstretched was commanding, like everything else with her.  

“Dance with me.” she ordered.

“Bossy.” he accused.

“Please.” she amended. Her eyelids opened and closed a few times and he figured if she had been a woman she would have been batting her eyelashes right now.

“I don’t dance.” he refused. Yet he sat up and carefully took the paw, letting her literally haul him to his feet.

“Make an exception for me.” she purred.

He rolled his eyes but placed a tentative hand on her waist, over the red fabric of the dress she was wearing that day. It was a slow song and it was awkward. He wasn’t sure where to hold her or what to do until she solved it by wrapping her arms around his neck and carefully leaning her weight against him.

He closed his eyes and relaxed, swaying to the soft music.

“Do you think…” she hesitated after a minute or two. “Do you think you could be happy here with me? In time?”

He took his time answering that question.

He wasn’t a liar by nature.

“You can’t be happy when you ain’t free, sweetheart.” he said gently.

“Oh.” she breathed out slowly. “Yes. I understand.”

Her arms dropped from around his neck and she moved away from him, to the edge of the roof. She sat on the low wall and looked out into the woods. He followed, feeling bad for having upset her. Because she was clearly upset.

“I miss my kids.” he confessed.

“I know.” she whispered and he could hear the sadness in her voice, the dull acceptance. “I just hoped… It was foolish.”

“If I hadn’t had them…” he winced, not quite sure where he was going with that. If he hadn’t had the girls and he had been alone… He might have been glad to stay. She was good company. She was a good person. He liked her. He…

“It is alright, Haymitch.” she promised. “I do understand. I am not exactly someone’s dream partner.”

“It’s not you, Effie.” he frowned, reaching for her paw.

He wasn’t sure when she had stopped flinching at his touch or when he had started reaching out for her so much it had become natural.

“Of course not. How could it be?” she laughed and he could hear the tears in there. “The garage is a mile away to the north, I will ask Flavius to give you the car keys. Do not pretend you haven’t been looking for it.”

“You’re letting me go?” he asked, just to clarify, his heart racing in his chest. It wasn’t all relief though. It may have been only a few days but… He had grown… attached.

“It was not right to keep you here in the first place.” she dismissed, keeping her eyes on the woods. “Go back to your daughters, Haymitch. I am sure they are frantic by now thanks to my selfishness.”

The thought of being reunited with Prim and Katniss was enough to make him bolt to his feet. He took a few steps away before he stopped and looked back at her. She was still keeping her eyes firmly averted.

He almost suggested she should come with him but… She didn’t belong in the real world. As unfair as it was, she belonged in those strange woods. At best people would make fun of her, at worst they would be terrified – and terrified people were dangerous.

“I’m gonna bring the car back in a couple of days.” he offered.

“Keep it.” she refused. “I have more money than I know what to do with. I will order another one. And… Perhaps, then you will think of me from time to time when you drive it.”

It wasn’t really a conscious decision to retrace his steps until he was standing right next to her. He felt her tense when he cupped her cheek and forced her to look at him. Her eyes were so blue, so bright… So sad, too.

“I’m gonna bring the car back.” he promised. She didn’t believe him, he could see. “I swear, princess.”

“I hope you do but I won’t hold it against you if you don’t.” she whispered. “Go, now. Please.”

His hand lingered on the side of her cat-shaped face but, eventually, he dropped it and turned around. It didn’t take very long to get the keys from Flavius and to find the car. It was a nice sport car. Very red, very flashy, very much not his style. It suited her though.

He drove through the woods carefully, his heart constricting in his chest. It wasn’t the daring escape he had first had in mind. He couldn’t help but look in the rearview mirror a few times, almost hoping he would see her feline silhouette slip between two of the trees…

He heard her roar just as winter gave way to spring.

Such pain, such despair…

He almost turned the car around.

But Prim and Katniss were waiting for him so he sped up, swearing to himself he would come back. He didn’t know to do what exactly but he would. The whole curse thing was crazy but maybe they could find a way to break it or…

He drove too fast.

He blamed the car. It was made for speed and it answered the smallest of his desires. He reached the Village in half the time it would have taken him in his SUV.

A SUV that wasn’t in the driveway where it was supposed to be…

It was odd to find himself in front of his own house… As if he had left years ago instead of days.

Banishing those thoughts away, he let himself in.

“Girls?” he called. The lights were on so someone was home.

He didn’t have to wait long.

“Haymitch?” Prim shouted from the kitchen. It a matter of seconds a blond cannon ball collided with his torso and he hugged the kid back with relief. “You’re here. You’re here!” Suddenly, she let go and looked behind him, worry all over her young face. “Where’s Katniss? Did she kill it? Did she save you?”

“What?” he frowned, dread making his stomach churn. “Where’s your sister?”

“She said there was a horrible beast.” Prim rushed the words out. “She said it had taken you prisoner and… She went to save you.”

By killing the beast…

“When did she leave?” he asked, grabbing the girl’s shoulders. “When?”

Prim looked confused but she shrugged. “She’s been going back every morning since you’ve been gone. She said she couldn’t find the place again but this afternoon she finally found her pick-up so…”

“Shit.” he cursed. He wasn’t sure who he was more worried for: Katniss or Effie? “Stay here, alright. I’m gonna go get your sister.”

“That’s what you said last time and you never came back!” Prim protested. “I’m coming with you this time.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Look, I’ll bring you another time, alright? She’d like to meet you, I think.”

“Who?” Prim frowned.

He didn’t answer that, he rushed to the car and soon he was right back on the road, way past the speed limit.

He was worried he wouldn’t be able to find the manor again but maybe magic did exist after all because, to the contrary of any logic, he found the wintery patch of woods within minutes. The side of the car hit quite a few trees but soon it skidded to a stop in the clearing. His eyes immediately found Effie’s. She was standing in front of the house, not far from the fountain, not moving at all faced with Katniss’ bow.

He almost fell out of the car in the precipitation.

“Katniss!” he called out, running to them before he could think about what he was doing.

“Haymitch!” The relief on the girl’s face was obvious but she didn’t lower her bow. The arrow was notched, ready to be let loose and…

And he found himself standing right in front of Effie, arms spread wide. “Katniss, don’t.”

“You did not send her?” Effie asked behind him, hope simmering in her voice.

“Of course not!” he scoffed, risking a glance over his shoulder. He shook his head and slowly placed his hands in front of him. “Look, sweetheart, I know this is confusing and she’s very sorry she tried to kidnap you… Tell Katniss how sorry you are, Effie.”

“I am.” Effie confirmed after a second. “It was not right and I do apologize.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Katniss frowned, puzzled. “Haymitch, she’s a monster. She…”

“She’s not a monster.” he snapped. “She’s my friend.”

“You’ve got Stockholm Syndrome.” the girl scowled.

That might be a distinct possibility but be that as it may…

“She ain’t a bad woman, sweetheart.” Haymitch promised. “If you’ve ever trusted me once in your life… Please, put that bow away.”

Katniss searched his eyes with an almost frightening intensity but eventually lowered the bow.

Haymitch relaxed with a sigh and reached behind him for Effie’s furry arm. He squeezed once in comfort and he was about to go hug his girl when Katniss’ eyes widened.

“Gale, no!” she shouted.

Haymitch barely had time to turn around, to spot the teenager hiding at the corner of the house…

He didn’t see the arrow.

Effie collapsed without a noise.

“No!” he heard himself shout. Before he realized, he was kneeling next to her and had dragged her upper body on his thighs, his hands put pressure on the wound around the arrow, knowing that pulling it out would only speed up the process… The arrow had hit her in the chest. “Hold on, sweetheart. I’m gonna get you to a hospital. Just…”

Her paw coiled around his wrist, her eyelids already fluttering shut.

“It’s better this way anyway.” she breathed out.

“No.” he growled, cupping her face with one of his hands. He petted the soft fur of her face. “You ain’t dying on me. Fuck that. I won’t let you.”

“You came back…” she whispered.

“Of course, I bloody came back.” he spat. “Shouldn’t have left you behind in the first place.”

“It’s more than…” she insisted.

“No.” he cut her off again, his voice breaking a little. “You ain’t dying on me.”

But her breathing was growing shallow and, soon enough, her paw grew slack around his wrist, her head rolled in his hand.

“No, no, no…” he insisted, shaking her a little. “Come back. Fucking come back. Come on. Come on, princess.” He was aware of Katniss and Gale standing a few feet away, staring at him as if he had gone crazy, but he didn’t care. He bowed until his forehead was pressed against hers and he could feel her fur against his face. “I was stupid. I can be happy here with you. We can be happy. We can make it work.” He wasn’t sure how yet but he knew they could. It had been too long since he had been fascinated by a woman like he was by her. It had been too long since he had felt… “I think you fucking made me love you. You don’t make people fall in love with you and then just die on them, Effie, that’s fucking rude. You hate rude. Come on…”

He pressed a kiss against her fur, unaware that in her bedroom the white rose was shedding its last petal.

The moment the petal touched the table, light exploded around them and Haymitch moved back, raising a hand to shield his face.

“What the…” he barely had time to mumble.

All around him, the snow was melting. The statue on the fountain stopped looking so in pain. The prep team and Tigris ran out of the house, crying out in joy and… They didn’t look like cats anymore. They looked perfectly normal.

Stunned, he drew his eyes back to the ball of light that seemed to be wrapped around Effie…

And, then, just like that, the light was gone, it was night again and all was left was the crumpled body of a woman clad in a red dress far too big for her slender frame.

“Effie?” he hesitated, reaching out for her shoulder. He couldn’t see her face. Dark blond hair with reddish hues was in the way. He gently brushed it back, holding his breath when he realized… The woman in the picture she had clawed off, it was her. Of course, it was her. “Effie.”

Her eyelids fluttered open on very familiar blue eyes.

“Haymitch. You broke the spell!” she beamed, pushing herself up. He helped her.

They didn’t seem to be able to look away from each other and it was frankly ridiculous so Haymitch rolled his eyes and did the only thing he could think of doing.

He kissed her.  

With a little too much enthusiasm if Katniss’ disgusted groan was any indication.

He couldn’t quite care and, thus, it was a few minutes before he remembered they needed air to breathe. He helped Effie up but didn’t let go of her hand once they were on their feet.

The prep team was celebrating, embracing each other, hugging Tigris who still had something of a cat to her expression…

Katniss was gaping.

Gale looked stunned.

“What the hell just happened?” the boy asked.

“Language.” Effie clucked her tongue.

And Haymitch laughed. He couldn’t help it.

It took a little while to sort everything out but, soon enough, he and Effie were in the sport car and following the light of his SUV home. He wasn’t sure what Katniss and Gale were talking about in the truck but they were silent almost the whole way.

Effie was nervous, he could tell, and it was threatening to turn awkward.

He didn’t really think before reaching for her hand. She studied their entwined fingers, looked up at him and smiled, finally relaxing.

Saying that Prim was furious was a nice understatement.

She tore the front door open well before they even got out of the cars and seemed torn between screaming at them and hugging them in relief. She certainly got some ranting about leaving her behind to worry about them through between two hugs. Gale slipped away, muttering something about needing some sleep because he was clearly going mad.

“This is Effie.” Haymitch said, once Prim had stopped lecturing them. “She’s gonna stay for a while.”

Or maybe forever.

But, he guessed, that went without saying.

It was, after all, a tale as old as time. 

[readbookywooks]

25 Real or not real? I am on fire. The balls of flame that erupted from the parachutes shot over the barricades, through the snowy air, and landed in the crowd. I was just turning away when one caught me, ran its tongue up the back of my body, and transformed me into something new. A creature as unquenchable as the sun. A fire mutt knows only a single sensation: agony. No sight, no sound, no feeling except the unrelenting burning of flesh. Perhaps there are periods of unconsciousness, but what can it matter if I can't find refuge in them? I am Cinna's bird, ignited, flying frantically to escape something inescapable. The feathers of flame that grow from my body. Beating my wings only fans the blaze. I consume myself, but to no end. Finally, my wings begin to falter, I lose height, and gravity pulls me into a foamy sea the color of Finnick's eyes. I float on my back, which continues to burn beneath the water, but the agony quiets to pain. When I am adrift and unable to navigate, that's when they come. The dead. The ones I loved fly as birds in the open sky above me. Soaring, weaving, calling to me to join them. I want so badly to follow them, but the seawater saturates my wings, making it impossible to lift them. The ones I hated have taken to the water, horrible scaled things that tear my salty flesh with needle teeth. Biting again and again. Dragging me beneath the surface. The small white bird tinged in pink dives down, buries her claws in my chest, and tries to keep me afloat. "No, Katniss! No! You can't go!" But the ones I hated are winning, and if she clings to me, she'll be lost as well. "Prim, let go!" And finally she does. Deep in the water, I'm deserted by all. There's only the sound of my breathing, the enormous effort it takes to draw the water in, push it out of my lungs. I want to stop, I try to hold my breath, but the sea forces its way in and out against my will. "Let me die. Let me follow the others," I beg whatever holds me here. There's no response. Trapped for days, years, centuries maybe. Dead, but not allowed to die. Alive, but as good as dead. So alone that anyone, anything no matter how loathsome would be welcome. But when I finally have a visitor, it's sweet. Morphling. Coursing through my veins, easing the pain, lightening my body so that it rises back toward the air and rests again on the foam. Foam. I really am floating on foam. I can feel it beneath the tips of my fingers, cradling parts of my naked body. There's much pain but there's also something like reality. The sandpaper of my throat. The smell of burn medicine from the first arena. The sound of my mother's voice. These things frighten me, and I try to return to the deep to make sense of them. But there's no going back. Gradually, I'm forced to accept who I am. A badly burned girl with no wings. With no fire. And no sister. In the dazzling white Capitol hospital, the doctors work their magic on me. Draping my rawness in new sheets of skin. Coaxing the cells into thinking they are my own. Manipulating my body parts, bending and stretching the limbs to assure a good fit. I hear over and over again how lucky I am. My eyes were spared. Most of my face was spared. My lungs are responding to treatment. I will be as good as new. When my tender skin has toughened enough to withstand the pressure of sheets, more visitors arrive. The morphling opens the door to the dead and alive alike. Haymitch, yellow and unsmiling. Cinna, stitching a new wedding dress. Delly, prattling on about the niceness of people. My father sings all four stanzas of "The Hanging Tree" and reminds me that my mother - who sleeps in a chair between shifts - isn't to know about it. One day I awake to expectations and know I will not be allowed to live in my dreamland. I must take food by mouth. Move my own muscles. Make my way to the bathroom. A brief appearance by President Coin clinches it. "Don't worry," she says. "I've saved him for you." The doctors' puzzlement grows over why I'm unable to speak. Many tests are done, and while there's damage to my vocal cords, it doesn't account for it. Finally, Dr. Aurelius, a head doctor, comes up with the theory that I've become a mental, rather than physical, Avox. That my silence has been brought on by emotional trauma. Although he's presented with a hundred proposed remedies, he tells them to leave me alone. So I don't ask about anyone or anything, but people bring me a steady stream of information. On the war: The Capitol fell the day the parachutes went off, President Coin leads Panem now, and troops have been sent out to put down the small remaining pockets of Capitol resistance. On President Snow: He's being held prisoner, awaiting trial and most certain execution. On my assassination team: Cressida and Pollux have been sent out into the districts to cover the wreckage of the war. Gale, who took two bullets in an escape attempt, is mopping up Peacekeepers in 2. Peeta's still in the burn unit. He made it to the City Circle after all. On my family: My mother buries her grief in her work. Having no work, grief buries me. All that keeps me going is Coin's promise. That I can kill Snow. And when that's done, nothing will be left. Eventually, I'm released from the hospital and given a room in the president's mansion to share with my mother. She's almost never there, taking her meals and sleeping at work. It falls to Haymitch to check on me, make sure I'm eating and using my medicines. It's not an easy job. I take to my old habits from District 13. Wandering unauthorized through the mansion. Into bedrooms and offices, ballrooms and baths. Seeking strange little hiding spaces. A closet of furs. A cabinet in the library. A long-forgotten bathtub in a room of discarded furniture. My places are dim and quiet and impossible to find. I curl up, make myself smaller, try to disappear entirely. Wrapped in silence, I slide my bracelet that reads mentally disoriented around and around my wrist. My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. My home is District 12. There is no District 12. I am the Mockingjay. I brought down the Capitol. President Snow hates me. He killed my sister. Now I will kill him. And then the Hunger Games will be over.... Periodically, I find myself back in my room, unsure whether I was driven by a need for morphling or if Haymitch ferreted me out. I eat the food, take the medicine, and am required to bathe. It's not the water I mind, but the mirror that reflects my naked fire-mutt body. The skin grafts still retain a newborn-baby pinkness. The skin deemed damaged but salvageable looks red, hot, and melted in places. Patches of my former self gleam white and pale. I'm like a bizarre patchwork quilt of skin. Parts of my hair were singed off completely; the rest has been chopped off at odd lengths. Katniss Everdeen, the girl who was on fire. I wouldn't much care except the sight of my body brings back the memory of the pain. And why I was in pain. And what happened just before the pain started. And how I watched my little sister become a human torch. Closing my eyes doesn't help. Fire burns brighter in the darkness. Dr. Aurelius shows up sometimes. I like him because he doesn't say stupid things like how I'm totally safe, or that he knows I can't see it but I'll be happy again one day, or even that things will be better in Panem now. He just asks if I feel like talking, and when I don't answer, he falls asleep in his chair. In fact, I think his visits are largely motivated by his need for a nap. The arrangement works for both of us. The time draws near, although I could not give you exact hours and minutes. President Snow has been tried and found guilty, sentenced to execution. Haymitch tells me, I hear talk of it as I drift past the guards in the hallways. My Mockingjay suit arrives in my room. Also my bow, looking no worse for wear, but no sheath of arrows. Either because they were damaged or more likely because I shouldn't have weapons. I vaguely wonder if I should be preparing for the event in some way, but nothing comes to mind. Late one afternoon, after a long period in a cushioned window seat behind a painted screen, I emerge and turn left instead of right. I find myself in a strange part of the mansion, and immediately lose my bearings. Unlike the area where I'm quartered, there seems to be no one around to ask. I like it, though. Wish I'd found it sooner. It's so quiet, with the thick carpets and heavy tapestries soaking up the sound. Softly lit. Muted colors. Peaceful. Until I smell the roses. I dive behind some curtains, shaking too hard to run, while I await the mutts. Finally, I realize there are no mutts coming. So, what do I smell? Real roses? Could it be that I am near the garden where the evil things grow? As I creep down the hall, the odor becomes overpowering. Perhaps not as strong as the actual mutts, but purer, because it's not competing with sewage and explosives. I turn a corner and find myself staring at two surprised guards. Not Peacekeepers, of course. There are no more Peacekeepers. But not the trim, gray-uniformed soldiers from 13 either. These two, a man and a woman, wear the tattered, thrown-together clothes of actual rebels. Still bandaged and gaunt, they are now keeping watch over the doorway to the roses. When I move to enter, their guns form an X in front of me. "You can't go in, miss," says the man. "Soldier," the woman corrects him. "You can't go in, Soldier Everdeen. President's orders." I just stand there patiently waiting for them to lower their guns, for them to understand, without my telling them, that behind those doors is something I need. Just a rose. A single bloom. To place in Snow's lapel before I shoot him. My presence seems to worry the guards. They're discussing calling Haymitch, when a woman speaks up behind me. "Let her go in." I know the voice but can't immediately place it. Not Seam, not 13, definitely not Capitol. I turn my head and find myself face-to-face with Paylor, the commander from 8. She looks even more beat up than she did at the hospital, but who doesn't? "On my authority," says Paylor. "She has a right to anything behind that door." These are her soldiers, not Coin's. They drop their weapons without question and let me pass. At the end of a short hallway, I push apart the glass doors and step inside. By now the smell's so strong that it begins to flatten out, as if there's no more my nose can absorb. The damp, mild air feels good on my hot skin. And the roses are glorious. Row after row of sumptuous blooms, in lush pink, sunset orange, and even pale blue. I wander through the aisles of carefully pruned plants, looking but not touching, because I have learned the hard way how deadly these beauties can be. I know when I find it, crowning the top of a slender bush. A magnificent white bud just beginning to open. I pull my left sleeve over my hand so that my skin won't actually have to touch it, take up a pair of pruning shears, and have just positioned them on the stem when he speaks. "That's a nice one." My hand jerks, the shears snap shut, severing the stem. "The colors are lovely, of course, but nothing says perfection like white." I still can't see him, but his voice seems to rise up from an adjacent bed of red roses. Delicately pinching the stem of the bud through the fabric of my sleeve, I move slowly around the corner and find him sitting on a stool against the wall. He's as well groomed and finely dressed as ever, but weighted down with manacles, ankle shackles, tracking devices. In the bright light, his skin's a pale, sickly green. He holds a white handkerchief spotted with fresh blood. Even in his deteriorated state, his snake eyes shine bright and cold. "I was hoping you'd find your way to my quarters." His quarters. I have trespassed into his home, the way he slithered into mine last year, hissing threats with his bloody, rosy breath. This greenhouse is one of his rooms, perhaps his favorite; perhaps in better times he tended the plants himself. But now it's part of his prison. That's why the guards halted me. And that's why Paylor let me in. I'd supposed he would be secured in the deepest dungeon that the Capitol had to offer, not cradled in the lap of luxury. Yet Coin left him here. To set a precedent, I guess. So that if in the future she ever fell from grace, it would be understood that presidents - even the most despicable - get special treatment. Who knows, after all, when her own power might fade? "There are so many things we should discuss, but I have a feeling your visit will be brief. So, first things first." He begins to cough, and when he removes the handkerchief from his mouth, it's redder. "I wanted to tell you how very sorry I am about your sister." Even in my deadened, drugged condition, this sends a stab of pain through me. Reminding me that there are no limits to his cruelty. And how he will go to his grave trying to destroy me. "So wasteful, so unnecessary. Anyone could see the game was over by that point. In fact, I was just about to issue an official surrender when they released those parachutes." His eyes are glued on me, unblinking, so as not to miss a second of my reaction. But what he's said makes no sense. Whenthey released the parachutes? "Well, you really didn't think I gave the order, did you? Forget the obvious fact that if I'd had a working hovercraft at my disposal, I'd have been using it to make an escape. But that aside, what purpose could it have served? We both know I'm not above killing children, but I'm not wasteful. I take life for very specific reasons. And there was no reason for me to destroy a pen full of Capitol children. None at all." I wonder if the next fit of coughing is staged so that I can have time to absorb his words. He's lying. Of course, he's lying. But there's something struggling to free itself from the lie as well. "However, I must concede it was a masterful move on Coin's part. The idea that I was bombing our own helpless children instantly snapped whatever frail allegiance my people still felt to me. There was no real resistance after that. Did you know it aired live? You can see Plutarch's hand there. And in the parachutes. Well, it's that sort of thinking that you look for in a Head Gamemaker, isn't it?" Snow dabs the corners of his mouth. "I'm sure he wasn't gunning for your sister, but these things happen." I'm not with Snow now. I'm in Special Weaponry back in 13 with Gale and Beetee. Looking at the designs based on Gale's traps. That played on human sympathies. The first bomb killed the victims. The second, the rescuers. Remembering Gale's words. "Beetee and I have been following the same rule book President Snow used when he hijacked Peeta." "My failure," says Snow, "was being so slow to grasp Coin's plan. To let the Capitol and districts destroy one another, and then step in to take power with Thirteen barely scratched. Make no mistake, she was intending to take my place right from the beginning. I shouldn't be surprised. After all, it was Thirteen that started the rebellion that led to the Dark Days, and then abandoned the rest of the districts when the tide turned against it. But I wasn't watching Coin. I was watching you, Mockingjay. And you were watching me. I'm afraid we have both been played for fools." I refuse for this to be true. Some things even I can't survive. I utter my first words since my sister's death. "I don't believe you." Snow shakes his head in mock disappointment. "Oh, my dear Miss Everdeen. I thought we had agreed not to lie to each other."

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6 The shock of hearing Haymitch's voice yesterday, of learning that he was not only functional but had some measure of control over my life again, enraged me. I left the studio directly and refused to acknowledge his comments from the booth today. Even so, I knew immediately he was right about my performance. It took the whole of this morning for him to convince the others of my limitations. That I can't pull it off. I can't stand in a television studio wearing a costume and makeup in a cloud of fake smoke and rally the districts to victory. It's amazing, really, how long I have survived the cameras. The credit for that, of course, goes to Peeta. Alone, I can't be the Mockingjay. We gather around the huge table in Command. Coin and her people. Plutarch, Fulvia, and my prep team. A group from 12 that includes Haymitch and Gale, but also a few others I can't explain, like Leevy and Greasy Sae. At the last minute, Finnick wheels Beetee in, accompanied by Dalton, the cattle expert from 10. I suppose that Coin has assembled this strange assortment of people as witnesses to my failure. However, it's Haymitch who welcomes everyone, and by his words I understand that they have come at his personal invitation. This is the first time we've been in a room together since I clawed him. I avoid looking at him directly, but I catch a glimpse of his reflection in one of the shiny control consoles along the wall. He looks slightly yellow and has lost a lot of weight, giving him a shrunken appearance. For a second, I'm afraid he's dying. I have to remind myself that I don't care. The first thing Haymitch does is to show the footage we've just shot. I seem to have reached some new low under Plutarch and Fulvia's guidance. Both my voice and body have a jerky, disjointed quality, like a puppet being manipulated by unseen forces. "All right," Haymitch says when it's over. "Would anyone like to argue that this is of use to us in winning the war?" No one does. "That saves time. So, let's all be quiet for a minute. I want everyone to think of one incident where Katniss Everdeen genuinely moved you. Not where you were jealous of her hairstyle, or her dress went up in flames or she made a halfway decent shot with an arrow. Not where Peeta was making you like her. I want to hear one moment whereshe made you feel something real." Quiet stretches out and I'm beginning to think it will never end, when Leevy speaks up. "When she volunteered to take Prim's place at the reaping. Because I'm sure she thought she was going to die." "Good. Excellent example," says Haymitch. He takes a purple marker and writes on a notepad. "Volunteered for sister at reaping." Haymitch looks around the table. "Somebody else." I'm surprised that the next speaker is Boggs, who I think of as a muscular robot that does Coin's bidding. "When she sang the song. While the little girl died." Somewhere in my head an image surfaces of Boggs with a young boy perched up on his hip. In the dining hall, I think. Maybe he's not a robot after all. "Who didn't get choked up at that, right?" says Haymitch, writing it down. "I cried when she drugged Peeta so she could go get him medicine and when she kissed him good-bye!" blurts out Octavia. Then she covers her mouth, like she's sure this was a bad mistake. But Haymitch only nods. "Oh, yeah. Drugs Peeta to save his life. Very nice." The moments begin to come thick and fast and in no particular order. When I took Rue on as an ally.Extended my hand to Chaff on interview night. Tried to carry Mags. And again and again when I held out those berries that meant different things to different people. Love for Peeta. Refusal to give in under impossible odds. Defiance of the Capitol's inhumanity. Haymitch holds up the notepad. "So, the question is, what do all of these have in common?" "They were Katniss's," says Gale quietly. "No one told her what to do or say." "Unscripted, yes!" says Beetee. He reaches over and pats my hand. "So we should just leave you alone, right?" People laugh. I even smile a little. "Well, that's all very nice but not very helpful," says Fulvia peevishly. "Unfortunately, her opportunities for being wonderful are rather limited here in Thirteen. So unless you're suggesting we toss her into the middle of combat - " "That'sexactly what I'm suggesting," says Haymitch. "Put her out in the field and just keep the cameras rolling." "But people think she's pregnant," Gale points out. "We'll spread the word that she lost the baby from the electrical shock in the arena," Plutarch replies. "Very sad. Very unfortunate." The idea of sending me into combat is controversial. But Haymitch has a pretty tight case. If I perform well only in real-life circumstances, then into them I should go. "Every time we coach her or give her lines, the best we can hope for is okay. It has to come from her. That's what people are responding to." "Even if we're careful, we can't guarantee her safety," says Boggs. "She'll be a target for every - " "I want to go," I break in. "I'm no help to the rebels here." "And if you're killed?" asks Coin. "Make sure you get some footage. You can use that, anyway," I answer. "Fine," says Coin. "But let's take it one step at a time. Find the least dangerous situation that can evoke some spontaneity in you." She walks around Command, studying the illuminated district maps that show the ongoing troop positions in the war. "Take her into Eight this afternoon. There was heavy bombing this morning, but the raid seems to have run its course. I want her armed with a squad of bodyguards. Camera crew on the ground. Haymitch, you'll be airborne and in contact with her. Let's see what happens there. Does anyone have any other comments?" "Wash her face," says Dalton. Everyone turns to him. "She's still a girl and you made her look thirty-five. Feels wrong. Like something the Capitol would do." As Coin adjourns the meeting, Haymitch asks her if he can speak to me privately. The others leave except for Gale, who lingers uncertainly by my side. "What are you worried about?" Haymitch asks him. "I'm the one who needs the bodyguard." "It's okay," I tell Gale, and he goes. Then there's just the hum of the instruments, the purr of the ventilation system. Haymitch takes the seat across from me. "We're going to have to work together again. So, go ahead. Just say it." I think of the snarling, cruel exchange back on the hovercraft. The bitterness that followed. But all I say is "I can't believe you didn't rescue Peeta." "I know," he replies. There's a sense of incompleteness. And not because he hasn't apologized. But because we were a team. We had a deal to keep Peeta safe. A drunken, unrealistic deal made in the dark of night, but a deal just the same. And in my heart of hearts, I know we both failed. "Now you say it," I tell him. "I can't believe you let him out of your sight that night," says Haymitch. I nod. That's it. "I play it over and over in my head. What I could have done to keep him by my side without breaking the alliance. But nothing comes to me." "You didn't have a choice. And even if I could've made Plutarch stay and rescue him that night, the whole hovercraft would've gone down. We barely got out as it was." I finally meet Haymitch's eyes. Seam eyes. Gray and deep and ringed with the circles of sleepless nights. "He's not dead yet, Katniss." "We're still in the game." I try to say this with optimism, but my voice cracks. "Still in. And I'm still your mentor." Haymitch points his marker at me. "When you're on the ground, remember I'm airborne. I'll have the better view, so do what I tell you." "We'll see," I answer. I return to the Remake Room and watch the streaks of makeup disappear down the drain as I scrub my face clean. The person in the mirror looks ragged, with her uneven skin and tired eyes, but she looks like me. I rip the armband off, revealing the ugly scar from the tracker. There. That looks like me, too. Since I'll be in a combat zone, Beetee helps me with armor Cinna designed. A helmet of some interwoven metal that fits close to my head. The material's supple, like fabric, and can be drawn back like a hood in case I don't want it up full-time. A vest to reinforce the protection over my vital organs. A small white earpiece that attaches to my collar by a wire. Beetee secures a mask to my belt that I don't have to wear unless there's a gas attack. "If you see anyone dropping for reasons you can't explain, put it on immediately," he says. Finally, he straps a sheath divided into three cylinders of arrows to my back. "Just remember: Right side, fire. Left side, explosive. Center, regular. You shouldn't need them, but better safe than sorry." Boggs shows up to escort me down to the Airborne Division. Just as the elevator arrives, Finnick appears in a state of agitation. "Katniss, they won't let me go! I told them I'm fine, but they won't even let me ride in the hovercraft!" I take in Finnick - his bare legs showing between his hospital gown and slippers, his tangle of hair, the half-knotted rope twisted around his fingers, the wild look in his eyes - and know any plea on my part will be useless. Even I don't think it's a good idea to bring him. So I smack my hand on my forehead and say, "Oh, I forgot. It's this stupid concussion. I was supposed to tell you to report to Beetee in Special Weaponry. He's designed a new trident for you." At the word trident, it's as if the old Finnick surfaces. "Really? What's it do?" "I don't know. But if it's anything like my bow and arrows, you're going to love it," I say. "You'll need to train with it, though." "Right. Of course. I guess I better get down there," he says. "Finnick?" I say. "Maybe some pants?" He looks down at his legs as if noticing his outfit for the first time. Then he whips off his hospital gown, leaving him in just his underwear. "Why? Do you find this" - he strikes a ridiculously provocative pose - "distracting?" I can't help laughing because it's funny, and it's extra funny because it makes Boggs look so uncomfortable, and I'm happy because Finnick actually sounds like the guy I met at the Quarter Quell. "I'm only human, Odair." I get in before the elevator doors close. "Sorry," I say to Boggs. "Don't be. I thought you...handled that well," he says. "Better than my having to arrest him, anyway." "Yeah," I say. I sneak a sidelong glance at him. He's probably in his mid-forties, with close-cropped gray hair and blue eyes. Incredible posture. He's spoken out twice today in ways that make me think he would rather be friends than enemies. Maybe I should give him a chance. But he just seems so in step with Coin.... There's a series of loud clicks. The elevator comes to a slight pause and then begins to move laterally to the left. "It goes sideways?" I ask. "Yes. There's a whole network of elevator paths under Thirteen," he answers. "This one lies just above the transport spoke to the fifth airlift platform. It's taking us to the Hangar." The Hangar. The dungeons. Special Defense. Somewhere food is grown. Power generated. Air and water purified. "Thirteen is even larger than I thought." "Can't take credit for much of it," says Boggs. "We basically inherited the place. It's been all we can do to keep it running." The clicks resume. We drop down again briefly - just a couple of levels - and the doors open on the Hangar. "Oh," I let out involuntarily at the sight of the fleet. Row after row of different kinds of hovercraft. "Did you inherit these, too?" "Some we manufactured. Some were part of the Capitol's air force. They've been updated, of course," says Boggs. I feel that twinge of hatred against 13 again. "So, you had all this, and you left the rest of the districts defenseless against the Capitol." "It's not that simple," he shoots back. "We were in no position to launch a counterattack until recently. We could barely stay alive. After we'd overthrown and executed the Capitol's people, only a handful of us even knew how to pilot. We could've nuked them with missiles, yes. But there's always the larger question: If we engage in that type of war with the Capitol, would there be any human life left?" "That sounds like what Peeta said. And you all called him a traitor," I counter. "Because he called for a cease-fire," says Boggs. "You'll notice neither side has launched nuclear weapons. We're working it out the old-fashioned way. Over here, Soldier Everdeen." He indicates one of the smaller hovercraft. I mount the stairs and find it packed with the television crew and equipment. Everyone else is dressed in 13's dark gray military jumpsuits, even Haymitch, although he seems unhappy about the snugness of his collar. Fulvia Cardew hustles over and makes a sound of frustration when she sees my clean face. "All that work, down the drain. I'm not blaming you, Katniss. It's just that very few people are born with camera-ready faces. Like him." She snags Gale, who's in a conversation with Plutarch, and spins him toward us. "Isn't he handsome?" Gale does look striking in the uniform, I guess. But the question just embarrasses us both, given our history. I'm trying to think of a witty comeback, when Boggs says brusquely, "Well, don't expect us to be too impressed. We just saw Finnick Odair in his underwear." I decide to go ahead and like Boggs. There's a warning of the upcoming takeoff and I strap myself into a seat next to Gale, facing off with Haymitch and Plutarch. We glide through a maze of tunnels that opens out onto a platform. Some sort of elevator device lifts the craft slowly up through the levels. All at once we're outside in a large field surrounded by woods, then we rise off the platform and become wrapped in clouds. Now that the flurry of activity leading up to this mission is over, I realize I have no idea what I'm facing on this trip to District 8. In fact, I know very little about the actual state of the war. Or what it would take to win it. Or what would happen if we did. Plutarch tries to lay it out in simple terms for me. First of all, every district is currently at war with the Capitol except 2, which has always had a favored relationship with our enemies despite its participation in the Hunger Games. They get more food and better living conditions. After the Dark Days and the supposed destruction of 13, District 2 became the Capitol's new center of defense, although it's publicly presented as the home of the nation's stone quarries, in the same way that 13 was known for graphite mining. District 2 not only manufactures weaponry, it trains and even supplies Peacekeepers. "You mean...some of the Peacekeepers are born in Two?" I ask. "I thought they all came from the Capitol." Plutarch nods. "That's what you're supposed to think. And some do come from the Capitol. But its population could never sustain a force that size. Then there's the problem of recruiting Capitol-raised citizens for a dull life of deprivation in the districts. A twenty-year commitment to the Peacekeepers, no marriage, no children allowed. Some buy into it for the honor of the thing, others take it on as an alternative to punishment. For instance, join the Peacekeepers and your debts are forgiven. Many people are swamped in debt in the Capitol, but not all of them are fit for military duty. So District Two is where we turn for additional troops. It's a way for their people to escape poverty and a life in the quarries. They're raised with a warrior mind-set. You've seen how eager their children are to volunteer to be tributes." Cato and Clove. Brutus and Enobaria. I've seen their eagerness and their bloodlust, too. "But all the other districts are on our side?" I ask. "Yes. Our goal is to take over the districts one by one, ending with District Two, thus cutting off the Capitol's supply chain. Then, once it's weakened, we invade the Capitol itself," says Plutarch. "That will be a whole other type of challenge. But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." "If we win, who would be in charge of the government?" Gale asks. "Everyone," Plutarch tells him. "We're going to form a republic where the people of each district and the Capitol can elect their own representatives to be their voice in a centralized government. Don't look so suspicious; it's worked before." "In books," Haymitch mutters. "In history books," says Plutarch. "And if our ancestors could do it, then we can, too." Frankly, our ancestors don't seem much to brag about. I mean, look at the state they left us in, with the wars and the broken planet. Clearly, they didn't care about what would happen to the people who came after them. But this republic idea sounds like an improvement over our current government. "And if we lose?" I ask. "If we lose?" Plutarch looks out at the clouds, and an ironic smile twists his lips. "Then I would expect next year's Hunger Games to be quite unforgettable. That reminds me." He takes a vial from his vest, shakes a few deep violet pills into his hand, and holds them out to us. "We named themnightlock in your honor, Katniss. The rebels can't afford for any of us to be captured now. But I promise, it will be completely painless." I take hold of a capsule, unsure of where to put it. Plutarch taps a spot on my shoulder at the front of my left sleeve. I examine it and find a tiny pocket that both secures and conceals the pill. Even if my hands were tied, I could lean my head forward and bite it free. Cinna, it seems, has thought of everything.

[readbookywooks]

27. Everything seems to erupt at once. The earth explodes into showers of dirt and plant matter. Trees burst into flames. Even the sky fills with brightly colored blossoms of light. I can't think why the sky's being bombed until I realize the Gamemakers are shooting off fireworks up there, while the real destruction occurs on the ground. Just in case it's not enough fun watching the obliteration of the arena and the remaining tributes. Or perhaps to illuminate our gory ends. Will they let anyone survive? Will there be a victor of the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games? Maybe not. After all, what is this Quarter Quell but ... what was it President Snow read from the card? "... a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol..." Not even the strongest of the strong will triumph. Perhaps they never intended to have a victor in these Games at all. Or perhaps my final act of rebellion forced their hand. I'm sorry, Peeta, I think. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. Save him? More likely I stole his last chance at life, condemned him, by destroying the force field. Maybe, if we had all played by the rules, they might have let him live. The hovercraft materializes above me without warning. If it was quiet, and a mockingjay perched close at hand, I would have heard the jungle go silent and then the bird's call that precedes the appearance of the Capitol's aircraft. But my ears could never make out anything so delicate in this bombardment. The claw drops from the underside until it's directly overhead. The metal talons slide under me. I want to scream, run, smash my way out of it but I'm frozen, helpless to do anything but fervently hope I'll die before I reach the shadowy figures awaiting me above. They have not spared my life to crown me victor but to make my death as slow and public as possible. My worst fears are confirmed when the face that greets me inside the hovercraft belongs to Plutarch Heavensbee, Head Gamemaker. What a mess I have made of his beautiful Games with the clever ticking clock and the field of victors. He will suffer for his failure, probably lose his life, but not before he sees me punished. His hand reaches for me, I think to strike me, but he does something worse. With his thumb and his forefinger, he slides my eyelids shut, sentencing me to the vulnerability of darkness. They can do anything to me now and I will not even see it coming. My heart pounds so hard the blood begins to stream from beneath my soaked moss bandage. My thoughts grow foggy. Possibly I can bleed to death before they can revive me after all. In my mind, I whisper a thank-you to Johanna Mason for the excellent wound she inflicted as I black out. When I swim back into semi consciousness, I can feel I'm lying on a padded table. There's the pinching sensation of tubes in my left arm. They are trying to keep me alive because, if I slide quietly, privately into death, it will be a victory. I'm still largely unable to move, open my eyelids, raise my head. But my right arm has regained a little motion. It flops across my body, feeling like a flipper, no, something less animated, like a club. I have no real motor coordination, no proof that I even still have fingers. Yet I manage to swing my arm around until I rip the tubes out. A beeping goes off but I can't stay awake to find out who it will summon. The next time I surface, my hands are tied down to the table, the tubes back in my arm. I can open my eyes and lift my head slightly, though. I'm in a large room with low ceilings and a silvery light. There are two rows of beds facing each other. I can hear the breathing of what I assume are my fellow victors. Directly across from me I see Beetee with about ten different machines hooked up to him. Just let us die! I scream in my mind. I slam my head back hard on the table and go out again. When I finally, truly, wake up, the restraints are gone. I raise my hand and find I have fingers that can move at my command again. I push myself to a sitting position and hold on to the padded table until the room settles into focus. My left arm is bandaged but the tubes dangle off stands by the bed. I'm alone except for Beetee, who still lies in front of me, being sustained by his army of machines. Where are the others, then? Peeta, Finnick, Enobaria, and...and...one more, right? Either Johanna or Chaff or Brutus was still alive when the bombs began. I'm sure they'll want to make an example of us all. But where have they taken them? Moved them from hospital to prison? "Peeta..." I whisper. I so wanted to protect him. Am still resolved to. Since I have failed to keep him safe in life, I must find him, kill him now before the Capitol gets to choose the agonizing means of his death. I slide my legs off the table and look around for a weapon. There are a few syringes sealed in sterile plastic on a table near Beetee's bed. Perfect. All I'll need is air and a clear shot at one of his veins. I pause for a moment, consider killing Beetee. But if I do, the monitors will start beeping and I'll be caught before I get to Peeta. I make a silent promise to return and finish him off if I can. I'm naked except for a thin nightgown, so I slip the syringe under the bandage that covers the wound on my arm. There are no guards at the door. No doubt I'm miles beneath the Training Center or in some Capitol stronghold, and the possibility of my escape is nonexistent. It doesn't matter. I'm not escaping, just finishing a job. I creep down a narrow hallway to a metal door that stands slightly ajar. Someone is behind it. I take out the syringe and grip it in my hand. Flattening myself against the wall, I listen to the voices inside. "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." Plutarch Heavensbee. I think. Although I've only really spoken with him once. A hoarse voice asks a question. "No, I'm sorry. There's no way I can get you to Four. But I've given special orders for her retrieval if possible. It's the best I can do, Finnick." Finnick. My mind struggles to make sense of the conversation, of the fact that it's taking place between Plutarch Heavensbee and Finnick. Is he so near and dear to the Capitol that he'll be excused his crimes? Or did he really have no idea what Beetee intended? He croaks out something else. Something heavy with despair. "Don't be stupid. That's the worst thing you could do. Get her killed for sure. As long as you're alive, they'll keep her alive for bait," says Haymitch. Says Haymitch! I bang through the door and stumble into the room. Haymitch, Plutarch, and a very beat-up Finnick sit around a table laid with a meal no one is eating. Daylight streams in the curved windows, and in the distance I see the top of a forest of trees. We are flying. "Done knocking yourself out, sweetheart?" says Haymitch, the annoyance clear in his voice. But as I careen forward he steps up and catches my wrists, steadying me. He looks at my hand. "So it's you and a syringe against the Capitol? See, this is why no one lets you make the plans." I stare at him uncomprehendingly. "Drop it." I feel the pressure increase on my right wrist until my hand is forced to open and I release the syringe. He settles me in a chair next to Finnick. Plutarch puts a bowl of broth in front of me. A roll. Slips a spoon into my hand. "Eat," he says in a much kinder voice than Haymitch used. Haymitch sits directly in front of me. "Katniss, I'm going to explain what happened. I don't want you to ask any questions until I'm through. Do you understand?" I nod numbly. And this is what he tells me. There was a plan to break us out of the arena from the moment the Quell was announced. The victor tributes from 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, and 11 had varying degrees of knowledge about it. Plutarch Heavensbee has been, for several years, part of an undercover group aiming to overthrow the Capitol. He made sure the wire was among the weapons. Beetee was in charge of blowing a hole in the force field. The bread we received in the arena was code for the time of the rescue. The district where the bread originated indicated the day. Three. The number of rolls the hour. Twenty-four. The hovercraft belongs to District 13. Bonnie and Twill, the women I met in the woods from 8, were right about its existence and its defense capabilities. We are currently on a very roundabout journey to District 13. Meanwhile, most of the districts in Panem are in full-scale rebellion. Haymitch stops to see if I am following. Or maybe he is done for the moment. It's an awful lot to take in, this elaborate plan in which I was a piece, just as I was meant to be a piece in the Hunger Games. Used without consent, without knowledge. At least in the Hunger Games, I knew I was being played with. My supposed friends have been a lot more secretive. "You didn't tell me." My voice is as ragged as Finnick's. "Neither you nor Peeta were told. We couldn't risk it," says Plutarch. "I was even worried you might mention my indiscretion with the watch during the Games." He pulls out his pocket watch and runs his thumb across the crystal, lighting up the mockingjay. "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," I say. "Because once the force field blew, you'd be the first ones they'd try to capture, and the less you knew, the better," says Haymitch. "The first ones? Why?" I say, trying to hang on to the train of thought. "For the same reason the rest of us agreed to die to keep you alive," says Finnick. "No, Johanna tried to kill me," I say. "Johanna knocked you out to cut the tracker from your arm and lead Brutus and Enobaria away from you," says Haymitch. "What?" My head aches so and I want them to stop talking in circles. "I don't know what you're - " "We had to save you because you're the mockingjay, Katniss," says Plutarch. "While you live, the revolution lives." The bird, the pin, the song, the berries, the watch, the cracker, the dress that burst into flames. I am the mockingjay. The one that survived despite the Capitol's plans. The symbol of the rebellion. It's what I suspected in the woods when I found Bonnie and Twill escaping. Though I never really understood the magnitude. But then, I wasn't meant to understand. I think of Haymitch's sneering at my plans to flee District 12, start my own uprising, even the very notion that District 13 could exist. Subterfuges and deceptions. And if he could do that, behind his mask of sarcasm and drunkenness, so convincingly and for so long, what else has he lied about? I know what else. "Peeta," I whisper, my heart sinking. "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." His words are matter-of-fact, his expression unchanged, but he can't hide the tinge of gray that colors his face. "Where is Peeta?" I hiss at him. "He was picked up by the Capitol along with Johanna and Enobaria," says Haymitch. And finally he has the decency to drop his gaze. Technically, I am unarmed. But no one should ever underestimate the harm that fingernails can do, especially if the target is unprepared. I lunge across the table and rake mine down Haymitch's face, causing blood to flow and damage to one eye. Then we are both screaming terrible, terrible things at each other, and Finnick is trying to drag me out, and I know it's all Haymitch can do not to rip me apart, but I'm the mockingjay. I'm the mockingjay and it's too hard keeping me alive as it is. Other hands help Finnick and I'm back on my table, my body restrained, my wrists tied down, so I slam my head in fury again and again against the table. A needle pokes my arm and my head hurts so badly I stop fighting and simply wail in a horrible, dying-animal way, until my voice gives out. The drug causes sedation, not sleep, so I am trapped in fuzzy, dully aching misery for what seems like always. They reinsert their tubes and talk to me in soothing voices that never reach me. All I can think of is Peeta, lying on a similar table somewhere, while they try to break him for information he doesn't even have. "Katniss. Katniss, I'm sorry." Finnick's voice comes from the bed next to me and slips into my consciousness. Perhaps because we're in the same kind of pain. "I wanted to go back for him and Johanna, but I couldn't move." I don't answer. Finnick Odair's good intentions mean less than nothing. "It's better for him than Johanna. 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," says Finnick. "Like bait?" I say to the ceiling. "Like how they'll use Annie for bait, Finnick?" I can hear him weeping but I don't care. They probably won't even bother to question her, she's so far gone. Gone right off the deep end years ago in her Games. There's a good chance I'm headed in the same direction. Maybe I'm already going crazy and no one has the heart to tell me. I feel crazy enough. "I wish she was dead," he says. "I wish they were all dead and we were, too. It would be best." Well, there's no good response to that. I can hardly dispute it since I was walking around with a syringe to kill Peeta when I found them. Do I really want him dead? What I want ... what I want is to have him back. But I'll never get him back now. Even if the rebel forces could somehow overthrow the Capitol, you can be sure President Snow's last act would be to cut Peeta's throat. No. I will never get him back. So then dead is best. But will Peeta know that or will he keep fighting? He's so strong and such a good liar. Does he think he has a chance of surviving? Does he even care if he does? He wasn't planning on it, anyway. He had already signed off on life. Maybe, if he knows I was rescued, he's even happy. Feels he fulfilled his mission to keep me alive. I think I hate him even more than I do Haymitch. I give up. Stop speaking, responding, refuse food and water. They can pump whatever they want into my arm, but it takes more than that to keep a person going once she's lost the will to live. I even have a funny notion that if I do die, maybe Peeta will be allowed to live. Not as a free person but as an Avox or something, waiting on the future tributes of District 12. Then maybe he could find some way to escape. My death could, in fact, still save him. If it can't, no matter. It's enough to die of spite. To punish Haymitch, who, of all the people in this rotting world, has turned Peeta and me into pieces in his Games. I trusted him. I put what was precious in Haymitch's hands. And he has betrayed me. "See, this is why no one lets you make the plans," he said. That's true. No one in their right mind would let me make the plans. Because I obviously can't tell a friend from an enemy. A lot of people come by to talk to me, but I make all their words sound like the clicking of the insects in the jungle. Meaningless and distant. Dangerous, but only if approached. Whenever the words start to become distinct, I moan until they give me more painkiller and that fixes things right up. Until one time, I open my eyes and find someone I cannot block out looking down at me. Someone who will not plead, or explain, or think he can alter my design with entreaties, because he alone really knows how I operate. "Gale," I whisper. "Hey, Catnip." He reaches down and pushes a strand of hair out of my eyes. One side of his face has been burned fairly recently. His arm is in a sling, and I can see bandages under his miner's shirt. What has happened to him? How is he even here? Something very bad has happened back home. It is not so much a question of forgetting Peeta as remembering the others. All it takes is one look at Gale and they come surging into the present, demanding to be acknowledged. "Prim?" I gasp. "She's alive. So is your mother. I got them out in time," he says. "They're not in District Twelve?" I ask. "After the Games, they sent in planes. Dropped firebombs." He hesitates. "Well, you know what happened to the Hob." I do know. I saw it go up. That old warehouse embedded with coal dust. The whole district's covered with the stuff. A new kind of horror begins to rise up inside me as I imagine firebombs hitting the Seam. "They're not in District Twelve?" I repeat. As if saying it will somehow fend off the truth. "Katniss," Gale says softly. I recognize that voice. It's the same one he uses to approach wounded animals before he delivers a deathblow. I instinctively raise my hand to block his words but he catches it and holds on tightly. "Don't," I whisper. But Gale is not one to keep secrets from me. "Katniss, there is no District Twelve." END

[readbookywooks]

9 Betrayal. That's the first thing I feel, which is ludicrous. For there to be betrayal, there would have had to been trust first. Between Peeta and me. And trust has not been part of the agreement. We're tributes. But the boy who risked a beating to give me bread, the one who steadied me in the chariot, who covered for me with the redheaded Avox girl, who insisted Haymitch know my hunting skills. was there some part of me that couldn't help trusting him? On the other hand, I'm relieved that we can stop the pretense of being friends. Obviously, whatever thin connection we'd foolishly formed has been severed. And high time, too. The Games begin in two days, and trust will only be a weakness. Whatever triggered Peeta's decision  -  and I suspect it had to do with my outperforming him in training  -  I should be nothing but grateful for it. Maybe he's finally accepted the fact that the sooner we openly acknowledge that we are enemies, the better. "Good," I say. "So what's the schedule?" "You'll each have four hours with Effie for presentation and four with me for content," says Haymitch. "You start with Effie, Katniss." I can't imagine what Effie will have to teach me that could take four hours, but she's got me working down to the last minute. We go to my rooms and she puts me in a full-length gown and high-heeled shoes, not the ones I'll he wearing for the actual interview, and instructs me on walking. The shoes are the worst part. I've never worn high heels and can't get used to essentially wobbling around on the balls of my feet. But Effie runs around in them full-time, and I'm determined that if she can do it, so can I. The dress poses another problem. It keeps tangling around my shoes so, of course, I hitch it up, and then Effie swoops down on me like a hawk, smacking my hands and yelling, "Not above the ankle!" When I finally conquer walking, there's still sitting, posture  -  apparently I have a tendency to duck my head  -  eye contact, hand gestures, and smiling. Smiling is mostly about smiling more. Effie makes me say a hundred banal phrases starting with a smile, while smiling, or ending with a smile. By lunch, the muscles in my cheeks are twitching from overuse. "Well, that's the best I can do," Effie says with a sigh. "Just remember, Katniss, you want the audience to like you." "And you don't think they will?" I ask. "Not if you glare at them the entire time. Why don't you save that for the arena? Instead, think of yourself among friends," says Effie. "They're betting on how long I'll live!" I burst out. "They're not my friends!" "Well, try and pretend!" snaps Effie. Then she composes herself and beams at me. "See, like this. I'm smiling at you even though you're aggravating me." "Yes, it feels very convincing," I say. "I'm going to eat." 1 kick off my heels and stomp down to the dining room, hiking my skirt up to my thighs. Peeta and Haymitch seem in pretty good moods, so I'm thinking the content session should be an improvement over the morning. I couldn't be more wrong. After lunch, Haymitch takes me into the sitting room, directs me to the couch, and then just frowns at me for a while. "What?" I finally ask. "I'm trying to figure out what to do with you," he says. "How we're going to present you. Are you going to be charming? Aloof? Fierce? So far, you're shining like a star. You volunteered to save your sister. Cinna made you look unforgettable. You've got the top training score. People are intrigued, but no one knows who you are. The impression you make tomorrow will decide exactly what I can get you in terms of sponsors," says Haymitch. Having watched the tribute interviews all my life, I know there's truth to what he's saying. If you appeal to the crowd, either by being humorous or brutal or eccentric, you gain favor. "What's Peeta's approach? Or am I not allowed to ask?" I say. "Likable. He has a sort of self-deprecating humor naturally," says Haymitch. "Whereas when you open your mouth, you come across more as sullen and hostile." "I do not!" I say. "Please. I don't know where you pulled that cheery, wavy girl on the chariot from, but I haven't seen her before or since," says Haymitch. "And you've given me so many reasons to be cheery," I counter. "But you don't have to please me. I'm not going to sponsor you. So pretend I'm the audience," says Haymitch. "Delight me." "Fine!" I snarl. Haymitch takes the role of the interviewer and I try to answer his questions in a winning fashion. But I can't. I'm too angry with Haymitch for what he said and that I even have to answer the questions. All I can think is how unjust the whole thing is, the Hunger Games. Why am I hopping around like some trained dog trying to please people I hate? The longer the interview goes on, the more my fury seems to rise to the surface, until I'm literally spitting out answers at him. "All right, enough," he says. "We've got to find another angle. Not only are you hostile, I don't know anything about you. I've asked you fifty questions and still have no sense of your life, your family, what you care about. They want to know about you, Katniss." "But I don't want them to! They're already taking my future! They can't have the things that mattered to me in the past!" I say. "Then lie! Make something up!" says Haymitch. "I'm not good at lying," I say. "Well, you better learn fast. You've got about as much charm as a dead slug," says Haymitch. Ouch. That hurts. Even Haymitch must know he's been too harsh because his voice softens. "Here's an idea. Try acting humble." "Humble," I echo. "That you can't believe a little girl from District Twelve has done this well. The whole thing's been more than you ever could have dreamed of. Talk about Cinna's clothes. How nice the people are. How the city amazes you. If you won't talk about yourself, at least compliment the audience. Just keep turning it back around, all right. Gush." The next hours are agonizing. At once, it's clear I cannot gush. We try me playing cocky, but I just don't have the arrogance. Apparently, I'm too "vulnerable" for ferocity. I'm not witty. Funny. Sexy. Or mysterious. By the end of the session, I am no one at all. Haymitch started drinking somewhere around witty, and a nasty edge has crept into his voice. "I give up, sweetheart. Just answer the questions and try not to let the audience see how openly you despise them." I have dinner that night in my room, ordering an outrageous number of delicacies, eating myself sick, and then taking out my anger at Haymitch, at the Hunger Games, at every living being in the Capitol by smashing dishes around my room. When the girl with the red hair comes in to turn down my bed, her eyes widen at the mess. "Just leave it!" I yell at her. "Just leave it alone!" I hate her, too, with her knowing reproachful eyes that call me a coward, a monster, a puppet of the Capitol, both now and then. For her, justice must finally be happening. At least my death will help pay for the life of the boy in the woods. But instead of fleeing the room, the girl closes the door behind her and goes to the bathroom. She comes back with a damp cloth and wipes my face gently then cleans the blood from a broken plate off my hands. Why is she doing this? Why am I letting her? "I should have tried to save you," I whisper. She shakes her head. Does this mean we were right to stand by? That she has forgiven me? "No, it was wrong," I say. She taps her lips with her fingers then points to my chest. I think she means that I would just have ended up an Avox, too. Probably would have. An Avox or dead. I spend the next hour helping the redheaded girl clean the room. When all the garbage has been dropped down a disposal and the food cleaned away, she turns down my bed. I crawl in between the sheets like a five-year-old and let her tuck me in. Then she goes. I want her to stay until I fall asleep. To be there when I wake up. I want the protection of this girl, even though she never had mine. In the morning, it's not the girl but my prep team who are hanging over me. My lessons with Effie and Haymitch are over. This day belongs to Cinna. He's my last hope. Maybe he can make me look so wonderful, no one will care what comes out of my mouth. The team works on me until late afternoon, turning my skin to glowing satin, stenciling patterns on my arms, painting flame designs on my twenty perfect nails. Then Venia goes to work on my hair, weaving strands of red into a pattern that begins at my left ear, wraps around my head, and then falls in one braid down my right shoulder. They erase my face with a layer of pale makeup and draw my features back out. Huge dark eyes, full red lips, lashes that throw off bits of light when I blink. Finally, they cover my entire body in a powder that makes me shimmer in gold dust. Then Cinna enters with what I assume is my dress, but I can't really see it because it's covered. "Close your eyes," he orders. I can feel the silken inside as they slip it down over my naked body, then the weight. It must be forty pounds. I clutch Octavia's hand as I blindly step into my shoes, glad to find they are at least two inches lower than the pair Effie had me practice in. There's some adjusting and fidgeting. Then silence. "Can I open my eyes?" I ask. "Yes," says Cinna. "Open them." The creature standing before me in the full-length mirror has come from another world. Where skin shimmers and eyes flash and apparently they make their clothes from jewels. Because my dress, oh, my dress is entirely covered in reflective precious gems, red and yellow and white with bits of blue that accent the tips of the flame design. The slightest movement gives the impression I am engulfed in tongues of fire. I am not pretty. I am not beautiful. I am as radiant as the sun. For a while, we all just stare at me. "Oh, Cinna," I finally whisper. "Thank you." "Twirl for me," he says. I hold out my arms and spin in a circle. The prep team screams in admiration. Cinna dismisses the team and has me move around in the dress and shoes, which are infinitely more manageable than Effie's. The dress hangs in such a way that I don't have to lift the skirt when I walk, leaving me with one less thing to worry about. "So, all ready for the interview then?" asks Cinna. I can see by his expression that he's been talking to Haymitch. That he knows how dreadful I am. "I'm awful. Haymitch called me a dead slug. No matter what we tried, I couldn't do it. I just can't be one of those people he wants me to be," I say. Cinna thinks about this a moment. "Why don't you just be yourself?" "Myself? That's no good, either. Haymitch says I'm sullen and hostile," I say. "Well, you are. around Haymitch," says Cinna with a grin. "I don't find you so. The prep team adores you. You even won over the Gamemakers. And as for the citizens of the Capitol, well, they can't stop talking about you. No one can help but admire your spirit." My spirit. This is a new thought. I'm not sure exactly what it means, but it suggests I'm a fighter. In a sort of brave way. It's not as if I'm never friendly. Okay, maybe I don't go around loving everybody I meet, maybe my smiles are hard to come by, but I do care for some people. Cinna takes my icy hands in his warm ones. "Suppose, when you answer the questions, you think you're addressing a friend back home. Who would your best friend be?" asks Cinna. "Gale," I say instantly. "Only it doesn't make sense, Cinna. I would never be telling Gale those things about me. He already knows them." "What about me? Could you think of me as a friend?" asks Cinna. Of all the people I've met since I left home, Cinna is by far my favorite. I liked him right off and he hasn't disappointed me yet. "I think so, but  - " "I'll be sitting on the main platform with the other stylists. You'll be able to look right at me. When you're asked a question, find me, and answer it as honestly as possible," says Cinna. "Even if what I think is horrible?" I ask. Because it might be, really. "Especially if what you think is horrible," says Cinna. "You'll try it?" I nod. It's a plan. Or at least a straw to grasp at. Too soon it's time to go. The interviews take place on a stage constructed in front of the Training Center. Once I leave my room, it will be only minutes until I'm in front of the crowd, the cameras, all of Panem. As Cinna turns the doorknob, I stop his hand. "Cinna. " I'm completely overcome with stage fright. "Remember, they already love you," he says gently. "Just be yourself." We meet up with the rest of the District 12 crowd at the elevator. Portia and her gang have been hard at work. Peeta looks striking in a black suit with flame accents. While we look well together, it's a relief not to be dressed identically. Haymitch and Effie are all fancied up for the occasion. I avoid Haymitch, but accept Effie's compliments. Effie can be tiresome and clueless, but she's not destructive like Haymitch. When the elevator opens, the other tributes are being lined up to take the stage. All twenty-four of us sit in a big arc throughout the interviews. I'll be last, or second to last since the girl tribute precedes the boy from each district. How I wish I could be first and get the whole thing out of the way! Now I'll have to listen to how witty, funny, humble, fierce, and charming everybody else is before I go up. Plus, the audience will start to get bored, just as the Gamemakers did. And I can't exactly shoot an arrow into the crowd to get their attention. Right before we parade onto the stage, Haymitch comes up behind Peeta and me and growls, "Remember, you're still a happy pair. So act like it." What? I thought we abandoned that when Peeta asked for separate coaching. But I guess that was a private, not a public thing. Anyway, there's not much chance for interaction now, as we walk single-file to our seats and take our places. Just stepping on the stage makes my breathing rapid and shallow. I can feel my pulse pounding in my temples. It's a relief to get to my chair, because between the heels and my legs shaking, I'm afraid I'll trip. Although evening is falling, the City Circle is brighter than a summer's day. An elevated seating unit has been set up for prestigious guests, with the stylists commanding the front row. The cameras will turn to them when the crowd is reacting to their handiwork. A large balcony off a building to the right has been reserved for the Gamemakers. Television crews have claimed most of the other balconies. But the City Circle and the avenues that feed into it are completely packed with people. Standing room only. At homes and community halls around the country, every television set is turned on. Every citizen of Panem is tuned in. There will be no blackouts tonight. Caesar Flickerman, the man who has hosted the interviews for more than forty years, bounces onto the stage. It's a little scary because his appearance has been virtually unchanged during all that time. Same face under a coating of pure white makeup. Same hairstyle that he dyes a different color for each Hunger Games. Same ceremonial suit, midnight blue dotted with a thousand tiny electric bulbs that twinkle like stars. They do surgery in the Capitol, to make people appear younger and thinner. In District 12, looking old is something of an achievement since so many people die early. You see an elderly person you want to congratulate them on their longevity, ask the secret of survival. A plump person is envied because they aren't scraping by like the majority of us. But here it is different. Wrinkles aren't desirable. A round belly isn't a sign of success. This year, Caesar's hair is powder blue and his eyelids and lips are coated in the same hue. He looks freakish but less frightening than he did last year when his color was crimson and he seemed to be bleeding. Caesar tells a few jokes to warm up the audience but then gets down to business. The girl tribute from District 1, looking provocative in a see-through gold gown, steps up the center of the stage to join Caesar for her interview. You can tell her mentor didn't have any trouble coming up with an angle for her. With that flowing blonde hair, emerald green eyes, her body tall and lush. she's sexy all the way. Each interview only lasts three minutes. Then a buzzer goes off and the next tribute is up. I'll say this for Caesar, he really does his best to make the tributes shine. He's friendly, tries to set the nervous ones at ease, laughs at lame jokes, and can turn a weak response into a memorable one by the way he reacts. I sit like a lady, the way Effie showed me, as the districts slip by. 2, 3, 4. Everyone seems to be playing up some angle. The monstrous boy from District 2 is a ruthless killing machine. The fox-faced girl from District 5 sly and elusive. I spotted Cinna as soon as he took his place, but even his presence cannot relax me. 8, 9, 10. The crippled boy from 10 is very quiet. My palms are sweating like crazy, but the jeweled dress isn't absorbent and they skid right of if I try to dry them. 11. Rue, who is dressed in a gossamer gown complete with wings, flutters her way to Caesar. A hush falls over the crowd at the sight of this magical wisp of a tribute. Caesar's very sweet with her, complimenting her seven in training, an excellent score for one so small. When he asks her what her greatest strength in the arena will be, she doesn't hesitate. "I'm very hard to catch," she says in a tremulous voice. "And if they can't catch me, they can't kill me. So don't count me out." "I wouldn't in a million years," says Caesar encouragingly. The boy tribute from District 11, Thresh, has the same dark skin as Rue, but the resemblance stops there. He's one of the giants, probably six and a half feet tall and built like an ox, but I noticed he rejected the invitations from the Career Tributes to join their crowd. Instead he's been very solitary, speaking to no one, showing little interest in training. Even so, he scored a ten and it's not hard to imagine he impressed the Gamemakers. He ignores Caesar's attempts at banter and answers with a yes or no or just remains silent. If only I was his size, I could get away with sullen and hostile and it would be just fine! I bet half the sponsors are at least considering him. If I had any money, I'd bet on him myself. And then they're calling Katniss Everdeen, and I feel myself, as if in a dream, standing and making my way center stage. I shake Caesar's outstretched hand, and he has the good grace not to immediately wipe his off on his suit. "So, Katniss, the Capitol must be quite a change from District Twelve. What's impressed you most since you arrived here?" asks Caesar. What? What did he say? It's as if the words make no sense. My mouth has gone as dry as sawdust. I desperately find Cinna in the crowd and lock eyes with him. I imagine the words coming from his lips. "What's impressed you most since you arrived here?" I rack my brain for something that made me happy here. Be honest, I think. Be honest. "The lamb stew," I get out. Caesar laughs, and vaguely I realize some of the audience has joined in. "The one with the dried plums?" asks Caesar. I nod. "Oh, I eat it by the bucketful." He turns sideways to the audience in horror, hand on his stomach. "It doesn't show, does it?" They shout reassurances to him and applaud. This is what I mean about Caesar. He tries to help you out. "Now, Katniss," he says confidentially, "When you came out in the opening ceremonies, my heart actually stopped. What did you think of that costume?" Cinna raises one eyebrow at me. Be honest. "You mean after I got over my fear of being burned alive?" I ask. Big laugh. A real one from the audience. "Yes. Start then," says Caesar. Cinna, my friend, I should tell him anyway. "I thought Cinna was brilliant and it was the most gorgeous costume I'd ever seen and I couldn't believe I was wearing it. I can't believe I'm wearing this, either." I lift up my skirt to spread it out. "I mean, look at it!" As the audience oohs and ahs, I see Cinna make the tiniest circular motion with his finger. But I know what he's saying. Twirl for me. I spin in a circle once and the reaction is immediate. "Oh, do that again!" says Caesar, and so I lift up my arms and spin around and around letting the skirt fly out, letting the dress engulf me in flames. The audience breaks into cheers. When I stop, I clutch Caesar's arm. "Don't stop!" he says. "I have to, I'm dizzy!" I'm also giggling, which I think I've done maybe never in my lifetime. But the nerves and the spinning have gotten to me. Caesar wraps a protective arm around me. "Don't worry, I've got you. Can't have you following in your mentor's footsteps." Everyone's hooting as the cameras find Haymitch, who is by now famous for his head dive at the reaping, and he waves them away good-naturedly and points back to me. "It's all right," Caesar reassures the crowd. "She's safe with me. So, how about that training score. E-le-ven. Give us a hint what happened in there." I glance at the Gamemakers on the balcony and bite my lip. "Um. all I can say, is I think it was a first." The cameras are right on the Gamemakers, who are chuckling and nodding. "You're killing us," says Caesar as if in actual pain. "Details. Details." I address the balcony. "I'm not supposed to talk about it, right?" The Gamemaker who fell in the punch bowl shouts out, "She's not!" "Thank you," I say. "Sorry. My lips are sealed." "Let's go back then, to the moment they called your sister's name at the reaping," says Caesar. His mood is quieter now. "And you volunteered. Can you tell us about her?" No. No, not all of you. But maybe Cinna. I don't think I'm imagining the sadness on his face. "Her name's Prim. She's just twelve. And I love her more than anything." You could hear a pin drop in the City Circle now. "What did she say to you? After the reaping?" Caesar asks. Be honest. Be honest. I swallow hard. "She asked me to try really hard to win." The audience is frozen, hanging on my every word. "And what did you say?" prompts Caesar gently. But instead of warmth, I feel an icy rigidity take over my body. My muscles tense as they do before a kill. When I speak, my voice seems to have dropped an octave. "I swore I would." "I bet you did," says Caesar, giving me a squeeze. The buzzer goes off. "Sorry we're out of time. Best of luck, Katniss Everdeen, tribute from District Twelve." The applause continues long after I'm seated. I look to Cinna for reassurance. He gives me a subtle thumbs-up. I'm still in a daze for the first part of Peeta's interview. He has the audience from the get-go, though; I can hear them laughing, shouting out. He plays up the baker's son thing, comparing the tributes to the breads from their districts. Then has a funny anecdote about the perils of the Capitol showers. "Tell me, do I still smell like roses?" he asks Caesar, and then there's a whole run where they take turns sniffing each other that brings down the house. I'm coming back into focus when Caesar asks him if he has a girlfriend back home. Peeta hesitates, then gives an unconvincing shake of his head. "Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?" says Caesar. Peeta sighs. "Well, there is this one girl. I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping." Sounds of sympathy from the crowd. Unrequited love they can relate to. "She have another fellow?" asks Caesar. "I don't know, but a lot of boys like her," says Peeta. "So, here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?" says Caesar encouragingly. "I don't think it's going to work out. Winning. won't help in my case," says Peeta. "Why ever not?" says Caesar, mystified. Peeta blushes beet red and stammers out. "Because. because. she came here with me."