CHAPTER 8. A New Panem
When I look back on the last few months, all I see is a blur of anger, anguish and regret. What started out as a way to help the rebels in their efforts to free a country, ended up as the cold-blooded murder of hundreds of children.
I'm ashamed to say my hands aren't clean.
I know that I'll never be able to change or erase the things I've done. I can only hope all the destruction I left along my path won't be in vain.
We did manage to free Panem from its oppressors, after all. The Capitol is no longer what it once was. We're not slaves anymore, and I know I'll spend every waking moment of my life trying to make sure we stay this way. I have to. I owe it to them. All those who gave their lives so that we could have a better one.
I can't bring them back to life. The children, the soldiers, and the volunteers who died on the battlefields and on the streets of their towns are gone forever, as are those who died trying to help the wounded and the lost. All that is left for me to do is honor them with my commitment to the country which was bought with their blood.
XXXXX
We walked along the streets of the Capitol. Storefronts and buildings which had once been full of life stood by empty, what was left of their bright façades a sharp contrast from the despair and destruction which encircled us.
I looked around me. We were surrounded by hundreds of hungry, scared citizens. They walked in small, compact groups, huddled against the cold. They were all trying to reach the president's mansion.
I was surprised to discover that, under all their nervousness and anxiety, I could still find a glimmer of hope in their eyes. These people still believed that President Snow had answers for them. They still thought their lives would go back to what they used to be. I hoped with every fiber of my being that they were wrong.
As we moved forward, I thought about President Snow. He'd clearly been expecting an attack like this one for years. He must have been terrified if he had felt like he had to arm the Capitol like that, I mused.
I had to stifle a laugh as I realized that the weapons which had been installed to protect the Capitol and its inhabitants, were the same ones that were destroying their beloved city right in front of their eyes.
A smug voice inside my head pointed out that President Snow must have been desperate if he was willing to let his city burn down to the ground.
Suddenly, I heard a loud cracking sound. The earth moved under our feet as a seam opened up down the center of the block. The huge gap kept growing, eating everything in its path.
In a desperate attempt to stay out of the enormous hole which was about to devour us, I reached out for the first thing I could grab. It turned out to be a decorative iron grating which wrapped around the door to an apartment building. I held onto it as tightly as I could. It would have been easy enough to access the building if the door had been open. I kicked on it, trying to get someone's attention, but no one answered my call.
I heard Katniss's voice calling from my right. "Cover yourself!" she yelled.
I could see her lifting her gun, so I turned away.
She pointed her weapon towards the lock and started drilling it with gunfire.
After a few seconds, the door flew open swinging into the foyer of the apartment building. I threw myself through the open doorway and landed in a heap on the floor.
I had barely recovered from the fall when a large set of hands settled on my shoulders. I was surprised by how tight their grip was until I turned around. Peacekeepers. I knew those white-gloved hands would never let go of me.
I turned back around to face the street. I could still see Katniss through the open doorway. The shocked expression on her face told me she knew I had been caught.
I didn't want my captors to know I wasn't alone, so I mouthed my request. I hoped my hunting partner was close enough to read my lips and that she'd be willing to keep her promise.
"Shoot me," I said through silent lips.
I braced myself, expecting the impact of the bullet that would come flying through the door, piercing into my flesh and ending my life, the bullet that would keep me safe from my enemies.
No shot was fired. No bullet ever came.
As the peacekeepers hauled me back into the depths of the building, I managed to get one last message out. "Go!" I yelled.
The butt of the peacekeeper's rifle landed on my shoulder. A bolt of pain exploded on the spot and ran down my spine. My whole body went numb. I could barely register the rhythmic throbbing that radiated from the point of impact.
My mind flew back to the town square in District 12. The sound of Thread's whip flying through the air, the endless pain that seemed to multiply every time the lash hit my skin, the smell of snow covered in blood. I closed my eyes and hoped that they'd be done with me before they found out who I was. The last thing I felt was the coldness of the hard marble floor against my face.
I came to some time later, gagged and bound to a large armchair. My head hurt, and my left shoulder felt like it was on fire. My mouth was dry, the rancid taste of whatever they'd gagged me with made me nauseous. I wondered if I'd been unconscious for very long.
My eyes scanned the room. It was a study with a large elegant wooden desk. There were a couple of couches upholstered in soft worn leather. I could see an empty fireplace to my right and the biggest bookcase I had ever seen stood on the wall across from it; row upon row of colorfully bound volumes lined its shelves. I had seen enough of the Capitol to know we were inside an abandoned apartment.
My two captors must have felt quite confident about my binds because they had their backs turned to me. They were standing in front of the open window, looking out. The screams of people trying to escape the massive hole which had opened across the middle of the street could still be heard. One of the peacekeepers held a radio transmitter in his left hand.
Suddenly, everything changed.
The distinctive sound of bombs going off filled the air.
My mind turned to Katniss. Had she managed to reach the president's mansion? Could she be responsible for the explosions I was hearing? Was she creating a diversion by using her explosive arrows? No, that didn't make any sense. There were too many explosions, and they were too close together; there was no way a single person could do that. So, what then? Had the rebels reached the surrounding streets, or were the loyalists attacking the crowds?
My mind raced around madly. I could feel my heart jumping wildly inside my chest. I took a deep breath.
The cold winter air stuck in my throat. The smell of snow, powder and ashes tickled my nose, and I thought I was going to pass out again. I held my breath for an instant, my eyes stung with unshed tears. I focused my attention on the two peacekeepers standing in front of me, rooted to their spots by the window. An eerie wave of silence settled in.
Suddenly, a loud piercing ringtone filled the air. The peacekeeper turned a knob on his radio transmitter, and the noise died down.
"Attention all units," said the mechanical voice which came through the wire "there has been a level 1 security breach. The President's mansion is under attack. I repeat. The President's mansion is under attack. All available units must report back immediately. Search and rescue teams will be allowed into the area to assist the wounded. Caution is advised. End transmission."
The device had hardly gone quiet when a new avalanche of explosions filled the air.
The second round of bombs didn't last as long as the first one, but I could feel every blast resonating against the walls of the room. Every tremor of the building reminded me of my district, of my people, who had been consumed by flames while running for their lives.
Silence settled once more, and my captors started talking amongst themselves. They tried to keep their voices quiet and even as they spoke, but I knew what they were talking about. They were clearly conflicted as to how to proceed. An attack on the President's mansion could only mean one thing; the rebels had reached the City Circle and were pushing their way through.
I could see the fear in their faces. If the rebels took over the city, what would happen to them? Eventually, they seemed to reach a conclusion, they turned around to face me and said, "So, Solider Hawthorne, what do you say we let you go?"
I could feel a small smile tugging at my lips. They had reached the same conclusion I had. President Snow's fortress had been broken into; he had probably been captured. The Capitol was no more. We had done it. We were free.
XXXXX
On the days that followed, I learned about the bombs and how they had rained, concealed inside parachutes, like a gift from the sky.
I found out about the children, who had been huddled together as they tried to keep warm from the falling snow. Their cheeks had been red from the cold wind's kiss, and their eyes had been wide with fear. I learned about the hovercraft which had settled over their heads and saw how their young, innocent faces lit up when the parachutes were dropped. The promise of food or sweets making them smile and giggle in anticipation.
I saw shock and horror overcoming them once the explosions began.
The despair and agony of those who were injured by the first blast and their cries for help; the grim determination of the medics who rushed to their rescue. The thunderous blasts of the second round of explosives, and the balls of fire which swallowed everyone in their path. Everyone. These were the images that would haunt me wherever I went. These were the sounds that would keep me up at night. These were the people I hadn't been able to save. These were the people I had condemned to die.
I also learned about Prim, sweet, gentle Prim. With her soft smile and her cheerful laugh. The young girl who had watched over me after my whipping, who had washed my wounds and held my hand, was gone. She had been fearless, much like her sister, always thinking about other people's needs before her own. She'd been blessed with the power to heal, and she was on her way to becoming an amazing doctor.
Not anymore. She wouldn't become anything anymore.
XXXXX
As I walked along the long, spacious hallways of the president's mansion, I thought about the images I had just seen reflected on the TV screen. I could tell something was off, my eyes had seen one thing, but my mind stubbornly insisted on challenging it. I'd seen the group of children assembled outside of the President's Mansion, and the large Capitol seal imprinted on the hovercraft's side. I'd seen the parachutes which were commonly used in the areas fall from the sky. They were like shimmering butterflies that everyone in Panem associated with hope. The Capitol had always used them to deliver good news. Generations of tributes had eagerly awaited and welcomed their arrival.
I knew President Snow and his minions were capable of anything. Hadn't they spent the last 75 years sentencing children to die? But I couldn't understand why they'd use their last available hovercraft to attack what had worked as a protective shield instead of using it to run away from their attackers. It just didn't make sense, and my obstinate mind refused to accept what my eyes had seen.
There was also the fact that the idea of placing someone in danger, just to attract someone else into your trap, seemed awfully familiar. Yes, President Snow had used that tactic once before but, unlike his plan –which had been carefully calculated to break a single person– this had been developed with a larger target in mind.
As hard as I tried, I couldn't deny that the bombs which had killed all those defenseless children looked a lot like the ones Beetee and I had designed back in Thirteen's labs.
I walked around aimlessly for a while, trying to organize my thoughts. Eventually, my feet led me to the wing of the mansion which had been recently turned into a clinic.
The walls alongside the corridors had been stripped of all paintings and ornaments and had been scrubbed clean. The smell of strong disinfectant prickled my nose. I walked on silent hunter's feet and used the constant beeping and whirring of the machines inside the rooms to guide me.
I had almost reached the end of the hallway when I found the door to Peeta's room. It had been left ajar and, as I peaked through the slight opening, I was able to make out the silhouette of the glass tube which protected his sleeping form. I stepped into the room carefully, not wanting to disturb the victor's sleep.
As soon as I saw him, I knew how ridiculous that notion was, anyone looking could see that he'd been heavily sedated. How else could he stand being locked inside that tube?
I walked up to his bed and laid my hand on top of the glass cylinder which encased him. I could see the patchwork of skin grafts that covered his arms and chest and that showed the path the flames had left on his skin. He looked as if he'd held a ball of fire in his arms.
My eyes watered as the images I had just seen rushed back into my mind. The whole world had gone up in fIames. And Katniss had been in the middle of it all, a girl on fire exploding in Peeta's arms.
I had seen him wrapping his arms around her incandescent form, desperately trying to protect her, to keep her safe. There hadn't been a trace of hostility left in his actions. The hateful mutt who had tried to strangle and destroy her in District Thirteen was gone. The man who lay in front of me had pushed through confusion and pain and had risked his life for the girl who had kept him sane inside the dark sewers and twisted corners of the Capitol's streets.
I stood there for a long while, my hand flat against the cold, smooth glass, and my eyes trained on the beeping monitor which kept track of every beat of Peeta's heart. The sound was rhythmic and soothing, and my mind started drifting towards Katniss.
I knew she wasn't going to be in good shape once she woke up. Her mind was probably going to be trapped inside that dark place where guilt and regret reside. I could almost see her, dragging her feet along corridors, hiding in dark corners, locking herself away from the world, willing herself to die one shallow breath at a time.
She'd hardly survived losing Peeta, how was she going to survive this? How was she supposed to wrap her mind around the fact that the young girl she'd devoted her life to was gone? What was she going to do once she figured out that those plans I'd developed, plans she'd despised so much, were the ones which had been used to take her beautiful sister away from her?
I closed my eyes and let the tears that had been itching to escape run freely down my cheeks. The quiet sobs I had been trying to control got caught inside my chest, choking me. So I relented and let them take over.
My knees gave up, and I collapsed in a heap on the floor. I wrapped my arms around my waist, and I cried.
I cried for the father I lost when I was no more than a child.
I cried for those nights when my mother had gone to bed hungry as she tried to provide for her children.
I cried for the hours I had spent trapped underground, trying to push my way through walls of coal that stuck to my skin and poisoned my lungs.
I cried for the lost innocence of every child in Panem. For all those kids who'd been forced to stand by, as the Capitol gambled their lives away. And I cried for those who had been chosen, who had been carried into distant arenas where their dreams had been shattered, and their futures had been lost.
I cried for Katniss, the girl who had been my hunting partner and the woman who had made me want to settle and start a family of my own.
I cried for Peeta and for the fact that he was all alone, inside that sterile room, with no one to hold his hand; no one to tell him that everything was going to be ok.
I cried for Prim, the girl I had vowed to protect. The girl I had failed to save. The girl who had died because of my anger and my pride.
I had been so ready to punish the Capitol for their actions. So eager to show District Thirteen's leaders that their faith in me hadn't been misplaced, that I had let my thirst for vengeance blind me.
I had spent years complaining about President Snow and his tactics. At that moment, I knew that I'd been no better. I'd hid in my neat little lab, protected and removed from reality, as I'd gambled other people's lives away.
After a while, the sobs and the tears subsided, and I began breathing normally. I was so tired that I had no fight left in me. I could feel every muscle in my body going limp as the bitter taste of failure danced in my mouth.
XXXXX
Days turned into weeks, and before I knew it, a whole month had gone by.
That month was all it took for the rebel army to dismantle the entire infrastructure of President Snow's government. Cabinet members and government officials were removed from their positions and thrown in jail. Mass military trials were held.
Most of the accused were quickly sentenced to death. Their involvement in the Hunger Games and other acts of oppression had turned them into easy targets for the populace's hatred. No one pitied them or tried to defend them. A swift execution was all the mercy they were going to get. I'll admit that, in some cases, it seemed like they were being let off easy.
I sometimes wondered how 75 years of rule could be wiped out so quickly. Now that the monsters had been locked behind bars I realized how small they were. They had seemed invincible, but that was only because the districts had made them so. Without the energy, food, machinery and supplies that we produced they'd been lost.
The more I thought about it, the more I questioned Thirteen's decision to wait for so long. Why had they stood by as these tyrants took away our dignity and our strength when our freedom could have been so easily obtained? The answer to that was simple; it had been etched into my brain during my training lessons. We were weak; they'd said, we were outnumbered, we had been cut away from the rest of the country. All those things were true, of course, but so was the fact that their children had been exempted from the Hunger Games. I was willing to bet that the fear of losing their offspring to the Capitol would have made them react a lot sooner.
I also couldn't ignore the fact that once the fighting had begun they'd still held back, staying safely hidden behind Panem's borders.
While districts like Five and Eight were being razed to the ground, the organized army of Thirteen had crafted artificial propos and polished its nuclear weapons. I understood why they hadn't deployed their nuclear warheads; they were trying to preserve what little of Panem we still have. But I still resented the fact that a militarized state would just stand back while others, who were less prepared for battle, did their fighting for them. From what I could gather, I knew that they'd been following the uprisings right from the start. And President Coin had been a part of the rebel plot that began in the Capitol and ended with Katniss's release from the Quarter Quell arena. Why hadn't she done anything to prevent Twelve's destruction? What had my district done to deserve a death sentence?
I knew that the answers to those questions would only disappoint me, so I never asked them. I never forgot them, though. I carried them inside of me as I walked around the new government's headquarters and performed my duties as assistant to the new Head of Security. I kept them in the back of my mind as I talked to our freshly appointed leaders. And I thought about them every night, as Beetee and I tried to follow any and all trails which connected our lab's results to the upper echelons of Thirteen's leadership and their Control Center.
As the month drew to a close, President Snow was sentenced to death. Unlike his collaborators, he wouldn't be facing a firing squad. President Coin wanted to use his execution to send a message. Now that she was effectively in charge, she needed to introduce herself to the country which had bled to put her in office. She wanted everyone to see her, standing tall and proud, as her enemy was punished for his crimes.
Snow's death represented the end of an era. The days of misery and hunger were over. The old tyrant's death would bring peace, unity and stability among the districts. The promise of a better tomorrow hung in the air and Coin wanted everyone to know that she'd be the one who would be turning it into a reality.
The new President knew that, as much as she wanted to, she couldn't be the one to pull the trigger. After all, she wanted to be recognized as a leader, not an executioner. So, as much as it pained her, she was going to have to rely on someone else to get the job done. It didn't take long for her advisors to suggest Katniss, who was still in the recovery clinic, roaming the hallways like a silent ghost.
I worried that she might not be up to the task. I knew she hadn't spoken in weeks and that she hardly ate. How was she going to handle something like this? But I knew that the advisors were right.
Whether she'd meant to or not, the Mockingjay belonged to the people. She was one of them. She'd started a revolution by shooting her arrow into the arena's force field; she could finish it by shooting another directly into her enemy's chest. Besides, hadn't Katniss herself asked for the opportunity to kill Snow when she'd agreed to become the Mockingjay? Hadn't she dragged us into battle in her obsession to see him destroyed? She'd been willing to risk everything, and she'd lost plenty, in her effort to accomplish that one thing.
I hoped that this commission would help break her out of her haze, that it might give her a purpose and make her feel useful and relevant again.
XXXXX
I walked away from Katniss's room, trying to keep my strides long and firm, my step was determined. I could feel the tears I hadn't wanted her to see itching to escape my eyes. I didn't know what had been more unsettling. The way she'd looked at me, with those stormy eyes of hers filled with sorrow and pain, or the fact that she'd looked away almost immediately. As if the mere sight of me hurt her more than the tongues of fire which had danced on her skin.
I had gone by to give her an arrow; I hadn't meant for it to turn into a parting gift. But, as I stood behind my hunting partner's back, and found her reflection in the mirror in front of us, I knew there was nothing I could say or do that would make her pain go away. I knew that she'd never be able to forgive me. I understood. In all the years that we'd been friends, she had only ever asked one thing of me: that I help her keep her family safe. She had trusted me by placing her most precious possession in my care, and I had destroyed it.
Even if dropping those bombs hadn't been my decision. Even if the actual bombing had been completely out of my control, I had ben responsible for creating the strategy which had been used, and I'd had no problem defending it.
The tightness in my chest told me there was nothing left to say. So, with a soft brush of her cheek, I said goodbye to the girl who had been my best friend and my truest ally. The girl I had so absolutely let down.
XXXXX
President Coin was dead.
Katniss shot her, right through the heart.
I was standing on the balcony, President Coin herself had invited me to join her there. She said she wanted to have a representative from each district by her side and, since the Mockingjay was going to be on center stage, I was chosen to stand in for Twelve.
I could hear people yelling all around me as President Coin's advisors rushed towards the ground floor and tried to get a hold of the president's limp body. They seemed surprised when they found the arrow, perfectly lodged in the president's chest. I wasn't. Katniss Everdeen never missed a shot.
The sound of Peeta's voice caught my attention. He was by the platform, screaming Katniss' name as a group of guards tried their best to remove him from the premises.
How did he manage to get so close to the Mockingjay, I wondered? As far as I knew all the victors had been assembled on the opposite side of the square.
I shifted my gaze and searched the mass of people who were moving around the stage until I found Katniss. She was still on her platform; four guards were trying to hold her down as she squirmed furiously, kicking and screaming in a desperate attempt to break free from them. They were much bigger than her, but they were still having trouble keeping her under control.
Suddenly, our eyes locked and I saw her lips form my name. My heart stopped.
I knew what she wanted. I recognized the desperate look in her eyes. She was pleading with me, asking me to remember my promise, to keep my word. But I just stood there, frozen in place, unable to move, watching her.
I saw the exact moment when she realized I wasn't going to move a muscle. Her eyes closed in defeat, her thrashing subsided and her body went limp. I had let her down once more.
XXXXX
The next few days passed in a flurry of endless cabinet meetings and late night discussions which blended into one another.
Newly appointed officials, who had always followed orders, found themselves completely lost in a sea of options and opportunities. Now that Thirteen's leader was gone they felt no need to stick to the plans she had outlined for the country. They were drunk on freedom; they wanted their voices to be heard and their opinions to be considered. They'd grown tired of following rigid guidelines which they now viewed as restrictive and stifling.
The country had fought against one oppressive tyrant and now, in one single blow, they'd done away with two. By the end of the week, a new proposal for a government was drafted, and the country braced itself for its first real election in 75 years.
My heart fluttered happily in my chest when I heard about Paylor's victory. I hadn't forgotten the tough, capable commander from District Eight. She was a good leader. She had fought on the front, and she commanded respect, but I also knew that she cared deeply about her people.
I could still see the devastated look in her eyes after the Capitol's hovercraft dropped their bombs on the makeshift hospital she'd set up to help the wounded. I would never forget the kindness she had shown the injured and the broken, or how her eyes had lit up with rage at the notion that anyone might want to hurt them even more.
Once the dust had settled, my new assignment came through. I had been selected to join Panem's new military headquarters in District Two, and I had been allowed to take my family along with me.
The thought of seeing my siblings and my mother again filled me with joy. I had missed them so much. I knew that they'd been safe in Thirteen, but I had never liked the idea of leaving them behind, trapped inside that underground maze. I wanted them to experience freedom and breathe fresh air. I wanted to teach them how to swim. How to hunt, how to laugh, how to stop worrying about their big brother, and how to get used to the fact that we were all going to be ok.
But I wasn't allowed to leave right away. Given my active participation during the war I had to undergo mandatory therapy until I was cleared to go back to work. According to my head doctor, that probably wouldn't take more than a few weeks.
Even with all my therapy sessions, I still had a lot of free time. I needed something to keep me busy, so I spent my days trying to find out as much as possible about Katniss' trial. It wasn't always easy, some of the sessions were held behind closed doors, and I was only granted access to a few of them.
I worried about her. I knew she was detained in the old Tribute Center and that she wasn't allowed any visitors. I wondered if she was ok if she was eating if she was sleeping. Was she talking? Were the walls of her room closing in on her? Was her confinement helping her sort out her feelings? Was she letting those dark clouds of sadness consume her? Did she miss me? Did she hate me? Would she ever want to see me again? Did she know how sorry I was? These and a thousand more questions invaded my thoughts every night as I lay in bed and tried to chase my nightmares away. Most nights, I couldn't even remember my dreams.
I spent the long hours which passed between my sessions with the head doctor walking around town. I had never been to the Capitol before, never got to experience it in all of its glory, but I could tell that some of its old splendor had survived the rebel invasion. Now that the cleaning efforts had begun in earnest, you could see the old streets coming back to life. The long, stately avenues lined with colorful mansions surrounded by gardens, the commercial streets filled with brightly lit windows that advertised goods which had been brought in from every single district.
The city was quickly recovering from its losses; I hoped that the rest of the country could do so as well.
Most of the people I knew in the Capitol were either too tired or too busy to worry about me, and there were times when I feared that the boredom and loneliness I felt would crush me. It was on those occasions, when the longing for a friendly face, or the need for companionship, threatened to overwhelm me, that I visited Peeta.
We would sit in the common room of Dr. Aurelius' clinic, with a steaming mug of hot tea firmly clutched in our hands, and we would talk. Mostly we'd talk about Twelve, about the Meadow and the coal-coated houses in the Seam. We'd share stories about the old school, with its dusty playground and the small run down houses that surrounded it.
I'd tell him about the woods, with its tall trees and clear running streams.
He'd tell me about the bakery. About how he'd learned to knead dough and how he'd managed to survive his brothers' practical jokes and his mother's angry ladle.
We talked about the things we had known, the things we had shared, and the things that were gone. We talked about Katniss. The girl who had made us laugh, dream and cry. The girl we couldn't reach.
"You should be allowed to be with her," he said one day, "she was calling out your name as the guards dragged her away. You could tell them that, you know? Maybe then they'll let you see her."
I shook my head disbelievingly, a sad smile settled on my lips. "Yes. She was calling out my name. But, why do you think that was Peeta?"
"I don't know! Because she wanted you by her side, I guess."
"No. C'mon, you know better than that," I paused for a moment, leaned forward and placed my elbows on my knees. I made sure his eyes were locked with mine before I started speaking again. "She was asking me to do something for her. Something I couldn't do."
I saw his eyes widen as he figured out what I meant. The soft, hopeful glimmer I saw in them confirmed all my suspicions.
"She was asking you to..." the vulnerability I heard in his voice as he spoke pulled at my heartstrings, "she wanted you to fulfill your promise. She was asking you to shoot her. She was asking you to shoot her," he repeated as a lonely tear ran down his cheek.
I nodded and looked away.
XXXXX
"Very well Peeta," Dr. Aurelius says, "what words would you use to describe Gale?"
We've played this game before, many times in fact. Once Dr. Aurelius found out about our informal chats he took it upon himself to help us "heal our common wounds," so he scheduled some joint sessions for Peeta and me.
He's always encouraging us to talk about the things that are "real" in our life, like the things we can touch, the things we can see or the things we feel. He says it helps us understand who we are, where we've been and where we're going. He also thinks it helps Peeta's mind by clearing some of the fog the hijacking left behind.
I'll admit it made me a bit uncomfortable at first. Even though Peeta and I share a lot of what the Dr. calls "baggage," we view things very differently. But, once I got used to it, I began to enjoy it. Having things spelled out clearly is good. There is no room left for confusion, doubt, anxiety or distrust.
Peeta looks straight into my eyes, takes a deep breath and starts talking, "Hunter. Rival. Rebel. Soldier. Ally," I can see amusement reflected on his face, a playful smile settles on his lips as he finishes, "Friend."
"Good! Now I'll give you boys a few minutes so you can say goodbye," as the doctor stands up, he turns to face me, "please come by my office when you're done here. I need to give you the official certificate for your release."
"Sure," I say, "I won't take long."
He turns to Peeta, "I'll see you tomorrow then, have a good night."
Dr. Aurelius leaves the room, and we sit there in companionable silence for a couple of minutes.
As usual, Peeta is the first to break the silence, "So, you've been released."
"Yep, I'm leaving for District Two tomorrow morning. I still have to do follow-up sessions with one of the head doctors there. But, apparently, I'm ready to get back to work."
He nods, "and your family? Will they be joining you soon?"
The mention of my family brings a smile to my lips. "Yeah, as soon as I settle into my living quarters I'll send for them."
"Good. I bet they can't wait to see you. Give them my love?"
"Will do."
We stand up, and he holds out his hand.
"Gale," he says.
"Peeta."
We´re both smiling as we shake hands. Once we let go, I turn around and leave the room. I close the door behind me before I do something stupid like tell him how honored I am that he considers me his friend.
XXXXX
I walk into doctor Aurelius' office, and I find his assistant waiting for me. She smiles shyly as she hands me a large envelope.
"Your release documents, Soldier Hawthorne, you need to give these to your commanding officer once you arrive in District Two."
"Thank you, Myrna. Take care."
"Yeah, you too."
I watch as she turns around and heads towards a large filing cabinet, Apparently, I've been dismissed. I weigh the package in my hand. How can something so small carry so much weight?
I suddenly realize that this is it. I'm finally free to go; finally free to begin my life.
I go out into the hallway and find an open elevator waiting for me, as I go inside I notice that a radio newscast is streaming through its speakers. I can hear an authoritative sounding voice discussing the Mockingjay's trial. I chuckle when I think of how little the broadcaster knows and how much he's making up to keep the audience interested.
The truth is that Katniss still hasn't been released, but my sources assure me that she won't be detained much longer. Apparently, they've come up with a plan to send her to Twelve and keep her there.
As always, the thought of going back to Twelve sends a shiver down my spine. I don't know how Katniss will manage once she gets there.
I've heard talk of reconstruction. I know there are plans to create a new industry for the area, and that some are itching to get back –our youngest male victor for one– but, at present, Twelve is no more than a cemetery, an open field overrun with corpses, death, and despair. It's hardly the place for a woman who's been living under a dark cloud. I can only hope that going back to her old home, and finding refuge in those woods she loves so much, might help her heal. I know she won't forget the sorrow or the pain, but she might still have a chance, if she ever manages to start walking towards the future, towards hope, towards life.
As I head over to my room, I wonder what my future holds. Sure, I have already been assigned a job most young men in Panem would envy. But, what does that mean for me? Will I be able to manage it? What's it going to be like, being in Two? Do people there know who I am? Do they remember me? Do they fear me, or do they hate me?
My head's spinning with all these questions I can't answer. I close my eyes and remember the doctor's words, "you can't control everything, Gale. As a matter of fact, there's not much you can control. So don't drive yourself crazy with questions that only other people can answer. And, if you feel like you really need to know, ask. You might not like the answers they give you, but at least you'll know exactly what other people think. And don't worry about pleasing everyone, we all have different points of view, and we're all entitled to our opinions. Just respect what other people say and you'll be ok."
I open the door into my room, hoping that the doctor is right.
I spend a few minutes collecting my stuff. I don't have much, just the clothes on my back and a couple extra uniforms, washed and pressed. Their clean scent reminds me of my mom, and I smile. I can't wait to see her!
I keep trying to guess what my siblings look like now. It's only been a few months since I last saw them, but children change quickly, and Thirteen's steady diet has probably made them stronger. Specially Posy, she was so tiny and fragile when we left home, but her cheeks were already filling up the last time I saw her.
My heart skips a beat when I think about her and how she'll never know what signing up for tesserae feels like. I couldn't stop Rory from finding out, but at least Vick and Posy will grow worrying about other things, things that don't put their lives in danger.
I'm back on the empty corridors once more, headed towards the exit. Once I reach it, I stop for a second. I can feel my heart beating madly inside my chest and, even though I've been walking at a reasonable pace, I'm almost gasping for air. I'm nervous. I'm anxious. I'm excited!
I chuckle lightly to myself before pulling the door open. I walk out the door and step out onto the street. The light outside blinds me, and I close my eyes for a moment.
The pale winter sun kisses my cheeks and brings a smile to my lips. I can feel the frosty air filling my lungs. I take a deep breath, wanting to keep the fresh morning scent locked inside of me.
At this moment, I feel full of hope and promise and possibility. At this moment, I feel like I've been given a second chance to right the wrongs, to make amends, to build something good. At this moment, I know that this is only the beginning.
AN
And... it's a wrap!
This is my first finished fic, and I still can't believe that people are actually reading it, let alone liking it! So I want to thank all of you who have read, reviewed or "favorited" this story. I truly appreciate all your kind words and support.
Thank you for taking a chance on a story written from Gale's POV. I know he's not everyone's cup of tea, but that's exactly why I wanted to write this. I guess I wanted to see if I could find some softness behind the hard shell.
I also want to give special thanks to my lovely district partners who held my hand and listened as I ranted incessantly about Gale Hawthorne and his one track mind. FanficAllergy, RoseFyre and passionately_curious. You guys are the best!
And last but not least, my great ally AlwaysEverlark, who made this beautiful banner for me.
I love comments as much as I love Peeta's shy smile. You always make my day when you share them with me. Thanks!
You can also find me on tumblr. I'm javistg over there, come and say hi!
And now, moving on to... more Everlark stuff!