Sorry about the bouncing POV in this one.

Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 5

Haymitch

Plutarch and President Coin are arguing, bandying about words like mentally unstable... distracted... unsuitable...

I need a drink. Plutarch had the foresight to stash some spirits here prior to the blowout of the arena, but he's been rationing it, that bastard... My glass has been empty for quite some time, and I'm having trouble focusing on anything but refilling my glass.

Now they're talking about how they should have rescued the girl, how she would have been stronger and compliant. That's funny, the idea of Sweetheart being compliant, but they're going to just toss the boy to the side like that! I'm fuming as I slam my glass on the table, the heavy bottom making a loud thud, their eyes snap to me as though they'd forgotten I was in the room.

"I told you, they're a set. You can't have one without the other, there's no point. His heart beats for her, he's the fuel for her fire. Without the other, you may get short term results, but we're going to watch him waste away, and you're going to see her flame die out. She may be the face of the revolution, but he's the voice. You chose to rescue the Brain, and I think Beetee's a great guy, but I told you that you needed them both. They didn't survive out of selfish desire, they did it for one another. They may not realize it yet, and I hope to God that President Snow never realizes it, because in his hands he holds a bomb that could destroy both of them."

They stare at me as if I've got three heads, and I've had enough of this. I scoot my chair back, bow, and say "thank you for your consideration", before turning on my heel and walking out.

Gale

The next morning at breakfast my communicuff goes off. I quickly stuff the rest of my food in my mouth, and head down to command. Plutarch and President Coin are already there talking with Cressida, the film director, and two camera men. They end their conversation as I walk into the room, but we're waiting for more people. The door swings open, and Haymitch comes in with Peeta. Plutarch and President Coin stand at the front of the room, and address the room. Slowly, the information sinks in. We're going back to 12, with a film crew to make a propo, or propaganda spot. I'm not happy about it, I relive that night in my dreams, but Peeta looks like he's going to have a mental breakdown at any moment. I don't know what they're hoping to do, dragging him with us.

President Coin leaves Plutarch and Cressida to continue telling us their plans. I'm to wear the outfit I came out of 12 in, apparently Haymitch had packed Peeta clothes, and we're to meet at the hovercraft pad in an hour.

Peeta

Back to 12. I'm stunned, but I follow Haymitch back to our room. He must be tired, but he doesn't complain, so I keep my thoughts to myself. When we enter the room, he gives me a rare smile and says that he has something special for me. Great, he's packed me some crazy capitol suit. He throws me a paper sack, and when I open it, I am brought back to that night on the train. I hear the click of the door as Haymitch steps out into the hallway. There is the undershirt that I had been wearing when I walked Katniss back to her room, I can practically feel her through it, her fingernails lightly grazing my back as she removes it. The next night, she wore it, and only it, to bed.

I hear a light rap on the door, and hurriedly put on the shirt and a pair of khakis, but I just carry the sweatshirt. My lack of uniform is drawing attention, and I hear people whispering, but I ignore it, reveling in this little piece of her.

I sit next to Haymitch on the hovercraft, and close my eyes, because when I close my eyes, it feels like, for just a moment, she's in my arms again.

Gale

I watch as Peeta and Haymitch saunter up to the hovercraft pad. Peeta's lost weight since his arrival at 13, and he looks pitiful. Even I feel my heart softening toward him just a little. We sit in our seats, Haymitch across from me, Peeta next to him, Fulvia next to me, and the two camera men next to her. I've heard they're drying Haymitch out, and I wonder if that's why he looks so surly. There's no conversation on the way over, Fulvia trying a few times, but none of us really feel like talking. Peeta closes his eyes and sniffs his shirt, like a weirdo, but his smile, the look of relief, I know without a doubt that he's smelling her. My hand curls into a fist, and I desperately try to tamp down the desire to unbuckle my seatbelt and punch him; punch him because he was close enough to her that his t-shirt smells like her, and because part of me wants to steal his t-shirt and smell her, too.

I'm still trying to harness my anger when we are instructed to exit the hovercraft, dropping us in front of the justice building. I forget that Peeta hasn't seen it yet, and all of my anger dissipates as I watch him take it all in. He lets out a cry of anguish as he catches sight of the bakery, the house he grew up in above it, gone. Cressida has her camera crew focused on Peeta, asking him questions, but he just waves her off and heads into the bakery, a blob of melted metal that used to be an oven and the painted wood sign out front are the only indications that he's in the right building.

With Peeta gone, Cressida turns her attention to me. I take a deep breath before giving her a walking tour. I start telling her about that night, watching the games with Prim here in the square, the lights going out, the sights and the sounds. As we pass Peeta and Haymitch, who must have gone after him, they join our group. We walk down the road, now littered with bodies, some burned badly, others, decaying in the sun, and we head to the meadow that served as our rendezvous point. I talk about the fence, that night, and the nights that Katniss and I got trapped on the other side by the electricity. As we continue into the woods, I find myself talking more and more about hunting with Katniss, showing them where she and I would meet, the place we sat and talked about running away before the reaping. When we get to the cabin by the lake, I go back to talking about the three days spent here, trying to feed nearly 900 hungry people, less than 1/10th of the previous population of 12. We sit for a while, and I watch Peeta pull a flower out of the water. It's a katniss plant, the purple tuber she was named after. He carefully washes it off, puts it in his pocket, and then, he shuffles away.

I look up to see that Castor has gotten his strange behavior on tape, and I feel compelled to tell the group that it's a katniss plant, silently wondering to myself how he knew that, or if it's just a coincidence.

There is a somber mood as the group leaves the woods, each lost in their own thoughts. I'm surprised when I look over and see Haymitch staring at me as though he's trying to put a puzzle together.

Once we're back within the fence, I take everyone on a brief tour of the Seam, explaining what life here was like. I'm momentarily startled when Haymitch pitches in, forgetting that he hasn't always lived in Victor's Village. The houses in the Seam were made of wood, and the coal dust that is so prevalent seems to settle here, so when the bombs were dropped, fire spread quickly. I bring them to the spot that once held my home, reduced to a pile of ash the wind has been carrying away. There is little left of Katniss' former home, but I point it out as we walk past. I'm startled to hear a hiss, and I see the world's ugliest cat.

"Buttercup!" I cry out, picking him up affectionately. I wrap him in my jacket, tying it into a bundle with the sleeves, so that he can't escape.

We have one last stop, I suppress a chuckle. It was the only part of town spared, the Capitol making sure that they'd have somewhere nice to stay when they came back to rebuild. As I enter Katniss' house in Victor's Village, I can sense that he's already here. Sure enough, there's a stack of canvases on the couch and a small bag of what looks like painting supplies. I look at her kitchen table, where I lay after the whipping, and press two fingers to my lips as I remember her kiss, her promise to stay and cause lots of trouble. He stops short when he comes out of her room, photographs and her families plant book in hand. I grab her fathers hunting jacket out of a closet upstairs, and all of her mother's medical supplies, and without a word, we leave.

Haymitch lets out a low whistle as we climb back on board the hovercraft, muttering something about looting, but I ignore him. I hold Katniss' hunting jacket close, and take a nap during the quick flight back to 13.

When we arrive back in 12, I zip Katniss' hunting jacket around my pillow, grab the bundle containing the cat, and knock on Prim and her mother's compartment door. Prim opens the door, and I'm almost bowled over by the enthusiastic hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she exclaims, taking the disgruntled cat from my arms. The cat, for his part, seems equally happy to have Prim back.

My attention is arrested by the painting of Katniss hanging on the wall. I feel Mrs. Everdeen follow my eyes, and she simply says "It was propped by the door when I got back from my shift at the hospital." as explanation. I don't know if she honestly doesn't know, or if, more likey, she's trying to protect my feelings. I'd recognize the artists work anywhere, even if I hadn't seen him with it earlier. Plus, how many artists work revolve so heavily around this single subject? I politely excuse myself, but agree to sit with them at dinner. It'll be nice to share a meal with someone who cares about her as much as I do.

Haymitch

I had argued with Plutarch and President Coin that it was too soon for him to go, but they're so impatient to have a mockingjay that they sent him anyway, hoping that it would bring out some fire in him. I was worried that it would crush him, but it's too soon to tell yet. He took a slight detour coming to our room, and he's been sleeping with one of his canvases ever since. I can probably guess who's painted on it.

The trip to District 12 was about as uneventful as I could have hoped, all things considering. I don't know how I didn't see it, I guess it's probably because I didn't want to, since I'm a little soft on the boy, but Sweetheart's cousin is in love with her. It's as plain as day. I'm guessing that they're also not cousins. It was unmistakable when the boy was clearly remembering a tender moment with Sweetheart, and Gale looked like he was going to pummel him. Wouldn't that have been something for one of Plutarch's propos.

Seeing Gale's feelings for Sweetheart was something like putting glasses on. Everything becoming a little clearer. I wonder how Sweetheart feels about him, and I'm uncomfortable, remembering the ease between them while Gale trained us for the Quarter Quell, and remembering how much time those two spend together alone in the woods. I'd occasionally catch glimpses of her heading out there on Sunday mornings. The memories feel like a rock in the pit of my stomach. She always looked happy, truly happy. It was one of those rare times when you didn't need to coax a smile out of her, and you forgot that she scowls all of the time. This might not be good for the boy.

I let Peeta sleep until the command meeting the next morning, where Plutarch and Cressida proudly unveiled their videos. They look tired, and I'm guessing that they've been up all night, but they look pleased. Three spots were created with the material; two of Gale, one talking about life in 12 contrasted by the destruction, the other talking about the exodus from District 12 with commentary from survivors. The last one showed Peeta's pain over District 12 and his heartbreak over Sweetheart. Gale sat stone faced through the last video.

When the meeting is over, I talk to Beetee and Plutarch, letting them know my feelings about that last video. After my discussion with Plutarch and President Coin yesterday, I think it was irresponsible to even create that propo. If it ever airs, the best case scenario is that President Snow realizes just how much leverage he has over us, worst case, he realizes how to use his bomb. While there are no promises, Plutarch clearly seems to be taking my words to heart. They play Gale's propos around the clock, apparently breaking into all of the districts except 2, and the Capitol. In the afternoon, I receive a delivery to my room, a bottle of white liquor with his thanks, and an invitation to join them in command after dinner to watch Beetee try to take over the Capitol broadcast.