Disclaimer: I do not own anything from The Hunger Games trilogy all rights go to Suzanne Collins. I do however own Quinn and her story.
The bright white light was blinding as it burned her ice blue irises, robbing her of vision and orientation. She was almost suffocated by the pungent smell of disinfectant as it hung thickly in the air, coating her lungs as her dry mouth gasped for clean breath. As her eyes adjusted, she viewed her wired prison as cables connected to every viable vein. Panic set in as she tried to stand, only to find her right arm had been anchored to the bed with a thick metal cuff.
Heavy footsteps approached; two marching in perfect synchronisation, one lagging behind. As instinct kicked in, she scanned the room and her eyes landed on the surgical table that sat just out of reach to her left – but that would never stop her. Her cuffed wrist burned against the metal as she stretched as far as she could, racing against the steady beat of the approaching footsteps. Her hand felt as though it might rip from her arm as her fingertips grazed the handle of a scalpel. Gritting her teeth in pain and blinking back the involuntary tears that glistened in her eyes, she lurched forward once more, ignoring the thick warm blood that trickled down her arm from its metal cage as she obtained her weapon and the door slid open.
Without stopping to think, the scalpel left her hand and soared through the thick disinfectant fumed air. A flash of dirty blonde hair whipped round as the blade embedded itself deep into the doorframe.
"Holy Hell, Quinn!" The man yelled in fright as he turned towards her, widened blue eyes meeting her own. Haymitch. "What is it with women trying to kill me with medical equipment, today?" He huffed as he strutted further into the room, followed by two other men that held themselves like soldiers. "Get that off her. She isn't a prisoner."
"Sorry, sir. It was the President's orders."
The dark-haired boy – who appeared to be younger than her – rushed over and removed the restraint whilst muttering numerous apologises that fell on deaf ears. Her reddened wrist fell from the metal cuff and she rubbed it gently before attempting to stand. A soft hiss escaped her lips as she applied her weight to the leg that had been covered in soft white bandages – completely forgetting the explosion that she would later find out had shattered it. As a sharp pain shot through her bones, she tumbled forward only to be caught by the man in front of her.
"You stink of liquor." Quinn mumbled as she gritted her teeth and stood once more.
"I believe the words you were looking for were 'thank you, Haymitch, you are my hero'." The older man retorted, his tone thick with sarcasm. "Be careful on that leg, as miraculous as Capitol medicine is, it's not completely healed."
The stone hallways of the infamous District 13 were dark and felt cold. The hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention and her fingers twitched in anticipation. The new surroundings felt odd to her and despite the familiar face, she wanted to run. She wanted to fight her way out with every ounce of energy that she could muster.
Growling in frustration whenever Haymitch grabbed her arm to aid her in her hobble, she slowly made her way towards the meeting room: "Who else made it out?" She asked trying to mask the concern that shone through her tone.
"Yes, your boyfriend made it out." Haymitch nodded as he slowed down to allow her to catch up once more. "He's not completely himself but he's okay. Refused to leave your bedside until the doctor forced him to sleep." If Quinn had allowed herself to, she would have smiled. She might have even blushed under the man's knowing stare. "The Capitol were going crazy for you during the Games...turns out that the story of the Golden Boy who refused to give up on the cold-hearted girl was a real tear-jerker among the fancy folk." His hair brushed his shoulders as he shook his head with a chuckle whilst the girl scoffed and rolled her eyes, adamant that there was no story.
Another sharp pain rocketed through her shin like an explosion causing her to stop and brace herself against the wall. Breathing deeply through her nose, she slapped the wall with a bubbling rage at her physical weakness until the ripple of muscle jerked the slit on her arm and she was reminded of the tracker, the explosion...
"Where's Peeta?" She suddenly asked as her eyes widened but as her companion shook his head, she felt as if she had been punched in the face. "They got him..." She muttered rhetorically as guilt flooded her senses. In all her years, Quinn had never broken a promise. In all her years, Quinn had never failed to carry out her duties, never once shirked a responsibility. Never failed anyone but herself. Until Peeta. A lump grew in her throat as she clenched her jaw and descended into silence. It was no lie that she could have saved him from the clutches of the dictator; no lie that she could have removed his tracker first but in all honesty, she didn't want to. She had failed him because she had put herself first and for a girl who claimed to have nothing left to live for, she had been all too desperate to make it out alive – to make it home.
Haymitch sighed as she pushed herself from the wall and forced her feet forward, shrugging him off as he offered his arm. As they turned the corner, Quinn blinked hard to force the negative thoughts out of her mind. Grinded her teeth to banish the self-blame. Truth be told, perhaps she did have something to live for; it was him or her and she would never let Snow close enough to reopen the scars that she had spent years stitching.
"Oh." Haymitch muttered, pulling her from her thoughts as they entered a room plastered in technology and numerous maps marked with strategies in unfamiliar codes. "You might want to avoid..." His words were cut short as a fist collided with Quinn's face, forcing it to the left as the impact rippled through her skull. "Katniss." He continued through a sigh as the girl stumbled backwards, the pins in her leg doing nothing to steady her as it bucked under the weight.
"You promised!" The younger girl screamed like a wild animal. Quinn slackened her jaw as she lifted her head and raised back up into a prepared slump, eyes stony despite the shock. The metallic taste of blood in her mouth as Katniss continued. "He trusted you but you were too selfish to put him first."
The brunette girl drew dangerously close to the blonde, anger rushing through her as her arm raised subconsciously. As the men in the room moved to intervene, Quinn's hand caught the smaller fist and bent it backwards as her own fist pushed into the girl's torso. Her demons took over to eliminate the threat as the Mockingjay bend forward. Within the blink of an eye, Quinn's hand was around the girl's throat throwing her backwards into the wall. Adrenaline kicked in and her leg no longer irked her as she concentrated on allowing the girl to live. "I have just about had enough of being treated like the villain. I am sorry that I couldn't save your little boyfriend." She spoke, her voice deathly low and her face a mere inch from the brunette's as her fist provided pressure to her airways – the animal instinct threatening to spill blood. "But if you ever lay your hands on me again, it will be the last thing that you do. Mockingjay or not."
The fear in Katniss' eyes only seemed to spur her on as the blood trickled from her busted lip. All eyes were on her as she held her prey. All breaths ceased under the weight of her threat – her promise.
"Quinn." A voice snapped from behind her. Heavy, uneven footsteps approached as she felt Katniss swallow and their eyes remained locked with one another's. A large hand was soon placed on her shoulder as she felt a presence behind her. "Quinn, let her go." Haymitch's voice spoke as gently as his gruff tone would allow, forcing the animal to retreat into the jungle of her mind. Her eyes remained on her victim as she released her and she was pulled to the opposite side of the tiny room.
"He should have been here." Katniss rasped as her hand reached up, tentatively, to massaged her neck. Her eyes trained on the older girl as her mentor shot her a warning look.
"Want to trade places?" Quinn shot over Haymitch's shoulder, fighting against him as he held her in place and ignoring him as he urged her to stop it. "I'll drag you there myself!"
"Alright, ladies." Plutarch Heavensbee finally uttered uselessly through the thick tension that consumed the room. "I hope we can all resolve our differences..."
As a synchronised scoff erupted from the victors in question, they finally agreed on something as they snapped: "Shut up."
-
She took a deep breath as she pulled open the large iron door that concealed the living quarters. Having woken to the news that Annie had been assassinated during a live broadcast and Prim's warning that the explosion in the arena had affected his ability to concentrate, Quinn had no idea what to expect when she stepped into his room.
The empty claustrophobic quarters were not unlike the others but as she approached the bed, she noticed an uncountable mass of knotted rope. Her dainty fingers danced over his handiwork and her brow wrinkled in slight consideration as she noticed the picture that lay on his pillow; it was a typical day in District 4 and the sunshine radiated off Annie's red hair as she smiled happily at Mags who had her arm linked through a younger Finnick's. Another family that had been ripped apart by the wrath of a tyrant.
"Nice dress." Quinn muttered as the young man entered the room wearing nothing but a white hospital gown.
A smile broke across his tired face as he approached her and immediately pulled her into a tight embrace. No words were spoken as they held onto each other, both thankful to be alive and out of the arena despite the trials that were heading their way. Finnick's muscular arms held her tighter than they had ever held anything as if she were the only tangible thing in his life – terrified that should he left her go, he would find that she was nothing more than a mirage.
"What happened to your lip?" He asked, a soft frown on his face as he pulled back to look at her. "It wasn't bleeding this morning."
"It's nothing." Quinn lied as she awkwardly stepped away from his embrace. "I'm sorry about Annie." She whispered almost inaudibly causing the man to nod and look away from her as he began tying another knot on a long piece of rope.
After a few moments of silence Finnick's head shot up, his gaze almost dreamy as he announced: "You haven't eaten." And wandered purposefully out of the room, expecting her to follow.
Quinn stood for a moment, speechless until she sighed and began the agonisingly slow hobble to the dining hall. With every footstep, her leg would twinge and she could almost feel the pins as they pushed their way through her bones but she was determined to be fighting fit within the week. She almost laughed as she spotted the victor from four marching back towards her looking rather sheepish.
"Sorry. I forgot about your leg." He admitted almost shyly as he held his arm out to her, pleasantly surprised when she accepted it. "I seem to be forgetting a lot lately..."
Every single person that the pair passed greeted them affectionately and with the upmost respect but Quinn hated it. She hated the sympathy that crossed their faces when they looked at the man beside her and she hated when they referred to her as a hero, because she wasn't. The only reason that she had survived the arena was because she had promised herself that she would, because she was promised Snow's last breath. If she was a hero, she would have saved Peeta and she would have found a way to protect her family. If she was a hero, she wouldn't have already considered going rogue.
The dining hall was a little brighter than the corridors but the sandy stone walls were just as depressing. She sat at the end of one of the long picnic style benches and Finnick placed a bowl of soup and a roll in front of her and as he took his place across her, she truly looked at him for the first time since the arena. As his sea-green eyes scanned her blues ones before glancing around the room, she realised how unhinged he looked. A lump grew in her throat as she studied him; the dark circles that cradled his usually bright eyes, the unruly curls that would have given him a heart attack should he see the state of them and the callouses that grazed his fisherman's hands as they wound their way around a piece of rope repeatedly. The man in front of her may have resembled the bold victor from four but it wasn't really him and when the others had warned her of his condition, Quinn hadn't realised how hard it would be to see him like that. Biting her bottom lip, she pushed the vegetables around in the bowl, silently wishing for an annoyingly witty comment to pass between them and willing him to look at her for more than a millisecond. Weakness was something that the victor from five had spent years trying to rid herself of but as she sat across from the man who had persistently tried to befriend her since the day of her victory tour, she realised that she hadn't just found a weakness, she had found something much worse. He was like water to her, she needed him to survive even the most mundane of days but if she slipped any deeper, she would drown and it scared hell out of her.
"Don't make me force feed you." Finnick smiled, finally placing the knotted rope on the table and looking at her as she blinked.
"I'm worried about you." She whispered, as the monitors behind her burst into life.
Over the years, she had grown accustomed to ignoring the broadcasts from The Capitol but as the false chirp of Caesar Flickerman introduced someone that she had believed to be dead, she immediately spun around to face the screens. When Peeta's face appeared, it was as if all sound was sucked from the room. Her heart felt heavy as she exhaled through her nose and slowly rose to her feet.
"I should have just run off with her, earlier in the day like she wanted" The boy on the screen sighed as Katniss wandered towards the screen in awe.
"But you didn't, why? were you caught up in Beetee's plan?" Caesar asked.
"No." Peeta sighed."I was caught up trying to play allies and then they separated us and...that's when I lost her. Quinn and I were trying to find her and..."
"Yes, Quinn Larkin from District 5. There have been many speculations about her role in the plan."
"I don't know how involved she was but to me, she wasn't just an ally...she was my friend and she protected me with her life." Sadness crossed the boy's face as he looked down at his hands. "I owe her my life." Fingers intertwined with Quinn's as everyone in the room turned to look at her. Finnick squeezed her hand in silent support, his eyes speaking the words that needn't be said aloud. Katniss' gaze wandered over to the older girl as the boy appeared to grieve for her and the interview continued. The room remained deafeningly silent as Peeta captivated the audience. "The lightening hit and the whole forcefield around the arena just blew out and we were thrown away from each other."
"Yes, but Peeta, Katniss is the one who blew it out. You saw the footage!"
"No, she didn't know what she was doing." The baker's son argued, "Neither of us knew that there was a bigger plan, we had no idea..."
Quinn sighed and turned away from the screens, anger radiating through her as the boy that she had grown to call a friend was forced to publicly defend himself and Katniss. Finnick looked at her as if she might explode before she slid her hand out of his and made to leave.
"I want everyone who is watching to stop and to think about what a civil war could mean." Peeta's words stopped her in her tracks, forcing her to turn back towards the screens. "We almost went extinct once before and now our numbers are even fewer, is this really what we want to do?" Gasps and scoffs of disbelief and disagreement echoed off the stone walls as the boy spoke to the camera. "Kill ourselves off? Killing is not the answer. Everyone needs to lay down their weapons immediately." Quinn's mouth fell open as the room erupted into outrage and the interview was drowned in shouts.
"Peeta," Caesar's voice broke through the livid room, "are you calling for a ceasefire?"
"Yes, I am."
Finnick tugged on her arm as treacherous accusations were thrown around the room, spreading like wildfire. "We should leave." He suggested as she nodded at him and the dining hall grew rowdier with the shouts of the raging mob. Katniss bolted past them, tears glistening in her eyes as she escaped before the mass turned on the boy's friends, turned on her.
-
"You need to sleep." Quinn stated as she nudged the unwilling victor's foot with hers. It had been about an hour since the broadcast and the pair had been discussing Peeta's motives – both concluding that he was being coerced. She had tried her hardest to keep him talking, to debate different topics with him, in the hope that it would help and aside from the continuous knotting, as he lay beside her, she almost forgot that there was anything wrong. "I'm going to go and check on Katniss."
Finnick scoffed, childishly pouting as he looked up at her from his pillow as she sat beside him with her back against the headboard: "You don't even like Katniss."
A smirk graced her face as she knew that lying was useless. "You need to get better...You're making me care and it's annoying." For the first time since the arena, Finnick laughed as he feigned an apology. "Plus, it's only been a day and I am sick of looking at this mess." She muttered, running her hand through his curls, attempting to tame them as he continued fiddling with the length of rope, a soft smile on his face. "Go to sleep." She ordered as she swung her legs around and stood from the bed.
"Yes, ma'am." The young man smirked as she tossed a blanket towards him. As she pushed open the iron door, she turned back with once last smile. "I'm glad that you're okay, Quinn." Finnick mumbled as he closed his eyes. "I don't know what I would have done if you weren't."
-
Katniss stared at the wall blankly as Quinn entered the room with two glasses and a stolen bottle of whisky.
"I'm sorry about earlier." The brunette whispered, looking up at the older girl as she sat down. "I had no idea that he felt that way about you...I had no idea that you tried to save him."
"He thinks I'm dead." Quinn responded, stubbornly refusing to apologise as she slid a glass across the table to Katniss. "That means that Snow does too."
Silence engulfed the pair as they clinked glasses and took a long swig of the dark alcohol, wincing as it slid down their throats.
"I can't help but think about what will happen to Peeta, whether we win this war or not." Katniss began, "He's definitely not safe there but you heard them in the dining hall...he's not safe here either."
Quinn contemplated her words for a second as she took another, much smaller sip. "I know that my words mean very little to you but, if we can get him back, I wouldn't let them hurt him. I failed him once and I won't do it again."
"I'm sorry about Finnick." The Girl on Fire whispered, "I know how you feel about him."
"He'll get better." Quinn snapped, reluctant to entertain the idea before she sighed softly under the younger girl's stare. "It's like he's a completely different person, sometimes...like he's not even there." She admitted quietly, loathing the vulnerability in her voice.
Wordlessly, Katniss reached forward and placed her hand over Quinn's, causing her to jump from the contact. There was nothing that either of them could say that would console the other in their personal battles. Katniss had the weight of the world on her shoulders and the stress of watching the person she loved fade away under the torture of The Capitol and Quinn had a whole storm of self-loathing and the urge to spill blood whilst trying to fool herself into thinking that she hadn't been foolish enough to fall for the victor with the sandy blonde curls and the sea-green eyes. Yet, despite their differences and their ability to rile each other up to the point of explosion, the remaining female victors were going to make it through the trials of the civil war.
One way or another.