Some of the content of this chapter draws heavily on and in some cases quotes directly from chapter 2 of Mockingjay itself (pages 21-26 of my edition which is ISBN 978-0-439-02354-2), when you read it I hope you'll understand why. There really wasn't any other way to do it, considering. Though I did borrow Caesar's description from the movie, because that suit was fabulous. All that being said, I hope you like it.

I can't look at the new prep team and stylist when the first come in. They must know what happened to the previous team. They must be afraid of getting too close. They don't introduce themselves. They just get to work. It's a grand day. I'm supposed to be happy that I'm well again.

Today, I'm washed and pressed and powdered and cleaned and scented and put into a nice white suit that I feel the president must have picked out of his old closet himself not that anyone in the Capitol probably keeps anything more than three weeks and then I have an honor guard accompanying me to a room not too far away. I wonder if it's the same room I met President Snow in just re-furnished. There are cameras, and large arm chairs. It looks almost cosy, flowers on low tables, warm steaming mugs of chocolate, and to the side Caesar is in a patterned suit, dark with blue and gold floral print, it glitters and sparkles, of course.

His face lights up when he sees me and he bats away his prep team who are making sure the poof on his pale pink hair is appropriately poofy, "Oh, come on, if you haven't got me looking gorgeous by now you're not going to work any miracles," and he guffaws at himself, throwing his head back, and comes over to me. The guards move to sides of the room, somewhat discreetly. I'm impressed.

"Peeta, my boy! So good to see you." He gives me a slight hug and then pulls back I try to work out if it's genuine concern that I flinched, "Don't you worry now, you know I only bite if you ask me."

I wonder if they've threatened him too. If I don't perform to expectations will he also be beaten or shot?

He puts his hand on my shoulder, "It will be alright," he insists, "do you know what you're going to say?"

"You mean other than promoting a cease fire?"

He pats my shoulder gently, "Peace would help everyone." Caesar says.

I look from left to right at the guards and think better of saying what I really think about that notion, how the districts can't go back to being under the Capitol's heel.

"Come sit," Caesar says, guiding me to the chairs, "Let's get comfortable. It's just going to be a nice chit chat. Just take it like that. Nice and easy." He leans forward and pats my real leg after we've sat down, "We won't start rolling until you're ready."

I shake my head, "Let's just dive in, if that's okay with you."

"Ever the work horse," Caesar says, "That's one of the many things I admire about you."

I can't help but smile.

"There we go," he says, "There's the Peeta I remember."

He waves at his crew and settles back in the chair.

"So...Peeta...welcome back."

I treat him to a slight smile, "I bet you thought you'd done your last interview with me, Caesar."

I have to admit it's easy to speak of the next things because it's mostly true, other than the "baby bomb" as Haymitch calls it. I was willing to sacrifice myself so that Katniss would get out. I'd said as much to Haymitch when they first announced the tributes for the 75th games would be reaped from the existing victims. Maybe if I can make people see the depth and terror of the games it will help.

So I describe it. The arena, the jungle. I tell them we were insects trapped in a bowl. How the rest of the world falls away and the blood is all that's real, because I can still see it. The blood of the Morphling who threw herself in front of the mutt monkey and Brutus...oh Brutus. I'll have to talk about that, to make them understand.

"As bad as it makes you feel, you're going to have to do some killing, because in the arena you only get one wish. And it's very costly."

"It costs your life." Caesar assumes.

"Oh, no. It costs a lot more than your life." I correct him, hearing Brutus' skull crush beneath Chaff's hand blade as I stabbed it in there over and over, "To murder innocent people? It costs everything you are."

"Everything you are." Caesar repeats.

There's no way he could possibly understand though, sitting there in his sparkling suit, going home every day to hundreds more of them, and his scented showers and social circles and banquets. I've seen the articles about him during the other visits to the Capitol. Katniss and I spent a half hour making jokes about him watching a biography of his while taking a break from reviewing tapes of previous Hunger Games.

"So, yes," I explain to him how I absolutely wanted to save Katniss. I admit it would have been better if we'd found a way to escape. What could it matter at this point if I say such things? It's already over and done with, she's there and I'm here and there are too many other things that I have to do. I may as well be truthful before I have to.

Caesar brings up Beetee then and the "plan" that we were told about. I've seen it over and over this past week and it's got me more and more frustrated.

I wind up yelling at him that we were too caught up in the allies game and how it caused me to lose her, how we couldn't press the argument without making our plan to betray them too clear. I wonder then exactly where they'll transmit this too, if wherever she is, she'll see this. Is she back in our district? Surely it would be too obvious for the rebels to be hiding out there-do they have some secret place within the Capitol itself? That would be funny, hiding right under Snow's imperious nose.

I wonder if she'll see it because then I have to admit, "When the wire was cut everything went insane. I can only remember bits and pieces. Trying to find her. Watching Brutus kill Chaff." Block out the blood, "Killing Brutus myself." No details. Don't need details, "I know she was calling my name. Then the lightning bolt hit the tree," and the sky exploded, "and the force field around the arena...blew out."

"Katniss blew it out, Peeta. You've seen the footage."

Do you know HOW many times I've seen that footage, Caesar? Do you? But instead I just angrily point out to him that none of us knew what Beetee's actual plan was.

"All right," Caesar puts his hands up, "It just looks suspicious. As if she was part of the rebels' plan all along."

I don't quite realize I'm in his face until I'm in his face. Once I do I wonder if the guards are going to shoot me, but I plow on anyway and we'll see what happens, "Really? And was it part of her plan for Johanna to nearly kill her? For that electric shock to paralyze her? To trigger the bombing? She didn't know, Caesar! Neither of us knew anything except we were trying to keep each other alive!"

He puts his hands on my chest, "Okay, Peeta." I honestly believe at that point that he might genuinely care about my feelings, "I believe you."

"Okay," I sit back down, willing myself not to break down completely. Please say we're done. I just want to sleep.

But then he asks me about Haymitch. I have no idea about Haymitch and I tell him so. Clearly, he knew a bunch of things, but I'm not going to tell him that. The fact that I shouldn't have trusted him is out before I meant it to be, but obviously Haymitch was in on things. He set things up with Finnick. He sent us packages. He set up alliances that we didn't even begin understand. People throwing their lives away for us, that poor Morphling woman, Chaff-his own good friend.

Caesar leans over and pats my shoulder, "We can stop now if you want."

Oh, thank you, "Was there more to discuss?"

"I was going to ask your thoughts on the war..." he says. I can feel my stomach sinking, at the same time those words rise up inside my brain like clockwork, "but if you're too upset..."

"Oh, I'm not too upset to answer that," I lie. Best to do what they ask, Portia said. Safer that way. They're not my words, and it's not my mouth, "I want everyone watching-whether you're on the Capitol or on the rebel side..." and out they come.

Even when Caesar talks with me, more words...some of them I don't remember hearing before, card houses? where did that come from?

Did the camera turn off before I put my hands over my mouth?

"That was a wonderful interview, my boy. I wouldn't be surprised if you brought people to tears!" Caesar says, "I don't think I was too bad either!" he laughs, throwing his head back, "Wasn't he amazing?"

His prep team and stylist applaud politely. One of the guards does too.

I throw up into a nearby flower vase.