(A/N: Begins a month or so after Coin's assassination, after the Mockingjay's trial conclusion and after Chapter 9 of Moving On.)

Chapter 1

Marus Aurelius's POV

"How is our patient?" Brinna Paylor says, gesturing toward Peeta's studio. She looks tired.

"You know I can't tell you that." I have just walked into the hallway. I am frantically trying to pinch my headache away by gripping the bridge of my noise as hard as I can. The approach does not seem to be working. I am in way over my head with this case. I am in over my head with all of my cases.

"Judging from the way you are pinching your nose, I'd guess not that well?" She ignores my pointed glare. "Come on, Doctor. I'm not asking you to give up district secrets or anything."

I sigh, "Fine. He's fine. He's coming along fine." Peeta just explained to me that he believes he sometimes wishes he was dead. That is as far as a person can get from fine. I begin walking briskly toward the exit. Against my hopes, the President of Panem falls in step next to me.

"Doctor, we both know that that the district rebellion has kept your patient schedule pretty full: first Peeta, now Katniss and Effie are patients. I have a vested interest in making sure that all three of them make progress toward recovery."

I stop at the exit and stare at the door and freedom beyond it. I wish I were anywhere but here. The minute the thought forms, I push it away, knowing that it is just a manifestation of the powerlessness I feel. I am powerless to help my patients. Try a different tactic. You know there is an answer for each of them out there somewhere. Work harder. Find it.

I am not willing to share my perceived incompetence with anyone, let alone the President of Panem, so
I turn and say quietly, "I would like to thank the President for the honor of serving Panem by helping these people. I assure you that I also have an interest in their return to productive citizenship." If I were a different man, I would storm out the door.

Paylor puts her hand on my arm as if she can read my mind. I stare at her hand incredulously: I do not like to be touched. Paylor does not seem to notice. "Doctor, I am not insinuating that you are not doing your job. I am offering to help. If you are interested in what I have to say, come back to my office at five and we can discuss it further." She realizes she is still touching me and removes her hand from my sleeve. I push out the door into bright sunlight, shaking off the lingering feeling of her hand.

Brinna Paylor's POV

I lean my head back against my chair, savoring the quiet of the office. I am still largely unused to the quiet here in the Capitol after the sounds of rebellion and whirring of sewing machines and looms before that in my district. Quiet is something I associate with the school where I used to teach: the quiet desperation of test time for children too tired to study. I used to wonder what I would do if I could have total quiet to think. I chuckle a little at the fact that now it's almost too quiet for me to bear - like District 13. The quiet there was stifling and people moved with quiet purpose. On one level, I appreciated the organization and commitment it took to run such a district. On another level, I wanted to scream in frustration. The people there didn't even seem human! Then the Mockingjay arrived with her demands and her cat and her spontaneity. And eventually, her Peeta.

I chuckle again. Didn't she change us all? Peeta is right: sometimes Katniss gives you a life you never would have chosen for yourself.

I think of Marus Aurelius and his quiet control. How many times between 13 and now have I wanted to shake him? To see him do something out of character and spontaneous? I think that Plutarch's suggestion for Peeta to paint my portrait, or mine to have Peeta bake at the mansion would have rattled his composure but he just closed his eyes briefly, took a deeper than normal breath and adjusted his glasses in his coat pocket.

And today I touched him. I know that he doesn't like to be touched. Being around someone in the underground space that is District 13, you learn a lot about them physically. He didn't eat at a table with the other doctors. He did not even touch his patients in any way, including Peeta. I thought that was odd. Didn't doctors have to touch patients to examine them? His tweed coat had been softer than I imagined it would be under my hand – less like the armor of my imagination and more like a comfortable blanket.

I shake my head: I am messing with his patients and their treatment, forcing Marus to have conversations with me, and now physically accosting him. I know that's not a good trajectory for behavior because I've seen it in the children I used to teach: pretty soon I will be using every weapon in my arsenal to get under his skin. I don't have time for this. I have a country to run.

I swivel back to reports of infrastructure damage, crop projections and injury reports from every district with the grim determination I formerly applied to grading bad papers.

Sometime later, I hear the door open. My assistant ushers in Doctor Aurelius, who looks uncomfortable. I ask the assistant for tea and gesture for him to sit. I let the quiet spin out between us, composing myself into what I think of as my "schoolmaster" persona. It's the persona I use when I want to appear capable and competent and in control.

"Doctor, thank you for meeting with me this afternoon." I say briskly. "I know we haven't exactly gotten off on the right foot. I was hoping that you would see getting together today as something of a peace offering."

"I am interested in whatever you have to say, President Paylor." His back is ramrod straight. We stare down our noses at each other and the quiet spins out again. Finally, we are interrupted by the arrival of the tea tray and I take the opportunity to move to a comfortable chair next to a low table: making him my enemy going to help neither me nor his patients. I serve him tea and cookies in silence while I think of how to broach the subject of his patients without making him defensive.

"Thank you for clearing Peeta to paint and bake again." I hold up a cookie. "These are so much better than what we were getting before." Dr. Aurelius holds his gaze on the cookie for so long that I lower it and think that, a year ago, I could have counted on one hand the number of times I had eaten a cookie. I drop my eyes to my plate self-consciously.

"It made sense to see how well he could cope with being in a normal environment. And Plutarch was most persuasive." His eyes narrow slightly and he takes a tentative bite of cookie. Does he not like Plutarch or sweets or both?" "I understand he's staying here now as well?"

"Yes. At least, he seems to come into the mansion at all hours of the day and night, so I thought it would be more practical for him to sleep here too. I didn't want him wandering around the Capitol in the middle of the night, risking an attack. I hope that is alright?" Dr. Aurelius nods. "Of course, Peeta is your patient and you should have access to him whenever you feel it appropriate." I hope the doctor takes that as an olive branch. I'm not sure I like the idea of him skulking around the mansion at odd hours. If it means that I can find out more about how Katniss, Peeta and Effie are doing, and maybe help them in some way, I will risk it. I sip my tea and nibble a cookie, hoping he takes the hint and realizes it is his turn to talk.

"You've taken quite an interest in Peeta." I believe that I hear censure in his tone. He cannot possibly believe that I would…Peeta is almost young enough to be my son!

"All of Panem owes him a debt. As does District 13. How many lives do you think he saved during that bombing attack?" My control slips a bit and I fire back at him. If not for Katniss and Peeta, this new government would not exist. Peeta himself warned 13 of the incoming Capitol bombs so 13 had enough time evacuate to lower floors.

Dr. Aurelius places his cup and saucer on the table and I can tell I have gone too far. I start over. "I'm sorry. They're children – he and Katniss both. They are good children. I doubt they even knew what being involved in a rebellion would mean in terms of how it would affect them. If they had, perhaps they might have made different choices. Look, how much do you know about what Peeta has been through?"

"You mean…" he motions generally in the air.

"No. I don't mean the star-crossed lovers pitch that Haymitch sold to all of us. I mean the tracker jacker venom hijacking. If you had more specifics about it, do you think it would help you in treating him?"

"Of course. The specific dosages, any sort of clinical notes or records could prove invaluable to a determinative treatment plan."

I pull a long chain from under my shirt and pull it over my head. Suspended on it is a key. I slide the chain and the key across the table. "I think you may find what is behind that key to be of interest. I'm hopeful that it will be helpful in treating all of your patients. I simply ask that you keep the records in their current location and not move or duplicate them unless we discuss it. Agreed?" Dr. Aurelius stares blankly at the key and gingerly picks it up.

Marus Aurelius's POV

I pick up the key. It is still warm from her body. The next thing I feel is a surge of elation that I might finally have a lead to a treatment break-through for Peeta. No one needs to know that I am in over my head. I have not told anyone how afraid I that Peeta and Katniss and Effie are in a race to see who ends their life most quickly. That fear is beginning to stick with me through the night and turns my dreams to nightmares. Between the nightmares and the infernal noise and lights of the Capitol, I am awake most of the night, every night. I wonder if I will ever get a full night's sleep again.

I grip the key harder, as if it is a lifeline. Perhaps, for my patients, it is. I wonder what sort of contingencies the President is attaching to granting me access when I realize that President Paylor is expecting an answer from me. What was the question? Something to do with keeping the files intact. "Of course I will discuss anything of the sort. What were you expecting in exchange for this information?" Paylor's guilty look down is barely discernible. I stare at her unwaveringly.

"I'd like to know how he's progressing." She anticipates my negative reaction with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Nothing specific. Just something more than 'fine' will do." She smiles at me tentatively. Her face is different when she smiles – softer and more feminine. Her eyes crinkle at the edge slightly. I find myself wanting to smile back, which is absurd.

I voice my objection. "You know I cannot divulge specifics about a patient."

"Doctor, you were the Head doctor in District 13, Correct? And you have years of experience in your field?" I nod. "Then I will follow your well-respected lead on what you can and cannot share with regard to your patients. I only ask that you view me as a silent collaborator in their treatment." Paylor explains that there is a facility several levels under the Training Center. The key will unlock a particular records room within that Facility. When I want to head there for the first time, she says she will accompany me. I cannot tell if she is curious about what I will find or just interested in making sure I do not copy or remove anything. Something tells me that her interest is the former.

I am still nodding at her, although I have no idea what she means by that. I work alone.

Later, as I am leaving her office, I reiterate that to myself. Although it has not been working so well recently. Maybe it is time to try a different tactic. I put the key around my own neck for safekeeping.