Alistair knocked an arrow, surveying their surroundings warily. Peeta trailed him closely, machete gripped tight, eyes roving the jungle's dark perimeter. Their weapons were aimed outward for now, but muscles remained tensed for the inevitable redirected assault.
"So what happens when that wire's laid?" Peeta murmured. "We just...turn on each other?"
Alistair adjusted his grip on the bow, not yet looking back. "It seems the logical conclusion, however unnatural it feels."
Once the wire was set, the arena would force them to fulfil its goal - to fight until one lone winner emerged bloodied and likely irreparably broken.
Peeta dragged a hand across his face. "I don't know if I can just...attack you all. Even knowing it's what the Gamemakers want."
Jaw tightening, Alistair responded softly, "If you don't strike first, someone else will." He finally met Peeta's conflicted gaze. "I don't relish it either. But hesitation means death here."
Only one would leave the arena alive.
-----
"Peeta!" Alistair shouted, realizing suddenly he and Beetee had vanished from sight.
He whirled towards Finnick. "Do you see them anywhere?"
Finnick peered desperately into the darkness. "Too dark - I can't tell!"
A twig snapped and Finnick halted abruptly, raising his palms. Alistair followed his gaze to see Katniss emerging from the trees, arrow aimed directly at Finnick's chest.
"Katniss, remember who the real enemy is here," Finnick implored carefully.
Alistair pushed in front of him protectively. "What are you doing? Put it down!"
Katniss glanced rapidly between them, seeming to reconsider. Then her eyes flashed with realization. She swiftly turned, shooting high into the invisible dome ceiling. Suddenly everything went blindingly white.
"Katniss get away from that tree!" Alistair roared desperately. An ear-splitting boom drowned his voice as the lightning blast roared down into the arena, triggering a concussive explosion that flipped the earth.
Then everything went dark. His last conscious sensation was a strong pair of arms wrapping tight around him, his body shielded by another as they crumpled to the churning ground. Blackness engulfed him, the rest of the world lost to oblivion.
----
Alistair awoke slowly, head aching. White walls surrounded him and he looked down to see Finnick dozing fitfully, head resting on Alistair's arm.
"Where are we?" Alistair rasped, sitting up and jostling Finnick awake too.
"On a hovercraft bound for District 13," Finnick answered, rubbing his eyes. "It still exists underground apparently."
Alistair glanced around, puzzled. "How is that possible? Why are we here?" His brain felt sluggish.
"Plutarch Heavensbee double-crossed Snow. Pulled strings to get us extracted from the arena after Katniss blew it up," Finnick explained. "She and Beetee are safe on board too."
Alistair scrubbed a hand over his face, absorbing the revelation. Then he tensed. "What about Peeta? And Johanna, did they make it out?" Dread filled his tone.
Finnick averted his eyes regretfully and Alistair's heart sank. "The Capitol captured them during the chaos..."
Alistair roughly pulled the monitors off and swung his legs over the bed's edge.
"What are you doing?" Finnick demanded, grabbing his shoulders.
"I'm going back for them," Alistair said fiercely. "We can't leave Johanna and Peeta there." He swayed unsteadily.
Finnick pushed him back down. "Alistair, listen to me! You can barely stand, you're in no state t-"
"Don't coddle me," Alistair cut in heatedly. "What do you think is happening to them right now?"
Finnick kept him pinned firmly against the pillows. "You have a concussion and broken bones," he argued. "How far would you get?"
Eyes blazing, Alistair retorted, "Far more than the rest of you apparently! Would you even be trying to rescue me if the roles were reversed?" He searched Finnick's face beseechingly.
Finnick turned away, guilt lining his expression which was answer enough.
Alistair shook his head bitterly. "That's what I thought. So don't tell me to abandon them. I won't do it." He slumped back, head throbbing but jaw fixed stubbornly.
Alistair glared accusingly. "Does Katniss know you didn't rescue Peeta?"
Finnick winced. "Not yet, we didn't want to overwhelm her after the explosion-"
"Overwhelm her?" Alistair demanded, eyes blazing. "What do you think is going to happen when she finds out?"
"We'll get her to understand eventually..." Finnick said, but doubt tinged his voice.
Alistair let out a harsh laugh without humor. "Understand that her supposed allies left the person she loves most behind to die?" Venom dripped from every word. "She won't. And I can't say I do either."
"Hey I didn't make that call!" Finnick said defensively.
"Doesn't matter, she'll blame you all the same," Alistair stated. "We went back for allies before. But I guess only certain lives matter enough."
He turned away bitterly, stewing in grief and helplessness. However it had gone down with the extraction teams, the damage was irreversible - losing Peeta would shatter Katniss to the core.
And Johanna...Alistair shuddered imagining her fate. Finnick reached for him hesitantly but Alistair recoiled from his touch, the wound far too raw.
Two people he began to care for were being tortured at this very moment. No excuses could erase that searing reality.
----
Alistair was with Finnick, Haymitch and Plutarch reviewing Peeta's rescue odds when Katniss barged in.
"Morning, sweetheart," Haymitch greeted before Katniss slammed him against the wall, spitting venom.
"What are you doing consorting with them?"
Haymitch pinned her firmly. "Watch it! We're all on the same side."
Katniss glared at Alistair too. "What are you even doing in here?"
"Stop! He didn't know details," Haymitch insisted. To Katniss he explained, "We couldn't risk Snow overhearing plans to get you out."
Plutarch stepped forward. "You've been central to the revolution from the beginning. The Mockingjay."
Katniss looked bewildered. "What revolution? Where's Peeta?"
"Half the tributes were part of the plan to get you out, Katniss," Plutarch revealed gently. "I'm afraid Peeta wasn't recovered...but he may still be of use."
Katniss gripped the back of a chair in horror. "You left him there?"
"We're on route to District 13 now," Plutarch offered, as if it helped. "The fight begins in earnest."
Katniss slammed the table "Where's Peeta?"
Haymitch grimaced. "He still had his tracker. Johanna cut yours out before they reached her."
Finnick broke in gently, "The Capitol jet got him and Johanna, we couldn't-"
"YOU PROMISED YOU'D SAVE HIM OVER ME!" Katniss exploded at Haymitch. She rained weak punches against his chest in grief and fury as she accused him again and again of breaking vows.
Alistair turned away, unable to watch it any longer. "I told you this would happen," he said bitterly before striding from the room. Behind him, Plutarch sedated a hysterical Katniss while Haymitch tried placating her.
----
Weeks had passed in the cold spartan confines of District 13. Everyone wore the same dreary jumpsuits day in and day out.
Alistair spent most hours buried alone in old books and records in the back of the crude excuse for a library they had.
Anything to keep his mind occupied, to numb himself from ceaseless worrying about Johanna and Peeta back in Snow's clutches.
He could sense Finnick hovering outside the stacks before he finally stepped in.
"You know I didn't want to leave them behind," Finnick started hesitantly. "If I'd had any say..."
Alistair exhaled slowly, gaze still on the dusty pages. "I know," he replied dully. "You wouldn't have chosen that." He finally met Finnick's regretful eyes. The guilt was written clearly across his face.
Finnick opened and closed his mouth uncertainly. He stepped closer. "I swear, if I could go get them right now, I would. Whatever it took. You have to believe that." His sea-green eyes pleaded for understanding.
Looking upward, Alistair gave a small nod after a strained beat. Intellectually he knew the rescue hadn't been Finnick's call; he'd just been caught powerless in the gears too.
"We'll get them back," Finnick continued fervently. "Both of them. One way or another. Alright?"
He waited anxiously for Alistair's response, shoulders tensed as if preparing for accusations or rejection.
He wanted absolution but knowing he deserved none just yet. Not while their friends suffered endlessly because of failure to save them too.