The Black Widow | A Hunger Games Fanfiction

How a Revolution Dies

We had arrived in District 13 about three weeks ago and I had only just got out of the 'dry out.' I had told them I wasn't an alcoholic but apparently, drinking 4 to 5 bottles of wine alone every week was classified as an addiction now, but anyway, whatever.
But that didn't mean I liked going without it. I had never really noticed the effects of not being at least slightly drunk at all times since after my first games, but now that I'd gone without it for nearly a month, I had to admit, I was really craving it. It was kind of like having a hangover. At all times. It was a pretty shit way to live.
I didn't even want to listen to Finnick's endless stream of incessant conversation that he had kept up since he'd come to retrieve me from my room despite having not seen him since we got off the hovercraft,
"Finn," I said, wincing slightly at how loud my voice sounded, "It's not that I'm not happy to see you, but would you mind keeping it down a little." He laughed. It was way too loud; ringing in my ears,
"I told you that all that wine was going to come back to bite you later." I ignored him, trying to cover both my eyes and my ears simultaneously. He continued talking, "I guess you should be glad that you didn't get addicted to anything stronger, like Haymitch."
"If you're not going to stop talking, can you at least find me some coffee. Preferably irish, but I'll settle for literally anything else."
"There's no coffee here."
"No alcohol, no coffee," I muttered, "What the fuck is wrong with this place?"
"Why did you pick wine?" Finnick asked,
"Easy access," I replied shortly, "One likes our luxuries. And I liked the taste." Finnick shrugged,
"I've never really found it that appealing."
"Better than vodka."
"Most things are. Just because you don't drink hand sanitiser doesn't mean you should drink seawater." I stuck one finger up at him and marched on. He ran to catch up,
"You're going the wrong way: the command room is that way." I ignored him and kept walking.

Everyone else was already in the command room by the time we arrived. Everdeen was already infront of the backdrop, preparing to say her lines for the propo (Finnick had vaguely explained the rebel plan on the way there). Thankfully, it was darker in the command room so I could start to notice my surroundings a bit better.
We took our seats and Everdeen began to say her line. All I could say was: she was a shit actress.
"She has a nice costume," I commented quietly to Finnick, "Too bad she doesn't have the skills to make it work."
"Cinna made it," he replied, "she was given it when she agreed to become the Mockingjay."
"Cinna?" I asked, perking up slightly. I hadn't really seen him in years, only in passing. If he was here, then_
Finnick was shaking his head,
"He didn't make it, Rose. I'm sorry." I didn't respond. I just stared straight ahead. Cinna couldn't be gone. I had never even had time to say thank you. Or to say goodbye.
I didn't hear anything else until Plutarch shouted at Everdeen for messing up her line again and my headache returned. Then, a slow clap echoed from the corner of the room and Haymitch strolled in,
"And that," he said, "Is how a revolution dies."

Katniss was called back into the room and they began a brainstorm of all the times she had moved them. It made me want to gag. But of course, I couldn't. I didn't really listen to most of it, but then, Haymitch called me to give a response.
I was caught off guard, not knowing how to answer,
"What was the question?" 
"Can you give one time that Katniss has genuinely moved you?" Everdeen's escort, Effie, repeated kindly for me. Shit, I couldn't. On the board, I could see that all the obvious ones had already been taken,
"Well," I began, trying to think of a bluff, "I would say that the time that she threw me on the ground and tried to murder me quite literally moved me." Maybe that wasn't the best thing to say. Haymitch chuckled, but all other eyes snapped to me, suddenly accusatory. Everdeen's eyes widened with recognition, then hardened with distrust.
"What?" I asked her, with a laugh that I had no idea where it'd come from, "Thought I was blonde?"
"I thought you were a career."
"And I thought she was a whore," a man chuckled quietly to one of his friends at the back. But the room was quiet. And everyone heard.
I froze. I could kill him. It would be so easy. It wasn't the first time I had been called that, mostly it was out of earshot, but sometimes they would say it so I could hear. And still it hurt.
Finnick reached out to touch my arm and steady me, but that was just like a switch had been flicked and it swatted his hand away, rising from my chair and storming out.
No-one followed me.

Later, at dinner, I ate with my head bowed over my meal. I sat alone at a table with no-one around me.
"Go away Finnick," I said, as I felt the presence of someone behind me.
"Not Finnick," Haymitch said as he sat down a couple seats over from me.
"If this is about the command room_"
"It's not."
"Then what?"
"There's just something I think you should know, now that you're out in the general population of thirteen."
"And that is?"
"The reason why people don't like you."
"I know why." Haymitch shook his head,
"They blame you for not getting Peeta out. They think you were supposed to be responsible for getting his tracker out and you failed. They think you were supposed to keep the careers away and you failed at that too." I looked at him incredulously,
"They're blaming me for that?! How was I supposed to do any of that without dying? What kind of Capitol mutt do they think I am that I can fight of all three other careers and both Katniss and Peeta?"
"That's just the thing_"
"They think I'm a mutt?"
"They think you should've died for it." Of course. That was it. I had gone in there expecting to die, wanting it. And then I had lived. But sixteen others hadn't. And we had still lost two to the Capitol. One of whom was vital to the rebellion.
Maybe I should've expected that. I got up to leave and Haymitch stopped me,
"But Rose," he said, "You should know that as one of Katniss's conditions for being the Mockingjay, she said that all of the victors would be given a pardon and that at the earliest possible opportunity, District 13 would send out a team to rescue them." Suddenly, my hopes soared. I would see Johanna again. And Cashmere. And then I'd have two more people around who didn't hate me. Not yet at least.