CHAPTER 28

PART I

"Before you go in," Dr. Nivosus said, "there's something that you need to know."

I think I set some sort of record for a man with one prosthetic leg running through the Capitol. That's how fast I managed to get to Victor's Mercy, and Haymitch was unable to keep up, even with his two good legs. But now, something in Nivosus' tone made me pause. Dr. Nivosus, as well as Dr. Wellgood, had asked to speak to me before I went in to see Katniss. I was impatient, but I acquiesced to their request. Still – "Is something wrong?"

"Peeta," Nivosus said slowly, "Katniss is ahead of the curve with regards to her physical recovery. What concerns me is her mental state."

"Why?" I asked, feeling cold fingers of fear grab my guts and twist.

"I'm not a psychiatrist," Nivosus continued. "so I sought out someone that was as familiar with Katniss's psyche as anyone. You know him, Peeta – Dr. Aurelius."

I nodded. "As you know," Nivosus said, "Aurelius has become something of an expert on Post-Traumatic Stress. He has a theory that the human mind can process only so much trauma before it simply refuses to accept more stresses. In Katniss's case, he feels that this latest incident pushed Katniss over that threshold."

"What does all that mean?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"Katniss seems to be reacting to the stress of the crash through a form of amnesia," Nivosus replied. "In a way, her mind has re-set itself to a time before the event that caused her the stress in the first place."

"So, she doesn't remember the hovercraft crash?" That might not be such a bad thing. I would like to forget that incident myself.

Nivosus and Wellgood glanced at each other. "It's a little more complicated than that," Nivosus said. "Her mind has regressed back to an earlier high-stress period in her life. Almost three years, in fact."

I stared at Nivosus in disbelief. "Her Games, you mean?" I asked, my voice almost a whisper.

Nivosus nodded. "She knows that she's in Victor's Mercy. She thinks that she's here recovering from her injuries suffered during her Games."

I shook my head. "That can't be," I muttered. "She barely knew me then. Not an hour ago I got word that she wanted to see me. Why would she ask for me if her mind has reset to almost three years ago?"

"She did ask for you, Peeta," Wellgood said gently, "a little more than an hour ago. But that was then. This is where she's at now."

I glanced at the door. "What do I do?" I asked softly. "If I go in there, she'll wonder why I'm there." I thought of something else. "And, I doubt that she'll be all that happy to see me. Gale Hawthorne was her district partner in her Games. He was also her best friend – who died protecting her. And," I added glumly, "he volunteered to go in my place."

"Peeta," Nivosus said, a note of urgency creeping into her voice, "Aurelius is concerned that Katniss's mind may continue to regress – possibly to a point where she won't be able to return to any semblance of a normal state of mind."

That cold knot of fear reappeared in the pit of my stomach. "Aurelius knows her personal history as well as Katniss herself," Wellgood said. "He feels that she may continue to regress to a point where her life was, for the most part, stress-free."

"Before her father was killed in the mines," I whispered.

"We've asked Dr. Aurelius for help," Nivosus said. "This is outside our realm of expertise, and Aurelius knows Katniss much better than we do."

"What do I do, Haymitch?" I asked miserably.

Haymitch had been silent up until then, and, of course, he was no help. "I don't know, kid," he said with a shrug. "All I can say is, do what you feel in here," he added as he tapped his chest.

"Aurelius suggested that you see her regardless of her current state of mind," Wellgood replied. "He feels that seeing you may be the trigger that she needs to force her mind back to the present time. You won't be alone, by the way. Mrs. Everdeen, Primrose, and Haymitch will all be there with you. Aurelius suggested that if people that Katniss trusts reinforce the idea that you two have a 'history' together, that may aid in sending her mind back to the present day."

I wasn't convinced that my presence would help, but my desire to see Katniss outweighed any misgivings that I had. "Okay," I finally said. "Let's do this."

It was then that Mrs. Everdeen and Prim appeared. We exchanged quick greetings before they, along with Haymitch, entered Katniss's room. As the door closed behind them, Nivosus said, "We'll give them a few minutes before we send you in."

I nodded. The next few minutes were among the longest of my life.

A few minutes later, Haymitch opened the door slightly, and beckoned me over. "Come on in, kid," he said softly.

I paused at the door. "Does she know I'm coming to see her?"

Haymitch shook his head. "No." He opened the door wider and stepped to one side. I took a deep breath and squeezed past him and into Katniss's room.

I heard her before I could see her. Her voice sounded strained and tired as she talked with her mother and sister. "I still can't believe," I heard her say, "that the Capitol actually brought you both…"

Her voice trailed off as soon as she saw me. Katniss was unbandaged except for her head and a couple of places on her arms. I felt my breath catch in my throat as I gazed at her face – true to what Wellgood and Nivosus had told me, the skin on her face was completely unblemished, although it was a bit reddened, as though she had spent too much time in the sun. The face, I said to myself, is the same face that I fell in love with all those years ago.

"Someone here to see you, Sweetheart," Haymitch said, uncomfortably aware of the sudden tension in the room.

Katniss stared at me, uncomprehendingly at first – that is, until her eyes flashed with anger and her face contorted with fury. "What the fuck is he doing here?" she demanded of no one in particular.

I struggled to remain calm in the face of Katniss's anger. I knew that it wasn't my Katniss laying in this hospital bed, but Victor Katniss – and that Katniss, as far as she remembered, had very recently watched her very best friend die after taking my place in the Games. So, I forced a smile and said the first thing that popped into my head. "Hi, Katniss."

"Katniss," Prim said quickly, "you asked to see Peeta, remember? And your doctors thought it a good idea Peeta come see you here today. They thought that it would help with your –"

"Help with what?" Katniss snapped. "Help remind me that Gale is dead because of him?" Her eyes looked daggers at me. "Why would I ask to see him when it should have been him laying in that arena dead, not Gale!"

After the warning that Wellgood and Nivosus had given me, I wasn't expecting Katniss to be ecstatic, or even mildly happy, to see me. What I wasn't prepared for was the venom in Katniss's words when she verbally attacked me. I glanced at Prim and Mrs. Everdeen, who were both just as shocked as I was at the ferocity of Katniss's attack. I took a step back, only to feel Haymitch's firm hand on my shoulder.

"No," he murmured. "Stay."

"Katniss," Mrs. Everdeen said softly, "you know very well that it wasn't Peeta's fault that Gale died. He volunteered to protect you. It could have been any boy's name that was called."

"Get him out of here," Katniss snarled. "Now!" she screamed when no one moved.

Katniss was nearly hysterical by this time. I had to leave before she really got worked up and managed to injure herself – or worse. I jerked away from Haymitch's grip and, without a backward glance, lurched out of Katniss's room, her curses following me every step of the way.

I was moving so quickly that I almost knocked over a nurse and two technicians that were hurrying into Katniss's room – no doubt because of all the commotion that she was making. Once in the hallway, I stopped, gasping for breath as I leaned against the wall. I could still hear the yelling and screaming coming from Katniss's room, and I squeezed my eyes shut and pounded my fists against the wall in frustration. After a while, the screaming faded away, but I didn't move. I heard the door open and I opened my eyes but stared straight ahead until I heard a familiar voice.

"You okay?" Haymitch asked.

I glanced at Haymitch and barked out a short, humorless laugh. "Oh yeah," I replied sarcastically. "I'm just fucking great."

Haymitch touched my arm gently. "You know that ain't really her," he said softly. "The Katniss Everdeen that we all know an' love is buried inside her, and all we gotta do is figure out a way to get her out."

"That's it?" I asked bitterly. "Just 'get her out?' Why, thank you, Dr. Abernathy!"

Haymitch's face clouded. "Lose the attitude, boy."

I spun and faced Haymitch fully. "Don't call me that!" I snapped. "I don't like it. I'm not your 'boy,' or 'kid.'" I shook my head. "Not after all the shit that I've been through!"

Haymitch looked like he was about to give me his usual sarcastic reply, but instead he paused for a moment. "No," he finally said, "no, you ain't anyone's 'boy.' And you ain't a 'kid,' neither." He sighed. "Guess it's just force o' habit. Hard to think of either you or her –" he jerked his head towards the door "- as anything but kids. But you're right." He gave me a crooked grin. "So lose the attitude, Peeta."

It had been the most unapologetic apology that I had ever heard – and it broke the tension nicely. "Didn't mean to take it out on you," I muttered. "Sorry."

Haymitch nodded and glanced up and down the hallway. "Come on," he said as he took my arm and propelled me towards an open door. "We need to talk – in private."

The open door turned out to lead into a closet full of cleaning supplies. Haymitch ushered me in and shut the door as soon as we were both inside. Haymitch wasted no time. "What I gotta say won't take long."

I looked at him expectantly. "I talked with Aurelius earlier," he said.

This surprised me. Haymitch had become very creative in how he avoided talking to Aurelius. "Voluntarily?" I asked sarcastically.

"Smart-ass," Haymitch muttered. "Yes, 'voluntarily.' I wanted to get his ideas about Katniss first-hand."

"And?" I was impatient. "Did he have any ideas?"

"Aurelius called it 'retrograde amnesia,'" Haymitch explained. "He's seen it before, with Rebel combat veterans, but never to the extent that Katniss is showing."

"He can do something about it, though, right?" I asked urgently.

"That's why I wanted to talk to you," Haymitch replied softly. "Aurelius wanted to know if Katniss had a head injury from the hovercraft crash. Nivosus confirmed that she didn't."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?"

Haymitch hesitated before he answered my question. "In this case, no. It means that her condition was triggered by mental stress. When he gets here he wants to try to hypnotize Katniss. He feels that he might be able to drill deep enough into her mind to dislodge the trauma. But –"

"'But' what?" I wish Haymitch would just get to the point.

"It may not work," Haymitch said. "Katniss's condition may be long-term. Even permanent." My face must have given away my feelings, because Haymitch quickly added, "Aurelius is optimistic that she'll make a full recovery."

"There's something else," I said quietly.

"What's that?" Haymitch asked.

"What Katniss said to me when she saw me just a few minutes ago," I said miserably. "She hates me."

"Bullshit," Haymitch snorted. "That girl loves you – although I've often wondered exactly what she sees in you."

Haymitch's lame attempt at humor fell flat with me. "I remember when she first came back from her Games," I said. "How she treated me that time when she came into my father's bakery. That was bad, but nothing like what just happened. Haymitch, is that how she really feels about me, deep down inside?"

Haymitch shook his head emphatically. "No! Look, ki –" he began, and then stopped himself. "Sorry. Peeta. What you just saw and heard was Katniss – from three years ago. People change. Hell, I've changed. I ain't the same miserable drunk you knew way back when." He paused and gave me a crooked grin. "Well, I'm still a drunk, but I ain't miserable, since Effie and I decided to stop playin' games and get married. Who coulda seen that comin' three years ago?"

I wasn't convinced. "What if –" I began, and felt my breath catch in my throat. "What if she never…gets better?"

Haymitch looked at me sternly. "Don't think like that. She will get better. Aurelius will work that mental voodoo of his and bring her mind back to today." He laid one hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently. "Now take off. You'll drive yourself crazy if you hang around here. Nothin' you can do now, anyway. Find Meda and Speri. Get your mind off all this, even if it's just for a little while." He guided me to the door and ushered me through. "Now, go!"

I didn't want to go, but I knew it was pointless to argue. I decided to at least try to take Haymitch's advice and seek out Andromeda, or Sperantia, or both. I began to walk back towards the Palace. As I walked, I tried to not think about Katniss, but what I ended up thinking about was just as bad. The image of Finnick Odair kept popping into my head. I had only seen Finnick a couple of times since the hovercraft crash, and it was obvious that he was having an enormously difficult time dealing with Annie's death. Finnick had become more than a friend to me in the last couple of years. He was almost like a brother – and, in many ways, I was closer to him than I had ever been to my own brothers, both long dead from the Capitol's bombing of District Twelve. To see him now, wracked with grief, barely able to function – I had to now wonder if I had been looking at what I would become, if Dr. Aurelius was not able to help Katniss.

Damn Seneca Crane! I felt anger rise inside me. The Capitol had been beaten. What was the purpose of Seneca's attack on us, other than a petty desire to hurt the districts one last time? Finnick had lost Annie in a senseless attack that accomplished absolutely nothing and would have to bear his grief for the rest of his life. Who would pay for his pain? Who would pay for Enobaria's pain from the loss of Lieutenant Jackson? Who would pay for my pain?

An idea suddenly popped into my head. Gone was the thought of spending the rest of the day with Andromeda or Sperantia. There was someone else at the Palace that I needed to see. I only hoped that Boggs wasn't too busy now to spare me a few minutes of his time.

PART II

Boggs wasn't available. In fact, he wasn't even in the Palace. According to the soldier that I spoke to, Boggs was dealing with some sort of supply distribution problem at the train station. No matter, I said to myself as I made my way to the confinement annex where high-profile Capitol prisoners were being held. Boggs wouldn't have given his permission anyway – and if I learned one thing during my training as a Rebel soldier, it was that it's always easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

The confinement annex was near the main prison complex where I had been incarcerated. It was an ultra-secure facility that functioned as what Haymitch had called a "death row" – a place where prisoners awaiting execution were held for a brief time before their scheduled execution. I would have been taken to this place if the Rebellion – with inside help from both Casca Bishop and Andromeda Snow – hadn't helped me escape. It was likely that Minister Blackstone would have spent his last few hours here as well, if he, too, hadn't had help from his co-conspirators. Now, there were only a handful of prisoners locked up here – Ex-President Marcellus Snow, Ex-Minister Cassius Hammersmith, and Bacchus Brandywine, to name the most notable.

It was Hammersmith and Brandywine that I had business with. I would have loved to have included Marcellus Snow, but I decided against it, out of respect for his daughter, Andromeda.

As I expected, security was very tight. I had to pass through three different locked doors just to get into the administration office. The annex was guarded by a mix of Peacekeepers whose loyalty to Minister Blackstone was unquestioned, and highly trained and disciplined Rebel soldiers. Even with my status as a member of Boggs' inner circle, it had been difficult to even get as far as Administration, and I was doubting my chances of actually having access to Hammersmith and Brandywine.

Fortunately for me, the two security officers on duty recognized me, and both were a little star-struck by the unexpected presence of Victor Peeta Mellark. It probably helped that the Rebel soldier was originally from District Nine, and remembered my alliance with Husker Brown and Evie Applewhite, the two Tributes from that district during my Games. And the Peacekeeper admitted that she had bet on me during my Games. Normally, this revelation would anger me. Today, however, I viewed it as an advantage.

"How may we help you today, Victor Mellark?" the Peacekeeper asked as she flashed me a warm smile.

"Well, for starters," I said, returning her smile with one of my own, "you can both call me Peeta."

"Of course…Peeta," the Peacekeeper said. She sounded a bit nervous at the sudden formality. "What can we do for you?"

"I would like to see Cassius Hammersmith and Bacchus Brandywine," I replied smoothly.

I could tell that my request surprised them both. "I'm here in an official capacity," I added. "I just need to speak with them for a minute or two."

The District Nine soldier hesitated. "This is a very unusual request. I think we need to check with the duty officer first."

I took a deep breath. "May I use your telephone?" I asked, and then added sheepishly, "I forgot my communicuff – again. President Boggs won't be happy with me for forgetting it again."

The District Nine soldier, who had been reaching for the desk phone, hesitated. "You want to call President Boggs?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, I figure that he's the only man in Panem with the authority to give you verbal instructions to let me see Hammersmith and Brandywine," I explained. "Now, may I have the phone, please?"

The District Nine soldier and the Peacekeeper glanced at each other uncertainly. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and hoped that I was still giving the appearance of calm confidence. If they called my bluff –

The Peacekeeper spoke first. "Uhhh – well, I suppose it will be all right."

The District Nine soldier looked relieved that the Peacekeeper had made the decision. "I just still need to let the duty officer know," he said, as he raised the phone to his ear.

It worked! "I appreciate your help," I said sincerely, and then added, "if it wouldn't be too much trouble, can you see to it that Hammersmith and Brandywine are placed in the same holding cell?"

Despite all the technical superiority that the Capitol enjoyed over the rest of Panem, there were still a few places that would look more at home in one of the lower districts – and the holding cells were one of those places.

I was led down a dimly lit corridor, where a single chair had been placed for me. The chair faced a wall of steel bars. Behind the bars was a large holding cell, bare except for two more chairs, identical to mine, and a toilet in one corner. A heavy metal door was set into the far wall. I knew why bars had been used rather than a solid wall or some sort of transparent barrier. Condemned prisoners that were brought here would be tormented by their guards, who would amuse themselves by turning high-pressure hoses on the doomed inmates, making their last few hours a wet, miserable hell. You couldn't do that through a solid wall.

Two guards escorted me past the security checkpoints and left me with instructions to press the call button located at the corridor entrance when I was ready to leave. I smiled, thanked them, and watched them disappear through the corridor entrance before I turned my attention back to the empty cell.

I didn't have long to wait. The door at the rear of the cell slid open and two bedraggled figures were shoved unceremoniously through the opening. They staggered a bit as the door clanged shut behind them, and glanced around, more than a little frightened. I'm sure they had heard the stories about what happens in these cells, and they were probably expecting the same treatment.

Their fright turned to confusion when they finally noticed me. "Relax," I said with a smile. I waved one arm behind me. "See? No hoses."

Cassius Hammersmith peered at me through the bars. "I know you," he whispered hoarsely. "You're Peeta Mellark. The Third Quarter Quell Victor."

Bacchus Brandywine stepped forward. "You're right, Minister," he said with a nod. "It is Peeta Mellark." He eyed me suspiciously. "What do you want with us?"

"It's quite simple, really," I replied as I took a step closer to the bars. "I want justice."

"I don't understand," Hammersmith said, as his voice quavered a bit. "Those traitors Blackstone and Antonius have given you the city. You've arrested me, Brandywine, and a host of others – including President Snow. I'm sure you will get around to conducting some sort of show trial, convict us all, and sentence us to some form of hideous punishment for our so-called 'crimes against Panem.' Is that the kind of 'justice' that you speak of?"

I had to hand it to him. Hammersmith was a prisoner, nothing more – and yet, he continued to talk down to me, the baker's boy from District Twelve that was lucky enough to win the Games. Typical arrogant Capitolite, I said to myself. "Actually, I am here to bring you to justice – Games style," I said with another smile.

Confused, Hammersmith and Brandywine glanced at each other. "I don't understand," Brandywine admitted.

"It's simple, really," I said conversationally. "You are both guilty of raping Katniss Everdeen. As a result of your abuse – among other trauma that she's received – she is now experiencing serious medical problems. Coriolanus Snow is dead, so he can no longer be punished for the pain that he inflicted on Katniss. You two, on the other hand –"

"She came to me willingly!" Hammersmith protested. "It was not rape! She consented!"

"Shut up," I said quietly. "And she consented only because Snow threatened to execute her family if she didn't comply. Does that sound willing to you, you son-of-a-bitch?"

Hammersmith stepped back as if my words were physically striking him. Brandywine, perhaps thinking that my vitriol was directed solely at Hammersmith, spoke again. "What did you mean, when you said 'Justice – Games style?'"

I reached around to the small of my back and pulled out a pair of knives. They had been part of the set that I wore during various propos. They were both perfectly balanced for throwing, with needle points and razor-sharp edges. "You both took a great deal of pleasure in watching district children fight to the death in arenas," I said as I tossed the knives into the cell. "Now it's your turn. You both get to fight to the death for my amusement. The winner, of course, will go free."

Hammersmith stared at me in horror. "You're insane," he whispered.

"No," I replied softly. "I'm angry. Very, very angry."

Brandywine gave me a fearful glance before he dropped his eyes to gaze at the knife laying at his feet. "And if we refuse to fight?" he asked in a quavering voice.

I reached under my shirt and pulled out a small, black pistol. "Pick up those knives and start fighting," I muttered, "or I shoot you both. Right here, right now. Your choice."

At that moment, the door at the rear of the cell slammed open. I caught a glimpse of a uniformed figure standing in the doorway pointing a strange-looking weapon at me. There was a loud "pop," and I immediately went rigid as pain seemed to explode from every cell in my body simultaneously. I collapsed onto the concrete floor as jolt after jolt coursed through me, until finally everything went dark and I stopped feeling anything at all.

I awoke in a bare, featureless room.

My body still tingled from whatever it was that they hit me with. Ever so slowly, I rolled from my back to my side. I groaned softly as I positioned my hands under me before I pushed myself into a sitting position. With effort, I managed to push myself back against the wall and stared at the door. I wondered how long it would take before someone opened that door and told me just how deep in shit I was. As it turned out, my wait was brief. After a couple of minutes I heard a key being turned in a lock, followed by the door sliding open to reveal my visitor.

As I halfway expected, it was Boggs.

Boggs didn't enter the cell immediately. He stood there, silent, and examined me with a gaze that I could only describe as contemptuous. I decided that my best course of action was to stand up and face him, as Haymitch would put it, "man-to-man." To that end, I managed to struggle unsteadily to my feet, and I found myself wishing that Boggs would just get my well-deserved ass chewing out of the way.

It didn't work that way. At least, not how I thought it would work. Boggs remained silent the entire time that I was awkwardly climbing to my feet and continued to stay mute as I leaned back against the wall for support. I watched uncomfortably as Boggs entered the cell and jumped slightly when the door clanged shut behind him.

After an awkward silence, I decided to speak. "Colonel –"

"Shut up," Boggs said flatly. He straightened up. "Soldier Peeta Mellark, it is my duty to inform you that you will now consider yourself under arrest. The charges include bringing weapons into a prison facility, brandishing a firearm at a prisoner, inciting violence between prisoners, and conspiracy to encourage prisoners to murder one another. I will read you the specifications for each charge as soon as they are drawn up."

The seriousness of his words finally struck home. Boggs had placed me under arrest. Right now, my status was the same as Marcellus Snow's, or Cassius Hammersmith's, or Bacchus Brandywine's. I was a prisoner. A prisoner of the Rebellion.

I had no words to counter the charges that Boggs had just recited. "Well?" Boggs demanded. "You have nothing to say?"

I shook my head and uttered two words. "No, sir."

Boggs gazed at me sadly for a moment. "I can't tell you how disappointed I am with you," he said after a moment. "Pulling a stunt like the one you just pulled – I wouldn't have been surprised if someone like Johanna Mason or even Haymitch Abernathy had done what you did – but you!" He shook his head.

If Boggs was trying to push my buttons by mentioning Johanna, he succeeded. "Johanna is dead," I pointed out angrily.

Boggs ignored my angry outburst. "It doesn't help matters that roughly half the districts would agree with your little solution," Boggs continued. "I know Beck would have applauded your making Hammersmith and Brandywine fight to the death. Although," he mused, almost to himself, "I doubt if he would have released the winner."

If Boggs was expecting a reply from me, then he would have to be disappointed with me once more. "Whoever knew winning a war would be so exhausting for the victors?" he said, after a moment. "I'm trying to keep over a million people fed, warm, dry, and healthy – and that doesn't even consider all the districts that suffered during the Rebellion. So, you can well understand that I really don't have time to deal with bullshit like this. Do you know that I've been getting pressure from a lot of district leaders to hold one final, symbolic Games, with the children of prominent Capitol citizens as Tributes?"

Just the idea of another Games made me nauseous – more so because it was almost a certainty that both Andromeda Snow and Sperantia Blackstone would be Reaped. Boggs must have read my revulsion on my face. "I can see," he continued dryly, "that you aren't in favor of that idea."

"No," I said thickly. "No, I'm not."

"Yet you wanted to watch Cassius Hammersmith and Bacchus Brandywine duel to the death with knives that you provided for them," Boggs pointed out.

"That's different!"

"How so?" Boggs asked calmly.

"They're both guilty of multiple crimes against the districts," I argued. "Not to mention what they both did to Katniss."

"Ahhh," Boggs said in satisfaction. "You wanted revenge."

"I guess so," I replied softly.

"I know so," Boggs said confidently. "There are dozens of prisoners here from Snow's government. You chose the two that you know raped Katniss. No, Peeta. It was revenge that you sought. Plain and simple. And after seeing Katniss's mental state –"

"She hates me!" I cried, as tears of anguish and frustration spilled from my eyes. "You would want the same thing if the woman you love was ruined by these monsters!"

"I can't say if I would or I wouldn't," Boggs said gently. "Peeta, Seneca Crane did more damage than we imagined possible. He not only killed people that I considered friends as well as valuable allies, he's ruined others left behind. Enobaria is a wreck. Finnick – well, I'm sure Finnick would have approved of your actions here, except he probably would have wanted to be in the cage to kill Hammersmith and Brandywine personally. Plutarch is having difficulty in performing his side of the mission. You've been arrested. Katniss – well, I just don't know if she'll recover or not, despite what Aurelius told me."

"What did Aurelius tell you?" I asked sharply.

"That Katniss's regressive amnesia is almost certainly temporary, and that he expects her to make a full recovery," Boggs replied. "He has some ideas to speed her recovery that involve you."

"I'll do anything I can to help her," I said eagerly.

"Not so fast," Boggs said firmly as he held up his right hand, palm out. "You're under arrest."

"I don't care what happens to me," I said. "I'll accept whatever punishment you see fit. But I need to help Katniss."

"You will face a tribunal to answer to your charges," Boggs said firmly. "In the meantime, regrettably, I need you. I am placing you on probation pending your tribunal. You are prohibited from carrying a weapon of any kind. That means any weapon. If you are caught with so much as fingernail clippers, your ass will belong to me. Understood?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Your probation officer will be Major Festuca," Boggs continued formally. "You will report to him daily before noon. He will monitor your movements and activities. Step out of line with him, and, once again, your ass will be mine. When you are not with Festuca, you will be with either Haymitch Abernathy or Effie Trinket. In other words, Soldier Mellark, you are not to be alone at any time except to answer calls of nature or to bathe."

"I understand, sir," I said quietly.

"Then let's go," Boggs said as he rapped sharply on the door. It slid open immediately. "I've wasted more than enough time on this."

As we walked out of the prison, Boggs spoke again. "I'm going to give you a little bit more of your punishment now. The Peacekeeper and District Nine soldier that allowed you in without searching you first were relieved of their duties and arrested for gross negligence." As he spoke, Boggs glanced at me to see my reaction.

I felt sick. The only thing that those two were guilty of was some mis-placed hero worship. "What will happen to them?" I asked softly.

"You can bet they won't be getting probation," Boggs replied just as softly. "I just wanted you to know that your actions today affected other people, not just you."

PART III

I sat nervously just outside Katniss's hospital room. Dr. Aurelius had an idea that he hoped may shock Katniss's tortured mind back into the present day – and he needed me here to see if he was right.

Aurelius had given me detailed instructions. First and foremost was his insistence that I not enter Katniss's room until he arrived – and of course, he was late.

Effie was my designated escort for the time being. She had tried, and failed, to make small talk with me while we waited. So, while I sat and fretted, she busied herself by leafing through some old magazines that had been scattered throughout the hospital. I had tried reading one myself, figuring that maybe the words would distract my mind from what I assumed would be a repeat of my previous visit to Katniss. I was wrong. The magazine that I chose was some sort of propaganda rag that had been printed shortly after the Reaping Day Rebellion. It was full of details regarding the great victories being won by Peacekeepers in Districts Four, Six, Eight, and Eleven. There was one glaring omission, however. There wasn't a single word about District Twelve, or the firebombing that had occurred there.

After a few minutes I sighed and tossed the magazine down, earning a sympathetic look from Effie. "Oh, Peeta," she said. "I know it's difficult for you but have faith. Katniss will be all right. I can feel it."

I simply nodded. I knew that Effie meant well, but right now I really didn't need to hear her brand of optimism. Where the hell is Aurelius? I said to myself.

Aurelius must have been a mind-reader. Seconds later Effie and I spotted him hurrying down the corridor. "I'm so sorry," he said. "President Boggs wanted to speak with me."

"What's your idea?" I asked without any sort of preamble.

Aurelius glanced at my pants. "Did you bring along a pair of shorts?" he asked.

I nodded. "They're in Effie's bag," I replied, and then added, "Doctor, it's not exactly warm enough outside for shorts. Won't Katniss wonder about that?"

"Remember, Peeta," Aurelius replied "She still thinks that her Games just ended. To her, it's the middle of summer. The important thing is that she can see your prosthetic leg clearly. I'm hoping that seeing your leg will trigger her real, current, memories into rising to the surface. So, if she begins to berate you with the same hostility as before, don't give in to her. No matter how loud or verbally abusive she gets, you are to stay in her room. I'll be monitoring everything from just outside her room. If I feel that Katniss is not responding as I hoped, I will enter the room and, at the very least, act as a buffer between you and Katniss. Am I clear on this?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Good." Aurelius allowed himself a small smile. "Go get changed."

Minutes later, I entered Katniss's room. Unlike my last disastrous visit, she was alone – and, thanks to Dr. Antonius, she knew that I was coming.

Katniss may have been aware that I was coming to see her, but that didn't change the chilly reception that she gave me. "Dr. Antonius said that it would be a good idea if we talked," she finally said. "Although I don't know what we would talk about."

Fortunately, Aurelius had coached me, so I didn't stand there and stammer like an idiot. "What do you last remember, Katniss?" I asked softly.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she sighed deeply, as if this was not the first time that she had heard that question. "I survived the Games. You know, the Games that Gale died in your place for?"

There was venom behind that last sentence. Aurelius had told me to expect it. "Nothing more recent?" I asked as I moved around her bed, so she had a clear view of my prosthetic leg.

I saw Katniss's eyes flick down to my prosthetic, and there was a hint of confusion in her voice when she spoke next. "I…no. No, just…just the Games."

"Other things have happened since then," I continued. "A lot of other things."

"Nothing else happened," Katniss replied uncertainly. "Nothing else could have happened. And what is that thing you're wearing on your leg?"

"It's my new leg, Katniss," I said gently. I raised my leg, flexed it, and then extended it before I lowered my prosthetic foot back to the floor. In the quiet room the servos that controlled the movement of the prosthetics gave off an almost inaudible mechanical whine.

"What do you mean, your new leg?" she demanded.

"The doctors here at Victor's Mercy amputated my old leg, Katniss," I explained patiently.

"Why would they do that?" she asked. "Why would they cut off the leg of a District Twelve boy?"

"They had to, to save my life," I replied, and then added, "after I survived the Games."

"No!" Katniss's voice rose shrilly. "You weren't there! Gale died for you! That's not even real – you're trying to trick me. It's –"

As Katniss spoke, I lowered myself into a chair by her bed and quickly disconnected the leads that both powered my prosthetic and held it securely in place. Katniss's voice trailed off when she saw what I was doing and she gasped audibly when, with a sharp twist, I pulled the prosthetic off.

"Would you like to look at it more closely?" I asked, as I held it out to her.

Katniss made no move to take the prosthetic. Instead, she stared, wide-eyed, as if she was afraid that it was a living thing that would jump out of my hand at any second. "Katniss," I continued softly, "please, try to remember."

Katniss shook her head. "You weren't there," she whispered. "Gale. Gale died. He volunteered for you and he died. I watched him die."

"You're right," I replied gently. "I wasn't there. Your Games were the Seventy-Fourth. I went the following year. In the Third Quarter Quell."

As I spoke, I watched her closely. One side of her face, the new skin smooth and without blemish, seemed to spasm slightly. Katniss squeezed her eyes shut and her hands clenched, knotting the sheet that covered her to her waist. "I came back to District Twelve," she said faintly. "I came back with Gale's body in a wooden box."

"Yes," I said.

"I hated you," she continued, as a single tear tracked down each cheek from her tightly clenched eyes. "Even after Prim told me that you had been flogged. And one day Prim and I went into the bakery, and I treated you like dirt, and you stood up for your father and yelled at me."

"I remember," I murmured. "I remember it all."

"You moved in with Haymitch." Her voice cracked. "And you volunteered for Udo Donner at the Quarter Quell Reaping." Her eyes fluttered open and a torrent of tears cascaded down her face. "I Mentored Gamma Churchill and she died. But you didn't. You were the Victor. And you almost died. And…and…"

That was all Katniss was able to say before great, wracking sobs tore through her body. Awkwardly, I heaved myself up on my one good leg and swung myself onto the side of her bed. I half expected Katniss to push me away. Instead, she grabbed onto me and clung to me tightly as three years of repressed memories flooded her mind. I held her close to me as she cried. I wasn't about to let go of her.

Not now – not ever.