Chapter 12

~Peeta~

She couldn't have it right.

"What?" Haymitch expelled. "Well no, that makes perfect sense, actually." Everyone turned to stare at him. He paced back and forth, rubbing his fingers over his stubble. "Coin and Boggs have a falling-out and then Paylor is suddenly her right-hand? Not to mention how she played people in the mansion after his takedown. Talk about an underdog. And those parachutes at her speech actually did made me wish there were a few more guards in the districts to deter the crazies. Just brilliant."

"What are you talking about?" I said. "How does that have anything to do with her being Snow's... daughter?" The word was acid on my tongue.

"No, he's completely right," Katniss continued. "But that was later... Plutarch said she was born in Eight, Snow sent his pregnant concubine there as punishment. Paylor was raised hating him, she always knew her connection and never told anyone. When she was old enough, she gathered some support, and a rumored half-sibling... and went looking for Thirteen. Her plan was to get in with the most likely power that could overthrow Snow so she could replace him, to get revenge for abandoning her and her mother. It's all she ever wanted. The rebellion helped another power-hungry Snow into the Capitol."

I swallowed. It was impossible to fathom that anyone who grew up as oppressed as all of us were, regardless of parentage, would want the country to continue as it was. "I don't believe this!" Confusion, anger and betrayal dripped from the words. "Was the old regime such insufficient proof that no one could have such complete and utter control without eventual resistance?" I wondered.

"I guess it didn't matter," Rory interjected. "So long as she kept things quiet, under the table, put a stop to things like the Games, Plutarch guessed she could keep control for a long time that way. She's a golden-tongued psychopath. The pain of the people hardly registers, but she sure can talk her way into their loyalty." The young man was remarkably astute for his age, I thought.

Katniss looked over to Weaver. "DId you know any of this?"

He nodded. "We knew enough. Mr. Heavensbee was set to give us more detailed information when they captured him. It's unfortunate we weren't in time to recover him as well. But you've given us what we were missing, and we can move forward with dismantling the regime. Thank you for your intel, it helps to ensure that they didn't die in vain." he rose and swept out of the room.

"All business, that one," Haymitch muttered.

Rory's voice broke through. "They thought Gale told me things. They knew he told somebody, but they weren't sure who. They thought it might be me. That's why they came for us. Katniss was just a bonus to them." His eyes were rimmed in red. The boy hadn't really processed everything yet; it was hitting him in spurts. I knew the feeling. Haymitch had his hands on Rory's shoulders. "You shouldn't have been there," he told Katniss. It should have been just me."

Katniss squeezed his hand again. There was something about their connection, a mutual experience I wish I'd had going through what I did. I'd never wish my experiences on anyone, of course... but selfishly it would have been of some comfort. Something still troubled me, though. Like any of this didn't trouble me, but this wonder forced its way to the front. I licked my lips nervously. "If they didn't think she knew anything, why was she... interrogated... instead of you?" I asked him.

The flashback hit her without warning, and unlike me, she was raw and unprepared. It lasted only a few seconds, but I was sure it felt so much longer to her. I brought my lips to her ear, whispering sentiments and reassurance, apologizing for having reminded her. I should have known better. I knew the effects of flashbacks better than anyone. I could only be thankful that hers weren't chemically induced.

Rory sucked in a breath. "I was... they made me watch, so I'd talk."

"Oh..." Red flashed before my eyes. The bile rose up, threatening to spill over. I swallowed hard. Those things were done to me. I'd welcome them again, in this case. They should never, ever have been done to her.

"Peeta." Haymitch and Rory were staring at me, Rory with apprehensive confusion, Haymitch in warning. I hadn't realized, but Katniss had brought her hand to my chest.

"I'm fine. I'm sorry," I said to them all, but mostly to her.

"Can we have a few minutes?" Katniss asked them.

Haymitch glared at me for a moment, then took Rory and his mobile fluids back to his room with an excuse to talk to Weaver about the 'next step.' I knew if I had any involvement, I might be responsible for quite a bit of damage. I'd catch him later to discuss... things. Katniss patted the edge of the bed, inviting me closer. Of course I complied.

"Are you in pain?"

She shook her head. "I'm so sorry, Peeta. I shouldn't have left things the way they were. I blame the alcohol for the absurdity of my reaction but I should have listened in the morning. I know you didn't mean what you said. I know it was the venom talking." She gulped. "I love you. Please forgive me, and not because I look awful or because you were afraid for me. Forgive me because I'm impulsive and stupid and prone to the defaults of humanity sometimes. Please, Peeta. Please say you still want me."

She did look awful. I'd never seen her so broken. And I was scared for her, still terrified of what could happen if Paylor and her minions weren't stopped. It broke my heart. But in this moment where we existed together, something connected. We were vulnerable together. I hated the reason for her being this way, but it brought us together in a way nothing else could. "Of course I want you. Always have," I whispered, bringing my fingers to brush along her neck, the only place that wasn't bruised. "Please promise me you won't run away again," I begged her. "I know you were looking out for them. You're such an amazing friend to that family. But we're a team. I know you hate dwelling on things we can't change, but in this one rare instance I'm going to tell you that we should have gone together. You could have talked me into it." I offered her a gentle, forgiving smile. and she brought her bruised hand up to brush my cheek. I closed my eyes and leaned into her fingers.

"Okay."

I just stared at her for a while. Her eyes drifted closed, she'd startle a bit, perhaps to make sure I was still there. I reassured her each time. Dr. Raylin came by to check her vitals and adjusted her medicine. Haymitch passed by the doorway, waving me over. "Sweetheart, will you be okay by yourself for a while? I won't be long."

She nodded sleepily. "Promise you won't join any missions without talking to me first?"

I nodded. "Promise."

"Kiss me before you go," she asked.

"Will it hurt?"

She shook her head. "They gave me some good drugs."

I smiled slightly, leaning down to brush my lips against her puffy, bruised, cracked ones. She smelled of salt and medicine, but her lips responded to mine like they always had. I kissed her forehead too, for good measure.

"Be back as soon as I can."

She was asleep when I returned three hours later, curled onto her left side, clutching a pillow to her with more pillows tucked into her back. Dr. Raylin was sitting with her, reading. She stood when she saw me. "She woke an hour ago and asked for you," the doc told me. I thanked her for staying, and she nodded, looking back to Katniss with an air of fondness. "The staff and I are taking turns sitting with her. A little hero worship, you might say. She's handling the ordeal rather well."

I nodded. "If by 'well' you mean quietly, I tend to agree." I went to stand by the bedside and leaned down to softly kiss her hair. It smelled clean, and her skin had been coated with a shiny gel. Her bruises seemed fainter, if that were possible. I asked about them.

"Well, she's been lightly bathed, and the ointment absorbs to repair near-surface capillaries, with the fortunate side effect of reducing swelling." Yes, her face did look a little less puffy, too. "It doesn't penetrate enough to repair the deeper tissue injuries, but the IV meds are doing well. I'm more concerned about her mental state." The doc's voice was reserved on the last bit, and my stomach clenched reactively, as it often did regarding the woman I love.

"What do you mean?" I tested.

She flipped her notebook closed, clutching it with crossed arms over her chest. "Well, as I said she's taking the circumstance rather quietly. That sometimes happens after a captive or torture situation. The calm manner may be a front to deeper emotional trauma. She may feel more comfortable talking to you than to one of us; I understand her previous infirmary experiences were less than pleasant."

I shook my head. Not about helping her; I'd do that without hesitation. Anything she needed. But I was no expert, and I said so, perhaps a bit more forcefully than I intended.

"No, of course not," Dr. Raylin corrected. "But she trusts you. I have the impression there are very few she does trust, and understandably so."

I nodded at this. "Thank you."

The doc gave my arm a squeeze. "Come get any of us again if you need to go. We're more than happy to sit with her."

I wasn't planning to be yanked away again anytime soon. I dragged to the side facing her and settled in, leaning against the pillow clutched in her arms, trying not to disturb her ointment-slick, healing skin, which was noticeably turning a gray-green, a marked improvement from just several hours ago. I marveled at the change. Healing her psyche from the ordeal would be far less quick and easy.

She roused me from a blissfully gentle dream, I didn't know how much later. "Can we go home now?"

I blinked the sleep from my eyes, the corners of my mouth turning up a little. "As soon as they say you're okay, that's exactly where we'll go."

She sighed. "I'm okay now."

"I'm glad you feel better," I told her, tentatively brushing her hand. It was smooth and the color had improved drastically, now a little yellowish, like her face. She uncurled her fingers and let me hold hers in both of mine. I watched her face for a while.

She looked down at the light blue and white zigzag pinstripe of the pillowcase. "You think I'm holding back."

I sighed. "I don't think that. But I do know this, an experience like that is hard to let go of. It can also be hard to accept, or even acknowledge. But I'm here, and I know. You can talk to me. Even if I'm not qualified to help, I can listen." I gave my words a minute to settle. "You're so calm. It scares me a little."

She offered a small shrug. "Maybe... it hasn't really hit me. That it was real, you know? Or maybe I'm not all upset like everyone expects because I wasn't worried about me in there. I was worried about everybody else. What they did..." her eyes closed, she had to take several deep breaths to collect herself. "It was nothing... compared to how I'd feel if I knew they'd done that to Rory, or to Vick, or Posy... sweet, little Posy... or their mother," she breathed. "Or you." She looked at me pleadingly, profoundly. "I'd take it all over again if it kept any of you safe."

I was too stunned and heartbroken to register that I'd stopped breathing. She had to remind me to inhale. She called herself selfish, so often... but then she'd say something like that. I didn't need a reminder why I loved her more than anything, but I got one anyway.

"I'm not holding anything back right now. I promise you," she brought her hand to my cheek. Her voice sounded stronger. "Okay?"

I nodded. "Okay." And I did believe her. I just hoped if some latent feeling did surface, she wouldn't be afraid to come to me. And I had to vow to myself to be strong for her; in the past my reactions to her pain made her reserved and uncomfortable. I'd not allow that to be one of those times.

"So..." she broke me from my thoughts. "Tell me what happened."

~Katniss~

At worst, I felt trapped. By the sterile room, the bedclothes, the mountain of pillows strategically propping me off my bad side, the trio of worried medics I'd woken to, die-hard professionals who came across as something of a Mockingjay fan club. They weren't inappropriate about it at all; I just wasn't used to the attention, not since Cressida followed me around with her camera crew. I knew this was different and they were just trying to help, but I couldn't escape if I wanted to. And if this was the worst I was feeling, the meds were doing a good job, or the wake of what happened hadn't really hit me yet.

Peeta was the safe harbor when I woke again. He was the 'at best' part of this; his eyes and gentle hands kept me grounded. He was far less angry and agitated this time, and I was thankful. Selfishly I wanted, needed him here, not off with this underground movement plotting some sort of revenge or whatever they were doing. Too many thoughts swirled around my medicated brain, mostly broken and passing, but others concrete and actively bothersome. He couldn't fathom how I was so calm, or so he implied. His own experience with recovering from trauma was now a commonality that we would always share and never escape from, but it didn't mean our experiences were similar at all. His had purpose, sick and twisted as it was. Mine was senseless and vindictive, a desperate attempt at extracting nonexistent information. I was surprisingly over it, for the moment. And honestly, I was tired of this this instinctual thing I played at; an avoidance rooted in a general lack of trust that often caused a rift between us. It was of my own making, and it hadn't solved anything. I was so done with that part of myself. I had to trust Peeta, wholeheartedly, whether my mind wanted to or not. My heart wanted him, and so I'd go against my own grain, until it strained and shifted into something more coexistent.

"So, tell me what happened."

He swallowed. He did that a lot when he was trying to assemble the information in a way I'd absorb it best. "I don't want to get you all upset, Katniss. Maybe I should tell you later."

"Are the Hawthornes all right?" I panicked.

"Yes, of course, they're all fine. In fact, Rory's going home in the morning, and there are two agents watching the house at all times. A real pleasant set of twins, from what Hazelle told me a half hour ago. She hopes you'll come back when you can as well. Rory agrees she shouldn't know what really happened. Might upset her too much."

I nodded. He was right, it was probably for the best. "Then, what could possibly upset me?" I asked. "Peeta, please." I wanted to ramble on about how I needed to know, that if it involved me or what happened I should be told, and that he shouldn't keep things from me, but my conscience and my tongue were tripping over each other.

You're not going to like it." He sighed. "Please don't overreact, I'm doing that enough for both of us."

"No promises."

He nodded. "The team that rescued you and Rory... they left something behind when they got you out of there. A bomb. They... blew up the training center."

This threw me, but only superficially. Not that I was at all attached to that place even before I was taken there to be tortured, but still. The fact that I don't handle change well probably contributed a bit to my reaction. The understanding of what it might ignite escaped me for the moment. "Don't tell me you'll miss that place." Where did that come from? Sarcasm wasn't really my thing. "So they took out an icon of the old leadership and probably a few bad guys with it. So what?"

"That's just it. The training center still was just that... for the New Republic Guard. An estimated eighty-three percent of Paylor's soldiers were eliminated in the attack, not to mention a handful of civilians.

Now, I was stunned. It was happening, all over again. "How many?"

"Eighty-three percent."

"How many people?"

A pause. "Over fifteen hundred."

I swallowed down acid that burned the back of my tongue. "How... how could they? Why? Without telling us? How is that going to expose the truth? What have they started?" The meds weren't suppressing me anymore. I was positively livid.

"That was the first thing I asked," he explained. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not exactly defending them. But according to their sources on the inside, the troops were set to deploy to the districts this morning. If the decision hadn't been made quickly, there may have been no stopping them. Love, the resistance lost two of their own informants in the explosion. This isn't being taken lightly, I assure you."

"But fifteen hundred people. People who lived in fear of reapings, like we all did. People who volunteered to rebuild. People from the rebellion. People, Peeta."

"What do you think we did with the Peacekeepers from before, Katniss? They were people as well." His words stung. I hadn't really known that, hadn't wanted to know, but he was right, as usual. He continued. "These people don't mess around, not when it comes to securing freedom. Several of Weaver's committee are from Thirteen, and fortunately, it looks like they know what they're doing. I hate that they did it this way, but the resistance has been working on this for months and ran out of time. What's awful about all this is that if they could have found a way to discredit Paylor, the Guard would likely have disbanded peacefully, by default, but her inner circle is so tight and her performance so perfected, it would have been too difficult to point enough wrong-doing in her direction to sway the public opinion, especially while everything is still so raw."

"You make the Guard sound like a bunch of drones. They weren't, some of them were from back home. Why would they follow orders that would make them look just like Peacekeepers?"

"Haymitch actually had that thought through before I did. I guess it looks different from the other side, from a position of authority as opposed to submitting to it. The Guard were trained first in organization; under the premise of promoting order and safety, they had the authority to ration supplies and draft civilians for labor, and that meant enforcing order, by whatever means necessary. Not much different from what we grew up with."

My mind strung questions like wet laundry on a clothesline, some were heavy and dropped off while others hung steadfastly, waving as if to keep my attention. "Speaking of the public, what are they saying?"

"They're scared. Confused. Angry. To them, the bombing looks like a terrorist act by leftovers from Snow's administration, trying to shake things up. Weaver's organizing damage control. Pollux is here, he's been asked to film an appropriate message to push over the airwaves. They've... they want me to be the face of the resistance."

That did it. I wasn't sure why it hit me the way it did; Peeta excelled at getting people to listen, maybe it was just the last lump of coal that broke the cart. I shifted uncomfortably, trying to roll against the barricade of pillows and onto my other side. I couldn't look at him, let him see the hurt in my eyes or he might think he caused it. The stabbing pain in my ribs returned and I winced, my tender skin still throbbing, however not as badly as before. It still hurt, but not enough to take my mind off this.

"Katniss," his hand lightly found my shoulder. "Please talk to me. Tell me how you feel about this; I don't want to do it... I think you should. The public likes you, they're familiar with you. Many of them trust you. And this might be the only way to make sure that she doesn't get away with hurting anyone else."

I sighed. This was just too much. My head hurt again, another pain to add to the list of discomfort I felt, and that overwhelmed me too. "Peeta," I said softly, "I just need to think. This is... a lot. I don't know how I feel about it. I need some time." I heard him draw breath, and felt his hand stroke its way down my arm to my hand. I caught it in my fingers and gave an apologetic squeeze.

"Okay." I heard him give in with a sigh. "Do you want me to go?"

"Of course not," I said, still facing away. "Just don't want to talk anymore." I felt him kiss my hair, and the chair off to the side squished as he settled himself there. A while later I heard him snoring lightly. At least one of us would rest tonight. I didn't know which was worse; that the resistance was willing and even capable of pulling off such a monstrous atrocity for the greater good, or superficially, that I did not want to be on camera again, part of propaganda, accomplice to the manipulation of the people. It was stupid that I worried over the latter, but it proves how selfish I can be.

And how little I deserved him.

~Peeta~

Of course she didn't take it well. She was in pain, her perception contorted from the drugs, and I had to lay all that on her, regardless that she would have dragged it out of me. I should have waited until she felt better, more herself. At any rate it was done. I shouldn't have suggested she take the position I was offered... that was too much. I was being selfish. Even though I know she could do a much better job, and that I meant what I said about the people believing and following her, I shouldn't have put that burden on her. Some supportive boyfriend I am.

I knew I was going to fall asleep in that chair, I rather welcomed the rest, but I wanted to be awake in case she needed something. Wishful thinking... of course she wouldn't want to talk to me for a while. Haymitch shook me awake later, handing me a cup of bitter coffee and indicating for me to follow him. I sipped the hot liquid, willing the heat to migrate to my stiff neck before anywhere else, and stole a long look at Katniss, fast asleep, still facing away. I hoped I'd be back before she woke again.

"So... whaddya think?" Haymitch tested.

"About what?" I mumbled. "The plan or my part in it?"

"Both I guess."

I took a long swig of the coffee, my expression fleetingly souring at the taste. "I think it sucks."

"Right on." We stood in silence for a moment, at the meeting room window overlooking the command center.

"Anything new?"

Haymitch shrugged. "Rory just left, said to tell you and Katniss to come when you can. Doc Aurelius is gonna pay him a visit soon; he swears Hazelle won't be told a thing, at least about what he went through."

"How you holding up?"

"I want a drink."

I nodded. "Could use one myself." We shared another long silence. I gulped down the dark, grainy dregs at the bottom of my cup and went to the machine to pour myself another. "What's the word on the outside?"

Haymitch shook his head. "Can't be sure. The closest informant went silent right after you left, haven't heard from her since. Weaver wants you to record a statement in the next hour. Damage control and all that. The written statement claiming responsibility for the training center isn't having quite the effect we were hoping for. Paylor and the other candidates are up in arms over the bombing, you shoulda seen the footage. If only the others could see the bitch for what she is, they'd be applauding the rubble downtown instead of yelling over it."

"I told Katniss she should do it, not me," I blurted out.

"You... what?"

"I know. I... I didn't mean to put that on her; it's just that some of the committee is right; she's got the public trust already. Everybody just remembers me being Snow's pawn..."

"No, they remember you as the honest kid who made them see Snow for what he really was," his eyes pierced through me. "You've got as much respect as that girl does, and a heckofa smarter tongue at that. You'll do fine. You takin your meds?"

"Yeah."

"Then go meet Pollux down the hall. I'll go sit with your girl for a while. Maybe get a few winks while I'm at it." He stumbled for the door. I couldn't remember the last time the old man slept.

"Haymitch... tell her I'm sorry."

He looked puzzled, then decided not to ask. "You got it."

I gulped down the last of the coffee. It wasn't quite scorching, but a line of sweat broke out across my brow. That could have been nerves. I hadn't seen Pollux since the mission, since his brother was killed. I figured since he was here, he probably knew they wanted to film me, so he must not hate me that much. It might have been partially my fault his brother was dead. I wasn't sure anymore. Oh well, I should get this over with, I thought, trudging out the door. The coffee was doing nothing to wake me, but it made me nervous as ever.

"Pee-tah!" Ropy arms picked me up and swung me around. I stumbled when they set me down. "Good see-you, Pee-tah!" Bright blue eyes and reddish hair couldn't detract from the wide grin on the Avox's face, but wait... Avoxes can't talk. Could they?

"You... you can talk now?"

Pollux laughed. "We are same now, you and I," he said, extending his... tongue? Yes, it was blue and artificial, but it flexed like a tongue might. "Hard say all words, but good now." He seemed very proud. I couldn't begin to imagine the freedom he must feel. I returned his smile and lifted my pants leg, showing him the newer, more-realistic prosthetic. Pollux laughed again and clapped. "Come, we work now."

I read a script they prepared as a stylist attempted to improve my appearance, making me change into this shirt and those pants and brushing my hair this way and that. It was hard to be primped while having a friendly argument over the content and articulation of my lines, especially because Pollux's speech tended to quicken when he disagreed, and his already fractured words tumbled together. I had to be patient. In the end, what we agreed on sounded enough like me to be heartily believable, while relaying the intended message. Weaver came in during the final taping.

"My fellow Citizens, my name is Peeta Mellark. Many of you know me as a victor of the Hunger Games, and a member of the rebellion that brought down the worst dictator of our nation's history. It is my resolute duty to make you aware of a rising threat to our freedom. President Paylor, a person who I had held in high esteem, has been revealed as the late President Snow's daughter, and a traitor to our people. Many have been silenced in uncovering the details of her agenda. The charges against her include reinstatement of the Peacekeepers, cruel interrogation against persons of interest, and the murder of Captain Gale Hawthorne, Secretary Plutarch Heavensbee, Victor Beetee Silane, Victor Johanna Mason, Victor Enobaria Schistt, and the attempted murder of Victor Katniss Everdeen. If our President wishes to dispute these charges, we call upon her to submit to a trial by jury of the people. If not, I call upon you, my fellow citizens of Panem, to demand the President's immediate and unconditional surrender. Ms. Paylor, the new resistance awaits your response."

Weaver gave the thumbs-up, and the camera cut. "That'll do nicely, Mr. Mellark. Thank you for your assistance." He nodded to Pollux and walked out; Pollux set down the camera and clapped me on the shoulder. "Good work, Pee-tah. Cas-tor wo- would be proud."

I offered the big man a brave half smile. "I only hope it has the intended effect."

He nodded. "You come see me la-ter?"

"Of course, my friend."

He grinned widely again. "Say hi Ka-niss for me."

She was awake when I returned. Still facing away, but she had her hands over her ears and Haymitch snored obnoxiously in the only decent chair, one foot propped haphazardly on a metal stool. I went around the bed and her eyes met mine immediately. She looked so much better, and rather annoyed. "Peeta, please get me out of here," she whispered.

One of the nurses brought some drawstring pants and a thermal shirt to replace the thin, tentlike snap-on gown and dug up slip-on shoes, ran a brush through her hair and tied it back in a low knot. The tape over her ribs gave Katniss limited range of motion, but though she winced, she didn't complain. She got unsteadily to her feet and took my offered hand for support. We got a short lecture on not straying too far or doing too much and were released.

"How do you feel? The truth, now." I kept one hand on the small of her back, unable to disconnect from her.

She sighed. "Better. Still hurts, but I don't want to be cooped up anymore. I know I can't do much like this, but I want to do something." She was silent for a minute, but we shuffled forward, with no destination in mind. "I promise I'll tell you if it's too much or if I need help, okay?"

I smiled. "Thank you. For trusting me." Now it was my turn to be silent. It took a few minutes just to go thirty feet, and then I couldn't help it anymore, I had to tell her. About earlier. "I uh... I already helped to 'do something', actually." I told her about the propo. "I'm so, so sorry that I asked you to do that in my place," I continued. "It was wrong of me. You've been through enough. I know you didn't want to be the Mockingjay the first time around, and I was so insensitive to ask that of you. I was only thinking of the situation we're all in, and it went against my nature to put that responsibility on you... I should have thought of you first. I should always put you first. I'm sorry."

"Peeta..."

"Please, Katniss... just accept my apology. The last thing I want for us is an argument. Please?" My eyes radiated sincerity.

She nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. So... how did it go?"

I sighed, the corners of my mouth turning up in relief. "I can show you, want to see?"

Pollux was still in the media room when we made it to the doorway. "Hey Pollux, look who's up and about."

The big man's eyes lit up, he rose from his computer and lumbered over to us. I was instantly afraid he might pick her up like he did me, but he came to a stop and offered his hand. I guessed he'd been told something of her condition, or maybe he sensed her current fragility; her bruises were almost completely faded. He lightly squeezed her fingers. "So good t-to see you are safe, Ka-niss," he enunciated.

Katniss gave a short laugh of surprise, a sound I thought I'd not hear again for a long time. "That's fantastic, Pollux," she congratulated him as he showed her his blue tongue. I had to laugh with them, if anything to relish whatever joy could be found in this sterile place and gloomy, uncertain circumstance.

"Ed-it-ing almos- fin-ished, come see," he waved us to follow and offered Katniss his chair. It was just weird to see myself on the screen, so I watched Katniss as she viewed the reworked propo. Her face was studious. She asked to see it again, and then once more. She shook her head at the end.

"What's wrong with it?" I asked.

"Absolutely nothing," she said. "I have to be honest, I was looking for something to be wrong with it; but I can't come up with anything better to say or how to say it. I didn't like hearing my name on the list of victims, but that's just a selfish observation... it might be just what gets the people going, and answers why you'd be on camera in my place." She turned to Pollux. "When does it air?"

"Soon as it's done," he articulated almost evenly.

Katniss' stomach took the opportunity to grumble audibly, and Pollux laughed. His spirit was refreshing; I wish I knew how he maintained such a cheerful attitude, especially in light of everything he'd lost. "Hey buddy, I need to feed Katniss, but you're welcome to join us when you're done," I invited, helping Katniss to her feet again.

"I wou-woul-d like very mu-ch," he told us.

Lunch in the mess hall was some sort of vegetable protein paste on flatbread. At least the meal came with some decent fruit, oranges were in season and they kept well, so they'd been offered liberally at mealtimes since we'd arrived. Pollux wasn't far behind, and he regaled us with some well-practiced tongue twisters. His doc made them part of his therapy, he said. Katniss was quiet, chewing slowly and deliberately. She was tired, I could tell... I'd take her back to her room when she was finished so she could get some rest. I'd also boot Haymitch's snoring self from the visitors' chair and send him to find a more soundproofed place to pass out.

My lighthearted plan crumbled when Haymitch burst into the mess hall, almost knocking a young technician's tray from her hands. "I need to see you two. Now."

"Sorry Pollux, another time," I apologized, and he waved us off. I gingerly gathered Katniss into my arms; she was looking more and more tired by the minute, and I doubted Haymitch wanted to wait for me to help her shuffle in her slip-ons. He held the door of an empty room across the hall, a records storage room judging from the stacked boxes of papers and files, and the musty smell. His eyes were wide and excited.

"Good news is, the propo worked. Within minutes, all districts were calling for investigations into the charges. Weaver's gamble paid off." He sucked in a breath. "But there's bad news."

Katniss' weak body stiffened in my arms. "What bad news?" I demanded, my voice low.

"It looks like our favorite President has given us the slip. It's gonna be hard to conduct a trial without a warm body to hold accountable."