Chapter 44: When I Touch You, Mutt

We are all seated dejectedly in the viewing room adjacent to Peeta's hospital chamber, on the other side of the one-way window. We can see in and look upon Peeta… or, this bizarre imposter in place of Peeta, but he cannot see us.

Katniss has her face buried in her lap and is weeping uncontrollably, Belle and Prim on either side of her and with their arms wrapped around her. The sight of the Everdeen girls in an embrace is heartwarming, the intimacy of it clearly familiar to them; Prim whispers to me that they cried like this all day the morning after the Reading of the Card for the Quell. Proximo is leaning against the doorjamb, heartbroken on behalf of Katniss, but makes no moves to join the little group. I have to appreciate and respect his restraint. Proximo will always have to walk a fine line and exercise good judgment on what will be private moments for the family he no doubt hopes to one day join, and which moments he can be included in. In this moment, Katniss needs the familiar, although she and Proximo's relationship has improved leaps and bounds since the night of the Capitol bombings of Thirteen.

"It's… It's like he doesn't know me!" Katniss blubbers. "Like he doesn't even love me!"

"That's not true, Katty!" Prim cries, lacing her fingers through those of her sister.

"No, she's right," Finnick, who is seated astride a backwards chair after being called to the ward by me, states. "There's a guy in there who looks just like Peeta Mellark, but I have no idea who he really is. None of us do."

Perched in his wheelchair and pushed right up against the glass, Beetee Latier is stroking the light scruff of his well-trimmed beard. "I think, my dear Finnick, that we are splitting hairs here. That boy is Peeta Mellark…. except he is the Peeta Mellark the Capitol wants to see, and wants us to see. The Peeta Mellark who could be used as a homicidal weapon to bring down the Mockingjay."

I frown at the aging Victor hard. "What exactly are you implying?" I state carefully. "That my son is in the throes of some…. split personality disorder?"

"That is actually a good way of putting it, yes." Cecelia Rheys is huddled in one corner, for once not sucking face with Brutus down in the dungeons. Her voice is very quiet. "I… I developed a split personality after leaving the arena. A persona I call Victoria. She… she helped - helps - me cope, mostly with being on the whore circuit once I won." In all the years I have known the fierce young woman from Eight, I have never heard any of this.

Passing a small axe between her hands, her husband's arm looped over her shoulder, Johanna Mason-Hawthorne frowns. "Why are referring to this Victoria in the third person? If I'm following this correctly, you're her. She's you."

"Yes…. and no," Cecelia hedges. "It is possible to compartmentalize both parts of yourself. One part lies dormant while the other is active…"

"… but while split personality disorder might be a helpful simile, Miss Rheys, it does not precisely define Peeta's current state," Beetee voices. "It is not as though Peeta has developed a completely alternate identity. Rather, his darkest impulses and fears seem to have been nurtured and cultivated over a long period of time so that his first instinct is to act on them." He turns to address the room at large. "We all have light and darkness inside of us; most of us suppress our darkest tendencies. All the Victors in this room: I am sure you can understand that while we were competing in the Games, we had no choice but to let our darkest tendencies out in order to win. But once we did, we have always been able to suppress them again. They are our arena instincts, you might call them." He rolls his wheelchair over to the light switch by the door, between Cecelia and Proximo. "Think of it as a light switch – on, off." He flicks the switch for emphasis, and the room is plunged into darkness for a fraction of a second. "Peeta's arena instincts – the instinct to self-defend, the instinct to kill – have been awakened, just as they would be if he were in the Games."

"But he's not in the Games," Katniss whimpers, puffy-eyed. "Not anymore."

"But the arena never truly leaves you, does it?" Beetee cocks an eyebrow. "We can all repress that part of ourselves. Unfortunately, for Peeta, he has been conditioned so that he can't. He is in the darkness, as it were, all the time. And it would seem that that darkness is strongest whenever he is in Katniss's presence, or whenever she is so much as mentioned." He strokes his beard again. "Believe it or not, I've seen this before. The Capitol has perfected the practice. It is called hijacking."

A deep shudder courses through me. I know it is possible to hijack a vehicle – a train, or a plane, or a boat. You can even hijack entire computer systems, as Beetee has done while waging a digital war against the Capitol. But to hijack a person….? How is such a thing possible?

The man from 3 is now mostly addressing Dannel and me on behalf of our son, as if he is a grief counselor, and we have already lost Peeta. Katniss is crying again, like she has lost yet another person she loves to death. In a way, we are all moving about as though someone has died. While the medium of that loss is not exactly the same, the pain is still acute and familiar, pointing back to that visceral emotional memory one feels when someone dear passes away.

"Can't we… hijack him back?" Jonadab croaks, his azure eyes inundated with tears.

"Possibly," Beetee dips his head. "But it will take effort, and it will take time. And research, most of all. I will have to dive deep into the Capitol's biological weapons systems, and the bodies of work on such a subject are quite dense. But I promise you, the real Peeta Mellark is in there – and all we have to do is get him out."

"How?" Rye bemoans.

"That, unfortunately, will have to be conducted mostly through experimentation," Beetee informs us gravely. "If my hypothesis is correct, Peeta has been conditioned to believe in an alternate reality, shaped in the Capitol's image. I suspect that much of that alternate reality revolves around Katniss. To him, she is something she really isn't: a threat. An assassin. An insurrectionist – pick your noun. He has been brainwashed quite literally to believe she is the enemy. So for her safety, we must keep Katniss away from an enemy combatant, at least until there is perceived progress on the front of deprogramming."

Katniss predictably takes deep offense to this. "I am not Peeta's enemy!"

"No one is saying you are, my dear. But to Peeta, that is unfortunately the case – for now." Beetee pauses for a moment, deep in thought. "There will also be some reading into history that will be required. Cults are as old as the American state and even going back further – there are cults that affect Panem even now. And it is possible for adherents to cults to undergo reeducation. Such was the case in the early 2020s, over a millennia ago, regarding the followers of an ancient American president." Beetee fumbles in search of something on his phone, then holds out the image on the screen to show us. "This man, right here."

One look, and a memory a quarter of a century old comes roaring back, of standing with Snow in that oval-shaped office and looking up at the portrait of an orange-skinned man with an ugly sneer.

Donald Trump…. You could say he's a hero of mine, I hear Snow's voice echo in my head.

"This is the blueprint," Beetee tells us. "The deprogramming of the extremist, ancient American right was long, arduous and wide-ranging, but it was completed. Although much broader in scope, with hundreds of thousands, millions of individuals trapped in an alternate reality on a dizzying array of topics and issues, the similarity to Peeta's predicament here is that this fake reality revolved around one person. This man - Donald Trump. Trump. Katniss Everdeen. They are the suns around which revolves an entire solar system of lies and half-truths that don't actually exist. The key, I believe, is going to be Peeta's memories, specifically of Katniss. I have reason to postulate that these memories may have been tampered with. We will likely have to re-educate Peeta with the real memories of Katniss, and replace the tainted ones. The road will be daunting, but looking back to all the cults of history – Jonestown. David Koresh and the Branch-Davidians. Sun Myung Moon and the Unification Church. Scientology. Trump and his MAGA movement – and their ultimate downfalls, we know it can be done." He lets out a long breath. "Any questions?"

Katniss gazes at her lost love, strapped to a gurney with leather restraints. When she shifts her eyes to Beetee, they are steely with determination and anger.

"When do we start?"


Everyone has a task to do. Though there are few of them, the best psychiatric doctors in Thirteen are assigned to my son's case. Beetee holes himself up in his study, reading and taking notes on cults and deprogramming and brainwashing and reeducation. At one point, bringing him his lunch after he skipped the meal entirely, I see him poring over a tome describing the imprisonment tactics of an ancient people called the Vietcong. Eventually, Proximo and then Gale join him, significantly reducing the older Victor's workload.

Much to her despair and consternation, Katniss is ordered to stay far, far away from Peeta until we deem it safe. Just for good measure, we order Prim and Belle Everdeen to stay away as well, as even people so closely related to Katniss might be a trigger that could set my boy off. How many degrees of separation required before Peeta can interact with another person safely is difficult to guess, and unfortunately carries some risk as we send in people to sit and talk with him, after careful vetting.

Cecelia Rheys turns out to be a very helpful visitor, as Peeta really only has one memory of her – the closing moments of the Quarter Quell – that actually has nothing to do with Katniss. The Victor from Eight now splits her time between visiting Brutus and visiting my son, both of them prisoners, whether by physical order or within their own minds. While Beetee did state the simile was not exact in principle, Cecelia's own experience with a split personality disorder is quite helpful as well. She doesn't raise such issues with Peeta directly, but he soon finds her a soothing and all together pleasant presence.

My own visits with my baby boy have to be spaced out intermittently. This is a point that I discover quickly as in our first moments alone since before the Quell, Peeta lashes out with anger at perceived wrongs I have committed against him, some of them valid, but most of them not. He is just as angry and just as convinced as Katniss used to be that I knew more about the arena break-out than I really did; unlike Katniss, however, it is harder for him to believe me when I say I did not. Even an hour alone with this boy who I carried, who I nursed, can leave me feeling utterly drained and exhausted. My fellow Victors help me as best they can; Johanna, Finnick and Annie all join Cecelia in sitting with Peeta for a spell, swapping stories. Johanna is actually the first one to come up with the game she likes to call Real or Not Real. It is part-quiz show, part guessing game that is designed to help Peeta sort through all the bullshit as much as it is helping us do the same. Some of the claims he makes, as though they are absolute truths, defy all credulity. But instead of berating him for all the misguided beliefs he holds (and this is very uncharacteristic, coming from Jo), Johanna is of the opinion that we need to combat this misinformation through understanding as much as through Beetee's science. And on the whole, it is very revealing to learn what Peeta still knows to be true as much as it is revealing to learn what he thinks to be true, but really isn't. I first kissed Katniss when we were twelve – Real or not Real? Real. Katniss is a mutt programmed by the government to seduce me and eventually kill me – Real or Not Real? …. Not Real. Finnick and Annie soon learn the rules of the game and try to help as well – the couple from 4 are especially helpful in getting Peeta to sort out his memories from the Games. Not only were they allies with him in the Quarter Quell arena, but they also mentored for Katniss and Peeta's first Games as well, so they were first-hand witnesses to the goings on during the 74th Games.

And speaking of the couple from District 4, it isn't long before they announce they are engaged and wish to be married as soon as possible. President Coin is about as enthused about the prospect of another wedding as she was about Gale and Johanna's, and refuses to offer any support. If Finnick and Annie are that eager to exchange vows, they must do so on their own time and money. This time, however, many of the people in Thirteen push back. We have all had our fill of things to be sad about – I was heartened to see how many people are crestfallen over the plight of my son, even those who didn't always trust him. After months of isolation underground, we all are in desperate need of something to celebrate. It is only when Plutarch and Beetee come up with the idea to film the wedding ceremony as a kind of positive propo (mostly to drive Snow nuts) does Coin come to understand the merits of holding a nuptials in the midst of wartime. She offers a venue and decorations for the party, but her frugality wins out when she isn't quite so generous in devoting any monetary funds to the project. No matter. We make do with what we have.

Johanna loans Annie the simple white dress she wore at her own wedding; in return, Annie makes Johanna her Matron of Honor. The move surprises me – I have heard the rumors that Finnick and Johanna were intimate back in the day, allegedly to cope with the ordeal of his being whored out, and her whole family being murdered. There is even some gossip that Capitol elites bought Finnick and Johanna as a package deal, paying big sesterces to watch them fuck, which I know is probably not true – Johanna was never on the prostitution circuit. What certainly is true is that Finnick and Johanna have always been close friends, and I imagine that the strength of their bond (both in the arena and out of it) would have made Annie a little jealous. No matter what is, to borrow a turn of phrase, Real or Not Real, I have to admire Annie for looking past all this in making this gesture of goodwill. And Johanna, for her part, seems quite touched to have been asked.

But I have to credit the real breakthrough as coming from my husband.

Danny becomes convinced that if we were to encourage Peeta to rediscover things he likes to do, he might rediscover key parts of his true self. The obvious example, of course, would be baking, and the wedding of the two District 4 Victors grants our son the perfect opportunity to wield this skill. Provided he is kept under heavy watch in the kitchens, both by guards and by his dad, Annie formally commissions Peeta to bake her and Finnick a wedding cake. When Peeta's blue eyes go huge with excitement, and he almost frantically asks for pen and paper to mock up designs, I feel the first glimmer of hope since he was first delivered to Thirteen.

I decide not to tell Katniss about Peeta's contribution just yet.

The day of the ceremony finally arrives. Annie looks immaculate in Johanna's old dress, and Finnick is dashing in pressed slacks and a sailor's tunic. District 4 has some of the most novel marriage traditions of all – as the rings and vows are exchanged, a golden fishing net (woven by some of Thirteen's finest seamstresses) is draped over the couple. Annie circles her groom in a very deliberate pattern, and Finnick does the same for his bride, while the rest of the congregation sings a sea shanty. The tune itself is a little silly, and keeps mentioning something about a whale:

"Soon may the Wellerman come, to bring us sugar and tea and rum. Soon when the tonguing is done, we'll take our leave and go!" And then everyone lets out a full-throated grunt at the end ("Huh!"). Yeah, it's a little weird, but Finnick and Annie are deliriously happy over it, and this is their day.

When Dalton proclaims the pair husband and wife, everyone breaks into cheers and wolf-whistles as Finnick and Annie lean in and share a sweet, chaste kiss. Then everyone breaks off into groups to dance.

Waltzing in Danny's arms, I notice Pollux hand off filming duties to Cressida, while he approaches Katniss and asks her for a dance. Katniss shyly accepts in sign language, and the pair engage in a slow waltz, followed by a folk song that has Katniss flicking her skirts while Pollux circles her, clapping in rhythm.

The piece de resistance that causes the reception to sway to a grinding halt is when a truly astounding wedding cake is brought out on a table.

The blue icing is shaped to look like actual waves, with little boats bobbing on the three tiers. Annie drags Finnick by the hand over to Peeta's cake, gushing over the detail and bemoaning how it is almost too good to eat. Pausing in her dancing with Pollux, Katniss is also drawn to the confectionary triumph, and I know she recognizes my son's handiwork. I drift over to her side.

"He made this, didn't he?" Her voice is quiet, tinged with sadness. I know she has been feeling left out by her inability to visit, even as the other Victors have been able to talk with Peeta. "How did he do it?"

"You'd have to ask Dannel. He told me that Peeta would sometimes have his concentration broken up, but he would fight to keep the hallucinations at bay. Watching him…. he seemed almost like before." Then I remember a request Peeta made of me, on my last visit before I had to leave for the ceremony. "Peeta says he'd like to see you."

Katniss stares at me, trying not to hope. She bites her lip. "Do you think we're ready?"

I admire her caution. "Beetee thinks we'll have to try sometime. Not to worry – he has a plan."

"OK," Katniss nods eagerly, taking my hand. "Let's go – right now."

Beetee's plan is to have Katniss enter Peeta's room alone. He will be restrained under the leather straps on the gurney. Katniss will be on a wire so we can hear everything while hidden behind the one-way window. If at any point Peeta becomes hostile or lashes out, Katniss is to leave the room immediately.

"Is all of that clear?" Beetee asks Katniss as he finishes hooking her up to the earpiece.

Katniss nods solemnly. "Yes."

The Victor from 3 nods. "OK. Maysilee, if you would come with me. I will signal you, Katniss, when you are to enter."

Beetee and I, along with Boggs and Proximo, enter the observation room. Beetee raises a finger to his matching earpiece.

"And…. go." Katniss pushes the hydraulic door open and enters the holding room. Peeta freezes upon seeing her.

Katniss gives him a weak smile. "Hi."

"Hello," Peeta manages back, voice guarded. He keeps perfectly still, though – not that he would be able to move anyway, with his restraints, but still, the lack of motion is encouraging.

There is an incredibly awkward pause, as my son and my goddaughter both glance at each other, then just as quickly look away. It is like they are two schoolchildren in love meeting for the first time, unable to flirt or even talk with each other.

"I, um…. I just came from Finnick and Annie's wedding," Katniss stammers, her face flushing. "It was a lovely ceremony."

"How was it?" Peeta asks kindly, thrilled for the happiness of his friends.

"Everything they hoped for," Katniss expresses. Her throat wobbles a little as she chokes up. "That cake you made was beautiful. Annie didn't want to slice it."

Peeta actually beams. "High praise."

"Yeah. All the waves, they were so real…"

"Waves." A dark storm cloud passes over Peeta's expression, and I tense.

"Get her out of there," I whisper.

"Steady…" Beetee rumbles, eyes not moving from the window's panes.

"You tried to drown me in the ten o'clock wave – real or not real?"

My heart stops. I forgot to coach Katniss on the game Johanna and the rest of us developed. Thankfully, she is a quick study, especially when thrown off the deep end into unfamiliar situations.

"Not real. We were never near that wedge in the clock arena. We just saw the wave as the tide rolled in."

A beat as Peeta absorbs this. Then:

"You're lying." The tone is accusing.

Katniss frowns, wrinkling her nose. "No, I'm not."

Peeta appraises her up and down, clad in her blue Reaping dress. An ugly sneer comes over his face. "Well, you're a piece of work, aren't you?"

Katniss reels back like my son just slapped her, her grey eyes swimming with tears. She steams, her mouth drawn in a thin line.

"I don't even know why I bothered to come." She is turning away when Peeta's voice – softer this time – stops her.

"Katniss….. I remember the cave. How we… made love."

Katniss freezes dead. The tears are now rolling down her cheeks. A tiny noise escapes her; it might be a sob. "Yes," she whispers.

"Was…. was that real?"

Katniss whimpers. "Oh, yes, Peeta… it was. I did love you. I love you still."

She catches herself just in time, but Peeta doesn't refute her. Katniss's tears are a torrent now. "I…. I have to go. Prim will be wondering where I am…"

She is halfway to the door when the leather restraints snap. Peeta actually is strong enough to break the leather straps holding him down and is out of the bed quick as lightning. Katniss freezes when she feels his presence behind her, his large and calloused hands ghosting over her hips. Unconsciously, she leans into his touch with a sigh, until she remembers where she is, and turns to face him.

"Peeta, what are you…?"

He silences her with a kiss, and Katniss instantly melts into it. My heart is pounding hard in my ribcage from sheer terror, as I remember one of Peeta's more crazy conspiracy theories, about Katniss being a Capitol weapon designed to seduce him before eventually killing him. But what if it is actually he who is the seducer and potential murderer?

Katniss's eyes pop open in the next instant, as she remembers where she is and who she is kissing, and she twists away. "Don't!" she spits, squeaks, wiping at her mouth.

A cocksure glint has appeared in Peeta eyes as his hands now float up to steal around Katniss's waist. Float over the rounded curves of her breasts, tweaking the nipples that I can see rapidly pebbling. "Do you like it when I touch you, mutt?"

Wait a second… mutt? Peeta thinks Katniss is a mutt? Oh, shit…..

Katniss is too aroused to focus much attention on the epithet. Her eyes are rolling into the back of her head, she is sagging into Peeta and panting. "Yes…." she hisses. "Ohhhhh yes….."

"You want to fuck me, don't you, Katniss?" Peeta croons in her ear, his fingers rolling back the hem of her blue dress, bunching up the fabric around her hips. His fingers dip down to touch the wetness pooling between her legs.

"I…. I…." Katniss is stammering, and she has to stifle a plaintive moan behind her hand. "I don't know."

Peeta cocks his head at this. "You don't know?" His timbre rises a bit and I'm afraid he is going to explode.

"Mayday, mayday, Katniss, get out of there!" I nearly wrench Beetee's earpiece headset off his skull, but it gets stuck as I bellow the directive into Katniss's matching earpiece.

Katniss finally gets out of Peeta's grip and turns to face him. Her breasts are heaving under her bodice and her face is red-flushed, even as her eyes shine with terror. "Oh, just fuck me or kill me and get it over with already. Whatever you want from me, go ahead…. Take it…"

Peeta gazes at her, frowning. "Katniss, if you don't want to do this…"

"No!" Katniss yelps. With a speed and strength that must astonish Peeta as much as it does me, she throws him back down onto the hospital cot, pins him there and straddles him. "I want this. I need this. I do."

If she were smart, she would strap Peeta back in the leather restraints…. until I remember that those restraints are now broken, and I don't even know if Katniss is into BDSM anyway.

Divesting Peeta of his trousers, Katniss sinks down onto him, groaning into his shoulder when they join. Peeta's moan matches hers, and resting her palms lightly on his chest, my goddaughter begins to bounce up and down as she makes love to him. Growling, Peeta grips her hips and thrusts up into her with abandon.

Boggs is flabbergasted. "What the hell am I watching?"

"Possibly a witness to murder if he ends up on top!" I snap. "With his strength, he could kill her! He might even have her exactly where he wants her!"

This causes Beetee to clue in, throwing off his headset. "We gotta get her out of there!"

"You heard him, fellas – open the door! Open the door!" I cry, and we all scramble out of the observation room and dash for the hydraulic door. Proximo tugs at it.

"It's locked!" he screams.

"The keycard, Boggs – get the keycard!" I am screaming shrilly by this point. Boggs is digging through his pockets like a madman. From the earpiece now hanging off Beetee's body, we can hear moans, grunts and squeaks indicating the wild sex still occurring in the next room. Then, Katniss's voice becomes clear.

"Peeta, I'm…. I'm going to…. I'm gonna cum – OH, FUCK!"

Peeta appears to let out a yell, there is a creak of bedsprings and then – silence. Stillness. We all freeze, watching the hydraulic door and hearing sounds come from the other side. The rustle of fabric. The sound of footsteps. Boggs draws his gun and we all take fighting stances.

The hydraulic door whooshes open and….

Katniss appears, her lips swollen from kissing and her dress a little rumpled, but otherwise completely unharmed. Peering around her shoulder, we can see Peeta sprawled in the cot, out cold. Or maybe just asleep.

"His orgasm was amazing," Katniss quips by way of explanation. Her breasts are still heaving for every gulp of air, and she is even fanning herself a little. "He came so hard, he passed out right after." Straightening herself, she flounces past us, swaying a little on unsteady feet as she continues to recover from the lovemaking she just endured.

Proximo, Boggs, Beetee and I all stare at each other, gobsmacked.

"What in the seven hells of the arena was that?" I ask.

"I don't know, but whatever it was, it was way too close," Boggs decides. "We are not doing that again!"