Hauntings of the Past

Chapter 1

Somehow, Haymitch's words made sense, but still it was a concept difficult for Gale to wrap his head around. He did not have any love for Peeta, but he could not stop thinking about Peeta's life, which at one point he believed to be much more fortunate than his or Katniss's. But what Haymitch said painted a pretty grim picture indeed. If that witch was not Peeta's mother, then how were they related? They had to be, or else why would she take him under her wing?

Gale racked his mind for any hints of the past that would give him a clue, a hint as to the hostile interactions between the two. When he could not come up with anything from the witch's side, he thought to Peeta. Peeta never said anything bad about the woman. Not that he confided in someone as remote as Gale. But many of the girls who hung around him occasionally made comments about Peeta. "He's a funny guy. He's self-deprecating, but sweet. He's not so arrogant for someone who has lots of food. He's strong. He's quick with his hands and feet, and he's really well-trained." Gale did not think twice then about those words, rather he was occasionally annoyed by the gossip, but . . . Gale froze. The words "well-trained" began to echo in his mind. Yes, Peeta seemed well-trained, as if the stuff taught at school was mundane. The look Peeta had at school was almost expectant whenever something was taught. And though he tried to hide it, there was often a look of boredom on his face.

He began to think of the school wrestling meets that he sometimes walked through out of interest, remembering how it felt almost that Peeta was holding back when wrestling with his brother, but in skill, he looked much more polished. There was an ease of movement, a clarity in Peeta's actions that set him apart from others, as if the matches with his brother was merely a light practice.

Once school ended, Gale never remembered seeing Peeta in the summer, now that he thought about it. He saw everyone else, Madge, Delly, even though it was not very often, but he never remembered Peeta there in the summer. He always thought that it was hot so Peeta stayed indoors more, but again never thought anything else of it.

Gale had not realized it until he was there, but in his distracted state, he had somehow walked aimlessly to the secure facility that housed Peeta. Was his subconsciousness getting the best of him? Haymitch was ten feet in front of him, arguing with Plutarch it seemed. Gale looked to the left of the two. The glass windows and doors allowed all to see Peeta, frail and shackled to the bed. It was actually a humiliating sight, perhaps no less insulting than how the Capitol treated the Mockingjay's fellow victor.

Coin stated that the effort was to ensure clarity of the situation surrounding Peeta, but taking one look at Haymitch, whose eyes revealed nothing but irritability, Gale took it that Coin's words did not resonate with all of District 13. Haymitch motioned towards the unconscious Peeta, who lay there, eyes opened, but in no ways making any effort to run, fight or acknowledge the people walking by, staring at him like watching a caged animal. There were lines going into his body, infusions of sedatives and hypnotics, most likely. His body was bare except for a pair of hospital pants. At least the bruises and cuts have been treated, and now mostly gone. No evidence of any physical brutality was evident by gross examination. That somehow disturbed Gale. It was as if everyone was trying to erase the memory of this torture as quickly as they could, to not root out the true source of the wounds, but rather cover it up.

When Gale got close enough to the pair to hear what was going on, he could tell the direction was not pleasant.

"I need to talk to the boy, see how he's doing." Haymitch barely tried to hide his dismay.

"Sorry. Coin's orders. He's still not thinking straight."

Haymitch snarled. "How can he when everything used to alter his mind is being injected into him?"

Plutarch growled. "I'd be careful where you're going with this. The boy is not ready. Unless you want a replay with Everdeen."

"What's the harm anyways? I'm just paying him a visit, let your Mockingjay know that he is still alive," Haymitch snarled. "Besides, what's there to hide?"

Plutarch growled. "Very well. I warned you. That little kid unlikely will get well here!" As he said this, Plutarch pointed to his head.

Haymitch snorted. "Well that little kid saved your little ass, so save your opinions for someone who gives a damn!"

Plutarch glared at Haymitch, but then turned to Gale. "Let Everdeen know that Peeta is alive. He is knocked up in the noggin, but don't expect miracles where the Capitol is concerned. Those damn sadists probably played one too many tricks on his mind, and seriously fried it." Gale felt heat rise to his head. For someone in such a powerful position, Plutarch really was hard to like. Haymitch held his tongue since he was allowed entrance into the sterile room. Plutarch stormed off. Haymitch and Gale exchanged a knowing glance and proceeded towards the door to the sterile room. The guards backed off as they approached Peeta.

Haymitch reached out to touch those fingers, cold and unresponsive; because even as uncaring a demeanor as he usually bears, Haymitch could not help but connect with his former tribute. Gale could see now how affected Haymitch was. After all, Peeta was a light in this endless darkness, even for someone as hopeless as the old drunkard, he begrudgingly admitted. Haymitch looked into Peeta's face, and the expression choked him. Even Gale saw the agony that was written over that face. Peeta looked devastated.

There were still vestiges of the injuries Gale had alluded to, now that they looked more closely. The bruises were in the shapes of hands, grasping or even groping, most likely. What have they done to you? Gale reiterated in his mind. Perhaps it was not beneath Snow to use sexual battery in this instance, but he felt that the torture here had a deeper meaning.

"Please stop," Peeta's weak voice whispered wistfully, startling both Haymitch and him back a few steps. The voice was pleading, so far removed from Peeta's brave warnings on television a week ago. Haymitch choked down a sob. The words were spoken with a tone so foreign to them. They always saw a courageous Peeta, whether in the arena or during his interviews. Never have they seen this side of him, pleading, helpless, and extremely vulnerable. And then, from the string of utterly indistinguishable words he continued to mumble, they finally heard one that they recognized. "Father."

Gale tried to get closer, but Peeta's words were a jumbled mess and he could no longer discern them. And before he had the chance, the guards advanced, signaling the end to this meeting.

Haymitch paced slowly, but annoyingly. Gale stepped in front of him when he could no longer bear the man's unrest. "You've gotta say something. You're making me uncomfortable."

Haymitch snorted. "Look at yourself. Your lack of affect is making me irritable."

Gale threw his hands up. "What do you expect from me? I went in and rescued him. End of story. He's here now, safe with us."

Haymitch snorted again. "You can't even convince yourself of that statement, so don't even push it on me. So his father is not dead, and likely works for the Capitol."

"And you got that from what you just heard him say just now?" Gale spoke in an argumentative tone.

"Don't make it too complicated, boy. Is it not obvious? There was a man that he recognized as his father, and he was pleading with that man to stop. And whatever torture they bestowed on him, there was an element of sexual assault judging from those bruises." Haymitch closed his eyes, and to Gale, Haymitch's voice was full of what ifs.

Gale sighed. "It would seem odd that someone so pure of heart," and it pained Gale to acknowledge that since Peeta was his competitor when it came to Katniss's heart and the purer Peeta was, the less chance Gale had, "would have such a heartless father."

Haymitch shook his head. "Just a theory then. We really need more facts, and we need to get him to wake up. What are those idiots trying to accomplish by drugging him?"

"Let me talk to Coin about this," Gale started.

Haymitch laughed coldly. "Well, yes. Go to her and tell her your concerns."

This subtle accusation frayed whatever patience Gale had for Haymitch. "Don't think that we're best buddies now that we have a common goal. And you're unlikely going to get him out of that room without Coin's okay. She is the leader of District 13 after all, unless what you want is chaos here."

Haymitch seemed to soften a bit. "Yes. I am sorry. That was my fears and anger being directed at the wrong person."

An apology from Haymitch, who has always been a crabby drunkard, took Gale by surprise, to which he could do nothing but accept it. It was sincere, in the least. Gale nodded. Before he left to find Coin, Gale tossed Haymitch another bone. "I don't think your theory is too off base. I think that during the summers, he must have trained in the Capitol. He is surprisingly strong and physically skilled for someone from District 12. Maybe not as skilled as the Careers, but he was not an amateur, as you saw with the knives and his fight with Cato."

Haymitch raised his eyebrows in acceptance. "Thanks. You keep a sharp eye. I'm going to find Johanna and Annie. Maybe they know something."

Gale smiled sadly. "Sounds like a plan to me." He walked out of the room, but could not help feeling like they were opening up a Pandora's box. Was Peeta keeping his past hidden for a reason? But he shook that feeling aside. The truth could not possibly be worse than a lie.