Y'all ought to hate my guts at this point. I am kind of the worst, but I plan to make it up to you with this CHAPTER ;)... Love you guys and ENNNJJOOOYYYYYYY!
The next morning a meeting was called. An hour later all of the victors crowded around the Bodie's little dining room table. The mahogany piece was too small to accommodate the amount of people crammed around it like caged wild dogs. In total there were eight of us, four male and four female. Not good odds, especially when you factored in age. Two of the male victors, Andy and Carson were over 60 years old, and their bodies had been destroyed by years of alcohol and morphling abuse. Tryant, the other male was younger, maybe mid 40s if I was being generous, but he had slipped into a kind of drug induced haze about 20 years ago. That left Finnick. The female lineup wasn't much more promising, with Ash having a family, Mags being over 80 years old, and Annie's mental state... That left me. The room was filled with a tense silence, half of the victors taking a particular interest in the woodgrain of the table beneath them. Hank wasn't here, and I found myself wishing that he was. Wishing I could feel his steady, unbroken presence in this room full of damaged people. Tryant was picking at the wood, then at his hair. He jerked suddenly before falling still and slumping forward so that his head hit the table with a loud crack that sounded like a gunshot. Shuddering, I made a mental note to stay away from whatever drug he was currently self medicating with, probably morphling, or something stronger. Ash was bustling around, pouring coffee and tea. Trying to keep herself busy. I met Finnick's eyes from across the table. He sat next to Annie, an arm around her shoulders as she shook and swayed. My heart ached, they didn't deserve this. None of us deserved this.
I cleared my throat, breaking the silence in the kitchen with a blow like one might break a sheet of ice in the winter, "What the hell is Snow trying to do?"
Finnick watched me carefully, "Did you not see the broadcast?"
"What broadcast?"
Andy spoke up, "Where the girl from 12 ran in front of the flogging."
"Katniss?"
The old man nodded, "She interfered with a peacekeeper, the broadcast cut off when she ran in front but the whole country saw it."
My mind was running laps, trying to grasp this new information and file it away. I stayed away from my television, especially the Capitol broadcasts. Unless it was required to view, I wasn't watching. Maybe that might have to change.
"Is that the reason for the Peacekeeper infestation?" I asked and Fin nodded,
"It has to be,"
I sat back in my chair, letting out a long breath. "This isn't just a Quarter Quell, this is an extermination."
Finnick nodded, "That's what it looks like don't you think?"
The gold ring on my finger suddenly felt very cold, and I looked down at the Mockingjay stamped onto the surface.
I forced myself to speak the words I had come up with last night, when sleep wouldn't come. Even while I had been wrapped in Hank's warmth the thought wouldn't leave me alone, "I want to be the female tribute."
Ash dropped the coffee pot onto the hardwood floor.
It shattered.
Nobody moved to grab it.
"Sage you can't do that," She said, her face was ashen, like someone had sucked all the blood from her small body. She looked, how I felt.
"I can. And I will." I stood, pushing my chair back and bracing my arms on the table, "If Snow wants an extermination, if he wants to make it a show, I'm the best one for the job." I gestured to Ash, who was bending down to pick up the pieces of the fallen pot. "You have a family to take care of, Annie is in no shape and," I looked over at Mags, the old woman gazing up at me with sad eyes, "And neither are you Mags. That makes me the best option."
Finnick cleared his throat, "And I'll be the male." I looked up at him, those sad green eyes staring me down, "Sage and I together, we can keep Katniss alive."
"What?"
Finnick tapped his fingers on the table, "Katniss Everdeen is a symbol of the rebellion, keep her alive, keep the rebellion alive."
I twisted the ring on my finger, "She won't be willing to stay alive unless Peeta is alive."
"So we keep them both alive and well, unless of course Haymitch goes in."
"I doubt that's going to happen, unless he volunteers for Peeta."
Ash let out a long breath, "I guess that's all we can hope for."
"So we keep Katniss Everdeen alive. We die like martyrs and pray that whoever is left alive carries on the rebellion?" I said and Finnick nodded. "Well then," I looked around the table, at the ragged group of terrified people, then back to Finnick, who had risen from his own chair. Annie looked so small without the bulk of him at her back. "We have two weeks til reaping day Odair. Let's get cracking."
✧✧✧
The trident on my wall glared down at me like it had a soul. I had drug a chair over and was standing on it as I removed the weapon from above my front door. There was still a dent in the handle from where it had been bent, but it was still intact and sharp. Finnick stood there watching me.
"So we're going to train huh?"
I nodded, "Yup." I grasped the handle, relishing the feel of the cool metal against my hot skin.
"How?"
I shrugged, "I don't know, however they train the careers. Hank might know."
Hopping down from the chair, I clutched the trident in my hand. "I was really hoping I was never going to have to use one of these again." I said and Finnick took the weapon from me as I pushed the chair back to its palace at the dining table.
He swung it experimentally and looked up at me, "It's a lot smaller than something I would use, mine was bigger." He said, handing it back to me,
"It's because I'm smaller than you, I have another one in the shed behind your house. It's bigger."
Slinging the trident over my shoulders, I led him through the house and down the beach. There was an assortment of knives in the gardening shed, and I said a little thank you prayer to every fisherman who had left his knives unattended in their boats. We worked in silence, me passing the knives to him, and him piling them on the sand. "
Start with knife work then?" he asked. It was all I could do to nod.
Thump.
Crack.
Thump.
Crack.
Thump.
Breath in.
Breath out.
In.
And out.
The sound became a rhythm that we worked too day in and day out. Accented by the pounding of the waves on the sand as we fought. Somedays Hank joined us, some days it was just Finnick and I, sparring, running, throwing knives and axes. Slowly, my body stopped its deterioration and gained muscle. My skin tanned from long hours in the sun, and when I looked into the mirror, the girl who looked back at me was starting to look familiar. She even smiled sometimes.
At night Hank would hold me, hold me against the nightmares that got worse the closer the reaping came. He never complained about the screams, the thrashing as I awoke in a cold sweat with tears running down my face. No, Hank would never complain about it. It was the first taste of comfort anyone had offered me in the longest time, and I drank in every moment that I had with him, surrounded by his heavy warmth in the dark hours of the morning.
That was how I felt anyway. It had been the same every night pushing through the pain of memories until pure exhaustion finally won out.
✧✧✧
The night before the reaping, all things seemed to be coming to an end. Dread coiled deep in my gut, and nausea threatened to break over me like a wave. I was sitting on the bed, pretending, if only for a moment, that I wasn't going to be sent to the butchering blocks in the morning. A sacrificial lamb for a greater cause. Anger flared through me, at it all. It wasn't fair, none of this was fair. My thoughts wandered to Finnick, the way he had held Annie tonight at dinner. To Ash, who was washing dishes in the sink downstairs. These two weeks of living with them had shown that her love for her son was greater than any love I had ever felt. I looked down at my pajama pants. For some stupid reason the thought flashed through my mind that I would never get married, never have children. Not that I would want to bring children into this sick and twisted world, but to have that taken from me. To die a young death at the hands of people just like me. No, none of us deserved this, not me, not Peeta and Katniss, hell not even Enobaria deserved to be shipped off like cattle to slaughter. My fingernails dug into my palms, leaving little crescent shaped intents behind and the pain threatened to break open like a dam.
"Sage, I'm coming in." Hank's voice cut through the fading thoughts in my head.
"Okay."
The door creaked open, and he filled the doorway. "You doing alright?"
Quickly, I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my sweater before I looked up at him, and nodded, "Yeah."
Cedar.
Oh gods I had forgotten about my sister, how could I have forgotten about her? She needed something. What was it that she had needed? Lunch. Lunch for tomorrow. That was what it was. She needed, needed...
I jumped up, only to have Hank's hand on my shoulder, "What?"
"Cedar. I need to make her lunch for tomorrow."
He shook his head gently pushing me back onto the bed, his voice was painfully gentle when he spoke again, "Sagie, Cedar doesn't live with you anymore, you can't see her right now."
I slumped back onto the bed, that dread threatening to suffocate me. "Did I just..." It felt like someone had slapped me, bringing me back to the present.
Hank's face was sad when he looked at me again, "It's okay. It happens to mom too."
"I'm going crazy."
He rested his hands on my thighs leaning down to look at me and his touch felt like a brand, "You're not going crazy, sometimes it's a reaction to stress." His blue eyes danced in the fading light of the room, the sound of the waves crashing against the surf distant and fading. Something pulled taught inside of me, like a bowstring. My eyes dipped away.
The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. "I was just thinking that I will never get married, neither will Finnick and Annie."
Hank gave me a sad smile, "I know, but I think," He tipped my chin up, so I was looking him in the eye again, "That anyone would have been lucky to get to marry you, Sage Beatty." A small snort was the answer he got. Taking it as a challenge he leaned in so we were nose to nose, "I'm dead serious, you're amazing."
"I'm a traumatized little girl."
"You're the survivor of all the things that tried to kill you. There's a difference."
I tried to stop my hand as it traveled up to his face, where a lock of blonde hair hung down in his eyes. I was unsuccessful. Brushing it away, Hank leaned into my touch, and that bowstring in my chest pulled tighter. Blue eyes searched my face as his hand came up to meet mine. They were rougher than I thought they would be.
"I'm not so sure I survived."
"You did. Believe me, you did Beatty."
"I believe you."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
A smile crossed his face and he leaned down more, his mouth a few inches from mine, breath hot against my skin.
"Good."
Something pulled at me, as I watched him. "Good."
"I'm going to kiss you now." His voice was husky enough that it took the words a moment to register,
"Okay," the word was a breath on my tongue as his lips came down to cover mine. His mouth was so warm, and for a moment the thought flashed through my head that this was nothing like kissing Chess in the broom closets of the Capitol. Not quick release found in the darkness to distract ourselves from the horrors around us. This was sweet, tender, slow, like he had been waiting for this and wasn't going to waste it. I lost myself to it, to him, as his mouth moved with mine. I let out a soft groan and he was pushing me back against the bed, pressing down on me with his body. My hands traced up his chest, to his back, and finally sunk into his soft golden hair. He shuddered above me and holy gods I was going to explode. Every nerve ending was overloaded.. Not Snow, not the games, not my impending death, just Hank. Then he pulled back, and smirked down at me. He cupped my face, his calluses rough against my skin as he brushed a thumb across my cheekbone and then down to my lips. The touch was feather-light, skating over my skin like he was trying to imprint the feeling in his memory.
"I've wanted to do that for a while."
It was all I could do to keep the drunken smile from my lips, "You don't say?"
"I do say," He leaned down and pressed a light kiss to my temple, then down my face, my cheeks, my ear. A sigh escaped from me as he kissed his way down my neck to my collar bones and back up to my lips again. This time when his mouth met mine I drug him down in an open mouthed kiss that was so different from the soft kiss before. My hands wound in his hair, marveling at how soft it was between my fingers as his mouth moved on mine. Hands skimmed over the flesh under my tanktop leaving gooseflesh in their wake. Sensory. Overload. Hank. My protector against the nightmares and the horrors of this world. He pulled away again, this time rolling off of me. A sound of protest left my lips and he grinned down at me, still sprawled on the bed. "I'm not going to do everything in one night Beatty, I want you to have some incentive to come home alive after all."
I huffed, "It's not like I'm not going to try."
The only answer I got was a raised eyebrow. Damn he was cute, blonde hair all in a tousled mess.
I reached over to straighten it out and he smacked my hand away gently, "If you keep messing with me I don't know if I'll be able to keep that incentive away from you." Laughter bubbled up in my chest before bursting out in a torrent. He only looked on incredulously, "Are you LAUGHING at me Sage Beatty?"
It took me a moment to compose myself. "How do you know I want that incentive?"
He didn't miss a beat reaching over to poke me in the stomach. "Well you can't keep your little hands to yourself." Another giggle broke from me, and he flopped back down onto the bed.
The springs squeaked loudly, and I clapped a hand over my mouth. "Your mom is going to barge in here and demand we put some clothes on."
Hank eyed the door warily. "I don't think she would."
I patted him on the arm, rolling off of the bed. "Never doubt her. Never doubt her."
Dragging the covers down on what had become 'my side,' I snuggled down into the soft down mattress and comforter. Looking up at the white ceiling I felt alright, the nerves in my body singing. For a moment the dread had disappeared. That snake that had been growing in my stomach for the last few weeks had been smothered. It came back with a vengeance as soon as Hank left the room. As soon as he wasn't distracting me with his touches and his words it started gnawing on my insides. Nausea rose in my throat, threatening to overtake me. Pulling the covers back I sat on the side of the bed, my skin that had been so on fire earlier feeling too small. I leaned forward, placing my head in my hands.
Breath in.
Breath out.
I can do this.
No, I have to do this. There's no choice on whether or not I can. I have to and I won't fail them. Not now, not ever.
Okay, please be honest with me... I have never written a makeout scene soooo please let me know because I tried, but it proved to be harder than I thought it was going to be. I love you guys!
All the Love,
Des