Plutarch finds him on a walk. They've stretched it to 20 minutes since he just stays outside till someone gets him now.
"It's Katniss."
Haymitch rises from the log he was sitting on.
"She's okay. She…" Plutarch looks uncomfortable, and can't seem to look him in the eye. "Well, the report said she made a speech about how she would shoot Peeta, and it would be no worse than shooting a mutt. Right in front of him."
Haymitch hears a roaring in his ears.
"I'd like to talk to her," he hears himself say.
"What are you trying to do? Provoke him into an attack?"
He's in Plutarch's office, where they've procured an emergency telephone. Beetee's telegraphs are getting more sophisticated, but a phone is still best for long distances.
"Of course not." Her voice is staticky. He hopes this connection lasts. He longs for the feeling of a glass of whiskey in his hand.
"I just want him to leave me alone," she says.
Haymitch rolls his eyes. "Well, he can't. Not after what the Capitol put him through."
They talk it through, and Katniss still isn't getting it.
"Now, I'm not saying you shouldn't have a fully loaded weapon next to you around the clock," he says. "But I think it's time you flipped this little scenario around in your head. If you'd been taken by the Capitol, and hijacked, and then tried to kill Peeta," okay, it sounds bad out loud, but he knows Katniss will get it, "Is this the way he would be treating you?"
She's quiet. Has the call dropped?
"You and me, we made a deal to try and save him. Remember?"
She's still quiet. Either the call has dropped or she's mentally gearing up for a fight.
"Try and remember," he says, and hangs up.
Plutarch sighs.
"You're not very nice to her."
"Nice people get good people killed. You think I'm happy Peeta is in danger of being recaptured by Snow again? Or killed by his friends?"
"You always see the trees, but I see the forest. We have to make a significant push, send in our best people, and give the rebellion everything we have or it will not work."
Haymitch clenches his fists, his fingernails digging in.
"And what have you given up for the rebellion, Heavensbee?"
Plutarch stays silent.
Haymitch leaves.
He watches the footage in Command. Coin looks at him in fear, probably bracing for him to start throwing furniture around.
"They wouldn't stick around in a place that dangerous," Haymitch finally says, into the silence. He wonders if Willow has seen this.
He looks around the table, sees Plutarch and Coin pointedly looking away from him. He looks at the black screen again.
"You can't even see the square, anymore, look!"
They have several camera feeds, and all of them are black. The camera showing the bombing had been at ground level, probably strapped to a Peacekeeper's back, unless they're running around with a camera crew of their own.
"Haymitch," Plutarch begins, and if ever there was a time he wanted to throw around furniture, it was when he heard that pacifying tone in Plutarch's voice.
Serendipitiously, one of the screens switches to the seal of Panem, and shows the bombing and a reporter announcing Katniss Everdeen is dead.
"We need to respond," says Plutarch, looking at Alma Coin. She's staring at the screen, and seems to come back to herself at Plutarch's words.
"Yes, of course," she says.
"I'll get the prep team."
Before he's risen from his chair, the door to Command flies open. Johanna, pale, and out of breath, bursts into the room, two gray suits right behind her, one of them limping badly on his right foot.
"Soldier Mason, this is -"
Coin is cut off when Johanna sees Haymitch and throws herself at him. He had stood up the second she entered the room, and she almost makes him lose his balance. He holds her and strokes the short hair on her head.
"Finnick," she whispers.
"Come on, let's go out in the hall," Haymitch says, and steers her past the jumpsuits who are glaring openly, and into the quieter hallway.
When the door to Command closes, he puts his hands on her shoulders, trying to steady her. She's shaking so badly her teeth are chattering.
"Has Annie seen?"
What little color remains in Johanna's face drains away. She's the color of day old porridge. "I don't know," she whispers, closing her eyes.
Haymitch looks around. Suits are walking in the hallways adjacent to theirs, but no one appears to be lurking.
"It's still a show," he says quietly, and Johanna opens her eyes. "Now, look, I know these guys, and so do you. If you were there, would you have stayed in that building and waited for Peacekeepers to find you?"
She doesn't even have to think about that. In fact, she rolls her eyes. "Of course not. But…the pods -"
"We don't know who might be alive or dead." He looks at the floor. Then he releases the breath he was holding and locks eyes with her again. "I guess that was one way the Games were superior to war – we never had to wonder."
Johanna scoffs, but the corners of her lips twitch.
"Plutarch and Coin are raring to go to announce their deaths. I think…" He swallows. "I think we should prepare ourselves for the worst."
Johanna nods. She's still pale, but not frighteningly so.
"Go see Annie," he says. "Make sure she's not surrounded by suits."
Johanna grins.
"Finally, something I can do."