Suffocate

We started back up to the lightening tree not too long after, giving us a couple of hours to set up, to prepare. My stomach was too full, churning as travel back into the jungle. Beetee was walking better and the heat was less intense but I felt sluggish, desperate for sleep.

Even so, I was on the edge of my toes again, nerves constant. Every shadow was Brutus, the moon light catching on a wide flat leaf was Enobaria’s teeth. My grasp on my weapon was sweaty as always, even in the cooler atmosphere. The trip seemed longer in the dark, far more dangerous and several times toes caught on almost invisible roots and there were exclamations, shushed by the others as the person regained their balance.

By the time we reached the tree my knees were jelly and we all took positions, unaware exactly what Beetee expected of us until he asked Finnick to help him unravel the wire, thick spools of it pooling around our feet, the material glimmering amongst the grass and moss.

Before long the two of them were wrapping the wire around and around the wide bark, metres upon metres of it. I was tasked with holding the coil, keeping it steady so the wire glides smoothly. What feels like forever later Beetee was satisfied and gently grasped the metal from my unsteady grip, passing it wordless to Johanna, another look around the six of us before he opened his mouth again.

“That’s step one, but the most important stage rests with you two.” Katniss and Johanna are the ones in his gaze, I felt my frown grow as he spoke. He wanted them to carry the wire down, place it carefully, keep it tight, secured down straight to the water so when lightning struck it would reach the right place.

“Stay with me.” Finnick’s voice, so soft it was like the breeze skimming over me, hidden under the crash of the wave as it again passes us. It still sent the familiar shiver over my chest, lungs itching at the memory. I nodded at him, Beetee still talking, more about conductivity than anything.

It hadn’t been a demand, it had been a request, an earnest one from the look on his face. A hope.

“Of course.” He smiled a little, although it was barely a flicker and his eyes moved back to Beetee again. His care made me feel more weary, but I knew how important this was.

This was the one chance, the one opportunity we had. But even as Beetee finished I was far too aware I’d be more useful with the two of them then here. Finnick wouldn’t need help protecting Beetee, and from the sounds of it even against his arguing, he’d have Peeta.

I couldn’t do too much defense wise, but I was fast, I knew I’d be good, useful with distributing the coil, moving through the trees.

Stay with me

I said nothing although Johanna shot me several looks, waiting for me to volunteer.
I was too selfish for that. I was too selfish to turn down that look on Finnick’s face, even if it made sense, even if it was more logical that what would happen instead.

He wanted me to stay with him and I would.

“Don’t even think about going back on the beach, though, until I can assess the damage.”

Katniss kisses Peeta, Johanna mimicking being sick behind her, earning a guilty, uncomfortable smile from me. After earlier I wasn’t sure how I felt about the star crossed lovers relationship. I think it was more real than I had ever assumed.

All too soon they’re gone, vanishing with a rustle into the foliage and the four of us are left in a silence that again is only broken by Beetee, “Elenia...” I turn to him and he lifts wire from the floor, it’s a little slack from where he had unravelled so much beforehand. “You keep a hold of this, for it to be completely effective with no doubts it has to be taut, they have to be laying it well enough and securely.”

As he speaks I see the wire straighten in his light grip, “And so far we are successful.” He gestures me over and I let the wire rest on my palm, finger tips delicately closed around it, “Keep an eye on it, if it goes much slacker we may need to send somebody after them to properly secure it.”

“Or it could mean they’ve been attacked.” Peeta spat, a bitterness I wasn’t used to earning a comforting comment from Finnick. “But then, you think we’re more likely to be don't you?”

Finnick nods, but then shrugs, “We’re in one place, if they’re looking for us we’ll be easier to find, which is why we should be quiet.” He doesn’t say it harshly but Peeta drops into a tense silence instantly, his hands wringing around the sword in his grasp.

My own hangs limply on the belt. The wire is so thin I’m scared it might just slice into my skin but I keep ahold of it, Finnick is staring out into the forest, eyes travelling left to right slowly and carefully. If something comes he’ll hear it or see it instantly.

I hope nothing, nobody does.

Minutes pass as slowly as they ever had, and we all keep shuffling on our feet, Beetee still murmuring behind me, fiddling with the wire around the tree. I meet Finnick’s eye finally and we share a smile. No sound had to be good news, there were no screams, the wire was tight, pressing slightly onto my skin.

Until it wasn’t.

I barely noticed at first, just thinking it had slipped in my fingers. But then I tug, it doesn’t move, not much but there’s a vibration that tingles up my fingers. “Beetee... the wires not as tight.” I can’t help the worry slipping into my words, which are low, only just legible over the clicking from the next section.

The three of them move over, the same concern smeared over Peeta’s features.

“Just now?” He asked and I nod, Finnick’s eyes tightened and stared harder out in front of us.

“It could just be a small issue.” Beetee says quickly, although I know he’s not convinced. It wasn’t a difficult job, and they were just as desperate as we were for it to work, especially Johanna.

“They wouldn’t mess this up.” Finnick muttered, “Not Johanna.” Peeta looks offended for a second.

“So something’s wrong?” I don’t want to ask but I feel I must, still touching the cool wire.

“I think so.” I sigh, tongue rubbing over the back of my teeth, they felt coated, like after a sugary drink, not smooth how I wanted. I think I was focusing on it to stop the panic pulsing through me.

“What so we do?” Peeta looked ready to bolt off, resting on the balls of his feet. “We need to...”

“We don’t know what it is yet.” Finnick tried to calm the situation, “It could be a snag...”

“If the wire isn’t in place we don’t have a plan.” Beetee’s face was dark, but there was a light suddenly, behind his eyes and an ill-timed grin grew, “Go get the girls, I have a different idea.”

He turned back to the tree, tugging the wire from my grasp as I saw Finnick’s tighten around his trident.

“Finnick...” I said carefully, but I could tell by his face he was going to go hunt for them. It was necessary, without Katniss everything had been for nothing, was worthless. I ducked under the wire and his palm cupped my cheek, thumb stretching my lower lip. His voice lowers even further, “Keep safe and make sure Peeta stays here.” I agreed immediately, lips briefly pressed against his.

I’m terrified it’s the last time we’ll kiss and his hand trails slowly from me, and suddenly he’s gone, just a rustle in the dark, my hand still stretched out pathetically. It was silly, that I spent a whole day without him and he was perfectly fine with far more enemies. But finding him, the last day and a half. The pain of his disappearing from my view is physical.

Finnick will be fine. It’s all I let run through my head, he will find them, bring them back. He will be okay, he's smart, fast, strong. He'll bring them here and everything will go as planned.

But I know Enobaria and Brutus will be skulking in the dark. When I swallow it’s acid, poison, filling me with dark thoughts. Thoughts of being in here, anywhere, without him.

“So he’ll find them and bring them back?” Peeta says slowly and I can feel his suspicion growing, his own sudden doubts about our alliance, the moment it may snap.

“Yes.” I speak with as much strength and conviction as I can muster but its minimal, “He...He will. Beetee what are you doing?”

“Don’t worry about me...if Brutus and Eno-“

A low rumble of a yell echoes. It’s not Finnick, I know it isn’t but still every hair on my body seems to stand upright, prickles on my still pink arms. I pull my sword slowly from my belt, all my limps are tensed, aching under the desire to run off, to find him.

Peeta’s is gripped so tight I fear his fingers might break but Beetee is again busy, “Elenia, a knife...” I glance at him, barely taking in his words, another yell pierces the air.

It’s higher and the knife is still in my hand when I lose Peeta.

His run is in slow motion, I’m thinking too fast. Finnick told me to stay here but he also told me to ensure Peeta did. The yell could have been any of them, Johanna, Katniss, hopefully Enobaria.

The first two names, the images of their bodies make my mouth dry even further. If Peeta died, what did that mean for Katniss, for any of us?

I can hear Finnick still calling for the pair of them, he could be running into danger, straight into any sort of trap the Careers could set up. I want to cry, but I won’t let myself, my body won’t even agree, it’s too nervous, too pumped full of adrenalin.

Peeta’s almost gone. Finnick is gone.

The knife’s dropped from my hand, my legs are moving of their own accord, throat vibrating to call out the name of the blonde boy in front of me.
“Elenia!”

The other voice, Beetee, I barely slowed. “Elenia, no!” It’s too late, I’m too far gone, vines whipping at me, his voice warped from stress, “You know what you have to do!”

To do? I have to save Katniss, Finnick. Myself.

I have to... shadows morph into a body and I slam myself down onto the floor so hard the skin on my chin feels like it’s burning and my teeth dig into my tongue, I taste blood but it’s better than the alternative which is a positively vicious looking Enobaria, stalking, hunting.
There’s blood on the weapon in her hand, splattered on her face and hands.

It could be Finnick. I can’t hear his calls anymore.

The acid pushes back up my chest, burning my throat but I slam my hands over my mouth, trying to drag my sword back so it can’t glint in the light, smothering my cry.
She doesn’t see me, she continues on when there is that now familiar call, Finnick again. She’s drawn to it, a shark smelling a drop of blood.

I’d never seen a shark outside of a book at school, but Enobaria had to be more terrifying, even that the stories my brothers used to tell. She was in her element, perfectly ready and adapted to kill.

She sprints off and I stagger up, far too slow, wiping my lips and seeing blood smeared on my hand. I swallow it down hard and it mixes with the acid. I felt sick, the sea food threatening to reappear. But I don’t let it. I’ve lost Enobaria completely but there’s another grunt, again too deep to be Finnick.

Even so I head for it, it could be Brutus, if it was at least I would know what we were dealing with. There’s a yell, a name I hadn’t heard in hours exclaimed, “Chaff!”

Chaff.

I’d forgotten about Chaff but the voice is Brutus, no doubt. I run it over in my head quickly, although I don’t stop moving, keeping in shadows, steps so gentle nobody would be able to hear them over the clicking of the beasts somewhere to my right.

This is stupid. I’m clearly going the opposite way to Finnick and his calls have stopped again. My vision went blurry.

Finnick would be fine. I had to believe that, Enobaria was no match. And Johanna was...

He wouldn’t be calling for her if she was with him. But there’s been no cannon shots, I think again, nothing. There are still nine people in this jungle, and all in far too close an area.

But if I can take Brutus out, Chaff might even know about the plan, the plot. He didn’t try and hurt me on that long lonely morning. The thought, the promise of escape is too strong, and it overcomes any logic inside me.

I pull out another dagger, down to two and creep towards the clear sounds of violence, pain. Chaff is losing, it was his yell earlier and it’s his now. I move faster, weaving around trees and over roots. One of the rats ran over my feet and I almost scream, somehow certain it was a weapon.

By the time my breathing is controlled, in through my nose, out through my swollen feeling mouth, tongue thick I’m there, hidden behind trees. But Chaff is all but dead; blood coats his body, gashes on his chest, wet suit torn. Anger fights its way through the fear and I strike too early, fling my knife. It’s on point but Brutus moves, it sinks into his shoulder rather than the middle of his back. I’d aimed for organs, lungs, heart, instead it would have sunk into muscles, maybe scraping bone but nothing more.

It wasn’t a kill shot.

He roars, the blood is pounding loud in my ears as he lifts that thick muscled up arm and yanks the dagger from him and in a split second it’s back my way. I dart behind a tree just soon enough, but he’s got what he wants, I squeal a little. He knows it’s me and he knows where about I am. My hand’s so wet I’m scared I’ll completely drop the sword and struggle to shift it up firmer into my grip, pushing up against the damp bark as I stand, making far too noise.

He stands there for a moment, lifts his spear, ready for the death blow over the slightly older man that lay before him. The kind, sarcastic man I’d barely know. I’d never been right enough in the head to.

He thought he’d scared me off I realised, thought I’d run, the scuffling assuring him. He must have, to turn so suddenly. To leave his back exposed and to taunt Chaff one last time.

Again my feet move before I think it through, before I even realise and my sword is at my shoulder height, there was no way it would miss his heart now, I’d ram it through him, finish the job, make sure his fucking head left his shoulders.

All I see is red.

With Brutus dead it would just be Enobaria for us to deal with.

Enobaria who had been heading straight towards Finnick.

I still can’t hear him although I try too.

The distraction is enough and as I reached him he turned, with a grin. He’d set me up, waited for me to come, knew I would. Knew how stupid I was.

He ducked, shoving me with the side of his body hard into the floor, the air is forced from me and I find myself clinging for it, gasping, retching. I’d hit my head hard on the ground, the world spinning, shifting.

I want to shout for Finnick but I can’t.

I have to get up, I can hear Chaff groaning still, begging. Not for himself, for me, for my life like it’s worth something.

I reach my knees but it’s too late. The spear hits right through Chaff’s neck, blood spurts upwards, a jet fountain in the square not far from Snow’s mansion. He’s choking on both, the liquid that keeps him alive and the metal embedded in him.

I find my sword, body heaving, still seeing three of it. They were teasing me as well, my fingers close too slow on the real sword. In the time it takes me Chaff has died and another force hits me square around the head and cheek, flinging me a metre or so away, skidding on my screaming knees.

A cannon thunders through the air.

His fist makes my face go numb instantly, but the pain will reach me any second. I know that.
He picks my sword up, I’m still desperate on my knees, trying to see, trying to breathe, trying to make sense of anything.

He picks up my sword and I’m at the perfect height for an execution.

I wanted my last thought to be of Finnick, like his stupid poem at the interviews, it pops into my head perfectly, how odd, how ill-timed, but how perfect.


I’ve never been able to pinpoint what ever made me trust Finnick so early on.
What made me like him, what now, after I’d been so opaque for so long, made me fall in love with him.

It was never about his looks, it was always so much more.

How angry he was, mixed with sweet relief when I was crowned victor, when I was back in the training centre. The way he’d tried to stop Snow from selling me like I was nothing.

It was the way he had always said my name, the way he called me Elle. When he pushed his hair back with one hand.

More than that, the way his palm felt against mine, the freckles on his forearms, those that had appeared under the intense sun here. Ones I’d never seen before.

It was everything.
And as soon as Brutus swung that sword I’d be nothing.