Aftermath

[fuelforthefire]

It takes hours for the news crews to give up and go home, their chance of getting a good story evaporating as the night starts to set in. The police take longer, eventually locating another mine directly across from the one that was set off. That weighs heavily, knowing that the two tributes from any District were often placed across from each other. I honestly can't remember where we were situated in our first Games, but it still seems like a message. Like someone saying they know I'm here.

When everyone finally clears out it's late, dark except for the moon. My eyes adjust easily. They don't have street lights out this far, just like they'd never used them in Twelve, except in the Square after Thread came. I wait until I'm sure that everyone has cleared out and even then I head off toward my house and not in the direction of Katniss' tree. In case anyone's watching I doesn't want to give away more than I have to. How much have I changed since that first reaping? When I trusted the people around me so easily and didn't think about survival tactics.

A quarter of an hour passes before I head out again, leaving the light and television on inside my house when I go. Not that it'll fool anyone for long, and if there are cameras like in the Arena it won't fool anyone watching, I know. But I have to try to make it safe. The way to Katniss and Prim's house has started to grow over, the path we'd beaten my first few months here disused. That again makes me sad, but I don't have the luxury of that. I need to talk to Katniss, to decide how we're going to keep playing this game. Just when I thought we'd stopped.

I tap at her door and call out her name as I open it. The last thing I want is to end up with an arrow in my shoulder because I scared her.

Comments

[vocalfuel]

When the cameras first show up, I nearly give in and shoot them all. Perched up in a tree, no one having seemed to notice me yet, I could do it, I think, take them out before anyone even knows what's happened. It's just too familiar, the thought of something like this as entertainment, broadcast on people's televisions. Familiar and not unexpected. Ultimately, though, I keep still. My bitterness isn't worth the risk of giving myself away and losing what might be Peeta's one chance at escape, if it comes to that.

It doesn't. The sun sets, and I wait, barely aware of just how long has passed until I stop to remember how early it was when I went out into the woods in the first place. I guess it really is just like being in the Arena again — doing anything I can to keep Peeta safe, watching and waiting and not knowing what might happen, me stuck up in a tree like this while he plays friendly with people who only might, in this case, want to hurt us. Thinking about it almost makes me sick, but at least I know what I'm doing, more weary but wiser than I was in our first Games. I don't let my guard down once, not even when they're all gone and Peeta is, too, and I can finally descend from my place in the tree. We should have worked out some kind of plan for after, I realize, but we'd been too pressed for time, too uncertain. We'll just have to figure something else now, hope we can meet in the middle.

As it turns out, he beats me to it. The knock on the door nearly gives me a heart attack, still too on edge and with adrenaline coursing through my veins, but it's clear within a moment that it's Peeta. Even having known already that nothing happened to him back by the cornucopia, I'm too relieved to stay put, crossing the room quickly to wrap my arms around his neck. "Hey."

[fuelforthefire]

"You're okay," the words spill out as I hold her tight. I need to, before we can do anything else, need this moment to have my arms around her waist and breathe in her hair and know that she's still here and safe.

When I pull back, relief is still bright in my eyes. "I wasn't sure- We didn't make a plan."

For this, I meant. For after and letting each other know that things were okay. Shortsighted, definitely, and it shows just how completely off-guard we were. Back in the Arena we never would have separated without a plan to meet back up.

But this wasn't the Arena. No matter how much it might seem like a part of it right now. The news cameras had been the worst. Knowing that people were watching had just fixed the smile on my face. I'd cooperated with the police and hadn't spoken to the media at their request. I was happy not to, to leave them wondering and without answers. Being on stage was tiring and I didn't want that any longer. "I didn't think the cameras would show up. I never thought they'd leave."

[vocalfuel]

"I'm okay," I echo, nodding quickly, though I barely draw back to do so. I might have watched everything that happened, never took my eyes off Peeta for a second, but that was no guarantee of what would or wouldn't happen after he walked away, what might have been waiting for either of us. We really should have thought it through better, but then, how could we? Going into the Arenas before, at least we'd known we were doing so, aware of our circumstances if not quite what to expect. This, we'd been entirely blindsided by. I still think that might have been the point — a way to throw us off-guard, and make sure we know that we never really got away from the Capitol. Still just pieces in their game after all.

I run my hands down his arms when I finally take a step back, as if trying to make sure that the same is true of him, too. It's one of those instincts I can't help, and it occurs to me a moment later that I'm not sure why that is, if it's just because of Peeta or because it feels like we're back in the Games, and this is what they'd want from us. I try not to let myself dwell on it. Either way, I mean it, relieved to really be assured of his safety. That has to be the important part.

"We didn't have time for a plan before they got there. At least they're gone now. And you're here."

[fuelforthefire]

Okay as either of us can be, at least. I breathe in deeply, catching her hand when it touches my wrist. I'm not ready to let go of her quite yet, not with everything that's happened today and the terror that I still feel. More than anything else knowing Katniss is safe makes me feel safer. She's still the one who has everything to live for, even here in Darrow. Prim is too important, and I won't let anything take Katniss away from her.

"They tried to tell me this kind of thing happens here. People's things show up from before." At least one of the police had, one who wasn't from this place. The others had accepted it, but a couple had looked at me as if this were some sort of pranks, as if I'd planted the mines and the cornucopia. "Things that they might want, or that they might find traumatic."

I don't know how much I believe that. I want this to just be some Darrow trick, but it doesn't make any sense. Why the cornucopia and the mines? It's too specific and purposeful, too designed to try and upset us both. "If it is that, it's working."

[vocalfuel]

"I've heard about that," I say, nodding, my hand staying curled around Peeta's as I start in the direction of the couch. When there's a lot I imagine we'll have to try to figure out, there's no sense in just standing around right inside the doorway. If someone is watching, it might look better, anyway, the two of us huddled close, making plans. It's too hard to tell what I think is going on here, at least as far as that's concerned. There might be no cameras, all of this clearly meant to evoke an Arena but without the audience. It might not do any good even if there is, after everything that's happened.

More importantly, I'm not sure I should care. I'm through doing what Snow wants me to. I think I made that clear enough in going to war against him. Should it come to that, we'll find other ways to save our lives. There's just something habitual about it, too deeply intertwined with my continued relief that he isn't injured or worse for me to tell what's what. I decide not to worry about it, though. There's too much at hand here demanding our attention, and anyway, it's not like I don't mean any of it, from what I say to the way I hold on to him. I'm not good enough at acting for that.

About to tell him that I've seen it happen, too, I realize at the last second that I haven't. Seen things that have supposedly just shown up from out of nowhere, yes, but I can only take other people's words for it, and right now, that's out of the question. Who's to say that anything else that appeared here wasn't also on purpose, anyway? "You really think it could be that simple?"

[fuelforthefire]

"I want it to be that simple." It's the honest truth. I want this to be a strange and cruel quirk of the city that we live in now. But I don't know that I can believe that it is, not when I've spent my life in Panem, in District Twelve. Our lives are led at the whim of the Capitol and of Snow, it's something I feel more keenly now than I have since they made the announcement for the Quarter Quell.

I settle on the couch, not letting go of her hand. The cameras aren't on my mind now and I don't think they're the first thing on Katniss' either. I know that this is something we share, a stress that we can't communicate properly to other people who haven't been through that Arena, no matter how hard we might try to. I sit close, shaking my head as I decide that I don't believe that. Not entirely. "It's too like the Capitol."

She has to know that by Capitol I mean Snow.

[vocalfuel]

"That's what I thought, too," I say with a nod, relieved that he's agreed. Not that I would have expected him to do otherwise — he's been in two Arenas with me, seen the Capitol's cruelty firsthand, too, even if he's been spared from a lot of it. They don't just wound and kill, send Peacekeepers into the Districts to keep things running smoothly and eliminate those who might try to speak against them. That would be too simple. No, they try to get under a person's skin, mess with their heads, do everything they can to break them. It's what they did to me before, and they almost succeeded.

Briefly, I think about telling Peeta everything, using what they did to him as proof that we have to be right about this. I can't, though. It's been too long, for one. Anyway, he knows well enough the games they play without me adding one further example to the list. It's a good thing, too. I want him on my side for this, not to be fighting to convince him that this isn't just some coincidence. We've always worked better together, anyway, rather than at odds. It took me too long to realize that. Now I mean to use it to both of our advantage.

"It has to be them." I'm more convinced of it now, his agreement adding to my certainty. "Trying to send us a message. Telling us that we've never really left. That they still have the upper hand." I suck in a sharp breath, furious, my cheeks burning with the effort it takes to keep that constrained. "We'll just have to get it back."

[fuelforthefire]

This is one of the things I've always loved about her -- her fierce determination and the fire that was always there, even when she didn't see it. It's still there and that's a relief because we both need it now. I need it now. Her certainty and passion which always gave me strength. I need her now just as I have for so long.

I hate that it's taken the Capitol to make me realise that again.

"How? They've held off this long, they're playing a game we don't even know anymore." It's not a plaintiff question but a serious one. I want a plan, and am willing to do whatever we need to make one. But I know that one of the reasons we work well together is we question each other as much as we support each other. "This might sound crazy, but I wish Haymitch was here."

[vocalfuel]

"Yeah, tell me about it," I say dryly, as much to myself as to him. I've been angry with Haymitch more often than not since I ended the Quarter Quell, even more so than usual, but as much as I hate to admit it, he usually had the right idea about what to do. He knows the Capitol even better than either of us. Right now, that would be an invaluable asset. He'd never turn up empty-handed, anyway, and rare as it is for me, I could use a drink.

Then again, my head's already spinning as it is. It's been a long time since the concussion Johanna gave me in the Arena was any trouble, but I press my free hand to my left temple anyway, trying to stop and think.

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I'm nineteen years old. A year and a half ago, I went to sleep in the Capitol and woke up on a train in a city I'd never heard of. I thought I was safe here. Clearly, I was wrong.

The breath I let out shudders, and my body with it. "I mean, it makes sense. Make us think we're alright here, then hit us when our guard is dropped." When we're barely speaking. When my sister's found a life that's close to what amounts for normal around here. I'm the least adjusted one of us, no surprises there. I'm just hoping I can use that to our advantage now. "We just have to figure out a way to hit back."

[fuelforthefire]

Something is bothering her, something beyond all that happened today. As if either of us needs anything else. I want to put my arm around her when she shudders, but I don't. Things have been too strained between us, and right now I need to focus on this plan we're talking about.

"I started at art school," I say softly, knowing that it was something that Prim said that inspired me to do it. Eventually I'd decided it was the right thing to do, that things were safe here. That we wouldn't have to deal with anything the Capitol would throw at us ever again. How wrong I was.

"We can't let them know this bothers us. We have to act like it's nothing. Like we're friends and we're happy and they didn't get to us at all."

[vocalfuel]

Just hearing him mention art school is enough to make me want to burst into tears on the spot. If it were just me here, I think, I could deal with all of this. I'd probably lose my mind, but I could come at them, fight with more abandon, because I wouldn't have to be worried about the fate of anyone else here. Instead, there's Prim, and there's Peeta, and the both of them were always too good for all of this. They should have gotten to have a life away from it — my sister a chance to have a normal childhood, Peeta to get to do something like go to art school, to really put his skill to good use. Creating rather than destroying, like I only ever seem to do.

I swallow the impulse down with a ragged breath, though. Falling apart now won't do us any good. We're a part of this, and there's no getting away from it. All we can do — all I can do — is try to make sure things don't go the same way they did before. That means holding myself together. That means preparing, planning, strategizing. That means taking Peeta on as an ally, though I don't think anything could get me to stop trying to protect him. I think we might actually work best that way.

He's right, anyway. I think of the wedding we had for Finnick and Annie, briefly, because that's all I can handle, and how powerful it felt, presenting an image of all of us joyous and seemingly carefree, not held back by fear of the Capitol. If we seem happy, they'll get frustrated, thinking their goal hasn't been achieved. That could be our greatest weapon right now. That, and the element of surprise it could give us. Acting like we aren't bothered by this gives us an opportunity to catch them off-guard in turn, being prepared when it will seem like we weren't. That is, if no one is watching us now. "Even like we think this is just something that happens here," I add. "Not something they did."

The strangest part is the idea of acting like we're friends. We've been plenty of things to each other, but I'm not sure that's one we've ever quite managed. It'll be worth it, though. Just having him in my life would be.

[fuelforthefire]

"Right," I agree with relief and worry both. Is the something wrong just how off guard we've been caught by the Capitol? I don't know, but reading her mind isn't a talent of mine. Whatever it is, I need to stop thinking about it, to stop wondering and second guessing. If this is going to work -- and I want it to work -- I have to trust her.

I do trust her. I want to tell her that, and yet something holds me back. Maybe I'm learning after all this time how to act around Katniss that works for both of us. It'd be about time.

It feels good to have a way to move forward, even if it's not a fully fleshed out plan. We've never really been the detailed plan types anyway, generally there wasn't a reason for them, not with how fast things could change in the Capitol and Arena. And this, it seems, was just another Arena. "But we have to get rid of it. Get someone to take it away."

[vocalfuel]

I don't have to think twice before I nod quickly, an insistent agreement. However it looks to whoever might be watching, I don't care. I can't just have that cornucopia sitting there, constantly reminded of what it stands for and what happened there. The initial bloodbath. The feast. Cato and those awful mutts. Just thinking about it being here now is enough to make me want to cry or scream or some combination of the three. To let it just sit there, no matter how much it might help to seem that unaffected, would be a quick way to make me lose my mind completely. That, I think, will ultimately be a more valuable asset. I'll be no good to anyone otherwise.

"We have to," I echo. I'll pay for it myself if I have to, I think, with what money I have saved up. The cause would be a worthy one. "How would we even do that? Who could we call?" I wonder what it's even made of, if that could cause trouble in itself. That would be just like the Capitol. We'll figure something out regardless. There has to be some way to get rid of it.

[fuelforthefire]

Had I known I could have told her my thoughts weren't that far off her own. Cato's screams and the way they wouldn't end until Katniss shot him. The eyes of the mutts and how they were so human. The way I'd felt like a liability not an ally. That part was different. That part was all my own.

That's when I move, I put my arm around her shoulders and hold her near me. If someone is watching all the better, but I don't care. I need it, and right now I think she does too.

"There's someone who collects scrap metal. My sculpture class," I say almost sheepishly by way of explanation. "They told us. In case we need it. He pays for metal."

What he might not be prepared for is Capitol metal. I know this from the day I spent at the hospital when I was having issues with my leg. "We can try."

[vocalfuel]

It's instinctive to want to tense when he reaches for me, with as on edge as I've been since I first heard that mine go off from the woods. I don't let myself give in to it, though. I need him too much right now for that, in a way I haven't in a long time. Instead, I lean in close, letting my head fall against his shoulder, savoring the warmth of his arm around me, the steadiness of his breath. For the moment, he's alright, we both are, and it doesn't matter how awkward things have been here, or what we were or are to each other. It doesn't even matter if anyone is watching. Let them. They should know that we aren't just going to lie down and give up without a fight. Anyone who's thought otherwise hasn't been paying enough attention.

"Can we do that?" I ask, lifting my head again, just enough to catch his gaze. I'm still not sure what kind of success they'll have with the cornucopia, but it's got to be worth a shot, an easy first option. It'll be a good chance, too, to play this like it's just something from home that showed up, not something deliberately meant to rattle us. "Call first thing tomorrow?"

[fuelforthefire]

"First thing," I say, knowing that I'd call now if it wouldn't defeat the entire purpose of what we're planning to do. I try to smile, a half-done wavering thing. It's enough, I think, to show that I think this will work. Right now I'm happy to stay as long as she wants me to, or leave if she wants that. We're talking and in a way that's something to throw in the face of the Capitol. We're stronger together, and they don't know what they've done by starting in this way. "How's Prim?"

[vocalfuel]

"Shaken, I think," I say, one shoulder lifting just slightly. It's not really something I can downplay, but at least it's not the worst case scenario here. I already know what that is. She told me about it a few months ago. As it is, I think that might have me more rattled. The Capitol can come after me however they want. They won't, however, get to hurt my sister again. I'll see to that, and I'll make them pay, too, for what happened before, even if I was never there to see it myself. "But, you know. Not hurt." I want to say that's the most I can ask for, but it's not. I had that already, or so I thought. I'll do whatever I can now to ensure we get back to that. I don't care what it takes.

[fuelforthefire]

"They won't hurt her," I say quietly, resting my cheek against her hair. It's soft, it always has been, a comfortable position even after so long. There aren't many things I feel the need to promise Katniss, but to keep her sister safe and out of the Capitol's games is one of them. No matter how. Prim is more important than me, or her, in my mind. "We'll make sure of that."

[vocalfuel]

They did hurt her, I think, and all of a sudden it's all I can do not to let the words spill from my mouth, or tears from my eyes. I want to scream it, to make sure that everyone knows just how awful these people are, that they'd drop bombs on a little girl who was trying to heal the already-wounded. More than that, I want to tell Peeta, who I know would understand. It's not my secret to tell, though, and if it took Prim over a year to tell me, I can't just spread that information around, not without her say-so first. Besides, it's hardly the worst secret I'm keeping.

"Promise me," I say instead, still close against him, though I keep my chin tipped up so I can meet his gaze. My voice breaks and my eyes are glassy, but I at least manage not to fall apart entirely. I guess everything that's happened today must have tired me out more than I thought. That, or the weight of everything I've kept to myself for so long is wearing me down, but that's not a possibility I want to consider yet. "That whatever happens — if it comes to that, you'll protect her, not me. Please, Peeta."

[fuelforthefire]

Anyone else and I could have argued against it. I could have argued which life was the one worth saving. But between us Prim is truly the innocent. She's the one Katniss volunteered for to save. I meet her eyes and see the desperation in them. My hand moves to curl against her neck and her hair. "I promise."

There's honesty in my eyes, but also pain. This is a promise I'll keep no matter what, even if it kills me to make it. Because I know that without Prim a part of Katniss would die too. "No matter what. If it's you or her, I promise you. I'll protect her."

[vocalfuel]

I believe him. Anyone else, I might not, but I don't think Peeta would tell me that if he didn't mean it, no matter how difficult it might be for him. He knows what losing Prim would do to me. With what I've learned here, it's only the fact that she's still around, and my unwillingness to take that for granted, that's kept me from snapping entirely. I can't put her through that, and I don't want to waste what time we do have. It's been all the more reason to be grateful for what I thought was the lack of a threat here. Now, it's all the more reason to fight back, to make sure it ends, and with Prim safe this time.

"Thank you, " I say, my voice hoarse, not much more than a whisper. Without waiting for a response, I lean in close again, pressing my face into the side of his neck. I could kiss him for it, but when we're trying to be friends, I don't think that would help. Not while I don't know what it would mean. It's just a difficult thing to hold back when it feels like we're in the Arena again, and that was often my best weapon there, something that saved both of our lives, the only comfort I could find. This time, though, the plan is different. Besides, I don't want to hurt him, though that's almost all I've been good for.