Two and a half weeks earlier…
Peeta squeezed his eyes shut as he rested on his stomach, the medical team surrounding him and leaning over him. They were discussing what to do about the injuries on his back. It seemed that they had been stitched closed already but his recent beatings had caused him to start bleeding and they were concerned about infection. Of course, no one said this directly to him. He might as well have been a corpse, for how much attention they were paying to him.
"Look, can you gentlemen stop chattering like a flock of birds and just do something to help me heal? Stitch me up again if you must."
"The rebels were handy with their whips, General. Your wounds are deep."
"And yet I remember it was my own soldiers who were whipping me when I came to. WHO did it is irrelevant. Just heal me!" The doctors muttered amongst themselves and Peeta huffed into his arm. One of the doctors prodded at the bruise on his ribs and he hissed.
"This looks nearly healed. Another rebel attack, I assume."
"Obviously the rebels and I are good friends," he said drily. "Let's just assume all of my injuries are from rebel attacks, shall we? It should save time. Then we don't have to go back and forth about who did what, and who exactly is responsible for which injuries on my body." The doctor cleared his throat and moved his hand over Peeta's shoulder.
"By all accounts, General, you should be unconscious from the pain. Your body has been through a great deal of trauma."
"That's nothing new," Peeta said dismissively. "I don't have time for pain. I need the quickest treatment you Capitol doctors can give me. I have work to do and don't have time to lie around the hospital."
Several hours later, Peeta was sitting in the back of a luxurious black car as it zoomed through the Capitol to take him back to President Snow's house. The President had assured him that he would make sure Peeta would have the best medical treatment possible, and would be his personal guest until Peeta was feeling better. Thanks to the miracle treatments of the Capitol, Peeta was feeling much better and was ready to get back to work. He wanted to check on his wife and make sure she was comfortable moving back to their home before he returned to the fight. All he had heard since he had woken up was about the cursed Mockingjay and her rebel soldiers. He fully intended to deal with her, for what she had done.
The car parked and Peeta nodded to the driver as he hurried into the house. Less than a hour living here and he acted like he owned the place. He took the steps two at a time until he came to the bedroom. He heard quiet sniffling on the other side of the door and frowned at the door knob. He knocked once to announce his arrival before he pushed the door open. Lavinia was struggling to her feet and wiping her face with her sleeve.
"Are you alright?"
"Fine," she said dismissively. "Are you feeling better?"
"100%. I'm going to tell the President we can move back to our own home and then I am going to report to the troops." Lavinia's brow furrowed and Peeta lifted his chin.
"The Mockingjay has to be stopped. Her terror comes to an end soon." Lavinia swallowed heavily.
"She's a formidable force, Peter. Be careful."
"I need to speak to the Minister. Are you sure you're alright?"
"I'm fine." She shook her head and he nodded, closing the door behind him. She visibly deflated, exhaling deeply and wrapping her arms around herself.
"What am I going to do?" She wandered into the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, burying her face into the pillow. The Capitol had taken everything from her. Her husband, her home, her identity. Now she was going to have to watch as they destroyed two more lives, and what was worse, she had to play her part for her unborn child's sake. She allowed herself to cry, her hand moving down to cradle the bump.
"I know it seems hopeless now, but things always look bleak when it's raining and the sun isn't shining. It will be better tomorrow." She glared up at her husband.
"How do you know?"
"Because we're together, love. I can bear the storm as long as I have you, and I'll be your shelter from the rain."
"You are so sentimental, Darius. We're in District 12. All I care about is that you keep food on the table and help me provide for this little one when he or she comes." Darius placed his hand on her stomach and nuzzled her cheek.
"Love is so much more than just providing, Rosie. I'll make sure you have reason to smile and will make sure you are warm in the winter and will make sure your belly is full. I'll make sure you have no nightmares and the bed you sleep on is soft and that you are happy." She cocked her head, surveying him with interest.
"You are a strange one, Darius Murphy."
"And yet somehow I was able to catch your eye. You see me as something more than a mere peacekeeper. You see a man."
"You saved my life and my child's," she said softly. "Most people passed by me that night. Just another body in the streets. Just another knocked up woman. But you, you took me home and cared for me. You actually saw me. You endured my mood swings and my nightmares. You asked me to be yours."
"And I'd do it all over again," he pressed his palm to her belly. "Rosalie, my wife, my love. I will gladly shield you from this storm." She shuddered as the lightning flashed outside.
"And what about after the storm passes? Will you still be here?" Darius's eyes bore into hers.
"Whether I am here in 12, or in another district, I will always be your shield." She covered his hand with hers and leaned into him.
"I hope this child is just like you."
"It has to have a little of its mommy," he said but she shook her head vehemently.
"No. I don't want it to have anything from me. I'm not a good person, Darius. You don't know what I have done to survive. My ma died when I was 2, and my dad beat me whenever he was sober, and that was rare. You don't know anything about me."
"I know you're beautiful," he whispered as he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "And sweet. And I saw you sneak a loaf of bread to those two children last week. I know you're good, Rosalie. You can't convince me otherwise."
She blinked and glanced around the room.
"Now what do you think of me," she whispered to the empty room.
Peeta had no idea where he was going and why, in heavens name, was this house so big? The maid had told him to take two flights of stairs down and make a right down the hall, to find the Minister's office. That seemed like ages ago. He frowned as he pushed a door open, peering inside. Meeting space, he supposed.
"General Mellark." He sighed in relief as he gave his president a slight bow.
"President Snow, sir. I was just looking for Minister Antonius."
"Antonius has gone home. His wife was feeling ill. Are you feeling better, General?"
"Yes sir. 100%. I am ready to return to my troops."
"Excellent to hear. I have an assignment for you first. Two, if you accept."
"I accept whatever my president requires, sir." Snow once again commended himself on keeping Mellark as a soldier. He was too valuable to just kill. That fool Antonius would have killed him, to break the Mockingjay. He had much better ideas for the young peacekeeper.
"Here are the case files on the two assignments. Read them, then carry out your duties. I'll trust you to find out when would be an opportune time." Peeta flicked the files open and read, his brow furrowing.
"Sir, this man-"
"A traitor," the president said sternly. "I'll look to you to deal with our traitors."
"Yes sir."
"Good. Do you require anything else?"
"I need permission to move mine and Lavinia's things back home. We have enjoyed your hospitality too long, and I would hate to be a burden any longer."
"No trouble at all, Mellark. But I will have peacekeepers assist you in moving your things. I trust you to deal with those assignments first, however."
"Of course, Mr. President." Snow nodded and turned away, leaving Peeta to frown at the files in his hands.
The first assignment was being kept there in the mansion, so he decided to deal with this one first. He made a quick trip up to his room to dress in his uniform, and he strapped a gun to his waist. He left without a helmet, deciding he didn't care if the prisoner knew who he was or not. Snow thought the prisoner was valuable, so Peeta needed a different tactic than just torturing him. Peeta knew he could be very persuasive. He had been told he had a silver tongue, though he still had trouble remembering who or when it had been said. He hoped his memory would return soon. He didn't like to depend on anyone for help, and he hated the thought of having to ask Lavinia for anything. She barely met his eyes and he wasn't sure how they had come to be married. Perhaps it was an arranged marriage? Although come to think of it, he wasn't even sure where his family was.
His face screwed up in frustration as he ran his fingers through his hair.
"Damn it," he muttered. He really needed his memory to return.
He made his way to the cells and nodded to the peacekeeper standing guard.
"General Mellark, to speak to prisoner 4-DEJ. On orders from President Snow."
"Right this way, General." The soldier lead him down the hall and through the line of cells. Peeta raised a brow as he passed the prisoners being kept. He resisted the urge to ask the soldier what they were being held for. As he understood it, anyone considered a traitor to the Capitol would be taken prisoner.
The soldier stopped in front of a cell at the back and Peeta's eyes widened when he peered in. The man was in a bad way. His wrists were chained to the wall, his chin rested on his chest, his clothes were ragged and smelly. Peeta's nose wrinkled as the man's stench made its way to him.
"Unlock the cell."
"General-"
"Do I need to remind you I am acting on President Snow's orders? Unlock. The. Cell." The peacekeeper hurriedly shoved the key into the lock and allowed Peeta to enter. The man looked up and blinked several times, as if he couldn't believe his eyes.
"Peeta?"
"Peter. Are you Felix Duartyr?"
"Last time I checked. You look completely healed."
"Your rebel scum didn't defeat me."
"Rebel sc- Peeta, what are you talking about?" Peeta stood in front of his former general, his hands folded neatly behind his back. Duartyr sighed and lowered his head.
"They've done it again."
"Listen to me, old man. I know you know something about the rebellion. I'm willing to make you deal. Information for your life. It's a fine deal, I'd say."
"And what makes you think I know anything about that?"
"Our President says you are valuable. Which means you have some sort of information that he wants."
"So why don't you try to torture it out of me," the man spat. Peeta's eyes narrowed.
"I don't like torture. Too messy for me."
"You don't think you have beaten a kid from time to time? As your former general, I can tell you that this is false. You have done some terrible things, General Mellark."
"For the good of my country," Peeta replied calmly.
"Tell your President I don't know what he thinks I know, but if he wants to speak to me, he can come speak to me himself."
"You think the President will come down here," Peeta scoffed. "Preposterous."
"He came down here to visit you." Peeta's brow furrowed.
"To stop my own soldiers from killing me. They mistook me for a prisoner."
"Is that what he told you? Do you remember what happened to you before you were beaten by your soldiers?" Peeta hesitated and Duartyr shifted in his chains.
"You have been down here as long as I have, Peeta. They tortured you for weeks. They beat you and pumped tracker-jacker venom into your veins."
"Then tell me, old man, why are you chained to a wall while I am fully healed and ready to return to work?"
"Guess they think you are more valuable than I am. That you can accomplish something I can't do. Snow must think you have some kind of power over someone…" he trailed off, his eyes widening in horror.
"Oh hell," he muttered. Peeta straightened up and gripped his gun.
"Duartyr, I am going to give you some time to think about my offer. I'd be happy to get you some clean clothes and some food, if you just tell me what you know about the rebellion."
"Some water would be nice," Duartyr said in a croaky voice.
"Fetch Mr. Duartyr some water," Peeta snapped at the guard. The peacekeeper hurried away and returned with a cup and a long straw. Peeta waited while the prisoner drank, and raised a brow when he finished the entire cup and smacked his lips.
"Well?"
"My relief of dehydration has sharpened my wit and reminded me why I don't negotiate, General Mellark. If President Snow wants to speak to me, he needs to come to me directly. And I'd advise you to work on finding out who you are."
"Who I am," he repeated, distracted. "What the hell does that mean?"
"Where is your family, Mellark? Where did you grow up? What district are you from?"
"Why are you asking me all of these questions," Peeta scowled. Duartyr looked satisfied.
"Because the more you'll look for your past, the more you'll find things aren't as they seem."
"Get me out of here," Peeta barked at the peacekeeper. "This man is giving me a migraine." Duartyr smirked as the soldier lead Peeta out of the cell and slammed the door closed. Peeta followed the man back through the rows of cells and he jumped as he heard a young woman shriek.
"Mr. Mellark! Peeta, help me!" Frowning, he looked around for who the woman was referring to as she continued to reach out toward him. He edged closer so he could clearly make out the tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Do I know you?"
"Ellie Trinkett. I met you at the Boutique, with your wife."
"Sorry, I don't-"
"You must get me out of here! Please, I don't know anything! They think I know something about the rebellion because Cinna was one of them but I know nothing! I'm innocent!" Peeta shook his head and backed away from the cell.
"They're imprisoning me because I helped you and Katniss!" He ignored her pleas and followed the soldier until they were away from the cells and the screams of the prisoners.
Peeta glanced out the car window and wrinkled his nose.
"A peacekeeper lives here?"
"The Minister reports that this is his hideout, General Mellark. Are you sure you don't require back-up?"
"I'm fine," he replied, already stepping out of the car. He held his rifle in front of him and marched through the tall, unkempt grass. He was afraid to knock on the crumbling door, lest the whole place come down. His loud footsteps, however, had alerted whoever was inside. Peeta saw the curtains move, then heard the backdoor slam. He leaped over the decrepit porch and ran around the house. The peacekeeper was only a few feet away from him and he put on a sudden burst of speed that surprised even him. He tackled the old man and stood on his chest.
"Romulus Thread," he said sternly, glaring down at the traitor.
"Get off me, Mellark! What's gotten into your head?"
"You're under arrest, by orders of President Snow." The General thrashed beneath his feet.
"I'll have you flogged for this!" Peeta rolled his eyes and with no difficulty, bent down and cuffed Thread's hands. He pulled him to his feet and held his hands behind his back.
"Are you going to cooperate, Thread?"
"I should have killed you when I had the chance," Thread hissed. "Like your friend Murphy! You'll pay for this, mark me."
"None of your words make sense, Thread. Let's go."
"Oh ho," Thread dug his heels into the dirt. "They did it again, did they? They managed to make you forget again." Peeta frowned.
"What are you talking about?" But Thread was cackling and no matter how many times Peeta repeated his question, Thread refused to answer. Peeta's eyes flashed and he shoved Thread ahead of him.
"Walk," he snarled. When Thread was inches away from the car, there was a loud BANG that deafened the eerie silence. The soldier in the car gaped as the former Head Peacekeeper fell down dead. Peeta calmly walked past him and got back into the car.
"To President Snow's mansion," he said in an unshaken voice. The soldier's hands were white as he gripped the steering wheel the entire way back to the mansion.
Snow looked impressed as Peeta stood before him in a salute.
"The assignments have been taken care of?"
"The second one has, sir. The first will call for persuasion and we must be careful. I have a feeling he will cave soon. But we have to be delicate and give it some time. I'm confident, sir, that I will be able to squash this rebellion."
"Excellent to hear. Be on your way, Mellark. I have a dinner to attend with my family tonight. Your belongings have been moved to your home and your wife is there waiting for you."
"Thank you, President Snow." Peeta bowed low and returned to the car, where he told the soldier he would like to be driven home. The soldier looked baffled for a moment, then turned in his seat.
"What is your address, sir?" Peeta faltered and stared out the window.
"Damn rebels," he muttered. "Causing me all sorts of memory problems. Let me get the address from President Snow."
Less than an hour later, Peeta was inside his luxurious home and watching his wife sleep in their bed. For some reason, he didn't want to lie next to her. Deciding he might read for a bit, he went to the living room and perused the book shelves. None of these titles were familiar to him. He made a face as he grabbed one, flipped it open, and plopped down on the couch. Minutes later, he was asleep with the book open on his chest. Unbeknownst to him, his wife rose from her nap, watched him sleep for a moment with a sad look on her face, and finally covered him with a blanket. Then she returned to the bedroom, where she clutched a pillow to her face and cried herself to sleep.
Present day…
Peeta crouched low, his eyes trained on the sky.
"Sir-" But Peeta held his fist up and the soldier fell silent.
"Mellark," came a voice in Peeta's ear. Peeta sighed and pressed a button.
"Mellark here."
"What the hell are you doing? The rebels will get away!"
"We have all eyes on the sky at the moment, sir. They haven't taken off, so they have no way of escaping by sky. They are still on the roof."
"Then why isn't someone on the roof killing them at this moment?"
"The same reason I didn't fire, Minister. We don't know enough about the situation at this time and it's too much of a risk."
"To hell with the risk! I don't want those rebels to get away."
"They won't, sir. We will make sure of that." Peeta pressed the button, ending the connection. He knew the Minister would be furious but he knew the rebels would try to find alternative means of escape and he needed to focus.
"I want two teams on the ground, guarding entrances to the city. Make sure they don't escape. I also want two teams to go underground."
"Underground General?"
"The rebels are smart. To ignore that would make us fools. Are you a fool, soldier?"
"No sir," the young peacekeeper stammered.
"I thought not. We cut off their escape routes, whatever means necessary, and force them to surrender. I want ten of you to follow me up to the roof. Let's go."
Gale scowled as he paced back and forth, while Finnick wrapped a bandage around Rory's injured hand. Rye stared off in the distance, looking pale and Boggs sighed heavily.
"Hovercraft is unable to land, that much is evident. We need to find another way out of the Capitol."
"We shouldn't have assumed he would willingly come with us," Gale snarled. "This was a fool mission."
"Shut up, Gale," Rye snapped. "You have never liked my brother. I don't even know why you volunteered for this mission."
"I did it for Katniss," Gale said angrily. "Not for your brother. And I'm not surprised that he is on their side now. Haymitch warned us that they might have used more tracker-jacker venom on him. He's become a liability and President Coin won't like that."
"That's enough, Soldier Hawthorne," Boggs said sternly. "I decide when someone becomes a liability."
"You can't seriously be considering that we can still take him with us?!"
"The mission was to rescue Soldier Mellark from the Capitol and return him to District 13. Our mission hasn't been fulfilled. We needed to get him away from the Minister of Defense."
"What, so he could rejoin his troops and plan a way to kill us?"
"I said, that's enough," Boggs said coldly. Gale threw his hands into the air but fell silent. Rye adjusted his rifle on his shoulder.
"Katniss will lose it if we come back without him."
"Unfortunately Soldier Mellark, I don't see any other option at this time. She did remind me that I was the one who left him behind in the first place, so of course I would like to reunite husband and wife but I won't do so if it is a danger to her."
"You think Peeta would hurt Katniss," Finnick asked softly.
"I'm betting that's what Snow is counting on. He might have even wanted us to capture him, so we could deliver him to her. My thought is that they poisoned him again and fed him lies. I can't say for certain since we don't know enough right now but that seems like a good way to get rid of Katniss."
"And Peeta as well," Rory muttered. "Make him kill her and then he would be killed for doing it."
"Exactly. Kill two birds with one stone, as it were. So we're not going to take him back to 13 until we know for sure he hasn't completely forgotten her."
"You heard him," Gale cried. "He asked us who Katniss was! He said something about his wife being upstairs! He's forgotten her and accepted whatever lies the Capitol is feeding him. Isn't this the third or fourth time they've been able to do that?"
"I'm about to throw you off this roof and hope Peeta is down there to finish your sorry ass off," Rye said through gritted teeth.
"Pretty sure I can take your pretty boy brother."
"Pretty sure you can't," Boggs said coldly. "Not with all the poison in his blood. Haymitch says depending on the amount, he's most likely at least three times as strong and three times as powerful. Which means we can't overcome him. I want to talk to him. Without his troops."
"You think he'd go for that?"
"Raise the white flag. Call down to them that we want to talk to their General. Then we will see if Peeta is truly lost to us." Gale scowled as Finnick leaned over the roof and waved a white bandage in the air.
