"Well aren't you a pitiful sight…"

Normally, a mockingjay perching on my counter and talking to me should be cause for concern.

However, at this point I barely even look up, from the dough I'm kneading, to grumble, "Go away. Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Oooh, taking the tough guy approach. I'm sure that fits you perfectly." The creature is definitely living up to the first part of its name. It doesn't help that it is speaking in her voice.

Finally I look up and sigh, "What do you want?"

"I want you to get off your ass and do something besides filling this house with baked goods."

I allow myself take in my surroundings to see the stacks upon stacks of bread, cookies, pastries, pies, cakes, and other food items that have formed a practical maze throughout the living area. The advantage of being here is that food doesn't spoil. However, since I make a lot more than I eat — hell, I don't even need to eat — things tend to accumulate after a while.

"I guess you're right," I say, putting my apron up and moving towards the door. "I do need to go into town to buy some paints."

"That's not what I meant and you know it!" the bird calls after me.

"Don't care!"

I don't bother closing the door behind me as I walk out of the ivy-strewn house, through the weed-choked Victor's Village, and towards the ever-burning pyre that is District Twelve.

The first time I saw the place, I was naturally horrified. Now, I'm whistling to myself as I casually step around the charred or bloated corpses of merchants, Seam residents, and Peacekeepers scattered throughout the district; it's amazing the things one gets used to after a couple weeks. Still, I don't head into town unless I need something. I also look determinately forward as I pass the husk that used to be the bakery.

Despite the fact that the craft store is lacking a roof and on fire, the various goods on the shelves are remarkably unscathed. I grab a couple red and yellow pigments, plus a bottle of linseed oil, before tossing several coins into the till as I head out; the proprietor may currently be burnt to a crisp and slumped over the counter, but it would be rude of me to leave without paying.

I'm about to trudge back to the Victor's Village when a voice calls out, "Peeta."

It's a gentle yet firm voice that I've not heard since that fateful hovercraft ride. A voice that I've not even heard in any of my dreams. It freezes me in my tracks and causes my heart to constrict as a lump forms in my throat. No, it can't be… Can it? Slowly but surely, I turn towards the bakery, where I see him standing next to the melted lump which used to be the oven.

"D-Dad?"

I don't know what happens in the time between, but one moment I'm gaping stupidly in the middle of the square, and the next, I'm hugging him and sobbing into his shoulder. I may be blubbering like a baby towards what's probably just a complete fabrication of my mind, but, right now, I don't give a damn. What matters is that he's here.

"I missed you," I gasp between sobs.

"I know, son… I know."

"I-I'm sorry that—"

"Shhh… It's not your fault. There's no reason to blame yourself."

"But—"

Dad breaks the embrace to look me sternly in the eye. "No 'buts'."

When I hesitantly nod, he simply says, "Why don't we take a walk to somewhere a bit less depressing? In the meantime, fill me in on what's going on with your life."

"Dad, you're in my mind. Shouldn't you know everything already?"

He simply throws his head back and gives a laugh. A good hearty laugh just like he used to. Oh, how I missed that laugh. "Perhaps. But I'd rather hear it in your own words."

So we walk, with Dad guiding me to wherever we are going, and talk. Or more accurately, I talk and he remains silent. But I guess that's how we always were; I was always the one to have something to say while he was the one to listen. And with each passing minute, I feel weight after weight being dropped off.

It's not until we stop walking, and I have pretty much talked myself dry, when I realize that we are somewhere that I haven't been to during my little internal exile: the Meadow. It's actually completely untouched by the devastation behind us; goldenrod and tall meadow rue sway gently in the cool breeze as the sun provides a steady source of warmth. Not a single flake of ash settles here, and even the few clouds in the clear blue sky are free from the taint that rises from the ruins.

Why have I never been here before?

Because you've been too busy slumming it in your house.

Oh…

For a while, Dad and I are simply content to take in the scenery and let the moments pass. Of course, such a thing isn't bound to last, as he grabs a hold of my shoulders so that he can face me.

"Listen to me, Peeta. There's a whole lot of good you can be doing out there, not to mention people still around who care about you. You can't afford to fade away like this."

"Easier said than done," I grumble.

"I never said it would be easy. But would you rather let everybody down and allow all of Panem to end up like that," he asks, gesturing to the ruins, "or would you rather give it all you got?"

Great, he has me backed into a corner with no escape expect for the one he's provided, and, from the smile he's giving me, he knows it. Dammit. "Alright, you win this one."

Dad just laughs and pats me on the back. "Never figured you to be a quitter anyways." Then he nods past my shoulder.

Turns out Cato decided to join us.

"I've come to see you off," he answers my unasked query with the usual cheer.

"What happened to the whole 'one big happy family' thing?"

"Yeah… I think it's best to stick to the regular dreams. It turns out that after a while, you're a pretty depressing guy. Not to mention boring. Yep, temporary visits are definitely better."

"Thanks, I guess."

"No problem," he chirps as he pulls his sword from the scabbard on his back.

"Um, what's the sword for?"

"It's either this or you jumping into a fire or something like that. Do you have a better idea to wake up?"

I look at the hellish ruins behind us and then take in the serene expanse of the meadow.

"Nevermind…" I turn back to Dad to give him one final embrace. "Will I ever see you again?"

"I can't guarantee anything, son. Just promise me that you'll do your best."

"Alright, I promise… I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, Peeta."

Once we have said our goodbyes, I turn to face Cato, who just cocks an eyebrow at me.

"You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

He lines his sword up with my neck and grins. "I'll admit: I've wanted to do this for quite some time. See you around…"

I just roll my eyes as he moves to swing back. "Yeah yeah, till next time. Let's just get this over with."

"Oh, and Peeta?" This time Cato's voice holds no cheer, and the sudden seriousness of his expression catches me a bit off guard. "Keep them safe."

"Wha—"

I don't get to ask Cato to clarify as his sword slices through me and the world collapses in on itself. I make sure that Dad's the last thing I see.

Waking up from a long nap is a nice refreshing experience. Waking up after an absurdly long period of unconsciousness is a bitch. It was like that when I woke up after having my leg removed; it's like that now. To complete the picture, I appear to be in the hospital.

I also notice that there are tracks of wetness on my face from my eyes. Now that's fairly embarrassing.

Ultimately, while I do manage to get my face completely dry, my painfully stiff motions eventually catch the attention of the guy sitting next to me.

Of course it's Gale.

He's actually starting to look a bit like me, with dark crescent underneath his eyes and an overall haggard bearing. I wonder what's eating him.

For a couple moments all the hunter does is blink in my direction as if I were some apparition. Then realization sets in, and he looks as if he's on the verge of some kind of worry/happiness-induced breakdown.

It's making me fairly uncomfortable, so the first thing I do is smirk and croak, "We really need to stop meeting like this. People will start getting ideas."

Gale's look of concern and relief slips away and is replaced by a scowl, and he proceeds to storm off. However, right as he gets to the door, he turns around, walks back, and wallops me in the arm. Hard.

I gasp as the shock goes up and down it. "Hey, what the hell was that for?"

All Gale does is grab a fistful of the front of my hospital gown and pull me up until we are eye to eye. "Don't you ever think of clocking-out like that again!" he thickly growls before letting go and completing his huffy little exit.

Within a couple minutes, Haymitch hurries in. Fortunately he keeps his cool and just decides to fill me in on the details.

He proceeds to explain that, in his own words, "You had the most epic freak-out I've ever had the displeasure of witnessing." One moment, I was just staring straight ahead; the next, I was babbling incoherently before collapsing into unconsciousness. From there, I was pretty much comatose for about five days.

Command's still undecided as whether to take up Snow's offer for a temporary ceasefire. While they don't trust the idea, the Rebellion's in a very bad shape at the moment, and they could use the time to regroup. Apparently Snow's last announcement, plus me being out of commission, really did in the morale of the rebels.

To me, the whole thing sounds a bit silly that they are placing all their motivation on a couple of teenagers. Shouldn't the fact that they are fighting for their own freedom be motivation enough? Ah well…

"Also Finnick wants to see you as soon as possible. It sounds important."

"Alright, I'll head there as soon as I can actually move."

Haytmich eyes me soberly. "I have to warn you though; he's in real bad shape. Annie keeps him tethered, but the kid's a bit on the fragile side right now. I trust that you know how to handle these things, but I just want to give you a heads-up."

Finnick's one of the most confident guys I've met; what could make him fragile, of all things? Suddenly, my question's answered as Annie recites her little torture manual in my head. Suppressing a shudder, I nod in assent. "I'll keep that in mind."

After we get that all that cleared out to the way, Haymitch's disposition goes back up and he cheerfully chirps, "By the way, check out what the little Hawthorne decided to bring to her last show-and-tell." With that, he tosses a piece of paper on my lap and vacates from my presence.

Hesitantly, I flip the sheet over. It's a drawing of me in bed and Gale at my bedside, and underneath in bold letters is a simple, yet dreaded, title:

Sleeping Beauty.

Fuck.

~oOo~

Being bedridden for almost a week's worth of time means that it take me a while to actually get up and move around. I probably look like an elderly man in the way I walk. However, as soon as I'm mobile, I don't waste any time going on my way. I even refuse a wheelchair in the process so that can get the circulation running again.

On the way to Finnick's quarters, I get to have the wonderful pleasure of passing by Johanna's bed. Unfortunately, she's awake and spots me.

"Look," she crows, nudging Chaff in the process, "if it isn't Sleeping Beauty!"

Is that what they are seriously calling me now? I'm actually yearning for the days of "Bread Boy" and "Loverboy".

"Now now Johanna; be nice," Chaff reprimands. At least somebody's on my si—"It's not his fault that he's the prettiest princess."

The only response I can give is to gape as if I were a beached fish. Of course, Johanna then decides to pile on the fun.

"Hey guys, I just noticed something pretty awesome." She excitedly gestures with her handless arm towards Chaff's arm and my leg. "We're stump buddies!"

I… I got nothing. So I just give them both a tight smile and wave before proceeding as quickly as I can to Finnick's quarters.

I should have announced myself, but instead, I simply go right on in to greet Finnick and Annie. I immediately regret doing so, and it takes everything within me not to do an about-face and run away. However, I steel myself and walk steadily forward.

Even with Annie's descriptions of Finnick's torture, and Haymitch telling me that he's in pretty bad shape, nothing prepares me for the sight before my eyes. The District Four victor, known for his athletic build and bronze skin, is emaciated and sallow from the lack of light. His hair hangs lifelessly down to his shoulders, while his sea-green eye, usually holding a mischievous glint, is dull and looks down in shame upon seeing me.

Right when I come in, a nurse is in the process of changing his bandages, so I get a clear unobstructed view of his face. Or what's left of it. While the entire right side of Finnick's face — plus the nose, lips, and scalp — has been left intact, the majority of the left side has practically been stripped away to the bone. In some spots, I swear that I can even see the white glint of his cheekbone and several molars. His ear has been completely cut off, and an empty socket gazes at me even as the right eye looks away. And while his lips themselves may be intact, there is a cut extending, in a grotesque smile, from the corner of his mouth until it disappears into the mass of mangled flesh.

The worse thing is that it's obvious why they kept the majority of his face unmarred. Even with all the disfigurement given to him, he'd still be a valuable commodity should he ever fall back into the possession of the Capitol again. Hell, there are probably some potential customers who would be actually attracted to his scars.

When the new set of bandages are finally placed, I sit myself down on the stool opposite from Annie — who's look far more upbeat and healthy than I ever seen her before — and gently say, "Hi Finnick. It's good to see you again."

He finally makes eye contact with me and gives a small sad smile before grunting and making a couple gestures to Annie, after which she gives him a pen and paper to write in.

"Good to see you too, Peeta. Sorry if my face is a bit… distracting."

The last part of his note helps to relieve the tension and makes me chuckle a bit. However, the laughter dies in my throat when the realization hits me:

Finnick is an Avox.

It makes sense. The Capitol is not content to simply let him go after they find no more use for him. There are so many secrets that he knows, and, short of killing him, there's no better way to silence him than getting rid of his voice. Even though he can easily write down all his thoughts, it's just not the same as him getting in front of an audience and speaking them out.

It's also one more reason to take Snow down.

I know Finnick doesn't need any of my pity, so I decide to get right to the point: "Haymitch said you wanted to see me."

He nods his head vigorously and scribbles, "Yeah. First, I'm glad to see you getting your beauty sleep."

Now it's now my turn to scowl. All Finnick does in response is give me a big lopsided grin full of mischievous feigned innocence, the old him shining through in the process.

The fun doesn't last when he adds, "Thing is, Snow wanted me to pass on a message."

My blood runs cold at that, but I just calmly ask, "What's the message?"

Finnick gives me a shake of the head and taps the back of his right ear, which I have no clue as to the meaning of. "Not here. We need to see Beetee first."

~oOo~

Beetee has apparently already met with Finnick as he shows no surprise when the District Four victor wheels in with Annie walking beside him; they are practically inseparable. After he prattles on about the possibility of making a speech synthesizer, which Finnick has apparently rebuffed for the repeated time — "I don't want to sound like some toneless machine." — we get right down to business.

"All Avoxes," Beetee explains, "have a chip installed at the base of their skull. It's used as an identification tag. However, it can also be used to store other information."

Beetee proceeds to scan Finnick — whatever reason Thirteen has Avox scanning devices, I don't want to know — which causes a whole bunch of stats to appear on the screen, starting with a "04-0107B". After we scroll through tons of personal information, which I just feel uncomfortable going through, we finally settle on a file that's titled "A Message for Mr. Mellark".

Upon selecting the file, the computer asks for a voice authorization, which throws me for a bit of a loop.

"So… what do I do; just say my name or something?"

Beetee just shrugs. "I suppose so; it's not asking for some personal detail or password. In any case the computer already has a microphone and voice-recognition software built in, so you don't have to worry about that."

"If you say so…" Just to be sure, I stand as close to the terminal as possible when I say, "Peeta Mellark."

Several seconds pass as the computer process my input. Finally it's declared to be "Acceptable", and the face of President Snow appears on screen.

Finnick actually flinches and cringes away at the sight.

The rose-loving sadist just smiles at us. "Mr. Mellark, I assume this is you watching. I really don't care if others see; only that you get my little message.

"Anyways, I take it that you watched, or at least heard, the wonderful news. No doubt that you are harboring some doubts as to the validity of my claims. Well, I assure you that I am not lying at all in this regard. Katniss Snow," — he seems to draw out the last word agonizingly long — "is my lawfully-wedded wife. And she is indeed pregnant with my child."

Even after adjusting to the bombshell dropped on me earlier, I still find myself fairly short of breath at the subject being brought up again. As I attempt to get myself under control, a firm hand clasps my shoulder almost painfully. I look to see that Gale has joined us, and he's glaring at me to keep things together; this is in spite of he himself looking pretty shaken up.

Snow actually seems to have taken my reaction into account as he waits a bit before continuing: "If it is any consolation, I will say that, no, I did not bed her; I am not an idiot. It was just a simple procedure we did right after the events at the end of the Quarter Quell.

"In any case, that's not what my message is about. Or at least, that's not what the main body of my message is about. You see, Mr. Mellark, you are an intriguing individual. I admit that I was so focused on Katniss that I overlooked you. Even when you actually managed to turn the Capitol audiences against the Games with your little 'baby announcement', my concern was primarily about the Mockingjay. However, with the events of the past month, I see that I have been severely mistaken. It's not always the fiery ones you have to look out for..."

Where is he going with this?

"Which is why I am interested in speaking with you. Face to face. Man to man."

He what? From the collective intake of breath, it seems the rest of the guys are just as taken aback by the news.

"I will even bring Katniss along so that you and all your friends will be able to meet her in-person after all this time."

I face Gale to see that he's wearing same mixture of hope and suspicion that I feel.

What if this is a—

"Now, again, I'm not an idiot. And from what I have seen, you're not one either. There's no way that you're going to willingly waltz into a trap. And there's no way I will leave myself undefended or allow you to take Katniss back with you. So bear in mind that I will have precautions set in place. As for your own suspicions, I would simply like you to know that I could have easily killed you any time I wished. Don't believe me? How about some visual evidence:"

It is just footage of me and Gale having another one of our wrestling matches in front of the squad. From the trees surrounding us, it's clear that this was when we were in Seven. However, I feel a chill go up my spine when I realize that we never that part of the propo. In fact, the camera guys are relaxing with the rest of the soldiers, their gear off and sitting next to them. And from the angle, this footage was taken from some distance.

Snow has been keeping tabs on me wherever I went.

Gale understandably seems to be just as freaked out by this news.

"However," Snow simply says when the footage had finished, "I promised a mutual friend of ours that I would not directly harm you or Hawthorne. And I am a man of my word.

"Anyways, I am sure that you will have precautions of your own. Should you agree to this, I have the contact information provided. This will be to make arrangements as to the time, place, and precautionary measures put in place. Naturally, it should occur during the ceasefire, whenever you agree to it.

"I look forward to hearing from you soon." And just like that, video ends.

With the vid's end comes a debate amongst us as whether to take or ignore Snow's invitation. Soon though, curiosity wins out, and the question as to how to convince Coin becomes the main topic.

That's when I get an idea.

"Hey, Beetee... I take it that you knew quite a few people while you were a victor, especially some higher-ups. Am I correct?"

"Yeah?" he answers hesitantly, not sure where I'm going with this.

"So where's Three's Victor's Village again?"

Beetee's eyes go wide as comprehension dawns, "No… You're not seriously thinking of…"

I just nod and give him a wide smile. I admit that there's some considerable satisfaction in seeing Beetee as the mortified one for once.

~oOo~

The meeting with Coin has just about the usual levels of pleasantness. She doesn't waste any time labeling my practical coma as me not pulling my weight. So it's no surprise that when I bring up the idea for a ceasefire and Snow's invitation, she flat-out refuses at first. So then comes the convincing.

After long, protracted, and exceedingly bitter — if wasn't clear that we didn't like each other before, this probably removes any room for doubt — debate, when it seems that Coin has started to be worn down enough, I finally decide to mention my plan. To my great pleasure, it seems to catch her completely off guard. Finally, after another hour of debating, she finally relents, though I think that I'm beginning to reach the limit of how many times I'm able to debate her.

If this succeeds, it could mean a major boost for the Rebellion. If it doesn't… well, we have nothing left to lose.

A/N: Okay, I admit it: the "stump buddies" line was something I've wanted to do from the very beginning, even before I actually started writing this story.

If you're curious about the oh-so-wonderful procedure Finnick went through on his way to Avoxhood, check out Chapter 3 of my story How to Make an Avox.