Die for You | Catching Fire

chapter forty-three

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chapter forty-three
ONE CAGE FOR ANOTHER

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It's clear the Navarro's have seen the latest Capitol propo when Ptolemus returns from Command to the compartments. The first giveaway is Erabelle — coloring a picture of a woman who looks a lot like Sage locked away and trapped high up in a tower. While Almanzo and Coretta try to cling onto the positives of Sage clearly still alive to hold their daughter's anger at bay, there's the tick of her oldest brother's jaw at the sight of his baby sister in the hands of President Snow.

Mr. and Mrs. Navarro cling to one another and weep with a bittersweetness. The older man kisses his wife's head with tears in his eyes.

"Our brave girl."

Then Shiloh. Shiloh is quiet. But it's not his usual quiet. This one has something simmering right beneath the surface, and for the first time ever, Ptolemus knows what it looks like when Shiloh is angry. Colt's words in the pasture return.

"And we're angry. We're angry for what they've done to our little sister."

Ptolemus notes that tick in Almanzo's jaw again as he gently scoops his daughter up to put her to bed. Then another glance at Shiloh sitting silently at the edge of his bunk, chin propped on his knuckles and eyes glaring into the floor. Finally, an image conjured by his own imagination of Colt attending those late night rebel meetings.

"They're just better at hiding it than I am."

Ptolemus stares up at the top bunk for hours after Thirteen's official Lights Out, that small flash of Sage in that blinding white dress branded into his memory as he toys with his wedding ring. He can feel what that fleeting glimpse of her alive is doing to him. The hole is still there and still aching, but it isn't so hollow like before. An ember of hope burns as he shifts back and forth between silently crying with relief and crying with agony when the darker thoughts resurface.

What was that obnoxiously high neck of the gown trying to hide? Did her arms look frailer and cheeks hollower, or is that simply his imagination? How many hours did it take her Prep Team to cover the bruises likely coating her flesh? His lips keep forming her name over and over again, salty tears running across in mourning.

She's alive. She's alive, she's alive, she's alive.

But at what cost? He has to stifle a whimper when he remembers that haunted look in her eye. The mattress creaks beneath his weight as he carefully slips out of the Compartment, right hand extended to guide him through the darkness. He wanders down the corridor, still clutching his wedding ring to his chest like a wounded dog.

What was that Sage said during her interview? One simply can't live without the other. He's remembering that every single second that they're apart. She's his heart, and he can feel her hurting, chains made of dread weighing him down.

What can he do? What can he do? What can he do to save her? Just like with the quicksand and in those final moments in the jungle that he couldn't find her, he feels completely and utterly helpless. It's as he passes Compartment 307 — Katniss's Compartment — that guilt forges in his gut.

I'm not doing shit unless Katniss agrees.

But can he think like that anymore? How much time has he wasted by refusing their requests?