CHAPTER 45

The Tribute Centre

How to tell a lovesick person that they're loved ones had for sure forgotten anything that had to do with them? That was the dilemma both Katniss and Johanna were in. They had talked to everyone whom they could trust, which was reduced very easily to a handful of people, and none had the answer. Ron and Rhett opted for telling Finnick, no matter how he would take it, while Prim and Mags opted for trying a more caring and paused approach. In the condition Finnick was in, such kind of news would only finish the job the Capitol had started, breaking him completely.

The day of her visit to Twelve had arrived, and Katniss couldn't help but be late as she stood beside Finnick's bed with Johanna. They had been waiting a week, wondering what to do, listening to various opinions, and just trying to deliver the horrible information in the best way possible. Only to realise there was no way to do that. If Peeta had been there, perhaps he could have done it, but not them. Much less in their 'mentally disorientated' state.

"Finnick, we know you're awake," said Katniss in the kindest of voices she could muster at the moment.

Finnick didn't respond. He continued to lie in his bed, unmoving, face down, as if he was trying to pass for a corpse. His faint sobs gave him away, though. He was awake, that much was obvious. What worried Katniss and Johanna was his reaction to the news. So, after making sure there were no sharp objects near, they gave the bad news.

"She's alive," Katniss said, which made Finnick jerk somewhat. She had his attention. "We didn't see her, but we know she's alive, and in the Capitol."

"Snow has her," added Johanna. "She's not Olive anymore. Apparently, he named her Livia." The name came out of the victor's lips like a curse, a clear hatred in her voice. "Livia Snow."

As if a corpse had truly come back to life, Finnick opened his eyes in a split second. The sedatives kept him lying down, but nothing could keep him from giving the two girls all his attention. "Livia Snow? What about her? Does she remember anything? Does she know who she was before the Quell? Did she—-"

"Finnick!" exclaimed Johanna, her patience running low. "We don't know. She just appeared in the background of Snow's damned speech."

"Speech?" Finnick asked, utterly confused, and for a good reason. Nobody in their right mind would allow someone as unstable as him to watch such a horrifying thing.

"He made all images of the Mockingjay illegal," Johanna replied for Katniss, who had grown quieter by the second. "There's been executions all around Panem since he announced it last week. Entire families dead. Victors gone. Nobody is safe in the Districts."

They had lost Finnick to his own worries, and it was in no way any better when he came back. "Her family…?"

"We don't know," Katniss blurted out and walked out of the hospital wing, tears pricking her eyes on the way to the Hovercraft.

It seemed as if everything had gone straight to hell, and it was her fault alone. She was responsible for the deaths and the executions. People were trying to follow an image that didn't exist. She wasn't the Mockingjay. She was seventeen, for goodness' sake. Only a year ago, she had struggled to keep herself and her family alive, and now she had to be the face of a rebellion? What kind of cruel joke was that? That meant every death, every loss, every wrong turn, was solely on her to blame. If they lost, it would be because of her. If Peeta died, she would be the only one left to blame. Olive, or Livia, had forgotten herself solely because of her.

Ron came into view just at the Hovercraft's entrance, the same worried expression he had worn for a month still intact as she approached. "Katniss…I don't know what happened, but it'll be fine. It'll be OK, I promise."

"Let's just go," Katniss said, and they departed without another word.

District Twelve was a mess, and not the clothes-everywhere kind of mess. It was a particular mess that involved destroyed buildings, skeleton corpses lying on what was left of the road, and the pungent smell of death in the air. Katniss had quite a few run-ins with most of them. The skeletons were the worst of them all. She could not evade them, no matter where she went. They were everywhere, tripping her, as if inviting her to join her, accusing her of their deaths, the despair they had lived in their last moments alive.

"What am I going to do?" Katniss mumbled to herself, though Ron, the only companion she had allowed, was there to hear.

Ron couldn't stay quiet any longer, though Katniss had actually allowed him to go with her with 'not bothering or meddling in' as her only demand. "Nothing. Not for them, anyway. They're dead."

"But…"

"Katniss, the past is in the past. You acted in the only way you had and knew to survive. That's OK. I don't think there's one Victor who wouldn't understand that, trust me." He approached the teen, resting a hand on her shoulder to give her some support, somehow, as if that could prove what his words weren't delivering all too well—that all Victors were there for her, him included. "The people in the ruins are dead and there's nothing to be done now. However, if you rephrase that question a bit, the real question is, what can you do for those out there? Those alive that trust you to their dying breaths. The ones that are battling, waiting for the Mockingjay to join. I know it's a lot of responsibility for someone your age, but if there's anybody you can help, it's them."

"By doing what? I'll never be allowed into battle," said Katniss.

"By being you," replied Ron. "Because that's what's got you this far, and that's what they expect.

Things got somewhat better at Victor's Village, which was quite the mocking reality. Katniss's house for the past year remained untouched. Not a single person had tried to go in, not even to take cover from the bombing. The last one bit remaining sign of life was, to Ron's astonishment, from a cat. One that Katniss seemed to know all too well.

"Buttercup," said Katniss. "Come here, boy. Want to see Prim?"

The cat approached her at the mention of Prim, which turned out to be somewhat of a bad idea. Without caring for the cat in question, Katniss took him and left him in her game bag. Soon she was asking for him to keep the whole interaction a secret, which made Ron assure her that she didn't have to go to any lengths to get him to keep quiet. He wouldn't say a thing about the cat. After a month of living in the district, he hadn't grown particularly attached to any of Thirteen's rules, either.

In the kitchen, Ron pulled into his own bag any medical herbs that Katniss pointed out before she disappeared around the corner. He waited, taking a couple more things to appease the little voice in his head that told him 'just in case', but, as time passed and Katniss didn't get back, he went after her. She was at the house's studio, staring directly into a vase of dried flowers.

"What's wrong, Katniss?"

Katniss turned, a fresh white rose in her hand. "He's been here."

Without another word, Ron made her let go of the rose and took her outside. The trip to Twelve was over.

The moment the Hovercraft's entrance opened in District Thirteen, Piscia and Cario came into view. They had news for Ron from Command, unfortunately not ones that let him relax for a second. He turned to look at Katniss and, seeing as she was already with her friend, Gale, he promised to see her later for dinner. It was against his orders to tell Katniss, and, despite he hated it, he couldn't go against them with so many people present. Instead, he went to the first person who ought to know.

Johanna was the first to welcome him to the medical wing, followed by an exhausted, more mentally than physically, Finnick. He was still lying down, his arm pricked by a million tubes, all feeding who knew what to his body. It was clear there wasn't much progress being made regarding his situation, nor would his news help in any way.

"Commander Paylor has notified President Coin this morning. Olive's family, Librae, Muscida, and Clem are in District Eight, helping in the hospital." The reactions were so mild that Ron felt forced to add context to the two younger victors' sudden hopes. "Eight is bombarded sadly quite often. Something might happen. One wrong step, and they're all dead."

Finnick's head fell back into his pillow, giving up completely, and Johanna wasn't any better. The news had knocked out any last bit of hope out of them for now. And there was no good news to be said, no way to keep their spirits up. Not without lying, anyway.

It almost seemed as if minutes passed as quickly as the beat of a Hummingbird's wings. One minute Ron was chatting with Finnick and Johanna to keep their minds off reality for a while, and the other, he received yet another row of orders from Command. Directly from Command, which was all the worst. He had to attend to some kind of reunion, which he soon realised would not be like any other they had before. To begin with, Katniss was there, for no good reason as well. Then, as if they were about to show the devil in person through the screens, Plutarch got them to approach to get a closer look.

Caesar Flickerman, the host of The Hunger Games, appeared right away with his usual sparkly suit and exaggerated make-up. But he wasn't about to do a review of someone's scandalous dress or highlight his favourite trend. He was there to give an interview. An interview with none other than Peeta Mellark. A perfect Peeta. Healthy, skin as perfect as ever, and no signs of torture.

"So… Peeta… welcome back," greeted Caesar.

"I bet you thought you'd done your last interview with me, Caesar," Peeta said, his lips pulled into a faint smile.

"I confess, I did," replied Caesar. "The night before the Quarter Quell… well, who ever thought we'd see you again?"

"It wasn't part of my plan, that's for sure," Peeta commented, frowning as he looked at something behind the cameras for a second, rapidly directing his attention back to the interviewer.

"I think it was clear to all of us what your plan was. To sacrifice yourself in the arena so that Katniss Everdeen and your child could survive." Caesar said, leaning forward a bit as if he was telling a secret.

"That was it. Clear and simple. And, from what I know, I wasn't the only one with that strategy." Peeta looked back at his seat, tracing the pattern on the arm of his chair, his eyes looking for someone beside him who was yet to be seen. "But other people had plans as well."

The camera then cut to a wider angle, letting everyone see who was beside Peeta without losing sight of him. And there, untouched, as if no harm had come to her either, appeared Olive Cresta, better known that past week as Livia Snow. Her hair was loose, dancing down her shoulders like a black waterfall. 'Perfect Capitol beauty' was the first thing that came to Katniss's mind when her eyes landed on the girl who had once been her friend, the one who she'd never meet again.

"As I've been told, my plans had nothing to do with you, Peeta," Livia fidgeted with her hands, nervous. "Excuse me, Caesar, I can already tell I won't be of much help."

"Don't worry, dear. Can you perhaps recall anything of that night?" Caesar asked.

"No… not one thing at all," replied Livia. "I mean, I've seen the footage, but… it just feels surreal. It's hard for me to believe the person in those images is me at all."

"It will come back sooner or later," said Caesar. "For now, how about you tell us your opinion of what you've seen so far?"

"I'm not sure." Livia leaned back, getting smaller, as if she wanted to disappear into the chair. "It's just odd to see those people. Some are dead, some are still alive. I mean, I didn't know of Peeta's existence until a few days ago. We're staying pretty near one another, don't we, Peeta?"

Peeta flinched for no reason and nodded. His eyes travelled from Caesar to Livia, inspecting her up and down with a worried stare. There was something about that way of looking at her that Katniss didn't like. It was as if she was staring at a disorganised puzzle. In her sea of thoughts, only one managed to grip onto her mind for long enough to get registered. Not everything was as perfect for Peeta and Livia as the Capitol wanted to make it seem.

"It's too bad. But, well, since you're here, Peeta, why don't you tell us about that last night in the arena? Help us sort a few things out," said Caesar.

Peeta, contrary to his partner, leaned in, ready to explain. "That last night… to tell you about that last night… well, first of all, you have to imagine how it felt in the arena. It was like being an insect trapped under a bowl filled with steaming air. And all around you, jungle… green and alive and ticking. That giant clock ticking away your life. Every hour promising some new horror. You have to imagine that in the past two days, fifteen people have died—some of them defending you. At the rate things are going, the last nine will be dead by morning. Save one. The victor. And your plan is that it won't be you."

An eerie silence spread like wildfire around Command. Ron had just managed to pull himself together for long enough to get closer to Katniss, placing an arm around her shoulders protectively, as if the interviews weren't hurting him as much as her. They were both staring at their loved ones desperately, seeing all their hopes left burning themselves up to ashes.

"Once you're in the arena, the rest of the world becomes very distant," Peeta continued.

"All the people you loved or cared about almost cease to exist. The pink sky and the monsters in the jungle and the tributes who want your blood become your final reality, the only one that ever mattered. 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 intervened.

"No," Livia mumbled to herself, surprising more than the crowd in Command.

Peeta gave her a worried glance, but carried on nonetheless, as if stopping for a second was not allowed for that interview. "Oh, no. It costs a lot more than your life. To murder innocent people?" His tone differed from serious to mockery, another odd change that nobody really expected. "It costs everything you are."

"Everything you are," Caesar repeated in a whisper.

Peeta sat back, continuing his explanation seemingly so effortlessly. "So you hold on to your wish. And that last night, yes, my wish was to save Katniss. But even without knowing about the rebels, it didn't feel right. Everything was too complicated. I found myself regretting I hadn't run off with her earlier in the day, as she had suggested. But there was no getting out of it at that point."

"You were too caught up in Beetee's plan to electrify the salt lake," Caesar said, causing Peeta to huff.

"Too busy playing allies with the others. I should have never let them separate us!" Peeta burst out. "That's when I lost her… and —."

Katniss and Ron exchanged concerned glances. It hadn't just been her imagination. The Capitol had blocked whatever Peeta had said after the 'and'. A quick phrase surely, as it was too quick to notice. Somehow related to Livia, too, as his eyes briefly met hers.

"When you stayed at the lightning tree, and she and Johanna Mason took the coil of wire to the water," Caesar clarified.

"I didn't want to!" Peeta's agitated expression was a first for most, even Katniss. "But I couldn't argue with Beetee without indicating we were about to break away from the alliance. When that wire was cut, everything just went insane. I can only remember bits and pieces. Trying to find her. Watching Brutus kill Chaff. Helping," he stopped, pointing beside him to Livia, "her kill Brutus. Trying to get back to the tree with her. I know Katniss was calling my name, and I think Finnick called her," he pointed to Livia again, "too. Then the lightning bolt hit the tree, and the force field around the arena… blew out."

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

"She didn't know what she was doing. None of us could follow Beetee's plan. You can see her trying to figure out what to do with that wire," Peeta snapped, not allowing a single second for anyone to doubt Katniss's intentions.

Ron was tempted to turn back around and leave. The interview was going nowhere. It was simple Capitol propaganda, and he was deeply tired of it. However, how could he ever face Finnick if he left and missed some important information regarding his wife? So he stayed, only caring for Livia's reactions and a few interventions. At least, until the word 'cease-fire' appeared.

"Yes. I'm—" Peeta glanced one more time towards Livia—"we're calling for a cease-fire," he replied tiredly. "Now why don't we ask the guards to take us back to our quarters, so we can build another hundred card houses?"

There was a brief pause, and then Caesar looked at the camera. "All right. I think that wraps it up. So back to our regularly scheduled programming."

Music played over them as their images faded, and another woman appeared, listing all the expected shortages in the Capitol. There was no longer any reason to care, not a single reason to stay in Command. Katniss turned around at the same time Ron did, exiting Command despite Coin's objections.