Losing the Mockingjay

Last night she didn't come to me. She went to him. Not me.

She passes right by my family and I and went straight for the Capitol's sex god for comfort. He gave her his rope he's been playing with and they just sat there, her tying knots, him watching, while I just stared from afar, crushed she hadn't sought me out.

I'll never compete with anyone that's been in the Games. I'll never understand their bond because I really, truly don't understand. There's a huge difference between watching them on a television screen and experiencing it. Being in that dumb arena changes you. And anyone who survives that horror is connected automatically. I cannot compete with that! Never!

The only time I ever get her attention is when I'm hurt. I tested out that theory a few days ago. Though the tears that came out of it weren't fake. I have never let myself do that in front of her. I've always tried to remain strong, but it's so hard lately.

I'm torn between wishing I would have volunteered and thinking that's a stupid idea. I would've died keeping her alive, but there's no guarantee she'd win in those circumstances. But then we wouldn't be in the situation we are right now. In the middle of a nationwide war. Our home blown to smithereens. So many people we knew are dead. Gone. That leaves hardly anytime to think about whatever we have between us.

And him. And the other one.

Jealousy sucks. A lot.

"Can we have a coffee?" he asks. Finnick Odair: the victor from District Four. The Capitol's sex god with the reputation he had.

Just minutes ago, the whole district was stuffed in bunkers. I thought we were far enough underground before. That was nothing compared to where we were during the bombing. All three of us -Katniss, Finnick, and I- were in line filing out, finally, when Boggs came for her, but signaled for us to come too. Now we're at Special Defense, in a room exactly like the other Command. We're informed we need to be dressed up and put above ground for shots that show that we're alive. Then that's when he asks for the drinks.

Katniss has never really liked the stuff, so I'm surprised when she takes a cup. At first she just stares at him sourly, but then Finnick dumps in some cream and holds the sugar bowl.
In a voice that makes my skin crawl, he asks, "Want a sugar cube?" She actually smiles at that.

Ugh, I want to puke.

Then in a different, less skin crawling tone, "Here, it improves the taste." And he adds some in her cup. I just gulp down the stuff, trying not to glare.

Then we're off to get suited up. And again, I try not to stare or glare at the pair of them, but she catches me, and I quickly look away. Great, now she must know how I feel about this whole situation. In no time, we're making the long and winding trip to get above ground. We meet up with a camera crew. Since the bombing made some places unstable near the top, we have to walk most of the way, and climb a series of ladders.

Boggs pulls a lever above the final ladder to open us up to fresh air. I buzz comes over my body, though that may have to do with the coffee. I take long deep breaths, wanting to take it all in at once. it's been way too long since I've been out here. I know I'll never take fresh air for granted again. I hear Katniss doing the same thing.

We all step out into the wooded area, which almost feels like home. She bends down to run her hands over the discoloring leaves. "What day is it?" she asks. They don't have calenders in our quarters. I'm curious too. I know we've been here for about a month and a half, but that's it.

"September begins next week," Boggs tells her.

Distractedly, she picks up a leaf and I notice that she's shaking. I have to resist the urge to rush to her side before Finnick can, but neither of us move in her direction. Everyone just begins to make our way around the piles debris and huge craters. Boggs makes a comment that anyone one on the first ten floors would've been killed.

"Can you rebuild it?" I ask.

"Not anytime soon." He gestures to the closest one. "That one didn't get much. A few backup generators and a poultry farm. We'll just seal it off."

I nod in response and say no more.

Eventually we go into the fenced area. The little bit of District Thirteen that did exist above ground was demolished. There use to be a few guard stations here or there, the training area, and part of the housings stuck up from the ground. Well, not anymore. That stuff was never meant to withstand bombs of any kind.

Haymitch was the first to say anything. "How much of an edge did the boy's warning give you?" Peeta's warning. I wasn't there to see it for myself, but apparently he went nuts on camera. He wasn't himself, which, I guess should be expected in the hands of the Capitol. I wouldn't expect anything less. It's the only option they have since they can't kill him. Or should I say they can, but they won't.

"About ten minutes before our systems would've detected the missiles."

Katniss steps forwar. "But it did help, right?"

For her sake, I hope it did.

"Absolutely," he assures her. Relief is clear on her face. "Civilian evacuation was completed. Seconds count when you're under attack. Ten minutes meant lives saved."

As the camera crew begins to shoot Katniss in front of the rubble that was the Justice Building, I see something that makes no sense. By the entrance, there's two bundle of roses, a mixture of pink and red, just lying there. But then there's also this unnatural scent, but its too strong to be coming from the flowers.

Am I imagining this?

"Hey," I say, getting everyone's attention and nodding toward the flowers. They all slow down and look to where I nodded.

"Don't touch them! They're for me!" shrieks Katniss.

I look at her dumbfounded. Is this some signal from Peeta or something? Some secret code? Some cheesy, romantic gesture. You have got to be kidding me! I have to hide my disgust. But then she explains everything.

They're from none other than President Snow. This time I don't hide my disgust.

Katniss is seriously freaked out about the flowers. It's making her skittish. He's messing with her. And it makes me want to kill him myself. Even more so, I should say. Men in haz-mat suits have to take them away, but she's sure they have nothing dangerous about them.

Once that's settled, the camera crew begin to set up to shoot her again, but I can tell she's getting anxious. She's squinting against the light, and sweating, though there's a breeze. She's also on the verge of hyperventilating. "So, what exactly do you need me to do again?" she asks.

"Just a few quick lines that show that you're alive and still fighting," says the woman of the crew, soothingly. Cressida, I think.

"Okay..." Everyone gets into position and we wait for her to say something. And wait. And wait. I look at her sympathetically, because I'll never be under the pressure she's under, and I wish I could help. "I've got nothing," she finally says.

Cressida goes over to her. "You feeling okay?" She nods, but Cressida still takes out a cloth to blot her face. "How about we do the Q and A thing?" she suggests.

"Yeah. That would help, I think." She crosses her arms, but she's still shaking. And then she looks over Finnick, who looks pretty bad himself, but gives her a thumbs up. Another stab of jealousy hits me.

"So Katniss. You've survived the Capitol bombing of Thirteen. How did it compare with what you experiences on the ground in Eight?"

"We were so far underground this time, there was no real danger," she starts, and I sigh with relief. Atta girl. Keep going. "Thirteen's alive and well and so am-" but her voice cuts off in a squeak.

Oh no. This isn't going to end well. I can feel it.

"Try the line again. Thirteen's alive and well and so am I."

Katniss takes in a long breath. "Thirteens's alive and so am-" She forgot a part.
This is definitely not going to end well. No doubt about it.

"Katniss, just this one line and you're done today. I promise. Thirteen's alive and well and so am I."

Desperate to get this over with, because she'll probably run and hide afterwards, she swings her arms to loosen up. She balls her hands in fists and puts them on her hips. Katniss opens her mouth to say the stupid line, but I know what's coming. Katniss just starts crying. Looks like the jig is up.

She knows the little secret.

"Cut," sighs Cressida.

"What's wrong with her?" asks Plutarch. I want to throttle him. Just pick from the long list! She's a seventeen year old girl who's lost her home, been in the Hunger Games not once but twice, she's the face of the rebellion, and the guy she's possibly in love with is being held captive by the Capitol. Idiot!

"She's figured out how Snow's using Peeta," says Finnick. And everyone lets out a sigh.

She blubbers out a name and throws herself into Haymitch's arms. Not mine. Again, there's that special bond of victors I'll never have with her. He pats her back. "It's okay. It'll be okay, sweetheart."

"I can't do this anymore," she sobs into his chest.

"I know."

"All I can think of is- what he's going to do to Peeta- because I'm the Mockingjay!" She sobs harder.

"I know."

"Did you see? How weird he acted? What are they- doing to him?" She starts gasping for air, and Plutarch takes out a needle. I narrow my gaze. That's not necessary. "It's all my fault!" she sobs. And that's when he jabs her in the arm with the needle and she's out.

"Did you really have to knock her out?" I complain.

Plutarch cocks an eyebrow. "She was being hysterical."

Haymitch struggles to keep her upright, so I pick her up and cradle her in my arms. "Well, how did you expect her to react to something like this?"

"I was hoping she'd never figure it out." He rubs his temples. "I'm afraid we don't have a choice; we're sending a team for Peeta." The man turns to us. "We can't lose the Mockingjay now. We'll definitely have to blow some covers, but she won't be able to perform while he's still out there."

I look down at the girl in my arms, the girl I love, and groan. Then I step forward. "I'm in. I want to help."

I have to do something to help. I can't stand seeing her that way. Once Peeta's back, I may lose her forever, but as long as she's not breaking down constantly, I don't care. I love her, but obviously she needs him more than she needs me. And I know it may very well cost me my life volunteering to go on this mission to return him to her, but as long as she's alive, I can deal with the terms.