CHAPTER 46

One Step Forward, Three Steps Back

Ever since the Quarter Quell had been blown out, the Training Centre had known hardly any silence. Screams and pleads had flooded every inch of the lower levels for a month, perhaps longer. Three of the six initial residents were still there, for better or for worse. They hadn't been tortured to death like the two Avoxes that were once located in the cells across from them, neither had they been liberated like one of their fellow Victors.

Their days and nights had blended together under the same white artificial lights and grey walls with no windows. They could only figure out the time thanks to their visitors. Doctors marched in every once a day along with a little ration of food that was given to them by a pretty beaten-up pair of dark-haired Avoxes. Any serious injury that their bodies could hold after their respective tortures got fixed up in less than half an hour. If there was nothing to cure, they injected them with whatever could make someone's skin boil, and left them to suffer their way to the bowl of food.

Peeta had the worst part. It wasn't planned for it to be like that from the beginning, though. Before their first week was over in those cells, it was clear there would be no better treatment for them. So he made a deal. His clever way with words came to flourish, and he managed a pretty good exchange, though it had cost him his only friend.

A few hours a day, the cells were dead quiet. So much that it didn't even seem as if he was in the same room as two other living people. Both were very much alive, only too scared to move or make any sound. Peeta could see them perfectly well. His old friend lay still in the cell next to him, barely even breathing as her head rested against the bars. The other was a little girl no older than thirteen or fourteen whose name seemed familiar; Minerva. He had asked Olive when the girl got brought in the second week, but she was far from being herself by then. She had not one recollection of her past, let alone herself or her family.

Minerva couldn't understand the current situation, much less handle it like he or Olive had for the first few days. She shivered in a corner each day, praying not to be next whenever the torturers finished their jobs with the older prisoners. At least those people knew some decency. She hadn't been touched once except to keep track of her pulse or make sure she wasn't suffering from inanition.

"Minerva, you should eat."

The first words Olive had breathed out since Peeta had been awake, and it wasn't anything other than pure worry for someone else's well-being. It astounded him how someone could resemble so much their own selves despite having lost all memory. She wasn't entirely like the old Olive, of course. In a place like that, he doubted he would ever get to see her laugh again. He heard an occasional chuckle every few days, whenever they managed to pass part of their enhanced meals to Minerva, who nibbled at them without a care of what it was. More than a well-fed and extravagant Capitol girl, she resembled far more one of the hundreds of starving kids from the Seam.

"You gave me your entire tray," said Minerva, trying to get her arms to cooperate to send it back.

"Just keep it." The left corner of Olive's lips curled up faintly. "It'll do better for you than me."

Peeta approached their adjoined bars, grasping a hold of her hand to claim her attention. "They'll force you to eat again through that tube, Liv."

'Liv' was the only name she responded to. Whether it was due to her own confusion or because Caesar had made the outrageous mistake of letting that nickname slip out during their first interview a month ago, she took it as her own name. It didn't help that Snow had found a way around it, confusing her even more when she tried to make out what was real from what was not. Something Peeta could not help her at all.

"Let them," she replied. "I got requested to 'sit still and look pretty' in another of my grandfather's speeches. I'll get to meet my darling younger sister today. Let them all see the marks on my face. Let them know that Livia Snow is being treated like a criminal." She then fell quiet, but before either Minerva or Peeta could say a word, she asked the one question Peeta had been fighting back for weeks. "Peeta, are you sure my name's not Livia Snow?"

Peeta nodded and rested his head against the bars, keeping one eye on Liv just in case. "Absolutely sure."

"But that's what I remember. I was… no… it was Clarea…" Clarea doubted. "No, Amelia…" Amelia corrected herself. "Wait… what was my name? No! I had a name! I HAD A NAME!"

"Hey Liv, look at me, please." Peeta tried to reach out for her again, but only got Liv to flinch and jerk her hand away. "It was Olive. Your name is Olive—-Olive Navin Cresta Odair. You're married to Finnick Odair and—"

"No…" Liv cut him off, her hand falling off the bars to land on her lap. "Finnick Odair tried to kill me… he… Which one was he? The blond! The blond tried to kill me!"

Peeta sighed, but didn't accept defeat yet. "He's not blond, Liv. His hair is bronze and his eyes are sea green. The only blond one in the Arena was me, and I never tried to kill you."

"But…" She sat up properly, not needing the bars to keep her up anymore as she stared into his eyes. "My memories… I know he… I remembered… He…"

"You didn't." It destroyed Peeta to have to be the messenger of such news. "You're not remembering, Liv. They're feeding you memories. None of them are real."

Her face fell, and Peeta did not get to hear her again until minutes later. "Then… Why? Everyone calls me Livia Snow. Why?"

"To hurt Finnick most likely," he replied. "I guess they want to put you as far from a rebel leader as possible, so even if the rebels won, you'd be killed."

"WHY KEEP ME ALIVE, THEN!" She threw herself back at the bars, gripping them as if she could break them apart with her little strength alone. "WHY ARE WE ALIVE! THEY COULD KILL US NOW AND BE DONE WITH IT!"

"We are no of use dead." Peeta glanced at Minerva, who was already rocking back and forth and the furthest corner of her cell. "Katniss and Finnick would have nobody to feel guilty for. Without us, I bet the war would end in a matter of days. Finnick would storm the Capitol and kill Snow by himself if anything were to happen to you."

"Liar," she mumbled and backed down. "If he would, why isn't he here already? Why aren't either of them here?"

Peeta sighed and buried his head in his hands. "I don't know."

One would think that chatter could be the best thing to keep alive at moments like that. Liv would agree at points. When her torture was minutes away, she would kill to have something to talk about with Peeta and Minerva that could get both of them to laugh. She wanted something to hold on to at her worst, like they had. Peeta had Katniss, and Minerva had her aunt. All Liv had was the faint recollections of a blond man swinging his trident at her, and the footage of the last five minutes in the Arena, which did not explain much relationship-wise.

All of Peeta's promises of a husband and a lovely family were only good to fantasise hopelessly as she awaited the entrance doors to swing open, revealing her everyday torture. That day, she dreamed of a loving husband and a healthy child, one that resembled her. She smiled at the idea of a boy named like his father. Just imagining herself calling out a nickname and both of them turning around gave her a kind of joy no other chatter could.

It was also amusing to see the torturers be taken aback by it. Her smile was so faint yet so brilliant and odd. A feat in a place as grim as the one she was in, with horrors every day, and no hope for an escape. The perfect sign of a demented mind that had no lingering connections to reality itself.

If anybody were to tell Liv that at that same moment Katniss Everdeen, the reason she was being tortured in the Capitol, was fighting for her safety, she would laugh and proclaim them crazy. Nevertheless, that was exactly what was going on over at Thirteen that morning. Katniss had been called over right after breakfast, most likely to discuss something about the previous day's interview. She hadn't given them the time to have a single word in when she asked for a piece of paper and a pen, where she wrote down every single one of her demands to be the Mockingjay.

She had just written 'I KILL SNOW' at the bottom of it all when Plutarch decided to get her attention back to reality, and, more importantly, time. "About done there?"

"Yes," replied Katniss, seeing as she had spent twenty minutes writing down her list. "Yeah, so this is the deal. I'll be your Mockingjay."

There was a brief pause. Katniss wanted to let people celebrate, sigh in relief, and congratulate one another. Only District Four's Victors and Coin remain patient. Both for different reasons. The Victors knew what was going on wasn't a naive girl giving up her private life for the sake of something she didn't understand. It was a deal, an exchange, and Katniss's following words made it clear to everyone.

"But I have some conditions." Ron practically nodded when he heard her, as if he was saying to himself, 'There it is'. "My family gets to keep our cat."

Katniss was sure she had heard someone laugh, but that was the abnormality in that particular sea of people. Most were in fact arguing about how could she ask something like that, let alone ask anything at all. It seemed as if the people in High Command considered serving the Nation primordial no matter how disadvantageous or demoralising that could be for the person on the first line.

Regardless, they had to accept if they wanted their Mockingjay, leading Katniss to continue with her list. She asked for time to go hunting along with a person of her choice, which, of course, most people supposed would be Gale, her friend and televised cousin. Weird enough, that request got approved without much fighting, letting her continue to the most complicated ones.

"All District Four Victors, their families, and all other survivors Victors will be transported to safety here in Thirteen at the quickest opportunity possible."

Never would have Katniss expected to see Rhett, one of the eldest Four Victors, smile at her. Not out of mockery or amusement, but wholehearted gratitude. He had a silver locket in his hands, which he kissed a few times while the people in Command discussed her request. She returned a faint smile and glanced over at the other Victors. Finnick was missing, as it was usual, but Mags and Ron were there. Their surprise could not be put into words, much less the couple of tears that threatened to leave their eyes.

Once the higher-ups in Command had hit the harsh reality that they could not lose the Mockingjay, they lowered their heads and noted the rescue as another priority in their daily schedules. Katniss nodded and prepared herself for what she knew would be the longest discussion so far.

"When the war is over, if we've won, Peeta will be pardoned," she said. "No form of punishment will be inflicted. The same goes for the other captured tributes, Olive and Enobaria."

The confidence she had been building up along with every approved demand wobbled as Coin replied in her usual plainness. "No."

"Yes." Katniss would not back down, though. "It's not their fault you abandoned them in the arena. Who knows what the Capitol's doing to them?"

"They'll be tried with other war criminals and treated as the tribunal sees fit," replied Coin, as expressionless as ever, perhaps too much to take at that moment for all Victors present.

"They'll be granted immunity!" The chair where Katniss had been sitting would have travelled across the room as she got up if it weren't for Ron, who stood by her side, getting her to control herself just enough not to throw the pen at anybody and kill them. "You will personally pledge this in front of the entire population of District Thirteen and the rest of Twelve. Soon. Today. It will be recorded for future generations. You will hold yourself and your government responsible for their safety, or you'll find yourself another Mockingjay!"

"That's her!" exclaimed Fulvia, a Capitol refugee. "Right there. With the costume, gunfire in the background, just a hint of smoke."

In what version of their world were they that the representation of the Capitol had yet to step up to put control between District people's matters? Katniss stared at the woman, letting her continue as much as she wanted. As long as it helped, she wouldn't tell anyone to shut up.

"Yes, that's what we want," added Plutarch, then glanced over at Coin. "What do you say, President? You could issue an official pardon, given the circumstances. The boy's not even of age and we can only guess how confused Mrs Odair must be with all her memories gone."

It took a minute for Coin to give in. "Alright, but you'd better perform."

"I'll perform when you've made the announcement," Katniss shot back decisively.

"Call a national security assembly during Reflection today," Coin ordered to nobody in particular. "I'll make the announcement then. Is there anything left on your list, Katniss?"

Katniss looked down at his hands, where she had the piece of paper, a bit crumpled, but still readable. "Just one more thing. I kill Snow."

Nothing else had made Coin smile except that. "When the time comes, I'll flip you for it."

She nodded. "Fair enough."

In less than a minute, Coin dismissed the meeting and exited the room to attend to her next stop, marked on her own clock-tattoo. Plutarch and Fulvia surrounded Katniss immediately after. She had been left in their hands, whatever that could mean for her. Ron stayed with her while the Capitol people expanded on their ideas. He shouldn't have stayed behind, and Katniss knew that well just by the side glances some others gave him as they left the room. However, it wasn't as if he would listen to her if she asked him to leave, nor did she really want him to do so.

"You know in general what we're asking of you, Katniss. I'm aware you have mixed feelings about participating. I hope this will help," said Plutarch, pointing behind him, where Cario, District Four's previous stylist, appeared with a sketchbook in hand.

Plutarch felt forced to have a brief chatter while Katniss flipped through the pages, seeing Cinna's last designs for her—the Mockingjay. "Oh, and Beetee's got something really special waiting for you in the armoury. I won't spoil by hinting."

Gale, on the opposite side of Katniss, peeked at the designs and costumes, all specially planned for Katniss, no doubt about it. "You're going to be the best-dressed rebel in history."

"Of course." The forced cherry voice of a young woman appeared behind Four's stylist. "Cario will see to that, won't you, Mr Rebel Stylist?"

A woman with straight black hair stopped to Cario's right, the bags under her eyes letting everyone know she had probably known no sleep for a good few weeks. Katniss had seen her before during mealtime. She sat with the rest of Four's Victors, along with Cario. If she judged by her faint accent and the remaining tattoos on her body, the woman was another Capitol refugee. Nevertheless, the way she acted, in fact, the little over-the-top act she put to her voice and movements, made her seem like just another regular district person.

"Piscia, didn't you have the head doctor visit today?" Cario asked, forgetting probably even the war going on outside of the bunker-like district as he stared into Piscia's eyes.

"Ah, it was over before it started," she said nonchalantly. "Finnick and I managed to sneak out of the hospital wing to watch yesterday's interview… Bad idea, I know. He's fine now, sedated, but he had quite the breakdown."

Both drifted away from the main conversation right away, which Ron joined the moment he heard Finnick's name be brought back. He apologised to Katniss for not being able to accompany her, but she understood. If she could, she would go to the hospital wing to check on Finnick, too. It was a known fact Finnick would do it without a second doubt if roles were reversed.

Under the excuse to walk around, Piscia joined Katniss for whatever surprise Plutarch was preparing for his new Mockingjay. Ron and Cario, however, departed towards the hospital wing. Piscia hadn't exaggerated one bit before. Finnick's breakdown had been quite severe. To the point that not even they were allowed to visit until he stabilised. That excuse could work for a Thirteen native, but they were neither natives of that district nor liked all too well its rules.

It took less than half an hour and some help from an expert in sneaking in and out—Johanna—to make it to Finnick's bed unnoticed. With the curtain pulled and the doctors not visiting the patients in that area at all unless the monitors beeped, it was safe to say they wouldn't be found out for hours. The three sat surrounding Finnick's bed. He was still asleep, probably due to the heavy sedative he had been given a mere hour ago.

Discrete chatter got cut short by the usual shouts and yells of an emergency, only it wasn't a doctor's voice, nor a nurse's. Katniss was yelling at the entrance of the medical wing, and Ron would not wait a second to find out and check on her. She wasn't hurt, thankfully, but the people she carried alongside Gale were. Three people, all clearly from the Capitol. Each had clear marks of abuse, a thing that seemed unthinkable happening in Thirteen.

"What's this? What happened?" Ron asked, trying to get one of the people off Gale's back so they all could carry them better.

"They're my prep team. Some guard said that they were punished for taking bread without permission." Katniss spat her words, but changed her expression to a gentler one when the person in her arms trembled in fear.

Ron frowned, understanding Katniss's rage. "Even in the districts, they would have had a better treatment than this for stealing a loaf of bread."

The event replayed in Ron's mind long after it was over and the three people were stable and under the doctors' care, which he wasn't sure if that was saying much. Nevertheless, he had places to be. He had to show Katniss his support as 18:00—Reflection—approached.

It was a surprise to see Finnick there, standing along with the few others injured in the medical wing who could and were mentally stable enough to walk. With Mrs Everdeen's permission, he guided Finnick to the rest of District Four's Victors, and the additions that had done nothing but increase with time. When they arrived, Katniss was talking with Piscia. Something about Katniss's little sister, Prim, and how much she reminded Piscia of her own niece. The news surprised Katniss, who seemed way more interested in Piscia's niece than she would be in any other Capitol person. Soon enough, she had fled up the stairs to the podium, where Coin would be carrying out the announcement.

"How are you, Finnick?" Ron asked, needing to bring Finnick back from the abyss his sight was falling into.

"She doesn't know who she is, Ron," mumbled Finnick. "I failed her… Oh, God, and when Annie knows… I had to protect her. That was like… not my only job, but the one I cared about the most… I failed as an ally and as a husband."

"We can bring her back, Finnick." Ron rubbed Finnick's back, but there was nothing more he could do. The announcement would destroy it soon enough, regardless.

When Katniss got back, she passed by Piscia to whisper something, then walked straight to Finnick. He was no longer too receptive to small talk. It didn't seem as if Katniss cared, though. She simply seemed happy to see her friend out of bed for a change.

"Why are we here, Katniss?" Finnick asked.

"I told Coin I'd be her Mockingjay. But I made her promise to give the other tributes immunity if the rebels won," she replied. "In public, so there are plenty of witnesses."

Finnick nodded with an absentminded smile. "Oh. Good. I worry about that with Olive… I have no idea what she might say now that she… she's not really herself."

"She'll be safe now," said Katniss, omitting the part 'as long as we win this war' to keep their lasting morale up for a bit longer.

At 18:00 o'clock, Coin appeared on her pedestal, explaining the deal Katniss Everdeen, 'their Mockingjay', had proposed for her service. "In exchange, I have promised several concessions. First, we'll assess all opportunities for an extraction of the Victors held hostage in the Capitol." She went on to name Peeta, Olive, and Enobaria. However, the surprise of the afternoon was what came after. "And the prisoner of war, Minerva Crescentia. Once freed, they will be granted a full pardon for any and all crimes committed against the rebel cause."

Needless to say, the news did not sit right with everyone in Thirteen. Much less when they got to know of the rest of the survivors Victors' retrieval. To the people of Thirteen, it seemed as if Victors were being given special treatment, but to the Victors it felt like a treat. The same kind one would do to a dog after they had listened to a command. They wished they could feel insulted, like the people in Thirteen were, but they couldn't. It had been too long since they could. Too many years living under that same path of action. Somehow, to the most veteran Victors, Thirteen was slowly transforming into a deformed version of the Capitol. They could only hope the same rules would apply. If not, the game would take a long time to learn how to play.

"But in return for this unprecedented request, Soldier Everdeen has promised to devote herself to our cause. It follows that any deviance from her mission, in either motive or deed, will be viewed as a break in this agreement. The immunity would be terminated and the fate of the three victors determined by the law of District Thirteen. As would her own. Thank you." With that said, Coin walked away.

Finnick glanced at Katniss, realising perfectly well how big the whole Mockingjay deal was on her. She was barely seventeen years old, a kid like any other. Not quite, in fact, if he took into account the two consecutive Hunger Games that she had survived. He knew she understood Coin and the ground rules that had been laid out for all to understand. However, he could only pray that, in one of her anger fits, she wouldn't step out of line. She no longer had her own life on her hands, but several others.

If Katniss Everdeen, the Rebels' Mockingjay, stepped out of line—for whatever cause—they were all dead.