Special thanks to Phillydilly31 for pointing out that I had Anonymous Reviews turned off. It's been fixed. Fire at will. :)

Chapter 11

~Katniss~

My head swam. The pieces fit. This just wasn't possible. Plutarch explained, I listened. Rory stayed silent. My eyes closed, desperately trying to draw myself into wakefulness; this was just one of my absurd nightmares, the ones that had me screaming my head off and Peeta running to reassure me. I'd wake up and he'd be there, whispering that everything was fine. I'd be home in my bed. Rory would be safe with his family. Even the part about Gale being dead, that would be part of the dream too. Everything was too unbearable, inconceivable It couldn't be real.

I didn't really hear the muted words after that, the volume escalating. When Plutarch screamed, my nestled dream shattered. It was a sick, imminent wail I'd never recovered from hearing the first time, the fifth time, the fiftieth time. A startled cry escaped me. Rory instantly had his hand over my bruised and swollen mouth. A dull, cracking thud echoed between my ears. Then the sound of rubbing sandpaper... they were dragging his body away. There was nothing left but our shallow, terrified breathing.

I felt dead inside when he slowly peeled his fingers away. I had no words. We weren't getting out of this. I hadn't accepted it, but I knew. My tongue wouldn't work, I had things I wanted to say but it just wouldn't cooperate. So I cried.

Rory was stiff behind me, his arms around me like vises. He deserved a kind life, and this was so unfair. He would die because I'd been wrong. His brother died because I hadn't seen. Johanna... Enobaria... Gale... Beetee... Plutarch... they'd all died because I hadn't been quick enough in realizing what I'd done. There was no apology or condolence that would prepare him for what was coming. I couldn't help him. I couldn't help anyone. The war had been lost after all. The Mockingjay had sung for both sides.

I wondered if Prim would be waiting for me, on the other side. If she knew... she'd never forgive me.

~Peeta~

Haymitch tried to talk to me, but I wasn't paying attention. He could have been narrating the mission for all I knew. All I could do to keep from launching from my seat and succumbing to a devastating tremor was to remember that I could be seeing her again. Soon. So my eyes were glued to the grid of screens before me. They numbered four, rolling up to a side door of the once revered training center, dressed in the uniforms of the Republic Guard, a detail I wasn't clear on and one Haymitch may have explained, but again, I wasn't listening to him.

There was plenty of chatter from the control room, Weaver's voice came clear through the speakers and into the earpieces of the recovery team. The four carried two cargo cases between them, were permitted passage when the first flashed an ID badge, and proceeded directly to the elevator. I wondered helplessly how trustworthy Weaver's intelligence was, as it could just as well lead Katniss' only hope of rescue down the wrong path and into an ambush. My fingers dug into the seat cushion, all the way to the rubbery foam innards. One was pressing the elevator buttons, plugging in a computer, while the others opened one of the cases and distributed guns. I'd assumed they'd be armed somehow, but seeing them wielding automatic weapons made this even scarier. Haymitch's hand tightened on my shoulder. My head throbbed.

It was chaos the moment the elevator door opened. Shots burst forth, ringing out as loud and distorted as they had been in the city circle two years ago. The flashback split in my mind, hauling me back to that terrible place while keeping me firmly planted in this one, like both experiences were running simultaneously. The team broke up, just as the one before had, when we reached the end of the line. The corridor of armed guards translated to the gauntlet of explosive traps; the rows of metal doors to the lines of closed shops we'd raided, the homes we'd hidden inside. My heart jumped into my throat... prison cells.

It had taken me this long to make the connection, but in that time, the tremor had subsided. There was a wide smear, distinctly blood, leading into the cell the second camera had entered. He backed out, I could hear his voice but the words were garbled. He kicked the next door open. I saw a flash of two dirty, huddled people before his camera went fuzzy. My eyes moved to another screen, the guy behind the second camera saw him lift a body into his arms, and then moved past him to gather the next prisoner.

It was Rory. He was fighting, the fourth camera went to help subdue him. Which meant...

My eyes flashed back to the second screen, the fuzzy picture was definitely of someone being carried. Katniss. "It's her!" I breathed. "Why can't I see?"

Weaver's voice came clear over the speakers. "Primary and secondary objectives have been obtained. Proceed to next phase. Teams Two through Six, you have a go."

"Haymitch!" I nearly bounded from the couch, but his grip on my shoulder stopped me.

"I know," he said to me. "I know."

My eyes moved frantically among the screens, but the second had been permanently corrupted and the others were focused on their own agendas; Three and Four maintained a subdued Rory between them while the first, who must have been the technician, held out what looked like a flimsy headpiece, and a few seconds later a fifth monitor sprang to life. I offhandedly guess they had picked up their insider. The tech disconnected his computer from the second case and left it, ordering the others forward. The elevator ride was shorter, they got off and crossed some kind of storage room. I saw tiny glimpses from the others as their views swept past Two, and in his arms I saw bare legs and feet. My mind wouldn't let me linger on what that meant. As long as she was alive. That's all that mattered, she was alive and safe.

Stairs. A catwalk, and more stairs. A mechanical rolltop door, and then darkness. Night vision must have kicked in, everything became neon green on a black backdrop. The team wasn't barking instructions anymore, they'd fallen silent. Five appeared to be in the lead. One had fallen behind Three and Four, and while Four had the best view of Two's back, it was still impossible to see her. There were more stairs, going down this time, to a dead end. One had the computer out again, plugged into some panel, and a few seconds later the wall split and slid apart. A narrow corridor, a drop down, then a hallway with raised sides... and a... subway car? Yes, it was the end of a car like the one we'd ridden in earlier. My heart thudded in my throat. She was closer than I could have hoped, I thought.

The lights came up. There were others to meet the team, a few looked like medics. One went to the control room in front where other techs were operating controls, but I was fixed on the blurry one, which had just deposited its load and came in clear after turning away. All four screens lurched as the car began to move, then the monitors went black. I went rigid.

"Calm down, this is part of the plan," Haymitch reassured me.

"What? You knew it was going to go down like this? Why didn't you tell me?" I didn't think I'd still be beside myself, knowing Katniss was on her way to safety. My whole body shook, but not from an oncoming tremor.

"I just got done saying that a few minutes ago," he told me patiently. "Were you listening to anything I was telling you?"

I couldn't respond. I couldn't think. My mind was tricking me again, like always. "Is this real?" I begged.

He nodded. "This is real. She's on her way back here. She's in good hands, from what I hear. We'll go see her when she's settled in; the route they're on takes about twenty minutes."

I wriggled away from his grasp and stood, wringing my hands and pacing. "I want to go. I want to wait for her. I need to see that she's all right. I have to." I must have looked like a madman, but I didn't care.

Haymitch stood, but didn't try to stop my aggravated movements. "You can't go out there like this, kid. You'll scare people. They're not gonna let you in there to see her till you're calm."

I swallowed hard, willed myself to be still. I think it was the lack of control that was making me this way' Dr. Aurelius had said part of my therapy was in letting go of the things I couldn't change. So while my head screamed in violent protest, I put my hands over my ears and squeezed my eyes shut. I was no good to Katniss if I was a wreck. I couldn't do anything about the time it took to get her here. I couldn't have forseen her being taken. I had no control over what may have happened while she was there. I had to forgive myself for what happened before she left; it was possible that I wasn't the only reason she did. I did, however, have the ability to be there for her when she got here, if she wanted, and I would fight like mad to keep her from harm again. My breathing evened, I blinked to readjust to the fluorescent lighting, and I smoothed my hair down. "I'm fine now. I want to wait for her."

Haymitch studied for a minute, then went to the wall and punched the intercom button. "We're ready."

The red-haired woman took down a series of industrial hallways to a viewing room of sorts, overlooking a makeshift infirmary. She whispered something to Haymitch and he nodded, and then she left us to wait. My hands worried over my arms, the goosebumps rose from the sterile chill of the room, but no more than from my anxiety. "What did she say?" I asked, as calmly as I could manage.

"That... things are as they expected," he said cautiously.

My stomach flip-flopped. "What does that mean?" The edge had returned to my voice.

Haymitch gripped my arms. "Hold it together. You didn't hear anything I told you when the raid started, did you?" he kept his voice level.

I shook my head. "I know you were talking but... Haymitch please, tell me."

He sniffed and smoothed his stubble, something he did when trying to explain something he didn't like. "It looks like she was interrogated. To what extent I don't know. She and Rory are alive, that's what's important. They can't get to her here."

"Interrogated?" my voice rose. The shaking started, as did the swirling in my head. I felt my arms being squeezed harder. I had to focus. Through clenched teeth I shuddered a sigh. "You mean tortured, don't you." It wasn't a question. Haymitch just looked away.

Below us, a mechanical door swept aside and they were wheeling in a gurney. I was subconsciously yanked to the window, my palms pressed to the shatterproof glass.

Peripherally, I saw Rory, sitting up on his bed. He would be fine, it seemed. But my eyes, they were locked on Katniss. And I'd never seen her look so bad before. Purple bruises covered every inch of her skin. There were tubes and wires hooked up all over her, bags of fluid swung above her bed as they wheeled her up to a series of monitors. They all flashed simultaneously and started recording. Her eyes... they were open. Blinking. One of the medics, a woman, was talking to her. Katniss nodded, and then the female medic administered something from a syringe. My beloved's eyes closed.

"What are they doing?" I whispered.

"Taking care of her, I imagine," came Haymitch's reply.

They were lifting her shirt, putting metal patches high on her bruised right shoulder and left side. Simultaneously, all the medics lifted their hands from her, and one pressed a flashing button. Katniss' body convulsed once, then went limp again. The monitors went flat. I felt the blood drain from my face. "They're killing her!" I threw myself at the window, pounding the glass and screaming. Hands came up to restrain me, and I wrenched myself away. "No!" I went for the door handle, the inner door that led down metal stairs into the medical bay. It wouldn't budge. "Katniss!" I wrenched it with all my might. Nothing. My fists hit the window. "Stop! Stop!" They made her convulse again, and the monitors picked up her pulse. The medics went to work on her again, removing the patches and tending to her wounds.

My hands fell to my sides, just as Haymitch brought his hands to my arms again. He was saying things, trying to talk my down I imagine, but the words didn't reach my brain. I was transfixed on the girl with the bruises. A swelling of rage gradually replaced the panic. I resolved to end whoever had done this to her.

Rory was being tended to behind a curtain. There was a medic pumping an inflatable cuff on his arm, to take blood pressure, I thought. He looked worn, but none the worse for it, relatively untouched, actually. He looked up to the window and his eyes found mine, and he waved, halfheartedly. He must know, who did this, I decided.

The woman who worked on Katniss handed something to her associate and came up the stairs. She swiped a card in a slot above the handle and the door beeped, allowing her to manipulate the handle. Haymitch was holding me back. He was surprisingly strong when sober.

"I'm not going to do anything," I turned my head to mutter to him, and his hands dropped.

"Mr. Mellark?" The medic addressed me.

"How is she?" I demanded, and immediately regretted my tone.

"I'm Dr. Raylin," she introduced herself. "Your wife's been through a lot, but her injuries aren't severe. It appears she was tended-to a bit during her captivity. She's going to be fine."

I wish she were my wife. "Fine?" I bellowed. I was feeling less like myself by the minute. "She hardly looks fine! Look at her! If she's so fine why did you have to shock her?" Haymitch's hand was on my shoulder again. I struggled to regain composure.

"That was necessary to return her heart to a normal rhythm. She was in a tachycardic state during her initial assessment; Mr. Hawthorne indicated she'd been like that for the better part of a day. We'll need to monitor her for a few days. The bruising is extensive but mostly superficial. She has a few cracked ribs and her lungs were grazed, but not punctured. Her concussion is disorienting at most. We're giving her something for the pain and to dissipate the bruising."

I nodded, attempting to mask my discomfort at the description. "I'm sorry for my behavior," I told her. "Can I see her?"

"It's quite all right, and yes, we're going to move her to another room in a few minutes. We'll bring you to her then." She hurried back through the door, leaving me with a touch of relief and a hundred new questions.

"Haymitch, start talking. I need to know what's going on."

"You gonna listen this time?" he asked, skeptically.

I breathed a sigh. "Yes."

~Katniss~

It hurt, being carried, yanked into a stranger's arms, Rory yelling, his voice growing further and further away. I didn't have the strength or voice to protest. It was cold again. I let my eyes close, drowning out the chaos and waiting for my death. Then I was being placed on something soft, and the lights overhead, the concerned faces. Something was moving under me. "Rory..." I croaked.

"He's here," a woman said. I was palpated and prodded, and I tried not to cry out but a few whimpers escaped. The woman said her name, I didn't remember it... she said she was sorry, every time I made a sound. She said I would be okay. But none of us were okay. I had to tell... someone. Who could I tell? Who was still around, who could do something to stop this?

Moving again. I was warmer. The woman was explaining something to me, she said they had to make me sleep to fix me, and asked if that was all right. I found it a little funny, no doctor had ever asked me if it was okay if they did something to me, they just did it. So I nodded. And they made me sleep.

I was still warm. I knew I was dreaming, because Prim was there. She was skipping, a basket in one hand, a fistful of dandelions in the other, her blouse untucked from her skirt, braids bouncing down her back. I didn't remember seeing her so happy in life. Maybe this is what she could enjoy, wherever she existed now. Maybe I wasn't dreaming, maybe I really had died, and finally had what I'd hoped to find, if that were the case. But when I called to her, she didn't answer, just kept skipping away from me, through the meadow. That's when I saw him.

He looked older. More natural. Less Capitol.

"Gale," I breathed.

He smiled. "You know my secret," he said.

"I do." I paused. Well, if it were possible to pause in dreams. They say the average dream lasts only minutes, but can feel like far more. So a pause would take relatively little time at all, if any. "I just don't know who to tell. Can anything be done?"

He leaned in to me. "Tell everyone. It's the only way." He pressed his lips to my cheek, and backed away, turning to run after Prim. She giggled and dodged him, letting loose a shower of dandelion fluff.

My eyelids were heavy, but I didn't want to sleep anymore.

"Prim..." it just came out, like I was trying to pull her with me into wakefulness.

"Katniss?" I knew that voice. But it was impossible, he couldn't be here. A warm hand touched mine, held it carefully. "I'm here, sweetheart." I heard fabric shift, felt my hair being brushed back and I blinked to dissipate the haze. When his pale features came into view, my breath quickened. My tongue came out to lick my dry, chapped lips, and a plastic straw was instantly held to my mouth. I drank deeply, sputtering as a few drops went down the wrong way in my haste. "Shh," he soothed me, wiping the few drops of water that dribbled down my chin.

"Peeta..." I rasped. "What... are you..."

"I'm sorry, so sorry," he explained gently. "Please don't be angry with me."

My breaths made me lightheaded, or perhaps it was whatever was dripping into my veins through the tangle of tubes and wires attached to my arms. I gulped and tried again. "How are you here?"

He blushed, pink rising on his cheeks and ears. "I found the letters. We came looking for you, when you weren't at the Hawthornes' Haymitch called that investigator. They found you and brought you back here."

My heart plummeted. "Hazelle, the kids!"

His hand pressed into my shoulder, keeping me from rising. "They're fine. Haymitch is calling Mrs. Hawthorne now. Everyone's fine." HIs hand went back to my hair, his thumb brushing my forehead.

I sighed in simultaneous relief and dispair at his words. "Not everyone," my voice came out surprisingly more even than I thought I was able. "Beetee and Plutarch... they're dead."

"What?"

"Enobaria too..." I continued. I had to get this out while I was still level. "Johanna wasn't a suicide. And Gale..."

"Hold on, love. Hold that thought, just a minute," he said quickly, dropping my hand and leaving my view, calling into the hallway. He was back a few seconds later with Haymitch.

"Well look who's awake, " my mentor stated obviously.

"Sweetheart, tell us everything," Peeta retook my hand.

"Yes, Miss Everdeen, tell us." It was that investigator. He seemed less abrasive than before.

"You..." I squinted.

"It's important you tell us everything you know, Katniss." His voice was bordering on gentle. He pulled up a chair on the other side. "Please."

I looked to Peeta, and he nodded. "Okay," I began. "Gale saw things. He and Plutarch, and Beetee sometimes... they started to suspect things weren't right. Troop movements, requisitioning of more guard squads. Enobaria noticed it first, called Gale. She disappeared a week later. Then last year Johanna... she and Gale were..." no, I wasn't going to say it. "They killed her, made it look like a suicide. It was to keep him quiet or scared, I don't know. But he'd already told Beetee, who told Plutarch..."

"Told them what?" the investigator prodded.

I swallowed again. "He thought they were trying to bring back the Peacekeepers. Deploying troops to control the districts under the pretense of rebuilding. Calling them the Republic Guard and changing the uniform didn't fool Gale like it did everyone else. He'd trained and armed so many of them already, when his suspicions became known, his usefulness wore out and they killed him." My face crinkled suddenly, the realization of what I'd just said hitting me somehow harder than the beatings I endured. Peeta was still at my ear... he'd never left... soothing me. I steadied myself and continued.

"Beetee and Plutarch knew what Gale knew, so they were targeted next. Plutarch told me everything right before they..." the flashback of his screams briefly pulled me away again.

"Right before they beat him to death..." another voice broke through. Rory had joined us, his face gray and drawn. He gripped a metal stand dangling a bag of fluid, his arm tethered to it with tubing. "He was in the next cell. We heard everything. Must've fallen asleep after, when we woke up that team was getting us out." Haymitch gave up his seat for the boy, moving to stand behind him. I reached out with my free hand and Rory took it, squeezing my fingers. Something unspoken passed between us, a kind of shared, painful relief. It was good to see him safe.

"I don't get it," Haymitch interjected. "We all fought so hard, were so unanimous in wanting the Peacekeepers disbanded. How can Paylor let this happen under her nose?"

"She didn't let it happen," I blurted out. "She's behind it."

Everyone's eyes were on me. Even Rory's, though he already knew. He'd heard everything that I had. Maybe his head was clearer at the time and he caught more, but he didn't appear to have it in him to explain, so I continued. "Plutarch had been digging into her past for quite some time. He was the one who discovered her secret, the one that explains why she thought she was entitled to succeed Snow. I can't believe, all that time I didn't see it. The pieces were right there."

"Succeed Snow? You gonna clue us in, Sweetheart?" Haymitch was growing impatient.

I exhaled. "Layne Paylor is President Snow's daughter."