CH 13: Belly of the Whale
It was exhilarating. She had felt alive again. The last time she had run through the streets of District 8 it had been in panic, gripped with fear, and had ended with a bullet tearing through her side and Maura being ripped from her grasp. This time, she had nothing to lose. Charles Hoyt had been terribly wrong it occurred to her as she plowed through alleyways and around corners, assaulting Capitol troops with her band of rebels and District 13 support. He had thought taking Maura would end the rebellion: that she would crumble, give up, or perhaps even die. She almost had. But, she didn't want to die anymore. She wanted to do exactly what they had set out to accomplish: tear the Capitol down to its foundation.
Jane sat in the hovercraft as it lifted off from District 8, Lou Kifkin and the rebels staying behind raising the three-fingered salute to see them off. Her heart was still pounding, adrenaline coursing through her veins, anger and defiance set into her clenched jaw. She could feel the blood from the gash on her forehead still trickling down her brow. Jane reached up and wiped it away and then stared at the red smears on her fingers. Closing her eyes, she felt the skin above her left eyebrow tingle with a phantom touch.
Do you know how close you came to losing your eye? Maura cupped her face with one hand as the other took a damp cloth and began to gently wipe the blood and grease away.
Pipe blew. Her voice was breathless and trembled as she spoke, not from pain, though the injury ached terribly. In the year that she'd been seeing the seamstress to treat her wounds, some from the odd jobs she did around the district, most from the fights at Cavanaugh's, this was the first time Maura Isles had touched her face. Jane closed her eyes and focused on how Maura's thumb stroked softly back and forth across her cheek as she cleaned the cut.
You should wear protective glasses. My father keeps some at the factory; I could procure you a pair…
Jane nodded, Ok.
When Jane opened her eyes it wasn't Maura blotting the wound, but Patrick Doyle, his touch rough and fumbling. She winced, reaching up to take the piece of gauze from him and hold it steady to the laceration to staunch the bleeding.
"Sorry," he apologized, "I don't have her touch…"
Jane took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. No one does. "What now?"
Doyle sat down next to her, "Plutarch and the film crew will turn the footage into some propaganda spots, 'propos' they call them. Air them to all of Panem."
Jane arched an eyebrow and looked at him skeptically, "How? The Capitol controls the broadcast network."
"Beetee," Doyle replied, "He basically redesigned and upgraded the network that transmits the programming from the Capitol. He's fairly certain he can hack it. Probably can't give us sole control of broadcasting, but it should be enough to patch in these propos."
Slowly, the pieces had begun to fall into place over time. Why District 13 had come to their aid, rescued her. Why they would have gone to the trouble to rescue the other Victors they had, taken in the refugee populations from the rebelling districts. "Everyone has a role to play," Jane murmured. Mockingjay. She thought of Finnick Odair and how enraptured the citizens of the Capitol were with him. No doubt, Finnick would be appearing in the propos, a beloved face to rally more Capitol folk to their cause. Riley Cooper from District 6, like Jane, she had not been content to live idly in her victory. District 6 built Panem's hovercraft, and Riley had perfected her skills as a mechanical engineer. And Beetee of course. Everything would be for naught without access to communications. The refugees. Jane gritted her teeth and shook her head. That thought, rubbed her the worst of all. A plague some years back had rendered most of District 13's population infertile. Vessels… The first inclination of any species is above all else, to survive.
President Alma Tamaro. The benevolence of her actions had grown increasingly suspect, Jane turned her head to regard Patrick Doyle, "She will rescue Maura…"
Doyle reached for Jane's hand and took it in his own, "The plan is classified; but she assures me it is in motion."
Not separating her gaze from his, Jane squeezed his hand, "If she's lying to me…I'll kill her."
Doyle nodded and leaned back against the seat, "If she's lying…I'll help you."
Exhaustion from the excitement and physical exertion afforded Jane one of the best night's sleeps she'd had since losing Maura that wasn't pharmaceutically induced. Her body resisted, waking despite the intrusive touch that was shaking her. Through the haze of half-sleep she began to register a voice in accompaniment to the physical touch.
"Janie…wake up sweetheart…"
Her eyes opened to find her small compartment illuminated by the risen sun from the tiny window slot and her mother sitting on the side of the bed, fingers tracing the edge of the bandage above her eye and then reaching to comb through her dusty and matted hair.
"How'd you get in here?" Jane groaned, trying to pull the thin sheet over her head. So much for privacy.
"One of the President's guards let me in," Angela replied, tugging the sheet back from her daughter's head with a smile. It reminded her of Jane's childhood and the morning battles over early wakeups.
"Shouldn't you be in the cafeteria, cooking breakfast?" Jane rolled away from her mother and tucked her face into the wall.
"It's past breakfast. You've overslept. And you're late!" Angela answered with increasing exasperation, ripping the covers from her daughter's body as she rose. "President Tamaro has been waiting in Command for you for half an hour!"
Alma Tamaro sat at her usual place at the head of the table, fingernails tapping impatiently on the black tabletop as Jane strode in. She cocked her head, tracking the Victor from the doorway all the way to her seat at the table. "Well, now that we're all here…" she tapped a button on the console next to her seat and rose as individual screens emerged from the table in front of each attendant. "Our airtime assault has begun…"
Assault. The word took hold of Jane's attention immediately, her body straightening up in her chair as her hands flew to the table and began to grip it with anticipation.
President Tamaro continued, "For those of you that missed yesterday's broadcasts of the first propo, we'll replay it now…" she looked at Jane with one of her signature faux smiles that were becoming increasingly unsettling.
Airtime assault. The propo. It wasn't the kind of assault that Jane had hoped for when the word was first spoken, but she watched the screen nonetheless. A tiny flame appeared, growing and spreading until it consumed all of the blackness, a fiery Mockingjay bursting out of the conflagration to be replaced by an image of Jane herself, in the battle uniform Cinna had designed, standing in front of the real flames and smoking ruins of a building in District 8 after one of the Capitol's bombs had fallen during the filming the previous day.
Jane felt chills run down her spine as her image spoke on the screen, "This is a message for the people of Panem, all of you that have joined us in rebellion against the Capitol and those of you that haven't yet decided where you stand. I'm here. I'm alive. And I'm in District 8 today where I have witnessed the atrocities the Capitol forces have committed. Innocent men, women, and children murdered…murdered for desiring freedom. I want to tell all of you, that if you think the Capitol will honor its word in the event of a ceasefire, look at what they've done here. Look at what they've done in your own districts. Think back through all the years since the Dark Days…oppression, forced labor, starvation, torture, and of course…the Hunger Games. That's the freedom we had before the rebellion, and that's the freedom the Capitol and President Charles Hoyt will give us again if we surrender!"
The camera zoomed in until only Jane's face filled the broadcast, "President Hoyt tried to send us a message not too long ago. Well, I have a message for him. You can take everyone that we love. You can torture us and bomb us and raze every last inch of our districts to the ground. But, we will take you with us." The camera panned out, tracking to a flaming heap of twisted metal that used to be a hovercraft, a Capitol seal on its wing. Jane's voice echoed through the broadcast, "What you do to us, prepare to reap tenfold!" Flames devoured the image on the screen, block letters emerging through the fire: IF WE BURN, YOU BURN WITH US.
Everyone was silent and Jane slowly became aware that they were all staring at her, expectantly waiting for some kind of reaction. She looked up, her eyes meeting the stare of President Tamaro, a satisfied smirk on the woman's face. "Did they see it everywhere? Even in the Capitol?"
With that question, the smile on the President's face faded somewhat. Plutarch Heavensbee interjected, "No, not in the Capitol. Beetee couldn't override their security system. We're still working on it. But, they saw it everywhere else. Even in Districts 1 and 2!"
"Yes, well, be sure he continues to work on that. No doubt copies of the transmission were provided to Hoyt," Jane couldn't help but notice how the name of her presidential counterpart came out as a snarl whenever President Tamaro spoke, "But, we need to reach the people inside the Capitol; dissolve his support from within as well as from without." Tamaro's pacing brought her to a standstill behind Jane's chair, her hands reaching around to grasp Jane by the shoulders. "And next time," she reached up and ran her thumb down the tape that secured the bandage to Jane's brow, "do take greater care with our Mockingjay. Dismissed."
Everyone filed out, but Jane remained, standing and facing the President. She took hold of the ring on her finger and twisted it, a habit she realized she had picked up from Maura. "When is the rescue?"
"Plans take time," Tamaro replied with her standard answer.
"To hell with that!" Jane shouted. "I've agreed to be your Mockingjay! I've risked my life to film your propos and I'll do it again, but you're going to give me what you promised! You're going to get me my wife!" She could feel the hot flush ignite her skin as she yelled, could hear her voice crack as it grew louder and louder, and feel the sharp pain in her palms as her nails dug into her skin as she clenched her hands into fists. And through it all, Alma Tamaro stood stoic, unfazed by the outburst.
"Do you think we can just waltz right into the Capitol?" She spoke slowly and with calculation. "If we could do that, do you think we would have sat here idly all these years in desolate isolation? Do you think I would have expended all of my preciously scarce resources to pull you out of District 8? If I could just…waltz right into the Capitol as I pleased? Land my hovercraft smack in the middle of Charles Hoyt's flower garden. If I could do that, could have done that all along, why on earth would I put up with you?"
Jane felt the lump lodge in her throat and struggled to swallow it down as President Tamaro walked towards the door, "You…need me," she managed.
Tamaro stopped and turned, "Yes. And you need me. And the fact still remains, that plans of this magnitude take time."
Above ground and outside the immediate confines of the underground series of catacombs that was what remained of District 13, nature had tried to reassert itself. The immediate land over what had been the underground nuclear facility was still barren, wasted, grey and dusty…maybe it always would be, Jane thought. But, outside the fence sparse blades of grass poked through difficult soil and beckoned to be followed where they grew thicker and disappeared into woods.
Jo Friday spied a rabbit and bounded after it, her tiny legs scrabbling as fast as she could make them, though she still gaited with a noticeable limp from her injury.
"No! Jo Friday! Come!" Jane started after her, a flutter of panic swelling in her chest that the little dog would become lost, or worse, and then she would have nothing left of Maura's.
Tommy grabbed her arm and shook his head with a smile. She never goes far, gets too tired and gives up.
They sat together on a jagged outcropping of rock under the mottled shade of some pine trees. A few short minutes lapsed and the ragged terrier crested the hill ahead of them, tongue lolling out from exertion, brambles and debris tangled in her fur as she trotted back to Jane. "Maybe in your younger days," Jane chuckled as she scooped her companion up and began to pick the burs and twigs from her coat.
Told you, Tommy signed.
"Wise guy," Jane jested, reaching out to pinch at her brother's ear and cheek as he swatted at her hands. "Lydia didn't want to join us today?"
Not feeling well.
Jane arched an eyebrow as her brother smiled, "Something you want to tell me, Tommy?"
He nodded, chuckling silently. We're going to have a baby.
"Shut up!" Jane slugged him in the arm playfully, "Are you serious?" He nodded again. "Does Ma know?"
One look at my face after we found out and it was a full on interrogation. I wanted to tell you first but…you know Ma. Tommy reached down and plucked a blade of grass from the ground, tearing it into tiny pieces and then scattering the green bits at his feet. I hope it's a boy.
"Tommy Junior," Jane smiled, squeezing her brother's shoulder. "So, I'm going to be an aunt…Congratulations baby brother."
Jo Friday heard the soldiers before they could see them, charging back in the direction from which they had come as Boggs and his men accompanied by Korsak appeared in the woods. Jane stood, the smile fading immediately from her face. There was only one reason they would have come for her out here. She could see the pain on Korsak's face as he walked towards her, accepting the role he always had. Jane was glad it was always him though, he never hid anything from her and he gave her strength when she didn't think there was any left within her.
"There's been another broadcast…" he said somberly.
How bad? She couldn't make herself ask but her eyes telegraphed the fear behind the unspoken question.
Korsak reached for her arm and began to lead her back, "She's still…alive."
Only President Tamaro remained in the Command Center as Korsak led her in. The mere knowledge that she was about to see Maura in some kind of abused state made her feeble. The elder Victor and mentor wasn't used to seeing her this way. Jane Rizzoli had borne many reactions to her own suffering and losses over the years, she had withdrawn, been angry, self-destructive, but never feeble…not like she was now, when every image of Maura ripped away a little bit more of the last shred of life she was holding onto.
Korsak steadied her in anticipation of the shock he knew was to come as President Tamaro replayed the broadcast. Jane's intake of breath was audible, her body trembling, tears streaking unabashedly down her face. Caesar paraded her across the stage, a clear and explicit maneuver to highlight the physical agony she must have been in. No wounds or marks were visible, but underneath the Capitol grooming, Jane knew they were there.
Jane barely took notice of the opening banter, so focused was she on the image of Maura on the screen. Only when Korsak began to wrap his arms around her in a supportive embrace did she begin to listen.
"Is there anything you'd like to tell her, to tell Jane?" Caesar asked.
"Yes," Maura spoke, her voice hoarse and cracking, eyes hollow and vacant as she looked into the camera. "You will be the destruction of humanity. How many more innocent people have to die? Because they will. Everything will burn. The Capitol. The districts. Every district. No one will be safe. No one. And when it's all burned to the ground, there won't be any need to rebuild, because there won't be anyone to rebuild for."
Jane fought to extricate herself from Korsak's confining grasp, twisting and turning and finally, when he refused to release her, pounding and punching him in the chest until she knocked the air from his lungs and dropped him to one knee. She ran, wishing that outside the door of the Command Center would be the darkened alleys of District 8, and that around the next turn would be the way to Sean Cavanaugh's where she could replace the pain in her heart with actual pain: blood and cuts and broken bones…that pain was easy.
President Tamaro extended her hand and helped Korsak to his feet, but he didn't release her hand as she tried to pull it away. "How long are you going to let this continue?" He asked. "They're suffering. Both of them. And they can't take much more. If Maura dies, you'll have nothing, do you understand that? What's left of Jane will die with her. No Mockingjay. No rebellion. No more of this bullshit, you get Maura here and into Jane's arms or this is over. No more propos, no more Mockingjay, no more aspirations of dethroning Hoyt and taking his place in a reunited Panem. If Maura dies, your dreams of the Presidency die too. Am I clear!?"
Well played. She hadn't expected such a speech by Vince Korsak. President Tamaro took in a slow breath and exhaled as she reached up to adjust a misplaced strand of hair, "Crystal."
Jane wandered the winding subterranean tunnels of District 13 for what seemed like hours. People passed by; some she knew from home, many were unfamiliar faces though. No one, not even those she recognized approached her. A few stopped and stared, mouths opening, hands beginning to reach out as if to ask if she were ok, perhaps to offer comfort. But, all caught themselves and shrank away as she stumbled by.
Every day, just when she thought she'd become a little bit numb to the pain, something happened – a random memory, a ghostly sensation, an errant comment, and the separation from and loss of Maura reignited, setting her insides on fire just like the first day when she'd awakened and been told that Maura was gone.
She found herself teetering in front of a compartment door, eyes swollen and blurred with tears to the point that she couldn't even be sure it was the right one. Raising her hand to the small numbers bolted into the door she traced them three times until she was sure it was the right one.
Constance Isles answered her knock, her own face red and wet from crying, "Oh, darling…" she reached out, pulling Jane into her compartment from the hallway and wrapping her arms tightly around her now shaking daughter-in-law.
"I wanted to be with someone who would really understand…" Jane sobbed, her upper body giving into Constance's embrace, her head resting heavily on the older woman's shoulder.
"Shhh," Constance soothed, as grateful for the contact and companionship as she knew Jane was. "You have to hold onto the belief that we'll get her back.
"We won't," Jane shook her head against Constance's neck, "We won't. He'll never let her go. President Tamaro knows there's no way…"
"Don't say that," Constance pushed Jane back and gripped her arms, looking intently into pain-filled eyes. "You have to believe."
Jane shook her again, "I'm going to turn myself over to the Capitol…"
"No!"
With a deep breath to bolster her resolve, Jane closed her eyes, "I failed her. I failed her in everything I promised. I won't let her die alone too. If I turn myself in, at least we'll be together."