Spark to Flame: A Finniss Story

Pt II: Flood to Wave

Katniss sits on the beach, admiring the sunset with Peeta as the others tend to themselves a ways down the shore.

She plays with the pearl in her hands, rolling it between her digits and covering it with countless fingerprints as she memorizes the feel and texture of it. She still feels the sting of Finnick's words, an unpleasant feeling tainting her otherwise cool demeanor like a drop of ink in a bowl of water. She glares at the sand beside her, feeling nothing but hatred for the tiny, unfeeling particles that are obliviously unaware of her unfounded opinion on them. She wishes they would burst into flames.

"I think we should go," she says suddenly, turning her head to look at Peeta.

It was true. They should go. It was only smart, considering that once the threat of the Careers was out of the way it would be three against two, and the chances of them surviving against hardened veterans of the Games was unlikely. And besides, she doesn't like these people. She doesn't want to have to deal with their hurtful words and annoying attitudes and grating voices and confusing behaviors anymore. She just can't.

"Why?" Peeta asks. "The plan...it's gonna work."

He's referring to Beetee's idea to take the copper wire he'd obtained and wrap it around the lightning tree, trailing the coil through the jungle and into the ocean where the lightning can travel along it and fry everything in its path when it strikes, thus killing the Careers. She herself has no doubt in her mind that it will work, Beetee being the genius that he is. But then of course, it's not the possibility of failure that she's referring to.

"I know it will," she says, clarifying herself. "But when the Careers are finally dead we both know what's gonna happen next."

She doesn't elaborate on what she's insinuating, and she doesn't need to, either. Peeta knows what she's talking about, and looks down at the sand and plays idly with his fingers.

"...Well what if it doesn't end like that?" He whispers, not looking at her. "What if we all refuse to kill each other?"

She shakes her head. "We would still be dead."

"Maybe not," he insists, looking earnestly at her. "I mean...if it worked for us last time, why wouldn't it work now?"

"We barely survived the last time, Peeta! Two Victors? Have you ever heard of such a thing? That's crazy enough as it is! Do you really think they'll let five Victors come out of the Games unharmed?"

She doesn't want to be cruel, but she needs to squash the unrealistic hopes he has going through his head. He'll only be disappointed in the future.

"There's only going to be one person walking out of here alive," she says softly. "And it's going to be one of us."

She almost says 'you', that it's going to be you that walks out of here, but she knows that if Peeta knew about her deal with Haymitch to get him out of the Quell alive he would do everything in his power to rail against it and make sure that didn't happen. It's admirable, how deeply he seems to care for her, but also a weakness. And there can be no room for weakness in the Games.

"Look, the Careers are still out there right now," Peeta reasons. "We should at least stick with these guys until midnight. And...when we hear the first cannon...we go."

She stares at him quizzically, surprised at his intellect, and sees that he is one hundred percent sincere in his words. She turns her head to look at Johanna and Beetee, sitting and talking on the beach further down the shore, and thinks about how she wouldn't be able to bring herself to kill Beetee, but that Johanna would probably have no problem with it. And yet there they were, sitting and talking like old friends, like they're not about to fight each other to the death in just a few hours.