Warning: This one is a little tough.
I was yanked up out of the chair again after my conversation with Snow, who made it abundantly clear that he was going to have Katniss killed if I didn't come up with some way to get her and the rebels to stop what they were doing and surrender. He assured me that he recognized my ability to sway an audience, and he was sure that I would figure out a way to keep my wife alive.
"Oh, and one more thing," Snow said, and the Peacekeepers pulled me around to face the screen. "You'll have some visitors later. Don't embarrass me."
"You killed my family, you son of a -" I was interrupted and pulled into a tight chokehold by one of my guards. The other one reared back to punch me.
"Not the face," Thread barked, and shoved his comrade aside. He pulled a club from his belt and swung it into my stomach.
Again, the two Peacekeepers were pulling me back out of the room, but instead of turning down toward my cell, they went in the other direction. The news that Katniss was alive had given me a second wind of energy, despite my lack of food and hydration. It was ironic that I was dehydrated since I felt like I had swallowed a lot of water during my water boarding yesterday. I was so messed up from seeing my family explode that I didn't even care who Snow was sending to talk to me.
We stepped into a glass elevator and turned back toward the doors. Thread stood there on the other side of the doors. As they began to close he sneered at me, "Enjoy your vacation."
I watched darkly as he turned and went back down the corridor. He must be staying for Johanna.
As the elevator ascended I realized where I was - I was in the tributes' training center. Our cells must have been in the basement, right in the center of the Capitol. Now we rose above each floor and I could see the lobby for each district. As we passed each one I thought about the tributes that I had witnessed die over the past two years. I thought of 12 and the rumble that lay around my family's home. I thought about Prim, and wondered if Katniss knew. When the doors opened to District 12's suite at the top of the center, I felt cold. Haymitch was probably dead. What had happened to Effie? To Portia? Everyone else in the arena?
"You are to shower and eat. There are clean clothes for you in the bedroom," one of the Peacekeepers ordered, and they both pushed me forward. "You have one hour."
As the elevator closed and descended, I turned to see a platter of food on the table. I couldn't help myself - I lunged at it viciously, starvation taking over my instincts and nullifying my pride. I didn't care if there were cameras watching me. I felt more alone than I had in a long time, and I shoved bread and chicken into my mouth to combat my noisy stomach. I barely breathed through my meal, and I filled up faster than I anticipated. My stomach had shrunk with starvation. I knew I was probably going to get a stomach ache but I didn't care.
I was still weak from several days of not eating and also from the constant torture. The most recent blow to my stomach left me slightly hunched over, so I pulled the tray to the floor and continued to eat there. Weird how I was now so used to squatting on the floor. I laid there for a while after the meal to allow my body to process. My head swam, and I felt really warm from my metabolism waking up. It had food as fuel - it didn't need to deplete me of my muscles today. Still, the strength that I had built up before the Games was really waning. I felt shaky as I stood, my joints sore and aching from weeks on concrete.
Warm water spilled over me in the shower and it felt incredible. I don't know how long I just stood there, letting the water cascade over my sore muscles and torn skin as I shut my eyes and imagined that I was anywhere else. Imagined that I was with Katniss and my family. That we were all alive and together.
The clothes left out for me were simple: black pants and a white shirt. I began thinking again about Snow's last order. You'll have some visitors later. Don't embarrass me.
What the fuck did that mean? Just then I heard the elevator ding. Had it been an hour already? I hurried out of the bedroom, grabbing a small lamp from the bedside table to use as a weapon.
"Who are you?" I demanded, eyes flickering between the two men who had appeared in my suite. The were both tall, muscular, and wearing almost all black. One was in a suit and the other in jeans and a sweater. They were both clearly wealthy; I had never seen anyone like this in 12. Yet they didn't look like typical Capitol civilians either. There wasn't any makeup or strange hair colors. The one in the suit had dark hair with small, blue eyes. The one in the sweater was blond.
"There's no need for that, Peeta," the one in the suit smiled and then gestured to the other. "This is Ross, and I'm Michael. We're arranged a visit with you via the ever generous President Snow."
The one in the sweater has walked over to the bar to make himself a drink. "What should I pour you, Peeta?"
I ignored him. "Why are you here?"
Ross glanced over at Michael and then resumed to pouring himself a bourbon. "So testy. You really should have a drink." He poured two more glasses, handing one to Michael before approaching me. He set the glass on a table between us, a peace offering. "Please, put the lamp down," he gave me a strange look, seemingly puzzled by the fact that I was being defensive.
"We arranged this visit because we're big fans of yours," Michael smiled warmly, swirling the amber liquid around in his glass, before taking a swig. "President Snow said that you could probably use some friends right now."
Ross nodded, taking a seat in a big leather chair that Haymitch used to slouch in. "Now that I see you, I completely agree with President Snow. You don't look well-rested."
"They don't believe in sleep down in the basement." I responded, and then I felt it. A surge of electricity in my upper thigh, right above where my prosthetic was attached. I dropped the lamp in surprise. The only other time when I had felt that was in the arena when the Peacekeepers captured me and Johanna. But this time the shock was just a small fraction of that attack. It was like a short buzz - a buzz that hurt, but the feeling passed quickly.
"Are you feeling alright, Peeta?" Ross asked with concern. He set his glass down and had crossed the divide between us in a few strides. "Here, let me help you." He pulled me in his arms and started to walk me toward the couch. When I struggled against his grip the shock came back, this time with two zaps back to back.
"My leg," I murmured, catching myself against the back of the couch as my legs struggled to function.
"Shhh..." Ross urged, putting his arms back around me and practically moving me to the couch. I fell back into a seat heavily, grabbing at my thigh with both hands. Ross sat next to me and pushed the drink from before into my hands.
"Oh!" Michael gasped, pulling his hand slowly out of his pocket. He was holding a small device, about the size of keychain. "Is that what this little gadget does?" His surprise seemed clearly false. "Wow - President Snow was right. This is quite fun." And with that he clicked the small remote and my leg began to pulse with electricity again.
"Stop!" I grounded out between my clenched teeth and the shock faded away. "What the fuck are you doing?!"
Michael nodded approvingly at the little remote before putting it back in his pocket. "Oh, relax, I'm just messing with you," he teased, walking over to the bar. "Another drink, anyone?"
Ross looked at me with sincere brown eyes. "You'll want that drink." I eyed him suspiciously, my heart rate still elevated from the shocks to my leg. Why would Snow give him that? Why didn't they just torture me in the cell? Why did he have me eat and shower just to continue the torture?
Michael was now standing in front of me. "My friend told you to drink." He wasn't smiling anymore. I splashed my drink into his face and lunged for the pocket where he had placed the remote, but Ross had grabbed me almost just as quickly, wrenching my arms behind my back. My healing flesh screamed at the sudden movement. Michael licked his lips, tasting the alcohol that I had thrown in his face. He threaded a fist through my hair, pulling my head up to look at him. "Drink," he commanded, tipping his glass into my mouth. The bourbon burned, scorching my throat - I was still somewhat dehydrated. When I swallowed he released my hair, but Ross continued to hold my arms.
"See? That wasn't so bad," he assured me with a smile. "It's going to help, I promise."
"Help with what?" I asked, glaring up at Michael.
"Help you have fun," he answered, and then leaned down to kiss me.