Home Fanfics Go Back
They arrive in District 7 two days later, after riding in the nicest train car Katniss has ever taken. They each had their own small compartment with a bed, toilet, and sink, and the next car had a lounge with tables, a selection of food and drinks, and various things to read.
Katniss didn't sleep great because of the fairly bumpy ride of the train, and she feels uneasy after two days of cramped quarters, with only a few minutes at a time to run off the train and stretch her legs and get fresh air, but they arrive at last, and she realizes that she barely remembers District 7 from her Victory Tour.
She had done a fairly good job of ignoring Haymitch on the train, forced only to acknowledge his presence during the times when they happened to be eating meals together, but now that he's standing beside her on the platform, she realizes that they can't go on like this. She doesn't hate him, exactly, it's just that she can't really look at him for too long. She doesn't want to know the answer to the most important question: did he know? Did he understand the plan, for the end of the war? And yet she longs to ask him.
Haymitch, for his part, looks about the same as when she first met him: a little less than sober, plenty exhausted, and like he's physically weighed down with a burden Katniss doesn't quite understand. His shoulders are permanently sagging, despite the fact that Plutarch has a porter moving all of their luggage to the hotel where they'll be staying. Katniss wonders why he agreed to come: if he bargained over his "payment" for this arrangement, or if it really was as Plutarch said, and he just came for Johanna.
They walk through the center of town, and there are more workers idling around than seems normal for a weekday, and Katniss realizes that the strike must be real. It isn't that she doubted Paylor, exactly, it is more that District 7 is so remote, so far north and way on the west coast, that it feels like it would be difficult to know exactly what is happening there. But of course that's stupid, she knows. People come here for trading. They have phones, and newspapers. They are connected to the rest of Panem.
The whole square smells like tobacco, and Katniss sees that most of the workers have a cigarette either in their mouths or tucked over an ear. She never got used to the smell, and wants to cover her mouth or cough, but she doesn't want them to have a reason to find her stuck up right away.
A woman greets them near the center of the square, her hair tied back in an auburn braid. She's got pale skin, and she's not very tall, but that goes for most of the people here. There isn't a lot of sunlight so far north, Katniss supposes. "You must be from the Capitol," she says.
Plutarch nods. "I am one of the president's secretaries, and this is my assistant. You might recognize Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, along with Haymitch Abernathy from District 12."
The woman nods, though Katniss can't exactly read her expression. "My name is Mayellen, and I am the mayor in District 7. Come on in and let's get to know each other a bit."
A couple men rush over as they walk away, stopping Mayellen. "These are the people they sent to negotiate, right?" one asks. "We should get to come."
Mayellen seems to consider this, and then nods, much in the same way she did when sizing Katniss up. "Everyone, this is Hudson and Acer. Hudson is leader of the loggers' guild, and Acer runs one of our mills."
Plutarch reaches out to shake hands, but the men merely nod in greeting. Mayellen lets them into an office just off the main road, and Katniss thinks this must be the town hall or the mayor's office or something like it. There's no big table, so they sit on various chairs around the room, likely placed as a waiting area before meetings with the mayor.
"Alright, well, first thing's first," Mayellen says. "Welcome to District 7. You have our hospitality so long as you're here, so long as you're truly here to negotiate, not to bring force to our workers. Please enjoy our food and our tobacco, and if you need anything, just ask. If anyone causes any trouble for you, do let me know."
Katniss sees the two men nod in agreement, as if they are taking these ground rules very seriously. She feels tense. The mood is good enough right now, and their hosts are gracious, but she knows it can't last. She feels like there's an elastic band in the room stretching ever further, the tension increasing each time they open their mouths and it is clear that they don't really agree. "We appreciate that," she says, because they've paused a beat too long without anyone answering. "Can you tell us a bit about what's going on?"
Hudson nods, but Mayellen cuts him off. "Now, we don't have to start right away. You can unpack and eat and stretch your legs, and we can meet in a few hours if you'd like?"
But Katniss shakes her head. "Every hour we spend without this resolved is an hour you can't work and Panem doesn't have lumber for rebuilding cities in war-torn areas. I'd rather get an idea of what's happening, and then walk around and see the district, if you don't mind."
She feels like someone else has taken control, like it's not her own voice coming out. She's not the Mockingjay — that persona is dead, thank goodness — but she's not herself, either.
Now, Hudson does speak. He's younger than Mayellen and Acer, who look to be in their fifties. He is maybe thirty, with a muscular build and a thick beard. He's taller than many of the other District 7 residents, she notices, too. "There are a lot of problems with the way the labor code is written for logging in particular," he says. "We can get into the specifics, but it leads to logging being unprofitable, and us having to start our careers younger and end them later than people in other districts."
Acer leans forward. He's got pockmarks on his face, likely from a lifetime of tobacco use, and he looks stern, but Katniss wonders if that's just because everyone here is a stranger to her. "There are other issues, too," he says. "It's incredibly dangerous to be a logger or work in the mills. There are nearly no protections or safety regulations."
And Mayellen nods along, seemingly coming in for the kill. "We don't have a hospital in the district, let alone competent Healers. And our education — we have so few kids who can finish school, the literacy is terrible here. We need help from the Capitol."
Katniss doesn't know what to say. They're all legitimate grievances, at least on the surface, but she doesn't know what angle to address this from. She wishes the other Katniss was still in control, the one who could speak for her with confidence. She glances to her side, where Haymitch looks like he'd rather be anywhere else, and Peeta's constant worried look has deepened.
It's Plutarch, in the end, who speaks first from their side. "Thank you for explaining your concerns," he says, and he sounds legitimately grateful. "One of the main hang-ups on our end is funding, as Snow's excesses burned a lot of cash, and the war depleted the remaining. As much as we'd like to help build up your infrastructure, it's more complicated than that."
Mayellen purses her lips. "We'd be willing to accept a loan, provided the terms are not exploitative. And our workers are just looking for better compensation. They don't want handouts, it's payment for work."
There's silence for a moment as they all seem to contemplate this. Then Plutarch continues. Katniss watches them like a sports match. "I understand," he says, his smile easy still. "And we can absolutely discuss this in council. The concern is that we have several districts very affected by the bombings during the war who need lumber for rebuilding. As District 7 was untouched by the war, it would be a nice gesture to continue providing the lumber as we hammer out the changes to the labor code."
Hudson stands, and he's all energy now. Katniss can see the irritation rippling off of him. "Sorry, we can't you with your 'nice gesture'," he says. "Untouched by the war?" he asks, with a sarcastic laugh, "I'll say!" He gestures outside the window, to the town square. "Nothing has changed since the war, except that we don't have a Peacekeeper here threatening to hang people who don't follow his bullshit rules. Everything else in 7 is just as shitty as it was before. So much for the revolution."
He scoffs, and pulls a cigarette from his chest pocket and lights it. Katniss hasn't ever seen anyone smoke inside a building, but apparently it is normal in 7, as Mayellen doesn't protest.
Plutarch stands as well, brushing off imaginary dust from his pants. "Well, maybe we should take that break," he says, trying to keep his amicable tone, though Katniss can hear the strain.
She feels like she ought to speak, but she can't think of anything to say to help the situation. Instead it's Haymitch who speaks next. "Could you tell us where Johanna Mason is living?" he asks, looking from Mayellen to Hudson.
Katniss tries not to look away from the scene, as much as she wants to gauge Peeta's expression, or Plutarch's. She hadn't really believed the rumor of the two of them having a relationship, not really, but here he was, asking for Johanna with the first words he spoke since he got off the train.
Mayellen opens her mouth, but it's Hudson who answers, cutting her off. "Why?" he asks.
"We were friends, before the war," Haymitch says. He sounds uncomfortable, and Katniss wonders if it's because friends isn't quite the right word, or if it's because they ended their relationship on a bad note. Either way, he plows on. "We're all victors from the Games, Johanna and myself, and Katniss and Peeta. I wanted to see her."
Hudson sizes them up, then glances at Acer before turning back to them. "We're holding Johanna Mason hostage," he says. "Until the negotiations are settled."
Haymitch's mouth opens into a shocked little 'oh', and even Mayellen has a disappointed look on her face, but she doesn't protest. Katniss is irritated now, with the stakes suddenly being changed. She hadn't realized these people would stoop so low as to take a hostage. But it's Peeta who looks responds first, surprising Katniss. "Let her go!" he demands.
"What?" Hudson steps forward, sizing Peeta up. He looks him over as if he hadn't even noticed Peeta before.
"Johanna and I… we were captured together, during the war. Held in this Capitol prison. It was awful, it was torture. Don't… do that to her again," he pleads, and Katniss can see his hands are shaking.
To his credit, Hudson looks moved by Peeta's speech. He puts out his cigarette butt in an ashtray and comes and stands before them, his features softened somewhat. "I don't want to cause anyone harm," he says. "But there's no other way you'll take us seriously. I can see that now. So no, we won't let her go until you will meet our demands. Not 'in council', not in the future, but with actual negotiations here and now." And with that, he turns and leaves, Acer behind him.
After, they disperse, Plutarch sets off to tour the mills and logging operations, and Haymitch departs without a word. Katniss turns to Peeta, trying to understand what he is thinking, and where to go from here. It doesn't feel like all is lost, certainly, but she feels directionless, like one wrong step could put her in District 7's bad graces, or further entrench them on opposite sides. And then there's the other nagging part of the meeting, the last thing that Hudson had said: that the war had done nothing for District 7. That they were no better off except that the Games had ended and there was no Peacekeeper posted there. The rebellion was supposed to be for all of Panem — Johanna was one of the most vocal rebels, even — but did it fail to reach District 7?
"I want to stay here," Peeta says. "The mayor seems sympathetic, maybe she'll listen to me about how cruel it is to keep Johanna as a hostage."
Katniss nods. They didn't often speak about the time Peeta spent in the prison, both because he had memory loss around that time, and because he said that he would rather forget, but she knew it was a touchy subject. Her gut twists just thinking about Peeta after the rescue, about how they had twisted his thoughts until he didn't know his own memories, or what they had shared. And then of course she was forced to think of Johanna, skeletal and in constant pain, her hair shorn and hooked to the morphling drip. "Ok." How could she deny him? She had no reason to.
"Even if they won't let her go, they should know not to keep her underground. They should let her walk around."
Katniss nods. She wants to hold him, suddenly, and almost feels tears behind her eyes at the thought. She so rarely feels the desire for intimacy, but Peeta feels precious to her at this moment.
"Maybe you should check on Haymitch?"
Haymitch had been the last thing on her mind, but it's nice, in a way, to be given instruction. Part of her wonders if Peeta is implying she would be an impediment to his discussion with the mayor, but she doesn't mind, because she is eager to leave this room that feels thick with tension. She wants to breathe fresh air, and she wants a few moments to herself. "Alright," she agrees. "I'll meet you at the room before dinner."
Outside, the air smells like tobacco and sawdust. It's not too hot, despite it being summer, since they're so far north. Distantly, she realizes it's Games season, and wonders if she'll ever get far enough away from the war to not associate this season with the anxiety and horror of the Games. She doubts it.
In the town square, she passes a couple saplings in a little garden. She leans down to read the inscriptions. One is for Blight, killed in the Quarter Quell. One is for 'Jackson Stand', who Katniss reads won the 35th Hunger Games. The tree is young. She wonders if he was killed during the war. She feels second-hand embarrassment, or something like it, at Plutarch's statement that District 7 gave nothing to the war.
She wonders where she should find Haymitch, but the answer is obvious enough, when she passes a tavern on the way back towards the station. She goes inside and sees him after a few seconds, once her eyes adjust to the dim light. The woman at the counter asks her order and she takes a cider, seeing it on the specials menu. She doesn't really drink — her only real experiences with alcohol are the sips of liquor her mother would give her for a sore throat or to help her sleep when she was younger, but she likes the cider, bubbly and light. She puts her payment on the bar and takes the glass to Haymitch's table about halfway back.
He's nursing a drink, but she sees an empty cup beside it. A waitress comes and takes it and sets down a bowl of peanuts, and finally he looks up at her. "Why did I come here?" he asks.
She had been wondering the same thing. She came here for the guarantee that she would be left alone after, but he was a mystery. "What did you ask for?" she asks. "As payment?"
Haymitch laughs a little grimly, and sips his drink. "It's not like that," he says. "Plutarch and I go back a long time, so he knows things I would rather keep private."
"You're being extorted?"
Haymitch shrugs. "I think when you're in the Capitol as long as Plutarch has been, that's fair game."
This feels ominous to Katniss, like she's underestimated the man. Of course all rebels are not the same, she understands that by the fact that Gale was willing to go to lengths that she hadn't imagined at the end of the war. But she imagines what secrets Plutarch has on Haymitch, and wonders if it involves the end of the war. Still, she's afraid to ask. "Are you here for Johanna?" she asks. She's brave enough to ask this, at least.
He sputters a little on the swallow, which is half an admission in her opinion. But he recovers with a confused expression on his face. "Who's spreading rumors?" he asks.
She knows she was tagged in at the end, that there are years and years of history among the others that she isn't privy to, and the more she pictures it, the more she can see the blurry outline of Haymitch and Johanna. Johanna's no-nonsense, up-front attitude mixed with Haymitch's lax attitude and hidden depths, though she spends a few second trying to work out the age gap between them, before trying to decide if this is just herself being overly uptight. Johanna had to be 27 or 28 now, she thinks, and Haymitch over 40.
"No one," she answers, after a delay. "You just… you had asked about her."
He sips again, finishing the second glass and gesturing to the waitress for a third. Then he sighs. "I doubt Johanna wants me here," he says. "But I needed to know."
Katniss is silent, waiting for him to continue. The waitress returns with the refill and he holds it in both hands, steadying himself. He so rarely speaks about himself, or his past, she realizes now. "You saw her, at the end of the war," he says. "She looked like shit." He sips the drink, wincing a bit on the swallow. "I asked her back to 12, but she refused. I thought… I don't know what I thought."
Katniss didn't know this. She had been in pain at the end of the war, her arms raw and aching. Her grief had been palpable then, blocking out everything else like static. Her vision had been pinpricks at the assassination, just Coin, only Coin, and then nothing. Johanna was there, probably. Enobaria, and Annie, too. Gale was there, she supposes. But she didn't see any of them. She sips again at her cider to fix the dryness in her mouth, the awfulness that happened whenever she thought too much about Primrose. "Why did you ask her to 12?"
Haymitch runs a hand through his hair, which is too long and shaggy like it gets when he spends months in his house, alone. "I don't know," he admits. "Because I'm an idiot, I suppose."
"Let's go find Peeta," she says. "We should eat."
Haymitch doesn't really look like he wants to leave the tavern, but he shrugs, acquiescing. They finish their drinks and he leaves a tip, and for the first time, Katniss thinks that perhaps something is shifted. That if Haymitch is here because of a threat, and if he has issues with Johanna to work out, maybe she's the one looking after him for once. She wonders why it feels just as bad as the reverse.