A/N: To play President Coin- Meryl Streep or Kelly Bishop
I'm woken up suddenly by shuffling feet. Enobaria has woken up, and she's moved across the cell, and sits with her back to the wall, staring at Johanna, who never went to sleep. Johanna yawns, as if she's bored, but she should be tired.
"Even though we both know you don't know anything and are willing to do exactly as the Capitol wants you to, you may still be tortured by them as Peeta and I will be, so there's really no point in hurting each other anymore." Johanna tells her. She gives her a hateful look, but nods before turning her attention to a weed growing into the cell via the cracked stone. She starts to play with it.
I crawl over to where Johanna is. "Safe to talk more?" I whisper.
"Don't see why not. I don't know anything valuable anyway," she says, louder than she normally would, assuming so that the Capitol would take the hint.
"So, who lived?"
She takes a deep breath like she's told me this a thousand times. "Chaff and Brutus are dead. Katniss, Finnick, and Beetee have made it safely to District 13, thousands of miles away from us. You, me, and Enobaria. We're the only tributes captured from the arena by the Capitol."
"And," I gulp, struggling to say it, "District 12? My home, my fami…"
"Sorry, Peeta, but I'm not in 13. I know 12 was bombed but that's all I know." This time, she looks in my eyes with sympathy.
The door to the cells opens. The large man who threw the girls against the wall earlier opens my cell door. "Snow wants to see you." He says, walking in and pulling my hands to my back to handcuff me.
I try to force myself to think happy thoughts, but in the end, I'd only be kidding myself. Snow wants one of two things. He either wants to kill me publicly or privately. I hope he just does it privately. Katniss doesn't need to see that, even if Snow is right and she really doesn't care. If it comes down to it, I could piss him off to the point where he wouldn't be able to wait to kill me on tv.
But I'm wrong. I'm let out of my handcuffs shortly before entering the room beyond the two tall, heavy, golden doors. Two guards open the doors for me, and after I walk in, they shut the doors, leaving me alone with Snow.
There's a table full of Capitol delicacies I've had only once before, at the Victor's party, here in the same mansion, only it was much bigger, and in another room. Classical music is playing, and Snow calmly dabs his mouth with his handkerchief before pouring himself a glass of red wine. A faint smile comes across his face when he notices my entrance. But it's not a friendly smile. I don't know how to describe it.
"Ah, Peeta. Sit down, will you?"
Why, so you can slit my throat while I'm sitting there, defenseless?
I don't sit, and he shrugs. "Suit yourself." He tells me, as he sits in his office chair. "I trust you had some time to think in the cells. See some acquaintances."
"Let them go, they don't know anything."
He laughs.
"Whether they know anything or not, they've betrayed Panem, they've committed treason. And treason is punishable by a gruesome, horrible, slow death. In my opinion, I'm being merciful by keeping them there."
"You-" I start to say. He interrupts me. "Listen, Peeta," He says, getting up. He walks towards me and put a hand on my shoulder again. "I've always liked you. I can't pinpoint why, but, you seem like a trustworthy kid. Cooperate with me, and I'll let you live. I may even let the other two companions you've got down there live. But, if you don't cooperate, I'll have to take desperate measures. You don't want me to take desperate measures."
He walks across the room, going into a large closet. He comes out with a suit that's my size, along with Portia, who's hands are tied behind her back, and blindfolded.
He removes her blindfold and her eyes light up, if only for a second, when she sees me. I must be the only familiar face, or at least friendly face she's seen since the start of the Games after all she was saying about the Capitol before the Games began.
Snow dabs his mouth again and clears his throat. "Eat up. Shower," he says, pointing to a door, that I'm assuming leads to a bathroom. "Get dressed. And most importantly don't blow it. Lives rest in your hands. You've got an interview with Caesar Flickerman tonight."
I'm speechless as Snow walks out the door. I know what he wants me to say. He wants me to use every weapon in my arsenal to discredit Katniss and the rebels and squash this war effort. He wants to use my power of words.
Portia is mostly quiet, but tears stream constantly down her face. Once I'm dressed and my hair is done, she straightens up my tie before hugging me and planting a kiss on my cheek. "Good luck, Peeta," She manages to choke out. "It was an honor working with you."
"I'm sure this is the beginning of several interviews Portia," Because it probably is.
"It will be okay." I tell her as she leaves, but that's a lie. I don't know anymore if everything will be okay. I don't know anything anymore.
I prepare backstage. But there isn't much of a crowd. I'd assume most citizens are still pissed off about the whole pregnant tribute thing, and the rest have probably been warned to stay inside in case of any riots. There won't be any, though, not here in the Capitol.
Though there are only a few faces, mostly political leaders, in the stands, there is a camera directly in front of me, and one in front of Caesar. And I know this will be a "Mandatory Broadcast" throughout all of Panem.
I don't have much time to prepare what I will say. I weigh my options but am disappointed when I can't come up with an idea that doesn't involve dying or discrediting the rebels. I could say everything I can to keep the war going, but they'd cut me off before anyone would have a chance to notice. Not to mention, kill me and probably Johanna instantly.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, boy have we got a special treat for you tonight! Peeta Mellark!" That's my cue.
Walking on stage, I weigh my second option. I can do as Snow says and go against the rebel cause, try to lead the people back under the Capitol's wing.
Neither choice is ideal, obviously, but I've run out of time, because Caesar is looking at me expectantly.
"I bet you'd thought you'd done your last interview with me, Caesar."
"I confess, I did. The night before the Quarter Quell. Well, who ever thought we'd see you again?"
"It wasn't part of my plan, that's for sure." And I'm stalling. Stalling, stalling, stalling. Yet, no new options come up.
"I think it was clear to all of us what your plan was. To sacrifice yourself in the arena so that Katniss Everdeen and your child could survive."
"That was it, clear and simple. But other people had plans as well."
"Why don't you tell us about that last night in the arena? Help us sort things out?"
I told him how it felt in the arena- like an insect, trapped in a bowl. Every hour, the clock ticking, promising some new horror you'd somehow have to endure. All the while, he's nodding his head, like he understands or something.
"You have to imagine that in the past two days, sixteen people have died, some of them defending you. At the rate things are going, the last eight will be dead by morning. Save one. The Victor. And your plan is that it won't be you."
Snow hasn't decapitated me yet, so maybe talking about the arena is still okay. "Once you're in the arena, the rest of the world becomes very distant. All the people or things you loved or cared about almost cease to exist. The pink sky and the monsters in the jungle and the tributes who want your blood become your final reality. The only one that ever mattered. As bad as it makes you feel, you're going to have to do some killing. Because in the arena, you only get one wish, and it's very costly."
"It costs your life," says Caesar.
"Oh no, it costs a lot more than your life, to murder innocent people? It costs everything you are."
Caesar nods, agreeing. By this point, I'm so full of bottled up anger, confusion, and loss, that I just decide not to over think anything. Whatever my mind tells my mouth to say, is what I'll say, regardless of the consequences.
I told them everything: About my last dying wish being to save Katniss, and the split second fatal mistake I made to find her when the wire was cut. To save Katniss, in case they didn't know what happened with the force field, I just say it blew out, but then Caesar tells me that Katniss blew it out. And my first instinct, as always, is to protect Katniss.
"She didn't know what she was doing! None of us could follow Beetee's plan! You can see her trying to figure out what to do with that wire!" I snap. And I realize what Caesar is up here to do…he's up here to get a confession out of me. But he won't get it. Oh no.
He jumps back, startled by my sudden shortness with him. "All right, it just looks suspicious."
That's when I jump out of my chair, and get within inches of Caesar's face. "Really? And was it part of her plan for Johanna to nearly kill her? For the electric shock to paralyze her? To trigger the bombing?" I realize I'm yelling now. I don't care.
"She didn't know Caesar! Neither of us knew anything except that we were trying to keep each other alive!" I'm nearly hysterical now, scared to death of what Snow will do to me. Katniss is safe, though, that I know. She's now being protected by the entire rebel army.
Caesar finally backs off, but then asks me about Haymitch. It dawns on me that I haven't even mentioned his name since I've been here in the Capitol. I have no idea what happened to him. But if he's not here, then he must be in 13. Meaning he knew about it. And he broke his promise to not leave me out of the loop again. Because he has, and it's costed me so much already.
"I don't know what Haymitch knew."
Because, honestly, he probably knew, but I don't know for sure.
"He never mentioned anything." I tell Caesar when he asks if Haymitch could have been a part of it.
"What does your heart tell you?"
Well, let's see. My heart tells me to grab Caesar's microphone and use it to knock him out. My heart tells me to find whatever weapon I can, to hit and kill Snow. My heart tells me to run, run to 13. But it's not possible. I'd never make it. We're thousands of miles away.
"That I shouldn't have trusted Haymitch. That's all."
He pats my shoulder, and I force myself to let him and not snap back. "We can stop now if you want."
Sure, we can. If it were just me and Caesar. But it's not. Snow will want more.
"Was there more to discuss?"
I was going to ask about your thoughts on the war, but if you're too upset…" he begins.
Snow catches my glance and nods his head. This is where he wants me to condemn this war and all involved. And go back to living in peace and starvation and murder, here in Panem.
I look straight into the camera and address the nation watching. "Stop for a moment and think about what this war could mean. For human beings. We almost went extinct fighting the one before. Now our numbers are even fewer. Our conditions more tenuous, is this really what we want to do? Kill ourselves off completely? In the hopes that what? Some decent species will inherit the smoking remains of the Earth?" Caesar tells me he isn't following.
Very bluntly, I call, on national television, for a ceasefire.
And it's true, everything I said. About killing each other off. About our population already so little because of the last war. I don't want this war, I don't. But the alternative? Go back to the oppressive, horrible life we lived? No. No one wants war. Not even the most evil person on the planet wants war. But sometimes, war is necessary. And I wish I could tell Katniss what I really want to say, "Fight on, Mockingjay. Lead the country to peace."