My days change rapidly now. I'm allowed to walk around with Lef and Dils behind me in the hospital wing, but only down two halls. No one says so, but I'm certain Katniss is down the third. I couldn't care less. I read a story to a little girl who fell against a sharp girder and has a bandage around her ribs. I show her my prosthetic leg and she runs a gentle finger along the joint between flesh and plastic. I don't flinch from her touch.
I'm asked to the kitchen to talk to the cook about bread. I show her my father's butter roll recipe, and with a few adjustments, since District 13 deems the original wasteful beyond belief, we come up with a soft, flavorful roll I'm sure my father would be proud of.
Always, I'm watched. I can feel the reach of Coin's stare no matter where I go or what I do. Not for safety, she's gauging and evaluating. She has something in mind and I'm sure it uses me in some way. For now, though, I don't care. For now, my world has expanded beyond four walls for the first time in months and I'm taking full advantage of it.
About a week later, I'm playing cards with Delly. She has just finished lecturing me about how I need to cut Katniss more slack, that my perceptions are colored by what the Capitol did to me and I'm not seeing the real her. I nod and smile, smothering the whisper and fighting to keep my hands steady. I agree and deflect and concentrate on the cards in my hand. We both look up, startled, when Coin pushes through the doorway and her ever present shadow, Boggs, drifts in silently behind her.
"Hello, Peeta, Dolly," Coin nods warmly and smiles at us both. "Is it alright if I come in?"
"Her name is Delly," I say clearly. "And you're already in."
Delly flushes crimson and brushes away Coin's curt apology, but she stands protectively in front of me and I wind her fingers into my grasp with warm gratitude.
"Perhaps, Delly, you'll give me a few moments to speak with Peeta?" Coin asks, her eyes on our intertwined fingers and her tone implying it is an order, rather than a request. Delly hesitates and I grin widely at her questioning glance. Alma Coin is clearly unused to less than immediate genuflection and seems unsure of how offended to be.
"It's ok, Delly," I assure her. "Thank you. I'll talk to you later tonight after dinner. I'll finish getting whupped by you then."
Her smile is summer sunshine and she gathers the cards before stepping around Coin on her way out. Though I notice she squeezes Boggs' arm as she goes past and I study him with renewed interest. If Delly likes him, I should think more carefully about him. Of course, Delly likes everyone.
I turn back to my visitors and find them watching me with completely different expressions. Hers is predatory and hungry, his is wary and untrusting. I like him a little better.
"How can I help?" I ask, certain she'll want to cut straight to it.
"I think it's we who are helping today," she responds. "We've been watching carefully and it's true, you are getting better every day."
"Thank you," I say, but I hush the whisper as I wait for the trap to spring.
"Would you like to eat dinner in the dining hall tonight?"
Her question takes me by surprise and the whisper shrieks in joyful anticipation of all the people within easy reach to shred and claw. I feel the corner of my eyelid twitch, but otherwise I manage to hide my response. "Why?" I ask the obvious question.
She shrugs much too casually, as though she's rehearsed this response. "It's time. I'd like the citizens to start to see you and get used to you. They have some anger still, but I think seeing you and talking to you will help that to abate. We want everyone on the same side here."
"Are we all on the same side here?" I ask with just the smallest hint of suspicion. Boggs perks up his stance, as if a candlestick had just asked what was for lunch.
"We must be," Coin's answer is firm, and, I think, the first honest thing she's said since I met her.
I nod slowly. The people I trusted before used me to their own ends, abused my trust, manipulated me and left me to die slowly. The people I know now are strangers and obviously have their own agendas, which, again, appear to have a plan to use me to their advantage. I can trust no one.
"Of course," I reply. "Dinner would be great. Thanks."
She smiles tightly, but Boggs watches me shrewdly. He regards me like the cornered wild animal that I am, and he's ready for me to bite.
An hour later Lef and Dils arrive, all smiles and full of congratulations.
"What great news! The doctors must think you're so much better!" Lef is truly happy for me, and I clap his shoulder appreciatively.
"Thanks, guys." I hesitate. The whisper is positively howling for blood. The idea of so many strangers, so many hostile eyes, it screams for destruction. "Listen, I think maybe some cuffs would be a good idea. Just for the first time. Just in case."
Dils grins at me proudly. "The fact that you would ask, makes me sure you won't need them," he says, with oddly reassuring logic. "But if it will make you feel better." He pulls a set from the latch on the back of his belt and clips them around my outstretched wrists. I find the cold weight comforting, even though it ramps the fury of the whisper to a fever pitch.
We walk down the quiet halls of the hospital wing where jumpsuits are serving dinner to the few bedridden residents. At the stairs, we begin our walk up and I feel again the sense of emergence, even though the windowless flights in the blank, empty wells are still deep underground. Moving up means moving toward responsibility and capability. Toward being trusted. Toward people who want to use me.
At the top of the stairs, instead of going through the next door to the kitchens, we turn left and walk down a wide hall, along with a few people also drifting in late to the meal. I can hear the rising murmur of the crowd as we get closer to the double doors leading to the dining hall. It reminds me of school, and I think of the many hours spent with my friends chattering of nonsense, teasing and laughing, taking for granted the golden time of careless irresponsibility we somehow thought would never end.
Through the doors and Lef deftly plucks a tray from a teetering pile and Dils takes a glass of water from a wet grouping. Holding the tray awkwardly since the cuffs keep me from properly reaching the edges, but glad having it balanced on my hands hides them, I move down the line to receive a large bowl of thick, rich smelling stew that makes my mouth water. One of the rolls I worked on with the cook plunks down on my tray and I look up to see Greasy Sae wink at me encouragingly. It helps to quiet the uproar in my head, the shrieking demand of the whisper and the clamor of so many people in one place at one time. I haven't been around this many people since the interviews before the Games and my pulse is pounding in my ears. I smile gratefully and turn to the room.
Looking around at the throng of heaving, bellowing humanity I feel my hands begin to shake. I think I may ask the guards to take me back, I feel my control teetering as I scan the room for a corner with a seat where I can place a wall at my back. Everything is so wide open and crowded, I begin to experience a tilting vertigo, but then, a tiny buzz at the base of my spine and I turn my head to the table at the back of the room.
A large group of jumpsuits, and at the far end, Annie sits pressed tight against Finnick along with Delly and Johanna. Across from them, Katniss leans comfortably against Gale, all of their faces bright with laughter and their whole, healthy bodies relaxed and enjoying a good meal and good company. The whisper's raging squeal pitches low and dark fury boils fiercely in my belly. I clench my teeth against the angry chanting and struggle to force it back down. Lef follows my gaze and places a light hand on my arm, worry clouding his honest eyes.
"Peeta," he says in a hushed warning.
"It's fine," I tell him lightly. "I'll ask them if it's ok. If they say no, we'll go over there by the column. Come on, earn your money." I start across the room, the noisy confusion muffled by the whisper's chanting rage, my guards following on stiff alert.
I stop behind an empty seat next to Johanna and, not wanting to interrupt, wait for Finnick to finish what he's saying. Is he talking about a turtle eating his hat? Katniss, head thrown back and leaning against Gale, laughs brightly. The sounds pulls at memories buried deep, and I remember the first time I made her laugh. The chariots before the first Games. I had wanted nothing more than to make her laugh again. To hear it over and over.
She chortles as she takes a bite of bread, and her eyes drift upward to meet mine. Recognition comes slowly, but when it dawns she chokes and splutters, eyes wide and face frozen in horror. A small, hissing triumph in the whisper as it points out she is dismayed to see me here.
Delly, on the other hand, is equally shocked, but delighted at the surprise. I focus on her smile and smash the whisper down low.
"Peeta! It's so nice to see you out…and about," she finishes haltingly when she sees the manacles.
Johanna is less restrained. "What's with the fancy bracelets?" she asks.
"I'm not quite trustworthy yet," I answer lightly. "I can't even sit here without your permission," I add, tipping my head back toward Lef and Dils who watch with anxious readiness.
"Sure he can sit here," she says jovially, patting the empty seat. "We're old friends." I slide into the space, but just as the guards are relaxing, she adds, "Peeta and I had adjoining cells in the Capitol. We're very familiar with each other's screams."
A thick silence falls over the table and I feel Lef tense behind me. Annie, shuddering, presses her hands over her ears and her eyes lose focus. Finnick glares and wraps an arm around her. Everyone says this is exactly the type of moment I'm supposed to be so good at smoothing over, but I can't think of anything to say. More lies about who I am.
"What?" Johanna asks defensively. "My head doctor says I'm not supposed to censor my thoughts. It's part of my therapy."
Everyone shuffles their food around in silence while Finnick soothes and cajoles Annie out of her distress. I watch in morbid curiosity while the whisper chants its fury. Annie wasn't even the one screaming. Why does Finnick get to be angry when it was Johanna who screamed? Who burned. He's married, he has a family, while we have nothing but our scars. The unfairness chokes me and I can't force myself to eat.
"Annie," Delly chirps, relieved to have thought of something pleasant, "did you know it was Peeta who decorated your wedding cake? Back home, his family ran the bakery and he did all the icing."
Delly's comment brings my father to mind, how he would expect me to help Annie. I remember walking past her cell, the horror in her eyes. Even though it wasn't her, she knows what happened, what Johanna and I screamed about.
Annie leans forward, trying to keep Johanna out of her line of sight. "Thank you, Peeta," she murmurs. "It was beautiful."
"My pleasure, Annie," I reply, and I mean it.
"If we're going to fit in that walk, we better go," Finnick says briskly, gathering both their trays. He holds her hand tightly, proprietarily, as if he can protect her from anything. As if anyone is safe. Finnick, who has everything, and doesn't know how quickly it can all be lost. "Good seeing you, Peeta," he says mildly, but the whisper hears mockery, taunting.
"You be nice to her, Finnick," I say, equally mildly. "Or I might try and take her away from you." My voice sounds harsh in my ears, goaded by the whisper's jealous fury.
"Oh, Peeta," he responds, his voice calm, but his sea green eyes holding wary concern. "Don't make me sorry I restarted your heart." They move toward the door while I clench my fingers on the edge of the table. I can feel my control starting to slip. The constant chatter around us twines with the buzzing hate of the whisper and I have trouble muffling it.
"He did save your life, Peeta," Delly's voice is reproachful. "More than once."
"For her," I retort, nodding at Katniss who sits silently, back stiff and gray eyes icy with judgmental disdain. "For the rebellion. Not for me." How dare she look down on me like that? She, who has lost nothing. "I don't owe him anything," I finish decisively.
"Maybe not," Katniss cuts in coldly. "But Mags is dead and you're still here," her contempt making it obvious she wishes it were the other way around. "That should count for something."
"Yeah, a lot of things should count for something that don't seem to, Katniss," I reply, and the anger is mine, not the whisper's. I'm so sick of her saintly act, as though she is beyond reproach. "I've got some memories I can't make sense of, and I don't think the Capitol touched them. A lot of nights on the train for instance."
She goes instantly pale and I know she understands me. She knew how I felt about her, knew how it killed me to spend nights with her wrapped in my arms because she needed to feel safe. Knew I broke my heart every night knowing it would never be returned. Knew I swallowed it because she needed it. But she took what she wanted and kicked the rest aside when she no longer had need for me. When she was home with Gale.
"So, are you two officially a couple now, or are they still dragging out the star-crossed lover thing?"
"Still dragging," Johanna replies with a shrug.
The sudden scream in my head sends my hands clenching into fists and they fly out as if to claw for eyes. I force them flat on the table and Lef rests a subtle hand against my back.
"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself," Gale drawls in a low, scornful voice.
"What's that?" I ask, fighting to keep my voice steady.
"You," he answers cryptically and I sting from the judgement so sharp in his voice.
"You'll have to be a little more specific. What about me?"
"That they've replaced you with the evil-mutt version of yourself," Johanna supplies helpfully around a mouthful of stew.
Gale and Katniss rise together, barely acknowledging me as they make their way to the door. Delly is positively vibrating with anger and I clench the edge of the table to control the shudders breaking over me in waves.
"How could you?" Delly demands, blue fire blazing from her eyes. "Why would you treat her like that?" Her cheeks are pale except for two spots of color radiating her disappointment in me.
I try to answer, but my mind is filled with images of Mutt Katniss, her burning fury and the smoldering ruin in her wake. My heart bangs against my ribs in agonized memory of all the nights spent holding Katniss tight and safe. Guarding her in her sleep, keeping watch for the need to throw myself in front of whatever threat appeared in the dark. Her eyes, dark and yearning for my comfort.
"I do. I need you."
"Mags is dead and you're still here."
"Stay with me."
"What if he proposed to me in front of everyone?"
A crashing din of voices swells over my head against the stream of Delly's furious blame. A shuddering tearing I can feel in the deepest part of my chest and waves of hurt come rolling up to cascade over me in dark, swirling depth. All the pain and rejection and confusion I've locked away in the deep recesses of my mind burst from their vault in furious tides of screeching clamor.
"She left me!" I growl, my eyes flying wildly from Delly to Dils.
"She had no choice," I mutter in gritty denial.
"She planned it all along."
"She didn't know, either."
Lef's eyes register a growing alarm, blooming from confusion to fear, and as the two giant guards move toward me, hands outstretched, I feel the whisper's furious joy as it breaks free of the restraints I've held in place for so long, shrieking its way through my shattered and broken mind and tearing loose on raging wings of blazing flame to destroy and burn and kill. I sink under the darkness as Lef and Dils close over me, my strangled howl echoing in the black emptiness as I fade.
"She loved me…."