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Katniss needs to find Plutarch. She needs to rule out his involvement in this turn of events, first and foremost. There's no way she can face the mayor, or Hudson, or speak with Acer again without knowing if it was indeed one of their own negotiators who brought the soldiers to District 7.
She looks towards the mansions on the far edge of the lake, and wonders if she will have to pay Reed Billups a house call. Certainly he's insulated from the chaos that is happening in the district right now. She wonders if he has a wife or kids, a family that he, too, wants to protect. She finds that at this moment, she doesn't really care.
Peeta suggests the hotel lounge, the place where he saw Plutarch the night before. They go there, Haymitch parting with them to go to the tavern. Katniss doesn't know if he's completing some task of his own, or if he purely just intends to drink away the concerns of the day, but she lets him go, too focused on her own task to worry about him at the moment.
Once they get to the hotel, Peeta leads her into a parlor in the back, where there's a seating area on one side, and a bar on the other. The whole thing is inviting and warm, with stained wood accents and a cabin-type feel. It's empty, with everyone out in the square or hiding in their homes thanks to the arrival of the military, but to her surprise, she does see Plutarch, sitting at the end of the bar, nursing an orange-colored drink.
"Have you seen it outside?" she asks, marching up to him. The bartender looks a little concerned at their sudden appearance, but backs away to put away some glasses, not even asking them their order.
Plutarch, for his part, can't even muster his usual charming smile. He looks defeated, and seems to sag in his seat. "Have they arrived, then?" he asks.
"You knew? You did this?" Peeta sounds as betrayed as Katniss feels.
Plutarch's face changes expressions several times over as he prepares to speak, from defensive to forlorn to concerned. "I didn't have a choice," he says at last, holding his hands out to them in a calming gesture. "I might well be done for anyways."
"What are you talking about?" Peeta asks, at the same time Katniss says "Explain yourself." They both slip onto the tall seats at the bar, and for Katniss, at least, it's to keep herself from putting hands on Plutarch, to steady herself against the frustration she's feeling.
Plutarch, for his part, drops his hands into his lap and stares into his half-empty glass, a remnant of his usual gregariousness like a shadow on his face. "I'm 'a vestige of Snow's era'," he says. "That's what Paylor told me. That I needed to prove my usefulness, or she would kick me out. She needed this issue ended swiftly. This is my last chance."
"Or what?" Katniss says. "You lose your job?"
He meets her gaze with desperation, and she can tell that he's really frightened. He may have helped lead the rebellion, she realizes, but he's always been 'in charge', a Capitolite who has been told since he was young that he was important and destined for greatness, more important than an average citizen of Panem. To Plutarch, she thinks, his job is his identity, his proof of importance. To him, ending the conflict here in any way is more important than finding a solution. "I cannot fail," he says.
"It's not so bad, being obscure," she says. "Imagine if you weren't bound to doing whatever someone else wanted, whether it was Snow or Coin or Paylor or whoever comes next."
But he just shakes his head, rejecting this notion. "It's too late," he says. "They've come by now, I'm sure of it. They'll have everyone back working tomorrow, and the lumber on the tracks shipped off to the districts."
"No," Katniss says.
Plutarch raises his eyebrows. "What?" She can tell he's wondering if the soldiers didn't actually arrive, and it hasn't even crossed his mind that she'd cross him.
"No. I won't let them take the lumber. I oppose any use of force against these people who are peacefully striking." It isn't until she says this that she realizes that she wants everything to go as they've discussed. She wants the workers to feel safe in the mills and while they're logging. She wants them to be paid fairly and have Healers in their own district and have safety equipment. She wants their kids to be able to read. These are all reasonable demands.
Plutarch looks at her through narrowed eyes, the same kind of gaze he gave her in District 13 when she wouldn't participate in the way they wanted as the Mockingjay. Back then, he used to take her side, or at least pretend to, and try to get her on board with the plan, or get Coin to adjust to what Katniss wanted. He could be a good mediator, she thinks. But, back to the wall, he is in it for himself, and she has to consider him an enemy now. And since Paylor crossed Peeta to go with Plutarch's plan, Katniss has to consider her an enemy, at least temporarily as well.
Once she leaves the lounge, she feels the tension in the square. The soldiers have dispersed somewhat, but there are less people than usual out, many choosing to go home early, and the ones that are out are smoking in small groups, hatchets tucked in their belt loops. Katniss sees a light on in the town hall, and figures Mayellen must be in her office.
"I'm going to check in with Haymitch, and we can talk to Mayellen," Peeta says.
Katniss nods. "I am going to go back to the lumber by the tracks. See if we can't stop them from taking it."
They agree to meet for dinner after, and Katniss goes back to the train platform. There are still a few men loitering about, District 7 loggers by the looks of them, and she puts her hands up in a peace offering. One nods at her in greeting.
"Listen, I found out who called in the soldiers, and I want to get them out," she says.
"It was the old man from the Capitol, wasn't it?" asks one of the men, who looks to be barely older than Katniss.
She nods. "You can't hand over the lumber," she says. "Johanna is right, it's your only leverage."
The young man spits, furrowing his brow. "'Course she's right. Why do you think we're here?"
She looks at the four or five of them, and realizes that they are obviously standing between the piles of wood and the train, preventing it from being loaded. "You always thought we would double cross you," she says, her voice sounding distant to her own ears.
He shrugs. "Trust, but be prepared. Nothing good has happened so far, so my expectations were low."
Katniss nods. She doesn't have anything to refute this with, exactly. "The safety equipment is there, in the second car. There are several crates. You can pull that out and distribute it, before they make that a condition of something, at least." She scans their set up, and sees only one of them with a rifle. "And get a bell, or whistle or something. An alert in case they do try to take the wood by force, you can call for help."
The man nods, a half flicker of appreciation on his face. Once Katniss leaves, she's exhausted. She doesn't really remember dinner with Peeta, and they decide to go to bed early. "Was Haymitch at the tavern?" she asks, once they're back in their hotel room.
Peeta nods. "He knew it was Plutarch before I even said it. He was being stupid. Drunk, you know. Saying that 'we're just victors, not strike negotiators, we never should have come here'."
"You're the one who came up with a deal, not Plutarch, and you're a victor. Meanwhile Plutarch's the alleged career government official."
Peeta gets into bed, his expression unreadable. "I mean, technically we both came up with deals, it's just that mine took longer, and relied on a little more trust and a little less force. But I know what you mean," he adds, before Katniss can protest.
The next morning Katniss wakes up with the dawn, and she feels like she ought to be up, arranging things, fixing the mistakes of the day before, but she feels stagnant, unsure of how to proceed. The weather outside is overcast, and there is a light drizzle of rain pattering down when Katniss draws back the curtains to their hotel room, but most disconcertingly, she sees several men being led into the forested lands around the district at gunpoint, dressed for logging.
She feels like she let them down, like everything is worse off than before she arrived. Was that what Haymitch meant when he was rambling to Peeta last night? Before they arrived there was a strike, but now there is forced work and a military presence. Katniss dresses quietly, but Peeta wakes up, of course. "Where are you going?" he asks.
She shrugs. "There's soldiers leading the loggers out. I gotta see what that's about. Can you keep an eye on Plutarch? Make sure he doesn't do… anything?"
Peeta nods. "Of course. I was going to see Mayellen this morning also, so if you can't find me, check the town hall."
She nods and departs, and makes her way through the square towards a group of men departing. One of the figures, a few inches taller than the rest, turns around on hearing her approach, and she realizes it's Hudson. She hadn't recognized him with all of his gear: a hard hat, safety glasses, chaps over his work pants, and a rain jacket.
"Keep up!" one of the soldiers calls.
"I've run this unit for 5 years now, I know how to find Loughbridge," Hudson calls back. "Let me have a word with the woman, and I'll be there in a moment."
"If you're more than 5 minutes late, I'm writing you up."
The men continue on, and they're left together at the edge of the treeline. "Hudson, what is this?" she asks.
He shakes his head. "Exactly what it looks like. Forced labor."
"They can't… how can they?" Logically, she knows exactly how they can. She's seen Peacekeepers do terrible things, but the war is over, how is this still happening?
Hudson shakes his head. "Listen, I want to put my axe through their chests, but I don't want to lose any of my men, and I also don't want to be blasted on the national television program as a lunatic in District 7 who is murdering people. That's why I need you to fix this."
She nods, trying to project confidence that she doesn't feel. Hudson continues. "I can get my men to sit down on the job, to stay home, to stand in a line with their axes, but none of that is worth anything if dozens more soldiers come out of the next train. So talk to Jo. Figure it out. And let me know the plan, alright?"
Again, she can only nod.
"Oh, and Katniss? Can you go over to Jo's?"
"Now?" She's rendered incapable of responding properly, it seems, relegated to nodding and monosyllabic answers.
"Yeah. She…" He bites his lips. "We depended on her a lot, me and Acer and Mayellen, because we're not so good at speaking. We don't know how much we can ask for, how to negotiate with the Capitol, all that. I think she feels like we blame her for the way things turned out yesterday, which is stupid, but she's like that. Anyways, she makes herself sick when she's stressed, so, can you just make sure she took her pills, tell her we're all ok? I'd go myself, but… you heard the guy… can't get written up." He sticks his tongue out in an attempt at lightheartedness, but it misses the mark.
Because if it was really no big deal, he could go himself. "Yeah, I'll go right now." How could she turn him down? She was just feeling as if she had no clear path forward, after all.
Hudson runs up the path to catch up to the others, and Katniss sees Haymitch a few paces back, looking a little green as he watches her. She rarely sees him hungover, so she thinks he must have really drunk last night. She hadn't heard him approach. "You gonna come?" she asks, assuming he heard at least the last part.
He opens his mouth and then seems to change his mind, biting his lips instead as he considers for a few moments. The rain starts coming down harder, and his hair is sticking to his forehead. "She wouldn't want to see me," he says.
"You keep making excuses, deciding things for her," Katniss says, almost a snarl. "Why don't you take a risk for once?"
And she doesn't know if she's ever seen him look so sad. Perhaps it is the hangover or the rain-soaked appearance contributing to his misery, but she thinks he's finally allowing her to see a touch of vulnerability. She holds still, as if he might take it all back if she makes any sudden movements. "Because taking risks is how people die, and how lives get ruined," he says, quietly, even though they are still a distance apart.
Katniss doesn't know much about him. She doesn't know about past lovers, about the years he spent as a mentor under Snow before her year. She doesn't know about the risks he's referring to, but she has to assume he means rebel plots. She walks closer, taking his hand, and pulling him along the path to the Victor's Village.
She doesn't remember the last time they've touched, and even when they had, it wasn't anything amicable like this. But he had seemed so lost, and she had needed to convince herself, as well, that their rebellion did something, that it is alright, at least, to put yourself out there for someone you care about. That the new government has no interest in that, at least.
Katniss is surprised when they arrive in the Victor's Village. It seems that the soldiers who have arrived have taken up residence in the empty houses, and the dirt around them is trampled with boot marks. There's no one out at that moment, but she sees a grill set up between two of the houses that hadn't been there before, the charcoal remains currently getting soaked in the rain.
Johanna's house is closed up, unlike last time they visited. Katniss and Haymitch are soaked through with rain by the time they arrive, and no one answers when they knock. Katniss goes to knock a second time, but Haymitch pushes the door open, suddenly urgent.
"Jo?" he calls, throwing off his coat and kicking off his boots. He moves from room to room, trying to navigate around piles of paper and tobacco and clothes and books, and by the time Katniss gets her coat and shoes off, he's cased the first floor, shaking his head. "Johanna!" he calls again.
They hear a muffled noise from upstairs and he runs up, Katniss behind. She makes it to the doorway of one of the two bedrooms where she sees him at the side of the bed, shaking Johanna. She has her hands over her head, blocking out the light, but she pushes him back. "Quit it, what the hell?"
She sits up, looking at the two of them in confusion. She's only wearing a tank, and Katniss can see the little scars dotting her chest, which match the ones Katniss knows are along her hairline, from the torture in the Capitol prison, from electrodes, as she understands it.
Haymitch takes a step back, looking rather embarrassed. "You didn't answer the door, I thought…"
She looks at him more closely, disappointment crossing her features. "You thought I overdosed on morphling." She flops back onto her bed, her arm again resting across her eyes. "Fuck off."
Katniss feels like an interloper, and wonders if she should just back away, but she also thinks she ought to stay to break up some of the tension between them. She had told Haymitch to come, after all. "Hudson wanted me to come," she tells Johanna, stepping fully into the room. "He said he's waiting for instructions."
Johanna turns on her side, away from them. "I don't have any," she says. "I'm done. I'm not getting people killed on a gamble because the Capitol wants to play hardball."
"So what? They can just work with the soldiers pointing guns at them now?" She walks to the other side of the bed, where Johanna will at least be forced to look at her legs. She doesn't know what to make of this. Johanna had said she wouldn't stop, but here she was, giving up. "I need your help, Johanna. I want to make this right, but I can't fix this alone."
But Johanna just pulls the sheet over her head, without even bothering to reply.
"They're right outside your door. They'll come for you, too!" Katniss says, trying to get a rise out of Johanna in any way she can. "You said you would keep going until-"
"That's enough, Katniss," Haymitch says. His hand is shaking, and she can feel an ache in her chest that she doesn't quite understand just looking at it. He is looking at her directly, not daring to look down at Johanna.
Katniss feels brittle, like she's going to shatter with just the right word or given the right trigger, so the exhales, trying to remain calm. Her words didn't come out right, and she wants to take them back, but it's too late. She meant it all, just not exactly in the way she said. She sees the sachet of pills across the room and tosses them onto the bed, checking that Johanna has a glass of water beside her. "Take your pills," she says, before turning and leaving.