"People of Panem, we fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice!"
There's dead silence on set. It goes on. And on.
Finally, the intercom crackles and Haymitch's acerbic laugh fills the studios. He contains himself just long enough to say, "And that, my friends, is how a revolution dies.
Frowning, I hold my hand up to forehead to shield my eyes from the light. Sure enough, I see Haymitch through the glass of the booth, looking slightly yellow, thin, and sickly. Liquor is not permitted in Thirteen, so I assume that he must have dried out for good this time.
In the corner I see Peeta and Gale, also looking at me. It feels very odd to see them both standing together, seemingly on the same side. Peeta is grimacing but gives me a thumbs up. Of course. Gale just shakes his head and looks like he's about to laugh. It doesn't feel great, but I know immediately that Haymitch is right about my performance.
It takes the rest of the morning for him to convince the others of my limitations. That I can't pull it off. I can't stand in a television studio wearing a costume and makeup in a cloud of fake smoke and rally the districts to victory. It's amazing, really, how long I survived in front of the cameras. The credit for that, of course, goes to Peeta. Alone, I can't be the Mockingjay.
"Why can't Peeta just say the stupid line?" I say through gritted teeth for what feels like the millionth time. Fulvia glares at me.
"Because," says Plutarch tiredly, "You are the Mockingjay. You have to be the first one they hear from. It's all part of the plan. Peeta will be able to say plenty of lines later, but we need at least one from you, Katniss."
I look to Peeta pleadingly. He shakes his head.
"He's right, Katniss. They want to hear from you."
Once Haymitch has convinced everyone that we need a new angle, we head to command. Haymitch has gathered an odd assortment of people including Gale, Peeta, my prep team, who still look haggard and uncomfortable, and some people from Twelve that I can't explain, like Leevy and Greasy Sae.
The first thing Haymitch does is show the footage we've just shot. I seem to have reached some new low under Plutarch and Fulvia's guidance. Both my voice and body have a jerky, disjointed quality, like a puppet being manipulated by unseen forces.
"All right," Haymitch says when it's over. "I want everyone to think of one incident when Katniss Everdeen genuinely moved you. Not where you were jealous of her hairstyle, or her dress went up in flames, or she made a halfway decent shot with an arrow. Not where Peeta was making you like her."
Peeta looks at me apologetically. I scowl at him.
"I want to hear one moment where she made you feel something real."
Quiet stretches out and I'm beginning to think that it will never end, when Leevy speaks up. "When she volunteered to take Prim's place at the reaping. Because I'm sure she thought she was going to die."
"Good. Excellent example," says Haymitch and makes a note on a notepad. "Somebody else."
"When she sang the song. While the little girl died." I'm surprised to see that this next speaker is Boggs, who I've come to think of as one of Coin's muscular robots.
"I cried when she drugged Peeta so she could go get him medicine and when she kissed him goodbye!" blurts out Octavia.
"When she spoke to Rue and Thresh's families in Eleven." Peeta says quietly. I remember that day. How I needed to thank them for what their children did. I feel my throat tightening and I take Peeta's hand. He squeezes mine and I don't let go.
And then the moments start to come thick and fast and in no particular order. When I took on Rue as an ally. Extended my hand to Chaff on interview night. Tried to carry Mags. And again and again when I held out those berries that meant different things to different people. Love for Peeta. Refusal to gin in under impossible odds. Defiance of the Capitol's humanity.
Haymitch holds up the notepad. "So, the question is, what do all of these have in common?"
"They were Katniss's," Gale says quietly. "No one told her what to say."
"Unscripted, yes!" says Beetee. "So we should just leave you a lone, right?"
People laugh and I even smile a little.
"What are you suggesting, that we send her into combat?" says Fulvia, rolling her eyes.
"That's exactly what I'm suggesting." says Haymitch. I look up at him and I swear he winks at me. "Put her out in the field and keep the cameras rolling."
"But people think she's pregnant," Gale points out.
"We'll spread the word that she lost the baby from the electrical shock in the arena," Plutarch replies. "Very sad. Very unfortunate."
The idea of sending me into combat is very controversial. But Haymitch has a pretty tight case.
"I want to go," I break in. "I'm no help to the rebels here."
"I'll go too," says Peeta.
"No." I say, looking at him. "No, you have to stay here."
"If you're going I'm going." he says stubbornly.
"It doesn't make any sense for you to go," I say, lowering my voice even though everyone can certainly hear us. "I can shoot, at least, but you…"
I trail off. No matter what I say, it's going to sound bad. But Peeta laughs.
"I'm useless in combat, sure." he says honestly. "But I can be in the propos. We were allies in the games, we should be allies in the rebellion."
"Allies in the rebellion!" Plutarch says, clapping his hands together. "I love it!"
I frown, because the last thing I want is for Peeta to get hurt trying to protect me. But everyone else seems to think it's a great idea, so I'm overruled.
"Fine." says Coin. "But let's take it one step at a time. Find the least dangerous situation that can evoke some spontaneity in Katniss. Take them to Eight this afternoon. There was heavy bombing this morning by the raid seems to have run its course. I want them armed with a squad of bodyguards. Camera crew on the ground. Anything else?"
"Wash her face." says Dalton. Everyone turns to him. "She's still a girl and you made her look thirty-five. Feels wrong. Like something the Capitol would do."
When the meeting's adjourned, everyone filters out into the hallway. I'm supposed to go to the Remake Room to lose the makeup, but I have other plans to attend to first. Gale heads down to see Beetee about armor and his bow, but I hang back and pull Peeta around a corner.
"Hey," he says, grinning as he leans up agains the wall. "Good work in there."
"Shut up. I don't want you to come to Eight." I say firmly, ignoring his attempt at small talk, trying to ignore the way his eyes light up when he looks at me. Definitely have to ignore that. He laughs.
"You sound like you're worried about me." he says innocently.
"Yeah, I am." I say gruffly. "You don't know how to use a bow, you've never shot a gun before, you're still all beat up from the Quell, it's too dangerous. I know what you're trying to do."
"Which is what?" he asks, smirking.
"You're trying to protect me!" I say, a little louder than I mean to. "But you're the one who always needs protecting."
He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Well, lucky for me, I have you for that."
Damn. I was hoping I could intimidate him into not coming, but I should have known it wouldn't work. Peeta has never cared about looking weak, whether it means crying at the reaping, covering himself in leaves so that he could hide, or relying on me to do the fighting. There were a lot of boys I knew, some I still do, who wouldn't be able to take the perceived humiliation, but he's never cared I'm better at fighting than he is. I sigh, ready to give up, when Peeta leans in and whispers in my ear.
"I like that you worry about me," he says softly and I feel goosebumps run down my arms. Here he is, very close to my face again, and I'm finding more and more that I don't mind. I might even like it. No! I don't like it. I have to convince him to stay here and he's making it complicated.
"I don't care whether you like it or not." I say defiantly. "It's just what you and I do. We keep each other alive."
Peeta nods but doesn't say anything. His eyes are very blue. He has freckles on his nose I've never noticed. And before I know it, we're kissing. I feel the lipstick they put on me this morning smudging but I don't care. When we break away I laugh because Peeta has a red smeared across his lips. I move to wipe it away when out of the corner of my eye I see—Gale. I take a step away from Peeta but I know the damage is done.
Gale doesn't look angry, which makes me feel worse. He just looks sad. I try to say something but no words come out.
"Beetee wants you down in the armory." he says and his voice sounds hollow. "You too, Peeta." Then he turns and walks away. I want to follow him, to say—what, exactly? There doesn't seem to be anything I could say to make this better, so I let him walk away. I lean against the wall and slide down to the floor, putting my head in my hands. Peeta kneels down next to me.
"Sorry," he says, rubbing the makeup off my face after he's cleaned his own.
"What are you sorry about?" I snap. "Isn't this what you wanted?"
Peeta raises his eyebrows.
"I'm sorry," I say, pressing my hands over my eyes. "I didn't mean, you know, I just…I don't want anyone to get hurt because of something I did. It's not your fault."
He nods and puts an arm around me.
"Katniss," he says slowly. "I don't want to presume anything, and I meant what I said last night. I don't know what you do when you're not with me, and I know there's, well, something, between you two…"
I make an indignant sort of snort, trying to object, but he stops me.
"It's alright," he says. "It would be stupid to pretend otherwise."
"Nothing's happened since before the Quell." I say honestly. "Since, the woods. No, wait. Since he was whipped in the square. I kissed him while he was sleeping. I didn't tell you that, but I didn't think…I don't know what I thought."
Peeta doesn't look surprised to hear this and doesn't look hurt either, which is a relief.
"I think you should take all the time you need." Peeta says kindly, and I know he means it. "There are more important things going on right now, and you really don't need to be worrying about any of this. But, I guess what I'm trying to say is that if you're gonna keep kissing me in public places, you might want to talk to him."
I give Peeta a soft punch on the arm and look at him with mock outrage. He laughs and stands up, pulling me with him.
"I'm not complaining, just to be clear." he says with a grin. I roll my eyes and we start to walk down the hall together.
Maybe he's right. The least I could do at this point is talk to Gale. But what would I tell him? It's not like Peeta's my boyfriend or anything, not really. Sure, everyone in the country technically saw us get engaged but Gale knows that was just for show. Boyfriend. I shudder when I think about it. I've never had a boyfriend and I've never really wanted one, and besides that, the term seems so silly, so immature after everything Peeta and I have been through. No matter what, he's more to me than that. But then, what is he? "Lover" was what Coin called him, but that doesn't really seem to fit either. Friend doesn't seem to encompass enough. We haven't been just allies since the first games. My head's starting to hurt and I remember that I'm supposed to go to the armory, remember that we're going into a combat zone this afternoon and I'd better get myself together. No time to be thinking about this.
I leave Peeta to go wash my face and then head down to the armory. Beetee helps me with the armor Cinna designed when Finnick walks in.
"Thank you," he says and I look at him, unsure what he's talking about. Beetee has gone into some back room to make some adjustments so Finnick and I are left alone. "For Annie. Making the deal with Coin."
"Of course," I say softly, touching his shoulder. He looks like a mess. He's still in hospital clothes and his face looks sallow, his cheeks gaunt. "She's going to be alright."
He nods, looking at the ground and hear him sniffle.
"There's no reason for Snow to keep her there," he whispers. "She doesn't know anything. He's just doing it to punish me. I should have made sure that she was safe. I should have just let Brutus kill me in the arena."
"Finnick, I'm so sorry." I say. I put my hand on his back like I think my mother would, hoping it might help. He chokes out a few sobs but then stops, wiping his eyes on his sleeves. He manages a smile that makes him look a bit like his old self again.
"Well," he says, "I'm glad Peeta got out."
I look at him, unsure what he means by this.
"I'm sure Snow would have loved to have Peeta locked up the way he has Annie. Would have loved to have something to hold over you."
I shake my head, not understanding.
"I misjudged you, when I first met you." Finnick says, patting my hand. "I was sure that the whole romance was an act on your part. But, when Peet hit the force field, that was when…"
He trails off, looking lost in his own thoughts.
"That's when what?" I ask. He blinks a few times, seemingly coming back to reality.
"That's when I knew you really loved him." he says, smiling sadly. "Anyone watching how you reacted would have been able to see. So, I'm sure that Snow would have loved to hold Peeta over you the way he's doing it to me with Annie."
I think about being in the arena, how I sobbed when Finnick had revived Peeta. The quizzical look on Finnick's face. The way he'd excused my odd behavior, blaming it on the pregnancy.
"But Snow didn't get him." Finnick says, and this time he looks even more like his old self. Determined, strong. "And that counts for something because you're more important than all of us, which means Peeta is too. You can change this war, Katniss. You can help us win."
I let all this sink in as Beetee comes back and adjusts my armor. "That's how I knew you really loved him. Anyone watching how you reacted would have been able to see." Was this true? Of course, I love Peeta. In what way, I'm still not sure. But if I was willing to give my own life to save his, of course I must love him. Did that mean that I'm in love with him, they way he is with me? I don't think so. Not yet, at least. But when I force myself to think of a future after this war, because there really could be one, what do I want? Do I really want to be alone for the rest of my life? No. A small voice in the back of my mind pipes up. You don't want to be alone. I'd do find alone. I'd survive. There's more than just surviving, the voice whispers.
Well, maybe there's no point wondering what I'll want when the war is over, because if there's a chance I'll survive there's even more of a chance I won't. So, what do I want now, right now, this moment? Sudden thoughts of sitting next to Peeta at meal times, of holding his hand as we walk through the hallways of Thirteen, of kissing him, alone, of just sleeping together again, runs through my mind.
I force myself to think of all the same things, but with Gale instead. Sitting next to Gale at meals, holding his hand, kissing him—but I can't help feeling strangely guilty about it. I can't help but picture Peeta's face, his bright, friendly smile. I think about what I would lose with Gale if I tried to be more than his friend. The closeness would be different. Joking around, hunting, making fun of each other, talking about everything we talk about…it would be different if we were in a relationship.
But if I chose Peeta, if I actually chose to be with him, wouldn't that change my friendship with Gale no matter what? Would he be able to be around me? Look at me, talk to me, the same way we always have? Or would there always be this unspoken sadness between us?
I need to talk to Gale. If I had my way, I would never have to deal with this, but if we're about to go into active combat, in a matter of hours at that, I need to talk to him now.