Haymitch's POV
I am awakened by the beeping of my communicuff. I open my eyes to a mural of a beach and a sunset. Am I still drunk? I open my eyes again, and it's there, covering the wall where Peeta's bed should be. I get the feeling that District 13 doesn't appreciate things like this. Peeta's bed has been moved to the other side of the room, and he's fallen asleep, covered in little flecks of paint. It seems the kid stayed up all night painting. I see the easel tucked in the corner, and I walk around it to see that he's painted her, from the interview. The painting captures her perfectly, while conveying love, adoration, and longing. I rouse him and we make our way to the command meeting.
Stares and whispers follow us as we make our way through the twisting maze of corridors. We pass Boggs, waiting in the hallway just outside of Command. Seems a little odd.
All conversation stops when we walk into the room. They could at least pretend that they weren't talking about us, and I'm about to make a snarky comment, but I feel Peeta come to a halt. I place a hand on Peeta's shoulder, guiding the kid to a seat in the corner. The silence is deafening. The sound of the handle being turned draws everyone's eyes to the door as it swings open.
Boggs walks in, Gale right behind him. So that's what he was waiting for. It's good to know that someone cares about that kid.
Gale looks heartbroken, his hand is bandaged, his eyes puffy and hollow. What a difference a day makes. He is far removed from the alert, angry kid so eager to go to battle just yesterday. Now, he just looks defeated. He slumps in his chair, ignoring the stares, twisting his communicuff around his wrist.
I turn my attention back to Peeta, his eyes have a clarity that they had been lacking, and when Plutarch addresses the room, he actually seems to be paying attention.
"The time has come to move on without our Mockingjay." Plutarch pauses, his eyes scanning the room, "In her present state, she is of little use to the Rebellion, and our plan to rescue her would place her in unnecessary jeopardy. It is clear that the Capitol understands that they'd have rebellion in their streets if they harm her, so while her presence creates unnecessary distraction, we believe that it will not ultimately thwart our cause." A self satisfied grin crosses his face. Then, with the fanfare of a true gamemaker, he says, "I am pleased to announce that we will have two Mockingjays; I am proud introduce our new Mockingjays, Peeta, Soldier Hawthorne."
You have got to be kidding me. Does that man have two brain cells to rub together, or is his head so far... What's he playing at? Choosing both of them is going to be a problem. The bright side, it allows Sweetheart to choose when she gets back to us, but is she ever coming home, since apparently we're happy to just forget about her.
"What if I don't want to be your stupid Mockingjay?", Gale shouts. There is a smoldering anger in his eyes. I hear gasps and murmurs throughout the room. This is not the sort of behavior people expect from someone as loyal to the cause as Gale, but I'm proud of him. Ever since I realized that he is in love with her, I've been racking my brain trying to remember all that Katniss told me about him. Truth be told, more than a few of the memories are blotted out by booze, but I recall her telling me about how they met, two fatherless children just trying to keep their families alive. I recall her telling me about a time when she sprained her ankle, and Gale willingly carried her some seven miles out of the woods. I remember the day that Gale was whipped, the way that she threw herself in front of the whip, without thought of her own safety, and the way that he stoically hid his pain for her benefit in the weeks that followed. I truly hope that Plutarch quickly recognizes the strength of their friendship, and the depth of his love for her, or he may find a rebellion on his hands, right here in District 13.
The room goes absolutely silent, all eyes go back and forth between Gale and Plutarch. Plutarch nervously clears his throat, before shouting, "You will arrive in the prep room at seven hundred hours tomorrow, and that is an order!" Boggs instantly places a hand on Gale's arm, giving him a slight shake of the head. I don't envy him. Looks like he may have as much trouble on his hands that I have on mine.
7 a.m. finds me sitting next to Boggs. Peeta looks like crap. His lack of sleep is evident, and I'm not sure that the angry and brooding look is quite what Plutarch had in mind for these propos. Especially when Gale wears that look so well. The only words he spoke last night was "A new face on the rebellion will keep her safer.", but the seething rage emanating from him was clear. He's not ready to give up on bringing her home.
The small room was clearly designed with Sweetheart in mind. Besides Boggs and I, it holds her prep team, and the two young men in love with her. I look at Boggs, his face looks calm, but I see his body is tense. I guess I'm not the only one who questions the wisdom of placing the weight of the rebellion on the shoulders of three teenagers involved in a love triangle.
The tension between the two young men is palpable, but the prep team is too simple minded to notice, as they gush to each other about the romance of it all, congratulate Peeta on the baby, pry for details of the wedding and pregnancy, and prattle on about their favorite parts of the games and favorite star crossed lovers moments. Gale, for his part, manages to keep his emotions in check behind his stoic exterior. Peeta, on the other hand, is silent. This is not the same boy who goes out of his way to be friendly and personable to everyone.
The prep team's gaudy colors look garish against the austere backdrop of 13, and their bubbly chatter a stark contrast to the concise nature of 13. My mind drifts to Effie, her outlandish Capitol garb against the backdrop of District 12. I think of the last time I saw Effie...
In all of the years that I've worked with Effie, I'd never seen her cry. I had headed back to the apartment after seeing Katniss and Peeta settle into camp with Finnick and Mags, waiting until I was certain that Katniss wasn't about to kill her new allies. I was startled to see Effie. She looked so frail, tears streaking her makeup, but for the first time, I also saw humanity within her. She truly cared for our "little victors", in a way that transcended party invites, and I found myself desperately wanting to cheer her up. "Have you been up to the roof? Peeta said that even difficult to please Katniss likes it up there." to my astonishment, Effie agreed, and I grabbed a blanket before ascending the stairs.
The roof is just as nice as Peeta described, as I watch Effie walk to the edge, surveying the crowd below. There is an air of outrage and discontent, a stark contrast to last years gaiety. I noticed Effie shiver, and as I wrapped the blanket around her slight shoulders, she gave me a faint, but genuine, smile. We stayed on the roof until sunrise, talking about everything from how the kids were doing in the games to her childhood, but what surprised me was her shrewd assessment of the scene below.
According to Effie, the Capitol citizens were truly saddened by these games. The victors had become so much a part of their lives; they had viewed them as honorary Capitolites, as friends or family, and they were also outraged by the idea of a pregnant woman being forced to fight to the death. Without the distraction of the more popular victors, and the constant changing of trends that they inspire, the Capitolites had begun to think about what was happening, about how they felt about people, let alone children, fighting to the death, and though it was slow, attitudes were changing, and a movement was beginning to form.
Effie, without the mask, the makeup and the ridiculous clothes, was an exceptionally smart and beautiful woman, who cared deeply for our kids, and I was beginning to care for her. Damn the Capitol, taking away everyone I care about. I'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe, even if I have to burn it down myself.
"Haymitch," I snap my head up to see Peeta, "You coming, or are you going to stay here and daydream?"
I can't help but feel proud. It seems that I'm starting to rub off on the kid. I shake off that thought as I rise, my muscles sore from lack of activity. I'm just thankful that it's boys. When it was Katniss, I'd be here for a few more hours. However, when it's Katniss, she always made sure there was a little liquor to keep me company.
I follow our group onto the hovercraft, and take a short nap as the hovercraft brings us ever closet to the life we left behind.