Five days later….

Peeta

I fight the urge to spit in the face of the man I once considered to be the closest thing I had to a parental figure after my father died.

"Look boy, you've got to hold it together for longer than 20 minutes at a time today. We need to go to a meeting in about an hour." Haymitch says as he stands at the foot of my bed.

"I'm not fucking going anywhere with you unless its to the goddamn Capitol to get my wife back!" I scream at him and his grey eyes squint at me. I must look ridiculous.

Strapped to a hospital bed. Dressed in a paper gown. An IV in my arm that is set to dispense a sedative at the first sign of trouble. They had learned after the first few escape attempts that I am very strong when I need to be. And I had torn the restraints before. I strained against them now, angry.

"Knock that shit off you little ass. You're not so delusional that you've forgotten the wedding was fake. Its time to stop pretending and man the fuck up. Face the reality of the situation. We've got no chance trying to get her back on our own. I know you know that! Your damn leg is so fucked up you can't even stand for longer than a few minutes. I can barely wipe my own ass. My hands may as well be purely decorative at this point. Deen and all our other fighters are out of commission. There's no way we'd get 5 miles-"

"Oh I'd get 5 miles. I'll crawl the whole way back if I have to! If you're too much of a damn coward then just sign the fucking papers and let me go! I'll go on my own! I'll go without you!" I scream at the top of my lungs.

He shakes his head at me tiredly. I want to laugh. I vaguely want to break something. But I've already broken more things than I can count. It doesn't help. They've removed everything nonessential from the room and watch me almost religiously whenever I go to the bathroom or sit up to eat. I just want to get out of here.

I need to get out of here, and find her.

The goddamn doctors and Haymitch had cooked up this bullshit scheme to keep me locked up in this hospital. Mentally unfit, a danger to myself, delusional, etc. They had made Haymitch my legal guardian. So I could only be discharged if he signed the papers.

I had broken a hospital food tray when they told me. Bent it in half and threw the whole thing through a window at the thought that Hyamitch, of all people, was capable of being my keeper. I struggled against the restraints again. Damn it they had tied them too tight this time. I couldn't get any leeway. While my arms were restrained, my fingers weren't. I flipped Haymitch off with both my middle fingers, letting him see my deep contempt and hatred for him at this moment.

"Goddamnit Peeta! Calm the fuck down for just a single minute! I need you to think about this logically. WE can't do this on our own. WE NEED HELP. We need to go to a meeting with 13's president. We need to plead our case. So I need you to hold it together. For an hour. Hour and a half tops. If you have to be sedated at any time during this meeting you will BLOW our shot at getting her back. If you start screaming about getting your fake wife back, or start sobbing under a damn chair or desk you will BLOW this for us. You need to reign it in. You need to find that boy from the tours. You need to get ready for show time, so that we can have a shot at this."

I look up at him. My very fraught and fragile mind took in the words plead our case, and 13's president, and shot at getting her back.

I stopped staring at the bands of immovable fabric holding me against the bed. I sat back and just studied Haymitch.

My mentor's face was not a pretty sight, not that he'd ever looked healthy since I'd known him. But he looked pretty bad right now. Grey and washed out. Hands bandaged into comically large balls of white gauze, and an all together sleepless and haggard look on his face. So I guess he hadn't just given up and worked his way into the painkillers or medical supplies in an effort to escape from all this.

I sighed.

"What about Deen?" I asked him quietly. I had heard he was scheduled for another surgery three days ago. Apparently Deen at least had tried to keep his promise to me, and had gone after Katniss that last day even after he was so injured he could barely stay conscious. I had expected no less from him. But I had been worried about him, in the moments that I was lucid enough to worry about something other than what Snow was doing to Kantiss at any given moment.

"Still in a medically induced coma. The swelling in his brain hasn't completely gone down. The tracker jacker venom really did a number on him, especially since he tried to keep running after he got stung. It just pumped the venom all throughout his body. Bullet fragments were removed without incident. They're gonna try and wake him up in a day or two." Haymitch says in an equally tired voice and then closes his eyes, before running his bandaged hand down his face in worry.

I swallow around my dry mouth. The medicine they've been given me to try and pacify me has strange side effects, dry mouth being one of them. I needed to get off them. I needed my head clear, if I was going to have to be the golden orator they wanted from the victory tours.

"Fine. No more fucking pills or needles. And I need to shower, and I need some real clothes unless you think my bare ass hanging out the back of this flimsy hospital gown is gonna help our case." I tell Haymitch dryly and he looks up at me with a glint of hope in his eyes for the first time in a week.

"Hell if I know, boy. I've never met the woman." He says with something faintly resembling a smirk.

"So their president is a woman?" I ask and he nods.

"Yeah, Coin's her name. Don't know much else other than they're all really strict around here. Former military, they do everything by the book. So you should probably shave before you go down as well. That is, if you're not still planning on breaking out of here and taking on the Capitol with one good leg and a damn razor blade." He says, eyeing me suspiciously. He is trying to assess if my sudden change of attitude is genuine or feigned to get him to lower his guard.

"Haymitch all I want is to get her back. If I need to go to a hundred meetings to do that I'll go. I'll say whatever I have to. I'll be whoever I have to. I can't lose her."

"I know, boy. Alright, let me tell them to come and unstrap you." He says before he leaves and I sit back patiently. I am truly motivated, for the first time in all the long seconds and minutes and hours and days since they told me she'd been captured.

I finally have something to do. Something, anything to occupy myself other than letting my mind wander into thoughts of torture and pain for the woman I love more than my own soul. I bite down on the tip of my tongue to try and ground myself to reality. Whatever has happened, whatever is happening, I have to believe there's a chance to get her back.

I have to believe it. Or else I won't even have anger. I won't even have despair.

This thin, poorly built dream of getting her back is all I have left.

So when they come back I let them unstrap me without incident. I shower, shave, and get dressed in a plain grey jumpsuit that's a little tight in the shoulders. I put on some used boots that are about my size. And I limp out on crutches beside Haymitch and back through the elevator and up to the higher levels.

I've spent the last few days at the medical level, and I was not expecting anything like the scale and scope that greeted me when I traveled through 13 on our way to the President's command center. It was like an underground beehive. There were grey uniformed workers everywhere going about their tasks. There were so many levels. As we traveled, the soldier we had met on our first day here, Colonel Boggs, explained a little bit more about District 13 such as how they survived the last uprising and how they grew their own food underground.

When he mentioned the nuclear weapons that kept the Capitol from completely wiping 13 off the map and had forced a 76 year stalemate, I felt a chill run down my spine. Such instruments of wholesale destruction had no business exiting in a world as fragile and impermanent as ours.

It seemed after humanity had done the impossible and survived the Dark Days, and the first nuclear war, we had not learned our lesson. We were still too primitive to understand the fundamental need for cooperation and unity over power and control. And I wondered, for the first time since we got here, at just what the nature of our 'saviors' would be, if we ceased to be valuable…

We entered an open room buzzing with activity, people at desks and workstations. They were working on a hodgepodge of different kinds of computers, communication devices, making reports, and diagrams. We passed through it quickly though, and entered a more secluded conference room with a long table that was underlit with stark light in geometric shapes that filtered up from lines criss crossed across the table's surface.

Sitting at the table was a woman in a grey military style jumpsuit. Hers was slightly different from the rest, with shoulder pads and a more structured fit that gave off a more formal effect.

She's middle aged, medium build, with grey short shoulder length hair that was cut all in one precise length. Her eyes were also grey. Not at all similar to the deep and myriad entrancing grey I was used to, but instead her eyes were the color of water that had been used to rinse off a paint brush with a tiny bit of steel colored pigment. Very light, like someone forgot to add enough layers of color to finish her portrait.

"Peeta Mellark, and Mr. Abernathy, this is our leader, President Alma Coin." Boggs said by way of introduction. And she extended her hand out for us to take our seats. I looked around and saw we were the only ones in the meeting. I wondered briefly about Gale, and even Prim, or Mrs. Everdeen, if she was well enough she would have wanted to attend this meeting to discuss her daughter's fate. But maybe they were still recovering.

I sat down grateful to get off my malfunctioning prosthesis. Haymitch had been right when he said I could barely stand on it. I wondered somewhere in the back of my mind how I would resolve this problem, but that thought was set aside for the immediate task at hand. Which was convincing this woman to help Katniss.

"Please let me just start this meeting by saying how very welcome you are here. I was very, very relieved to find out that most of your group had arrived safely a few days ago. Please also accept my condolences on the losses taken during the perilous journey here."

I fight not to immediately scowl. These people had a lot of technology at their disposal, and weapons. And it wasn't lost on me that while we were all in a fight for our lives, fleeing through the wilderness and struggling to eat and dodge peacekeepers, they were here safe and sound tucked away in their fortified complex. So that was my first clue to this woman's character.

She was fine risking the lives of people who she didn't know. She was happy to let others take the risks, while she sat back and waited to see what the outcome would be. Still, self centered empiricism was better than rampant corruption that Snow employed. At least, at this point it was. I knew Haymitch was right. This was a very delicate situation. I would have to tread very carefully.

I smiled at her, a little sadly, a little gratefully and thanked her for the medical help and hospitality we had received. She smiled back in a pleased manner for a second and then turned a serious gaze on both my mentor and I.

"I don't know if you're aware of this Peeta, but the Capitol tried to conceal your escape at first. When they finally couldn't keep it under wraps, they proclaimed all of you traitors on national television. You're all wanted fugitives at this point. Now, we've had some luck getting some of our other contacts out. A few had begun the journey relatively around the same time as your group. Just yesterday we were able to locate another group of refugees towards the south eastern border. Many of our contacts in the Capitol decided to undertake the same journey as you. So you see you have already begun to inspire bravery and resistance in just a short amount of time." She says and I feel myself getting side tracked, but I am interested in finding out what contacts she's speaking about.

I look over at Haymitch and see that he's leaning forward, equally interested. He has far more contacts with the rebel network, having been around far longer than I, or Katniss, and having had years to cultivate a relationship with the underground movement against the Capitol.

"Who's made it so far?" Haymitch asks. I find myself early awaiting to hear how many other rebels escaped.

"Beetee Latier and Wiress Guin from District 3, Cecelia Tailor, Cyl from District 6, and Annie Cresta, from District 4." President Coin answers.

"Five? That's it? What about Finnick Odair? Joanna Mason, Blight? Chaff and Seeder from 11?" Haymitch exclaims in shock.

"We've gotten reports that the remaining victors were rounded up preemptively, as soon as Snow discovered your escape. Finnick Odair was intercepted, as he led Capitol forces away from his fellow victor, Annie Cresta. Joanna Mason was placed under house arrest almost the moment your house exploded. I guess her involvement in rebel plans was taken as a given. Chaff and Seeder made it almost to the middle of the District 12 forest before they were captured by peacekeepers. The rest are reported to have died, en route or in fire fights. That's as much as we know right now."

I am shocked by this for a moment. They're all victors. Like Katniss and I.

"Why did they not receive any help? Why was everyone just….abandoned?" I ask, unable to keep a note of criticism out of my voice.

"Mr. Mellark, I can assure you that was not the case. We sent out covert search parties, but we also had to engage Capitol forces in our own territory. In order to protect the integrity of our base we needed to maintain the majority of our forces close to home, incase of a full scale incursion."

Haymitch shoots me a look, and I nod my head. Now is not the time for arguing it seems. I wonder when or if there will ever be time to discuss the loss of life and who should bear the brunt of the responsibility for that.

"Alright, yes, I apologize for jumping to conclusions. Since we now know that the majority of the resistance's most loyal and influential followers are being held prisoner, what is the plan to extract them?" I ask her.

She stares at me for a moment assessing.

"Mr. Mellark, Peeta, may I call you Peeta?"

"Yes, that's fine."

"Peeta, this rebellion is about more than those who have lived through the atrocity of the Games. I understand that as Victors, you all bear a greater individual burden as the focus of many of the Capitol's demands were placed upon your shoulders. But this revolution is about everyone. We must weigh the risks against the benefits before we charge into a situation we know nothing about. Since your escape, intel has been almost impossible to get out of the Capitol. We'd be going in blind, with no idea of where, or how, or even if the hostages are still alive."

At this my vision goes a little blurry, and I grip the sides of the armchair for support. I hear the faint crunch of the plastic arm rest covers and tell myself to loosen my grip before I break something.

She's alive. She's alive. She had to be alive.

I repeat to myself in my head over and over, until I can calm down. Then, almost as if the stage lights really go up all around me, I know this is the moment Haymitch said he needed me for. Words, that's what we needed to convince this woman to save Katniss.

"President Coin, you all told my mentor that you needed us, when you agreed to offer us refugee status when we first reached out during the planning of our escape. Us. Katniss and I, the pair that almost sparked a full scale rebellion during the 74th Hunger Games. Now, I am specifically aware of the scope and reach of my particular skills. And it is with utmost certainty and the sincerest honesty that I can tell you that without Katniss Everdeen your rebellion will fizzle out and die before the first shot is fired at peacekeepers inside District grounds. Right now you have a few resistance operatives, running away and seeking refuge here in 13. But with Katniss, with the Girl on Fire, you'll get riots in the damn Capitol. She has always been the defiant, unpredictable element in this partnership. That is what you need. She is the Mockingjay, as Cinna dubbed her at our fake wedding. The significance of his last image of her before we left must not have escaped your notice. It is the symbol of the rebels. But also since our Games, it's a symbol, the token of Katniss Everdeen. She herself is a hybrid of mass appeal, with instant recognizability, thanks to the Capitol and the Games, and the public's obsession with her. And she is a rogue spark, that if harnessed will ignite all of Panem into taking up arms against its oppressors. If you think you can build a resistance around me, staring as a grieving widower, you are sorely mistaken. My strength was always showing her off in the best light, turning the facets of her complex nature into fuel for whatever message was being extracted from us. Alone, I am just a voice in the dark. With her, together, we will become a battle cry. So, when you weigh the risks against the benefits, I hope you will consider that the only person who has enough sheer personality and determination to be the face of this revolution is Katniss Everdeen. Without her, the odds are definitely stacked against us."

The room is quiet. Haymitch peers at me sidelong for a second and I see a gleam in his eye that tells me I have done it and said the right thing.

Coin looks at me, not with a glint of respect or appreciation in her eye, but warily. And I wonder again just what kind of deal we have struck here. Have we traded a gilded cage for another one underground?

"I can see that your powers of persuasion haven't been exaggerated Peeta. In fact I think maybe you underestimate yourself and just how effective you could really be. But as of right now, I can only promise to explore the possibility of planning for a rescue of the remaining victors, including Katniss, when more information becomes available."

"That could take weeks."

"Yes, and in the meantime, we'd like you to get started on the propos we agreed on. The country is in uproar. We need to take advantage of this instability to reach out to the main population. A team of Capitol media specialists made it to 13, mostly intact, yesterday. They'll be ready to start filming in a few days."

So, here was the truth. I was going to be expected to perform again, with or without Katniss. I gritted my teeth, and Haymitch scowled openly for a second. But then I saw his face slip into the mask that he usually wore while in the Capitol, or playing chess or poker.

"Now, I can understand the constraints being put on your government and your forces right now, but Madame, being military as you all are, I'm sure you can understand the sentiment of no soldier left behind. How do you expect the rebellion to get off to the right foot if we don't even make any real effort to try and save the girl who started it all? You have damn passcodes built around her, people are sewing Mockingjay symbols into the insides of their coats, baking them on crackers, and the like. It would be very bad PR to abandon a defenceless new bride, who may or may not be carrying a child that could symbolize true love, the seed of rebellion, and new life for all of Panem."

"She's pregnant?" Coin asks incredulously, in what may be the first real show of emotion I've seen on her face since we walked in. I only have a moment to process what Haymitch is saying, about Katniss maybe being pregnant, and I feel my heart beating wildly, and everything in the room tilts a little. But Haymitch continues.

"Snow ordered them to try and conceive even before the honeymoon. To ensure their cooperation in the coming years. Like with Seeder, and Cecelia, and so many other female victors who were forced into that particular avenue of service to the Capitol, he wanted undeniable leverage. It's obvious now that he intended to use the child to make sure she wouldn't take the easy way out, sucide, after the wedding. While we were enroute to 13, she missed a period. Now that could have been from the stress, or the lack of steady diet, or it could have been because something took. How would you like to have not only her death, but also the death of their child on your conscience? And if word were to be leaked that the rebels abandoned a pregnant, tragic victor to torture and death, well how many people do you think would be clamoring to join your ranks after that? " He finishes and I think I recognize his strategy. While it's all mostly true, it's also not the complete truth. Haymitch has conveniently left out the medicine her mother made specifically so that Kantiss wouldn't get pregnant during the two months before the wedding. Still, there is a burning question inside me as I stare over at my mentor.

Does he know something I don't? Is she really carrying my child? Somehow that would make things either much better in terms of making her sympathetic and deserving of rescue or much worse for her and me and everyone who knows and loves her, I don't know which. Right now I'm just trying to remember how to breathe.

"I was led to believe that your romantic relationship was a fabrication." Coin says looking over at me sharply. I swallow, and look back at her with what I hope is a reasonably controlled expression.

"It was strictly platonic, for the past 3 years. Until we received new orders from President Snow, after the 76th victory tour." I say in the most even tone I can manage. If this is just a ruse, something to put more pressure on Coin, then I have to throw my weight behind Haymitch's implication now matter how confused I feel right now.

Coin sighs. Drums her fingers on the table. Studies Haymitch and I. Slush-grey colored eyes, like the kind left after a light snowfall discolors the coal dusted streets in 12, study me like I'm a bug under a glass. But I stare resolutely back at her. Because it very well could be true.

"How do I know this is all true?" She asks finally.

"You can ask her mother, her sister, or even her cousin. Hell, ask any of the people we came with. They knew about the kids sleeping together. It wasn't a big secret. Snow even sent Jabberjays to spread the word while we were in the woods. It was just one more motivating factor in our escape." Haymitch replies casually. I find I can't be so flippant about the situation, but I try to at least not be conspicuous.

Finally she seems to relent.

"I will reach out to the few remaining informants in the Capitol, and try to see if we can get any word on whether she, and the other victors, are still alive. And also to the status of her pregnancy. In the meantime, I suggest you focus on recovery, and prepare for the first propo." She says the last words directly to me. And I have the feeling of a new recruit being sent on assignment.

But I don't automatically acquiesce. At least not right away. This woman knows she has most of the power in this situation. But there is one thing that isn't at her disposal. And that is total authoritarian control, such as Snow. I don't know whether Alma Coin is really just an opportunist or if there's something more sinister in her calculating motives. But since she's either really better than Snow, or at least at this moment pretending to be, it can be used against her.

"I'll be more than ready to shoot anything you need, after we get word of Katniss's status. Until then, I'm sure I won't be able to perform convincingly, if I'm worried about the woman I love, and possibly my unborn child." I tell her, knowing that I'm pushing negotiations into an uncomfortable level, but fuck it, I'm not letting her off the hook on this.

"Very well then." Is her tight lipped reply. And then she nods over at Boggs who is guarding the door. He motions for us to stand, and we're ushered out of the conference room.