Haymitch's strong, white teeth catch at the corner of his lower lip. His tell. "The cake was amazing last night. Seven," he declares nonchalantly, gray eyes steady on mine, confident I won't catch the lie.
"Thanks. It was great to work on something like that again. Call," I respond, flipping my cards to show my hand. He curses and tosses his own cards down. If only I'd learned to read his lies earlier. I gather the cards together and tap the sides sharply, making neat edges to the pile. "You owe me your stew, and your fruit the next time we get fresh. But I'll take canned if it's peaches. And you have to get me a leftover piece of cake."
Shaking his head in disgust, he narrows his eyes at me. "I never lost to you when we played back home. Maybe I play better drunk."
I shrug. "Maybe I play better crazy."
His eyes dart away, but not to the mirror, which I appreciate. "I guess it didn't go so well last night," he says, finally broaching the subject I'm sure he came to discuss.
I shrug again. "Depends," I respond. "I got the answer I wanted."
Haymitch is uncharacteristically silent, watching me with hooded eyes. He, and everyone in this place, was hoping I would take one look at her and the past few months would fall away. I'd leap up, the healthy, happy, optimist they all know and love who was never any trouble to anyone, instead of this raving lunatic they're saddled with and have to keep locked away for fear I'll go berserk and attack someone. killer danger burden end it I haven't even told him about the whisper. I haven't told anyone. I don't want them to know a terrible voice in my head is relentlessly pushing for me to hurt them, that I'm constantly fighting to ignore its raving demands.
I'm exhausted with this conversation, with everyone only thinking of me in relation to Katniss. It's clear we are nothing to each other, why won't anyone let it go? What will it take for everyone to stop waiting for me to go back to only being the boy who loves her?
Haymitch swings his head toward the mirror, his brows lifting questioningly, then turns quickly back to me, eyes darting to my unshackled wrists.
"What did they say?" I ask suspiciously. But before he can answer there's a light knock on the door. "Come in," I call automatically, and the door swings open. My throat closes over the scream that rises from my chest and I gasp for breath like a flopping guppy, gripping the edges of the bed and clenching my teeth together. Johanna watches me struggle for a second, and I see her dark eyes reflect a deep, aching misery, but it's quickly chased by a blazing anger that stiffens her spine.
We regard each other in silence for a moment, assessing the damage we heard being done to each other, but haven't yet seen. Her eyes shine with fury, but her lips tremble and her hands are gripped in fists at her sides. Her hair is a downy fuzz just starting to cover her head, but the burns and gashes are still plainly evident. She stares out from sunken eye sockets and her gaunt features are sharp and hollow. The hospital clothes hang on her bony frame and the sharp angles of her hips and shoulders echo my own.
I worried she hated me, blamed me for what happened to her, but I see the reflection of my worry in her eyes as we study each other and I feel a painful comfort in knowing she understands me, as I understand her. We've both had our true selves scorched away to reveal new people, people we are discovering how to be.
"I didn't think anyone could look worse than me," she smirks. "You look like a weasel I found once that had been snared in a vine for days."
"You look like you've been trapped down a mine for a month," I counter. "I'd take weasel over that any time."
She watches me closely for a minute, but I see the tension ease behind her eyes. "They told me you were a screaming maniac," she says bluntly. "I was hoping for a show."
"Only sometimes," I tell her. "Dr. Aurelius can give you a list of things that set me off if you really want to see it."
She snorts. "Dr. Aurelius is a professional who would never use one of his patients for another's amusement. Would you, doctor?" she asks, turning deliberately to the mirror. She turns back to me with a smirking wink, a hollow ghost of the smug gesture she flashed at me in the elevator the first time we spoke. I feel an empty darkness of loss in my belly.
She hasn't even acknowledged Haymitch is in the room, and he doesn't seem to expect her to. I wonder what their first conversation was like, and send a silent thanks to the universe I didn't witness that one. He busies himself with shuffling the cards from hand to hand, avoiding eye contact.
"Why are you allowed up and around?" I ask, looking past her for guards.
"Because I didn't try and strangle my one true love," she snorts, her voice chiding but her dark eyes flicker with a deep pain. Icy fury frosts her voice and she turns to Haymitch who shrinks into himself. "Do you know what happened to him to make that possible?" she snaps. "Do you know what you did?"
"Johanna," I reach a hand out toward her. "I can do it. I can do it myself." She takes a shuddering breath and shakes her head angrily, fists clenching and knuckles gleaming white. "I can do it. I'm ok. I can do it." A steady stream of assurance tumbles from my lips as she visibly gathers herself, pulling back from the scorching anger radiating from her. I'm touched, but I also know much of this flame is for her, what she went through because of others' machinations.
The mask of cold detachment slides back into place and she flops down on the bed across my legs, pretending carelessness. "They giving you anything good?" she asks, eyes searching my room.
I shake my head. "I'm staying away from it. Trying to clear my head out." I watch her carefully, trying to figure out how to pose my question without offending her. "How's your head?" I ask.
"Bald as an egg," she smirks dryly, turning to Haymitch to grind out, "The better to attach the leads to." She looks satisfied when he flinches but turns away again. "They kept me clean," she says, answering my question, but then asks one of her own. "I hear you talked to Katniss last night. And didn't try to kill her."
"She's not worth the effort," I mutter, keeping my eyes down so I don't have to watch their reactions to my reply.
"I just want to move on," I say, my voice rising with the urgency of my desire. "I just want to leave this room and do something useful. I want people to stop waiting for me to be in love with someone who doesn't give a damn about me. I don't want to kill her. I don't want to love her. I couldn't care less about Katniss Everdeen!"
In the silence and stillness left behind my ringing denunciation, Haymitch bows his head under the withering glare of furious blame Johanna levels at him. She turns her blazing gaze to me next and narrows her eyes to peer intently into my answering gaze of steady blue ice. But she shrugs and looks away. The first person to let me decide how I feel about something myself and I am deeply grateful.
Before I can comment, another knock and the door swings open. The same tall, dark man from before enters, followed quickly by the smaller woman with the curtain of iron gray hair and flinty gray eyes, who I now know to be the leader of this district, President Alma Coin. She carries her leadership the same way Snow does, hard won and tightly held.
Her cold eyes sweep the array of battered victors before her, and she presses her lips in a tight, self-satisfied line. "Hello, Peeta. Haymitch, Johanna." Her nods are quick and short and Haymitch lifts a weary hand to acknowledge her, while Johanna stares her down with matching cold stillness.
"I don't think we've met," I offer my hand. "Peeta Mellark. District 12."
She has the grace to redden slightly at her arrogance but counters it by replying, "Not anymore. You're one of us now." She takes my hand gingerly and I remember the first time I saw her, and my reaction to that news then.
"Thank you for your hospitality," I reply steadily. "I appreciate the losses you must have taken to come get us, and I'm grateful. We're grateful," I amend, nodding to include Johanna. She, however, rolls her eyes and exits without a word.
Coin watches me carefully, her eyes calculating. Again, I'm reminded of Snow. I must seem better than she was expecting, and she's wondering how to use it to her own advantage.
"You're quite welcome," she replies, the edge to her voice being softened and a smile that doesn't reach her eyes lifting her lips. "We knew Finnick and Katniss, and even Haymitch, were too distressed to operate adequately with you in the hands of the Capitol, and we needed them at full capacity."
I bite the inside of my lip to keep the shudder from showing. I'm certain she's baiting me, but what is she fishing for?
"Well, thank you anyway," I reply. "Regardless of why, I'm glad to be out. I'm looking forward to being of some help around here. Finnick and Annie's wedding cake was a small token of my appreciation, but I'd like to be of service in breaking the stranglehold the Capitol has over its citizens. Even if it's just working in the kitchens here while others do the heavy lifting."
"I'm glad to hear that, Peeta," she replies with a veneer of warmth that rings as false as her smile. Haymitch stiffens as well and I grind my molars against the whisper as it pitches to an alarmed frenzy of warning and anger. "We were hoping you would be willing to help us."
"He's barely up and around," Haymitch interposes, his voice lazy but his eyes drilling into mine. "I don't know how much he's ready to take on."
Haymitch Abernathy is well beyond deciding what I will or won't take on and I tip my chin up defiantly. "I don't know how much more you want to waste on keeping me an invalid. Every moment I don't contribute, I'm a drain on resources. It's time I started pulling my weight."
Coin smiles almost greedily. "True," she nods. "I understand you had a conversation with Katniss last night and it went very well. We'd like to start introducing you to the rest of the community. There is a level of distrust because of the opinions the Capitol forced you to voice."
"My opinions were my own," I reply, my voice low but steady. "I wasn't forced to say anything on camera I didn't actually believe. This war is catastrophic for humanity. Our numbers are small already, killing each other is a stupid and pointless idea." I hear the truth in my words, feel the conviction solid and true in my chest. I really do believe this, and that knowledge firms my resolve.
Coin, however, looks like a cat that has swallowed a very fat canary. "Oh, I agree, Peeta. You could not be more right. That is why we are intent on ending this war as quickly and decisively as possible. And we are on the threshold of accomplishing this. And we have a very clear role for you to play. But that is a conversation for another time. Right now, what is important is restoring your health, and we are bending every effort to that end."
I don't know how or why, but I've said something to please her, and that makes me suspicious. Haymitch has the same look of distrust, and while I won't let him make decisions for me anymore, he has good instincts. I'll need to talk to him later. For now, the news that I'm to be let out of this room soon is welcome. Regardless of what she expects from me, Coin is my key to freedom, so I smile my most ingratiating grin and fix my deep blue eyes on her pale ice gaze.
"Thank you, President Coin. I am grateful for your care and look forward to being able to repay you for it."
She smiles widely back. "I'm certain you will, Peeta. Thank you."