CHAPTER 16

PART I

"I can't do this."

Katniss Everdeen paused at the entrance to the field hospital. Even though District Eight had been under Rebel control for months, it still saw a great deal of military activity. Trains crisscrossed the district, transporting soldiers, equipment, and food to units fighting the Loyalist forces as well as to recently pacified districts. Forward supply depots were located near rail lines.

So were field hospitals.

"Katniss," Messalla said in a quiet, urgent voice. "I know it's hard. But these soldiers are from all over Panem. It would be a real boost to their morale to see you in person."

Katniss felt her stomach knotting at the thought of having to enter the hospital – in reality, a converted warehouse that had formerly been used to store bales of cotton from District Eleven and wool from District Ten – and she felt herself suddenly chilled by a nervous, clammy sweat. I'm no good with this sort of thing, she said to herself. Peeta is so much better at visiting with the wounded!

"Is there a problem?" Haymitch's voice crackled in her ear.

Messalla stood before Katniss and gripped her shoulders firmly. "We'll be right there with you, Katniss. Right there." He leaned forward and said, so quietly that only she could hear, "You can do this, Katniss. You can."

Katniss looked into Messalla's eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded slowly. "No offense, Messalla," she said, forcing a wry smile, "but this is one of those times that I really wish Cressida was here."

Messalla smiled at the reluctant Mockingjay. "I know how you feel," he replied softly. "I have those thoughts at least ten times every day."

"Hello?" Haymitch's voice took on an impatient tone. "Do you copy? Is there a problem?"

"No problem," Katniss replied curtly, before adding, under her breath, "especially for an asshole orbiting safely overhead in a hovercraft."

"Say again, Sweetheart," Haymitch's voice crackled once again. "I didn't quite copy that last."

"Shit," Katniss muttered, as Messalla tried, and failed, to conceal his grin of amusement. "I said, 'no problem, and we're entering the hospital now.'"

"That's what I thought you said," Haymitch replied laconically. "We'll land and pick you up as soon as you're done. Paylor's expectin' us back in the city for some rebuilding dog and pony show that she has planned."

"We copy, Haymitch," Messalla confirmed. Turning to Katniss, he asked, "Are you ready?"

Katniss nodded reluctantly. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Let's do this."

Jackson stepped forward, paused just long enough to pat Katniss's shoulder, and pulled the door open. "After you, Soldier," she said firmly.

Katniss squared her shoulders, took another deep breath, and stepped into the hospital.

It was all Katniss could do to maintain her composure while in the hospital.

She moved from bed to bed, offering a quiet word and a soft touch to the broken bodies that inhabited each. She was at once amazed and heartbroken by the responses that she got from each wounded soldier, for almost all the questions that she received regarded Peeta Mellark's health since his rescue from the Capitol. Not once was there an inquiry from any of the wounded men and women about the severity of their own injuries.

Finally, as dusk began to fall over this remote corner of District Eight, Katniss was, at long last, allowed to step outside, her 'morale-boosting' duties finally concluded. The others – Messalla, Castor, Pollux, Jackson, and the rest of Katniss's security squad – remained inside, allowing her a few minutes to herself. Katniss was grateful for their perception…after all, she despised showing weakness to anyone, and it would be most embarrassing to have any of them witness her throwing up into the trash barrel that was conveniently placed next to the hospital entrance.

Her nausea passed quickly. Katniss straightened, rinsed her mouth out from her canteen, and tucked a couple of strands of hair behind her ear that had worked themselves free of her braid. The sun had just disappeared beneath the horizon, and the air was bitterly cold, but there were no clouds in the darkening sky. There was no moon this evening, and a few of the brighter stars began to make their appearance.

Katniss tilted her head back, pulling deeply on her canteen, this time swallowing, rather than spitting out, the cold water. Absently she capped the canteen and slid it back into its pouch, glancing up at the sky as she did so. As she watched, a dark shape glided almost silently overhead – the command and control hovercraft that Haymitch was in, ready at a moment's notice to swoop down and scoop up Katniss and the rest of her party. She shook her head slightly and snorted softly in disgust – she was almost as safe here as she would have been back in District Thirteen – but Jackson, like Boggs, was a stickler for SOP. And the Standard Operating Procedures when the Mockingjay was in the field was to have the hovercraft always airborne.

Katniss was about to turn away when a different object caught her eye – a bright yellowish-orange streak hurtling across the twilight sky. She stared at uncomprehendingly for a moment…it was moving too fast for a hovercraft, and Katniss had the impression that it was flying much higher than a hovercraft could ever fly. At first, she thought that it may be a shooting star – she and Peeta had watched a swarm of such objects one night when they were in District Ten, in a rare peaceful moment before his capture – but the shooting stars had been moving much faster, and were not nearly as bright. Dimly, she remembered that Haymitch had told her once that, in the days before the Catastrophes, the people that had lived here before – the North Americans – as well as others that lived in faraway lands across the seas, had launched objects into outer space, hundreds or even thousands of kilometers above the Earth, and that these objects sometimes fell back and created a blazing orange trail such as this object was doing.

That must be it! Katniss pushed the hospital door open and called out excitedly, "Hey! You guys! Come outside. You have to see this!"

Not waiting for a response, Katniss turned her gaze back to the darkened skies, and was disappointed when she noticed that the brightly glowing trail seemed to mysteriously disappear. She heard the voices of her companions as they approached the hospital door, but didn't turn away from her increasingly futile search. Shit. It was right there! What happened to it?

Katniss was still searching for the object when her entire world was enveloped in an impossibly bright white light. Everything around her was illuminated as if the sun had decided to make a sudden, unexpected reappearance. Katniss could even see clearly a scrawny wild dog, a squirrel clutched in its jaws, running across the compound between her and the source of the light.

That dog and squirrel were the last things that she remembered seeing, before her eyes exploded in excruciating pain, and darkness enveloped her completely.

PART II

"Out of the question."

I was in the Command Dining Facility, pushing the rest of my unappetizing meal around on my tray – I'll say this for the Capitol. They love their food and they know how to prepare a real meal. If I ever see another turnip again as long as I live, it'll be too soon – listening to the latest propaganda proposal from Plutarch Heavensbee and his ever-present shadow, Fulvia Cardew. And the key word here was "proposal."

"Peeta," Plutarch said, his voice at once wheedling and confident, "you need to remember the impact that this would have in the districts. Think of it – love blooms in the middle of the Rebellion. After all, Finnick and Annie have agreed…more or less. If you and Katniss would –"

I raised one hand and held it, palm out. "Plutarch. Let me say this as clear as I can. There is no way – no way – that either Katniss or I will ever agree to a wedding that is nothing more than a propaganda spectacle. If Finnick and Annie want to have a wedding that's holo'ed all over Panem, then that's their business. In fact, I can see how Finnick would enjoy the spectacle – he and Annie had to keep their relationship a secret for so long, that he'll relish the opportunity to rub it in Snow's face." I paused for a moment, and then said, in a quieter tone, "But not Katniss – and not me. And don't even think about asking Katniss when she gets back from Eight. I feel confident that I speak for her."

"You know," Fulvia said archly, "President Coin could simply order your cooperation. It is for the good of the Rebellion, after all."

I had to restrain myself from laughing in her face, settling for a derisive snort instead. "And you would get two people obviously going through the motions. Take it from me, Katniss is the worst actress you've ever seen. Her performance would be so transparent that she wouldn't fool anyone." I paused for a moment before continuing. "Besides, she already has control of our reproductive organs. I'm just waiting to see who she decides to plant my sperm into."

"Peeta –" Plutarch began, his very voice a warning.

"I said no, Plutarch." I pushed my tray away and rose laboriously to my feet, grabbing my cane as I did so. My physical therapists wanted me out of my wheelchair as much as possible, although they did concede to my using a cane. "Now, if you will both excuse me –"

"Attention." The calm, disembodied female voice cut through the soft buzz of conversation in the mess hall. "The following personnel are to immediately report to the Operations Center. Colonel Boggs. Major Festuca. Major Zander. Lieutenant Potter. Plutarch Heavensbee. Soldier Peeta Mellark –"

I glanced at Plutarch and received a shrug in response. I sighed and shuffled after Plutarch, thankful that the Ops Center was on this level. Yet another meaningless meeting, I said to myself. Coin has probably decided that she, too, was tired of turnips with every meal. Perhaps she will make an announcement that tomorrow's menu will feature fingerling potatoes instead.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

"Are you sure?" Coin all but whispered.

The intelligence officer shuffled her feet and gazed down at the PADD that she was gripping. "Reports are sketchy, President Coin," she said haltingly, "but we've received information from several independent sources. They all report a brilliant flash, followed by a glowing, mushroom-shaped cloud. The epicenter appears to be what was the primary textile processing center for District Eight."

"Where Paylor is headquartered," Coin muttered.

"Do we have communications with Eight?" Boggs asked.

"Not with Paylor's headquarters, no, sir," the intelligence officer replied. "All of our communications have been with outlying settlements."

I felt nauseous. Katniss – dead? Incinerated, in a single, brilliant flash? After all that she – that we – have been through? I could hear nothing but a roaring in my ears as my throat constricted, making each breath a struggle. I tried to speak, but all I could make was a kind of strangled noise.

"Peeta," Plutarch said urgently. "Listen to me. Katniss shouldn't have been anywhere near that explosion. She was visiting a forward field hospital." He looked up at Boggs. "How far away would she have been?"

Boggs tapped his PADD, and a map of District Eight appeared on the main view screen. He entered a couple of commands and two lights appeared on the map – a steady red glow where the explosion was centered, and a flashing green light to the northeast, towards District Five. "The last report from the hovercraft placed them here –" he circled the green light with a laser pointer "- some seventy to eighty kilometers from the explosion."

Plutarch nodded and looked back at me, his face confident. "See? She was nowhere near there. Perfectly safe."

"There's other factors at play here," a new voice – Beetee Latier's – pointed out. "We still have no idea how big the nuke was."

"We don't even know if it was a nuke, Mr. Latier," Coin pointed out.

"Madam President," Beetee replied patiently, "it couldn't have been anything else. The brilliant flash, the glowing mushroom cloud – those are all hallmarks of a nuclear explosion."

"Holy fucking shit," Festuca muttered. "The old man has gone completely crazy."

"A nuke," I managed to croak, fear gripping my heart. "A nuke."

"Very well," Coin continued. "If it was a nuclear weapon, is there any way to determine how big of a weapon was used?"

"What difference does that make?" Darius Potter muttered. "Isn't it enough that he used one?"

"If we knew how big the weapon was," Boggs explained patiently, "then we can estimate how destructive it was."

"Has anyone even tried to contact our team?" I practically shouted.

"Soldier Mellark," Coin said sternly, "if you cannot maintain control of yourself, you will be escorted from this meeting."

I could feel my fists clench as I glared at Alma Coin. Does this bitch even care? I asked myself. No, of course not. Pieces in their Games – that's all we ever were. Well, I, for one, was quite finished with being a pawn. "Those are our people out there, President Coin," I managed to grate out from between clenched teeth. "Not just Katniss – Haymitch, Jackson, Messalla –"

"I'm aware of who is out there, Soldier," Coin replied firmly. "But right now, my immediate concern is whether Snow will try to use one of these weapons on us."

"Radar reports are negative, President Coin," Boggs reported. "Nothing inbound."

"Not that it would matter," Beetee pointed out. "This weapon was most likely delivered by a ballistic missile. Even long-range radar would only give us a few minutes' warning, at most." He paused for a moment while consulting his PADD. "Regarding the size of the weapon…if we had information on how long the fireball lasted, and the final height of the mushroom cloud, I could make a fairly accurate estimate of the weapon's yield."

Boggs glanced at the intelligence officer. "I don't suppose you have that information, Lieutenant?"

"No, sir," she said apologetically, before adding, "But, like I said earlier, reports were sketchy, and we're having a lot of trouble communicating with anyone in that area."

Beetee nodded thoughtfully, and then said something that sounded like "Eee em pee."

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Latier?" Coin said impatiently.

"I'm sorry, Madam President." Beetee removed his glasses and polished the lenses with a small bandana while he continued to speak. "EMP. Electromagnetic pulse. When a nuclear warhead is detonated, it sends out a very strong pulse of electromagnetic radiation. It can be quite damaging to unshielded electronic equipment, even at a range of hundreds of kilometers." Beetee slipped his glasses back on. "That would account for your difficulties in communications. However, there is another concern. Fallout."

"Radioactive dust from the explosion?" Boggs asked.

Beetee nodded. "Precisely. I don't suppose that we have up-to-date weather information from District Eight? Specifically, wind direction and speed, as well as precipitation?"

Boggs looked at the intelligence officer once more. "Lieutenant?"

"I'll have it in a few minutes, sir," she assured him, never looking up from her PADD as she worked.

Beetee nodded, and then leaned over towards me, placing one hand reassuringly on my arm. "Our team was nowhere near the blast zone, Peeta," he murmured. "They certainly would have seen it, and possibly heard the detonation, but at that distance they should have remained relatively unaffected."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Logically, I knew that Beetee made sense. Emotionally, though, I couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible had happened to Katniss and the rest.

PART III

I hate being right about bad things.

Boggs sought me out just as I was finishing my latest round of torture in rehabilitation. Johanna had accompanied me today…ever since the news of the bombing of District Eight yesterday, Andromeda Snow and Casca Bishop had spent the bulk of their waking hours conferring with Coin, Boggs, and the District Thirteen intelligence staff, to get some insight as to what Snow's next move may be. It was just as well. Right now, I didn't want to see anyone named "Snow."

If that sounds unfair on my part, well, it was. But that's just how I felt at that moment.

Boggs entered the physical therapy room just as I was pulling my shirt back on. "I see you're following your schedule," he said with a grim smile.

"You missed the show, Boggsy," Johanna said with a smirk. "Handsome here has some impressive muscles."

I shot a disgusted look at Johanna. "You have news?" I asked Boggs.

Boggs nodded, glanced at the two therapists still in the room, and flicked his eyes towards the door. They took the hint immediately, and, seconds later, the three of us were alone.

I could feel my heart sinking in my chest as Boggs settled onto a stool. "It's bad," I said flatly.

"They're all alive," Boggs replied simply.

It's a good thing that I was sitting down, as there was no way my legs could have supported me at that moment. "Alive?" I managed to croak as I slumped to one side, remaining upright only because Johanna was there to catch me.

"There were some casualties," Boggs continued. "The hovercraft was flaring for a landing when the electromagnetic pulse knocked out their electronics, including the engines. It ended up falling the last few meters. The crew was banged up a bit and Haymitch Abernathy ended up with a broken leg and some cracked ribs – he, of course, was the only one not strapped in."

"Figures," Johanna said with another smirk.

"What about Katniss?" I asked insistently.

"She's alive, Peeta," Boggs said quietly, before adding, "I just want you to remember that."

"What the fuck does that mean?" I demanded, half angry and half frightened.

"Coin has dispatched another hovercraft to bring our team home," Boggs replied slowly. "Katniss was…Peeta, she was outside when the bomb detonated."

"But…but, you and Beetee – hell, everyone said that they were too far away to be hurt by the blast!" I sputtered. "What difference does it make if she was outside?"

"Apparently," Boggs said gently, "she was facing towards the explosion when the warhead detonated."

I looked at Boggs in confusion. "So, what?" I asked angrily. "She saw it?"

"Peeta," Boggs continued, "when a nuclear device detonates, it produces an incredibly bright flash. From where she was standing, it would look to be many times brighter than the sun. She didn't have time to turn away."

I felt sick to my stomach. "So…so, that means that Katniss –"

Boggs nodded and placed his hand on my shoulder. "She's blind, Peeta."

Blind.

I couldn't even wrap my brain around the idea that Katniss couldn't see. She was – is – a hunter. And there would be no way that she could hunt without her eyes. The very idea that those amazing silvery orbs would be forever dulled…

Henry Elliott, President Coin's personal assistant, was in Coin's outer office when I stomped in, Boggs and Johanna hot on my heels. Alarmed, he looked up from the report that he had been working on, glancing anxiously at all three of us before speaking.

"Soldier Mellark," he managed to finally say. "Colonel Boggs. And, uhh, Miss Mason. I'm sorry, but President Coin is in conference. I can contact you when she has time to –"

"We'll wait," I snapped. I glared defiantly at Boggs.

"Not gonna try to stop me?" I asked snidely.

"I could have stopped you back at the hospital," Boggs replied calmly. "But, short of putting you in restraints, I knew there was no way for me to keep you from doing something stupid – like barge in on President Coin – but I can keep you from making too big of an ass of yourself."

I glanced at Johanna, hoping to get an "I have your back" look, but she just looked embarrassed and unsure – two looks that I've never seen on her. I was about to point those facts out to her when Coin's office door slid open, and she, along with Casca Bishop, Andromeda Snow, and Plutarch Heavensbee, emerged.

"Henry," she said brusquely, "I need you to –" She paused when she saw Boggs, Johanna, and me. "So, Boggs has updated you, Soldier Mellark?"

"Yes," I replied tightly. "I won't take up much of your time, President Coin. I'm here to make one simple request."

Coin crossed her arms over her chest and arched one eyebrow. "And what might that be?"

I took a deep breath. "When the time comes – I kill Snow."

At this, Andromeda let out a sobbing gasp. Plutarch looked surprised, but Casca Bishop's face remained impassive, except for the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in the ghost of a smile. Coin's carefully crafted expression, however, remained unchanged.

"Your request is noted," Coin replied tersely. Surprisingly, her features softened a bit and she stepped forward. Placing one hand on my tense shoulder, she continued, "We were all shaken by this news, Peeta. You are excused from any further obligations today. Take the remainder of the day to try to calm yourself. And know that I have already alerted the staff ophthalmologist at the hospital to expect Katniss Everdeen as his priority patient."

Coin's unexpected gentleness had an immediate effect on me, and suddenly, I felt drained – exhausted. I swayed a bit, gripping my cane as my legs trembled beneath me. "Miss Mason," Coin said, "can you ensure that Soldier Mellark makes it back to his quarters?"

"Uhh…sure. I mean, yes, ma'am," Johanna replied, her tone almost respectful.

"Thank you." Coin turned to Boggs. "I need to speak with you, Colonel. Alone."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied stiffly.

I had just turned to go when Andromeda Snow's anguished voice made me pause. "Peeta," she sobbed, "You don't know how sorry I am about Katniss. And I know you didn't really mean what you just said."

I felt my back stiffen. "Stay away from me," I said, my tone low and flat. To Johanna, I said, "Let's get the fuck outta here."

It was only after Johanna deposited me in my quarters when I realized that I had not so much asked about Haymitch Abernathy's condition.

PART IV

"Sit down, Boggs," Coin said as she tiredly slumped into her own chair.

Boggs slid into the proffered chair and waited while Coin studied something on the computer screen in front of her. He had learned patience in his dealings with the President of District Thirteen. He sat erect, his hands clasping his knees, and didn't say a word.

Finally, Coin glanced up. "You've seen the preliminary casualty reports?"

Boggs nodded. "Six to eight thousand dead, upwards of twenty thousand injured. And many of those will die within the next few weeks from radiation poisoning."

"Including Paylor," Coin grumbled. "The dead were lucky. They don't have to suffer." Coin paused and rubbed her hands over her face. "We're already having a refugee problem with the survivors streaming out in every direction. I've conferred with the other district leaders and we've ordered a halt to all offensive operations so we can deal with this crisis."

"Just as well," Boggs agreed. "The weather has taken a turn for the worse, and our most forwardly-deployed troops wouldn't be able to move much anyway."

"Speaking of weather," Coin added, "the prevailing winds on the night of the attack were blowing in our favor. Other than District Eight, only small sections of Districts Five, Seven, and Nine will be affected by fallout. Most of the poison will blow into the Northern Wilds."

"Yes, ma'am." Boggs cleared his throat. "Ma'am, about Peeta Mellark –"

"One of the most difficult things for me to remember, Boggs," Coin said, interrupting him, "is that people like Mellark and Everdeen were not born here in Thirteen. What he did today, barging into my office like that, was inexcusable…for someone born here. He's learning, like all the others. Just impress upon him the importance of never doing it again." Coin paused and looked Boggs directly in the eye. "And, while we're on the subject, why did you allow him access to my outer office anyway?"

"President Coin," Boggs replied carefully, "given his state of mind at the time, I would rather he come here at a time when I could keep an eye on him, as opposed to barging in here alone."

"I see," Coin said thoughtfully. "Well, ensure that it does not occur again."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Our crew should be returning from Eight soon," Coin said, changing the subject. "I've instructed the hospital, and in particular their eye specialist, to give Everdeen top priority." She sighed and rubbed her hands over her face again. "The hospital staff has been very vocal about our plan for treating the injured from Eight. This has not yet been officially announced, Boggs, but you need to know how we're handling that particular problem."

Boggs frowned. What does she mean, "handling that particular problem?" "Ma'am," he said slowly, "I'm a soldier, not a physician. I don't understand."

"There are upwards of twenty thousand injured from that attack, Boggs," Coin explained patiently. "As it is, our medical facilities are barely up to the task of treating combat wounded. An influx of thousands of additional casualties would completely overwhelm these facilities."

Realization dawned on Boggs. "Does that mean we won't do anything to help them, ma'am?"

His tone was not lost on Coin. "Dammit, Boggs! It's not a matter of 'won't.' It's a matter of 'can't!'" Her eyes dropped to a document on her desk. "And, for your information, I have here the concurrence of the leaders of every allied district in the Rebellion. We're going to quarantine the affected area in District Eight, using provisional units made up of our own walking wounded that haven't yet been cleared to return to full duty." She paused for a moment. "It wasn't an easy decision – but it was the only one that we could take. And, per Beetee Latier, most of the cases of radiation sickness will be dead within a few weeks anyway, despite any efforts that we may have made to save them."

Boggs was silent for a few moments as he digested this information. "We'll lift the quarantine in spring," Coin continued. "By then, there shouldn't be any more radiation sickness casualties left alive. The survivors will then be free to go."

"If there are any survivors," Boggs said bitterly. "How are these people expected to survive the winter, with no food or shelter?"

"That is the final decision, Colonel," Coin said coldly. "Trying to save all those people would cost us the Rebellion."

"It's a hell of a cost for final victory," Boggs muttered.

"History will judge in our favor, Boggs," Coin said, almost gently. "Now, go on. I know you have work to do, and so do I."

"Yes, ma'am," Boggs said, as he rose to his feet.

"One more thing," Coin said absently, as she shuffled through another stack of reports, "I will have a special staff meeting tomorrow morning, once our team from Eight has returned and we get a more accurate prognosis on the extent of Everdeen's injuries. We have some theories regarding Snow's choice of targets, as well as an assessment of Snow himself. Plus, possible retaliatory measures. Between now and then, I want you to debrief Jackson and be prepared to add her observations to the meeting."

"Yes, President Coin," Boggs said, and then added, "Ma'am…about Katniss Everdeen. Does the hospital staff have any hope for her?"

"The ophthalmologist…Dr. Fenster, I believe is his name…needs to examine and treat her," Coin replied. "But I certainly hope that her condition is not permanent."

"Neither do I, ma'am," Boggs said earnestly.

"After all," Coin mused, almost to herself as she leafed through a report, "a blind Mockingjay would be of no use to us, now, would she?"

PART V

I was just about to head to breakfast when there was a soft knock on my door.

"It's open," I called out softly, as I smoothed the top blanket over my narrow bunk.

The door slid open slightly and Johanna stuck her head inside. "Shit," she said disgustingly, as she slid the door open all the way and stepped inside, "I was hoping to catch you buck naked."

"Save it, Jo," I said wearily. "I'm not in the mood."

"My, aren't we a ray of sunshine this morning." Johanna pulled a chair out, spun it around, and plopped down onto it backwards, resting her arms across the chair back as she watched me finish my bed. "Your mood wouldn't have anything to do with a certain someone that returned from Eight yesterday evening?"

I glared at Johanna in response and picked up my cane. "Are you through?" I muttered.

"No," she said, rising to her feet and stepping towards me. She placed one hand on my chest and firmly guided me to a sitting position on my bed. I wasn't yet recovered enough to really resist her, short of whacking her with my cane. Although, I admit, the thought did cross my mind.

"What is it, Jo?" I asked resignedly, as she sat down once again.

"Just this," she replied, leaning forward. "Since I first met you, right before the Quarter Quell, I've seen a lot of sides of Peeta Mellark. Peeta the Noble – that one still makes me barf in my mouth a little, by the way – Peeta the Loyal, Peeta the Brave, Peeta the Selfless…I could go on all day. But I met a new Peeta yesterday that I don't think I like very much."

"Oh? And what 'Peeta' are you referring to?" I asked, more than a little snidely.

"Peeta the Asshole," Johanna said bluntly.

"Exactly what is that supposed to mean?" I snapped.

"You do realize that Baby Snow thinks that the only reason that the sun rises every morning is because you fart it out, right?" I'll give her this – Johanna has a way with words.

I laughed humorlessly. "You're taking her side? I thought you could barely stand to be around her!"

"I can't," Johanna admitted. "And she knows it, and I don't think she's much offended by it. But you, on the other hand – you barge into Coin's inner sanctum and announce your intention to kill Snow – right in front of his granddaughter, for fuck's sake – and then you brush her off like so much moose shit on the bottom of your shoe!"

"And just how am I supposed to feel, Jo?" I practically shouted. "Katniss is blind! Blind because of that maniac in the Capitol!"

"And Baby Snow had nothing to do with that," Johanna pointed out calmly, "and you know it."

"He did it because of her," I replied angrily. "If Andromeda had stayed where she was supposed to be, none of this would have happened!"

"And you, Handsome," Johanna shot back, "would have been the star at your very own nationally televised execution." Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. "Most likely followed by mine, and Annie's, and the Careers." She looked me straight in the eye. "I'm not afraid of dying, but I want to die on my feet and go down swinging."

I said nothing. "I can pretty much guarantee that Baby Snow is blaming herself for Eight getting nuked," she continued, "not to mention blaming herself for your girlfriend lying in the hospital with her lights out. And you brushing her off like you did yesterday – take it from a real asshole. You don't do it well."

"I never thought you were an asshole," I mumbled.

"Bitch, then," Johanna said with a shrug. "Look, Peeta. Be angry. You have a right to be. But be angry at the right person. Just because she shares a name with the guy that nuked Eight doesn't give you the right to take your righteous anger at Coriolanus Snow out on Andromeda Snow."

"I never thought I would see the day that Johanna Mason would actually be defending Andromeda Snow," I said, shaking my head in a combination of wonder and disbelief.

"Look," Johanna replied and she stood up, "I don't like the kid, so don't go thinking that I got soft or something. But right is right, and she in no way deserved the brush-off that you gave her yesterday." She held one hand out to me. "Now, off your ass and on your feet, Soldier. We don't want to keep the Mockingjay waiting."

"What makes you think that they'll let me see her now when they wouldn't last night?" I asked as Johanna pulled me to my feet with a grunt.

"Oh, they will," she assured me. "After all, why would Boggs have me to bring you to the hospital?"

Johanna and I were making our way through the hospital when we were met by three people – Katniss's mother, along with her sister, Prim - and a short, solidly built man, his ash-blonde hair worn in a neat crewcut, wearing glasses reminiscent of Beetee Latier. One glance at their red-rimmed eyes told me that the Everdeen women had just come from visiting Katniss. As Johanna and I approached, Prim noticed us and beckoned us over.

"How…how is she?" I asked as I exchanged quick hugs with Mrs. Everdeen and Prim. I couldn't help but notice that Johanna hung back as I exchanged greetings with the Everdeens.

"Frightened," Mrs. Everdeen replied softly. "I've never seen her like this, Peeta." She turned to the man with the blonde hair and glasses. "This is Katniss's doctor. Dr. Fenster, Peeta Mellark."

The man stepped forward and offered me his hand. "Nils Fenster, Mr. Mellark. I'm the staff ophthalmologist here in Thirteen." For the first time, I noticed that he appeared significantly younger than the other doctors on staff here.

"Hello," I said, marveling at the strength in his grip. A doctor with a wrestler's build. Nothing like tall, skinny Dr. Picardo. "How is she?" I asked bluntly.

"First things first," Fenster said with a smile, as he extended his hand to Johanna. "Nils Fenster."

"Johanna Mason," she replied dryly as she touched his hand briefly. "Now answer Peeta's question, if you don't mind."

Fenster blinked rapidly in surprise, but recovered nicely. "Of course, Miss Mason." Turning back to me, he said, "I'll be honest. We're in new territory here. Flash blindness of this magnitude is very rare. But I want you to know that I'm optimistic."

"She'll recover, then?" I asked eagerly.

"I don't know." Fenster removed his glasses and rubbed his own eyes quickly, before slipping his glasses back on. "Her optic nerve has been severely traumatized. I've never seen anything like it."

"Wait a minute," I said impatiently. "You just said that you were 'optimistic.'"

"Let me rephrase," Fenster replied. "In every other case of flash blindness that I've treated, the patient eventually recovered, if there wasn't any physical damage to the eye itself. In these cases, recovery was quick. And Katniss has no physical damage to her eyes. That's why I'm optimistic. However, she hasn't shown any signs yet of recovering even a fraction of her sight. That's why I said I don't know."

"Her eyes are bandaged, Peeta," Mrs. Everdeen explained when Fenster paused. "And Dr. Fenster has applied pads over each eye that contain a topical analgesic – a pain killer – to make her as comfortable as possible."

"Why don't you pay her a visit?" Fenster suggested. "She was asking about you while I was changing her dressings earlier."

"I want to see her," I said, and then added, "I was told earlier that I couldn't."

"That was when she was first admitted," Prim said. "They wanted to get her settled first." Prim stepped forward and touched my arm gently. "Go on in, Peeta. It will do her good to know that you're there."

"Room Twenty-Seven," Fenster said as he pointed down the corridor. "Last room on the left, right before the stairwell."

I glanced over at Johanna. "Are you coming?"

She shook her head, once. "Later. She wants you, not me. Now go on."

I nodded, murmured my thanks to Fenster and my goodbyes to Mrs. Everdeen, Prim, and Johanna, and limped down the corridor towards Katniss's room. I wonder who is more afraid right now, I asked myself. Me…or Katniss?

The room was dark, lit only by the emergency lighting near the floor. A single bed occupied the center of the room, and I could just make out Katniss's small form, her head swathed in white bandages. Katniss had turned her head towards the sound of the door sliding open and it was disconcerting, to say the least, to have her "look" at me with her eyes covered so well.

Katniss spoke first. "You can turn on a light, Peeta," she said softly. "The last thing we need is for you to fall and end up in here with me. Especially now that you're out of that chair."

"They want me walking as part of my therapy," I explained as I located a light switch on the wall to my left, and pressed it, bathing the room in soft, yellow light.

"How did you know it was me?" I asked softly as I slowly limped to her bedside.

The corners of Katniss's mouth twitched up in the semblance of a smile. "I could hear your walk, and your cane tapping the floor." Again, I had the feeling that she was "looking" at me. "And I could smell cinnamon."

I eased myself into a bedside chair near her head. "Cinnamon?" I asked. "How? I haven't baked anything since…since Twelve."

Katniss shrugged. "Maybe you were around it so much that the smell has become part of you," she replied. "It's a smell that I love," she added softly.

Katniss reached out with one hand and I grasped it in both of mine immediately. "I'm so glad you're back," I whispered as I gently kissed her fingers.

"They said that Snow nuked Eight," Katniss said as her fingers tightened on mine. "And I was looking right at it when…" her voice trailed off to a near-whisper.

"You're going to be okay," I said softly. "I talked with your doctor. He's optimistic that you'll recover."

"What if I don't?" Katniss choked out. "Peeta, I'm a hunter. I can't hunt if I can't see!"

Katniss sniffled loudly and I realized with a shock that she was crying. I had seen her cry before, of course – tears of anger, tears of frustration, tears of grief, even infrequent tears of happiness – but I knew that these tears were different. For the first time that I could remember, Katniss was crying for herself.

Mrs. Everdeen was right. Katniss was frightened. And I felt helpless to do anything about it.

"Katniss –" I began.

"Peeta, wait," Katniss said, a hint of steel creeping back into her voice. "I want…I want you to listen to what I have to say." She paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "If I don't…get better, I want you to know that I can't…I won't…expect you to –"

"Stop," I said firmly. "Just stop! How could you even think such a thing? You've never given up on me. You risked your life and flew into Capitol territory to rescue me! Like it or not, you're stuck with me."

"But –"

"No 'buts,'" I whispered, before I leaned over and tenderly kissed her lips.

Katniss sighed softly as she kissed me back. But, when our lips parted, she whispered, "I'm scared."

"I know," I replied quietly. "I know, and I also know that everything will be okay."

"I wish I could believe that," Katniss said. Her hand groped for my face, and she carefully traced the line of my jaw with her fingertips before slipping her hand around to the back of my head. "Can you stay with me?"

In response, I eased out of my chair and awkwardly climbed onto the narrow bed. "What are you doing?" Katniss asked as the bed sagged slightly under our combined weight.

"Just what you asked," I said as I carefully arranged myself on the bed.

"Peeta, I didn't mean –"

"Hush," I said gently as I pressed my fingers to her lips.

No sooner did I feel Katniss begin to relax than I heard a knock on the door, followed by the sound of the door sliding open. I didn't even bother turning to see who it was. After a moment, the visitor spoke.

"I'll come back later," Johanna Mason's voice said softly.

"I'll be here if you need me for anything," I replied without looking up.

"Take your time," Johanna said as the door slid shut behind her.

Katniss never stirred.

PART VI

My respite with Katniss was short-lived. A hospital technician came in after an hour or so and informed me that I was wanted in Command.

It was apparent when I arrived that everyone had been waiting on me. Coin looked up at me in irritation when I entered the Command Conference Room. "Why were you still in the hospital?" she snapped. "Your schedule –"

Fuck my schedule, I said to myself. What I said aloud was, "I was with Katniss. She was upset and I didn't want to leave her."

"Please take your seat," Coin ordered. She seemed to accept, if not approve of, my explanation.

I slid into a chair between Beetee and a new addition – Casca Bishop. Surprised, I leaned towards him and said, very quietly, "You're a part of the inner circle now?"

"Amazing what deals you can make when you have something they need," he whispered in return, referring to his recent "what makes Coriolanus Snow tick?" conferences with Coin and Andromeda Snow.

"May we begin now, gentlemen?" Coin asked archly. Not waiting for a response, she continued, "Snow's attack on District Eight had us at a distinct disadvantage. No one expected him to use weapons of mass destruction. However, our intelligence has brought forth a theory as to why Eight was targeted. Lieutenant?"

The intelligence lieutenant that had originally briefed us on the attack rose to her feet. "We feel that Eight was targeted specifically because it was of no further use to the Capitol. President Snow won't use nukes against us here in Thirteen because of his granddaughter's presence here. Districts One and Two are sympathetic to the Capitol, and the rest all have industries that the Capitol deems necessary."

"I guess they don't feel that clothing is necessary?" Silenus Festuca asked sarcastically.

"Textile manufacturing could, theoretically, be absorbed by other districts," the lieutenant explained patiently. "District Eight was targeted as an example, and in hopes that we would expend assets and rush to their aid, and, thus, extend the war indefinitely – or possibly even lose it entirely."

"Which we did not do," Coin added firmly, "with, I might add, the concurrence of the other district leaders that are in this fight with us."

I sat, stunned by this news. No one was helping the thousands of wounded in District Eight? I glanced over at Boggs, who looked uncomfortable and wouldn't look me in the eye. "You're just going to let all those people die?" I asked incredulously.

"There's nothing that we could have done for them," Coin stated matter-of-factly. "Radiation sickness kills quickly. We would have been overwhelmed. And that, Soldier Mellark, is the last that we will discuss of this. Am I clear?"

I noticed Boggs shake his head slightly and took my cue from him. "Very clear, ma'am," I replied flatly.

"Good." Turning to the rest of the group, she said, "Now, we can't retaliate in kind. Snow knows this. But we have a means to retaliate." She looked at me and smiled tightly. "Soldier Mellark, I think that you, of all people, will appreciate this."

I frowned. What the hell was she talking about? "President Snow is fond of nationally televised executions. I think it's only fair that we take a page from his book and give him a taste of his own medicine."

I could feel a tightness in my chest as she spoke. A televised execution? There was only one person that she could possibly execute, and that was –

"Tomorrow at noon," Coin continued, "we shall execute one of the Capitol's elite." She pressed a button on the table in front of her and an image glowed to life on the main display screen. I recognized the face immediately, and I knew that I had to do everything in my power to stop this obscenity from taking place.

The face on the screen was that of Sperantia Blackstone – the "hope" that I was to protect.

And she had just been marked for death by President Alma Coin.