What do you want to know?
The words ring in my head as I pick at a bowl of lamb stew, talking myself out of gorging right into it. I may be hungry, but the act of pacing myself almost seems defiant, which makes me more comfortable.
But what did I want to know? Honestly, I am not sure. I know as much as they told me on the hover craft. They planned on rescuing me from the day the Quarter Quell was announced, I know that. I also know an assortment of other small information, like a few people were in on the plan. Except for Peeta and I. This thought brings my rage back, flooding into my veins.
I open my mouth to speak, trying to contain my anger, but nothing comes out. Instead I stare blankly at Plutarch, my mouth hanging agape. The anger began to mix with something similar to sorrow and crawls up my throat, stinging my eyes. The reminder that they had months to put together a full proof plan and we still couldn't get Peeta out safely. I put my spoon down as I start to tremble.
"How about I just tell you about what has been going on here in 13?" Plutarch says calmly, sipping his water. He looks mildly concerned.
I nod slowly as he makes his way to a group of monitors labeled "D. 13".
"Our plan is to unite the districts, more or less. This room we are sitting in was built over the last 75 years." He taps the wall as if to show how sturdy it is. "It was built to fight, waiting for the spark that you brought along, Miss. Everdeen."
"I never meant to cause a spark." I tell him. I am sure of that. I wasn't in love, I wasn't defying the capitol. All I wanted to do was get myself and the boy with the bread home safely.
"Whether it was intended or not, it was lit. Now," He pointed to a monitor frozen with a picture. "We have begun a war we cannot afford to lose."
I look at the picture. People are pouring into the streets of what looks to be district 11. They are shouting, holding flaming sticks, burning the capitols flag. The few peacekeepers seem to be out numbered, cowering in the back without their weapons. I see blood splattered faces, making the small amount of stew I have eaten threaten to resurface.
I look at Finnick, but he still has the same lost and distantly painful look in his eyes from when I mentioned Annie.
"This, was the first successful uprising." Plutarch said in an illustrious tone. "With your help, President Coin can unite the rest of the remaining districts. We have a pretty fair chance at winning this."
"Wait," The word president makes my spine shiver. "Who is President Coin?"
"Ah of course! She is the leader in all of this. The head of the rebellion government." He smiles widely. "As soon as you are well we planned on having you meet with her and a few other head rebels."
I look at him, not sure what expression to put on my face. Something between disgust and offense should be there, but my muscles feel numb. Does he think now that I am up and about that I am just going to oblige to being the Mockingjay?
"Of course, she will explain everything in greater detail before you start. I mean if you want to, that is." Plutarch sits back down, remembering I am not all on board.
A large watch-type machine begins to ring on his hand, printing out a sheet of paper. Tearing it off, he inspects it with caution. A muffled laugh escapes his mouth as he turns his attention back to me.
"They've seemed to notice your disappearance in the hospital." He continues to chuckle. "Still doing as you please I see. I guess I shouldn't complain. If you hadn't chosen to pull out those berries we wouldn't be here right now."
"I wish I would've eaten them." I say, barely audible. Just loud enough for him to hear. And it's true. If I had eaten them, surely another rebellion would've broken out. Having no victors would've caused something of the sort, still lighting a spark, showing even more rebellion on my part. More importantly, Peeta would have died then. He would have died peacefully, slipping into an eternal sleep. Not being tortured to death, if they're even kind enough to have killed him by now.
Brushing off my comment, Plutarch puts his bowl aside. It's only then that I realize Finnick is still here, and has rested his head on the table, sitting there in silence, trying to block out the world.
"What do you say to a little field trip Katniss?" Plutarch says, motioning to the door. I shrug my shoulders.
"Will I end up back in the hospital? Confined?" I ask before even daring to move a muscle towards getting up.
"No, actually just the opposite." He smiles. "You are clearly well enough to be starting life as a member of 13 now. That wrist band is like your release waiver." He motions to my bracelet that is essentially just a reminder of how mentally unstable I am.
I stand up slowly and sulk to the door behind him.
"Oh and before I forget," He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small tube of ointment. "The hospital tried to take this once you arrived, but it belongs to you. I figured you may want as many personally possessions as you can get."
I take the tube reluctantly, grimacing at the memories. The fog, the itching and burning blisters. Losing Mags in effort to save someone I cared about. However, Plutarch is right. I have little here that is truly mine; I might as well take what I can get.
Once we're out the doors, leaving Finnick behind, he shows me down a path of long hallways. I watch as he points to different entrances and talks about what happens in them, but I am barely listening. I am overwhelmed by the size of the place, and the fact it is all underground horrifies me. I see, to my surprise, Gale through one door marked Special Defense. I so desperately want to talk to him again, but I'm not sure what I would even say.
Continuing down the hall, I follow Plutarch through yet another set of double doors. We enter a large corridor, crowded with people. An official looking man says hello to him and nods respectively at me. People around us look and stare before continuing on with whatever they are doing. I often forget I have been a public specimen for quite some time now. I do not blend into the crowd anymore.
Plutarch takes me up a flight of stairs to what I was told are living quarters. We stop at one near the end of the hall. Unlocking it, he opens the door for me to enter.
"This is your new home." Plutarch says as if it's consoling. "Your sister and mother stay here too. You are welcome to remain in here for the rest of the evening until dinner. I know this is still a lot for you." He hands me the key and a folded piece of paper. "Most people don't have personal maps anymore, but since you're still new here, I'll give you the advantage." And with a pat on the back, he's gone.
The small window is the only source of light in the room, leaving it dark and somewhat gloomy. Yet I am grateful for the natural light. I haven't seen it in days.
Sitting on the bed, I pull my few small gifts out of my pocket. As I once again inspect them, each one brings me a different feeling. The parachute concern and relief, the ointment panic and alleviation, the locket sorrow and sympathy. The pearl is the only one I cannot pinpoint into words.
For the first time in hours, I truly let myself think. What am I going to do now? We are at war. More people will die. I will never be ignored by either governments. As long as we are here I am expected to help. If we win, what will happen to me? What will become of Panem? What happens to all of us? Then is hits me.
I already know Peeta will be killed no matter what, and a rush of pain takes over as I break into a round of sobs. I silently curse Gale for giving me false hope. I can't save him, or at least on my own. However, I have people that could help. The small thought gives me a glimpse of the hope I had this morning. As the tears suddenly disappear, I continue to lay there. I really am mentally disoriented. And they want me to lead a rebellion.