Gale Hawthorne had never personally met Nola Bernacci before. Yes, sure, he had heard things about her —great things, he might add— exploits mostly in her Hunger Games, but he had also had the opportunity to witness with his own eyes what had happened in the last edition: an elusive but strong girl from District 2 allying herself with the weakest, with those the Capitol seemed to have turned its back on, and betraying, in doing so, those who had brought her to the top in life.
Before volunteering for the rescue, he had decided to find out what he was going to face. Gale didn't like to improvise too much, unless it was Katniss, obviously. He liked to be prepared, to have all his points of view observed and learned and all his options weighed. He'd sat for hours with the whole team, with Haymitch at his side, because he was the only one he could really trust —he'd saved Katniss, after all, even if it meant abandoning some of the rest. He was also the only one from his District, the only one who really knew what it was like to live in that forgotten part of Panem.
Haymitch, Beetee and the rest of the team had spent long sessions explaining to them what they would see in the Capitol, but none of them were really prepared for what was coming. Gale was expecting horrors. He expected people dressed in white but with blood on their clothes, with lethal weapons in their hands, with even more brutal weapons locked away in strange rooms. He expected screams, fighting, a pitched battle in the corridors where the rebel prisoners were held.
Precisely because of everything he had been told, Gale had not expected what he saw with his own eyes that day. They had agreed that sleeping gas grenades were the best option: they could both throw the Capitol soldiers off the scent and lull the rebels to sleep so that they wouldn't be unsettled by the situation. Sure enough, it had worked. There were no soldiers in sight as grenades exploded in the white corridors, smoke seeping through the cracks in the rooms, and Gale waiting silently for it to filter into the right rooms.
When Gale opened the door decisively but cautiously, he couldn't have told how long Nola Bernacci had been unconscious. She was leaning against the wall, her hand resting gently on a crack beside her. Her neck was curved in a way that made it obvious she was not awake and her dirty clothes clung to her body in a sickly way, making her look much thinner than he had seen on her videos.
Scanning the room he quickly lowered the gun, placing it behind his back. The image of Nola Bernacci, winner of a Hunger Games, so pale, so dirty and so small, made Gale's blood boil in his veins, barely a thought crossing his mind that this girl could have killed people of his own district in a Games edition. He took her gently by the back and behind the knees, trying to mold her body to his so as not to hurt her more than she might already be. She was tall and slender, so she wasn't too heavy for Gale's corpulence, who walked out the door with a nod, and nodded again in agreement when all four cells were empty.
They were going home.
Actually, no. Gale had a lot of time to think, between the ride back to District 13 and the long wait until Nola woke up again, and he came to the conclusion that Nola wasn't returning home, and never would. Her home was in District 2, which was now in the process of rebelling against the Capitol. The place that had seen her grow up but which she had turned her back on by secretly joining District 13's plans. Gale imagined her mansion, her garden, her room. He imagined she had some family left, even if it was distant, scattered across the District. Someone Nola would be happy to see, ultimately, but no one came to mind. It was sad, and that wasn't home.
Growing a deep empathy in his gut for the girl his own age, Gale didn't break away from the glass in his room until the blonde opened her eyes. He knew that his primary mission had been to volunteer to rescue Peeta —for Katniss, the boy kept telling himself— but Nola's discovery had been shocking enough for him not to look for Katniss as soon as he arrived, but to report that he'd found the blonde and would monitor her vitals himself —because he knew the rest of the world down there would be too busy keeping an eye on the boy on fire.
Maybe that's why he empathised with her. Maybe because he saw himself reflected in her: tough, rough, yet intuitive on the inside and yearning for something deeper. Both went unnoticed when the spotlight was elsewhere, left in the background but praised when they did what was expected of them: actions with more harshness and less feeling. Gale didn't know how Nola felt about it, but he liked to think he could share that feeling with at least one other person.
Soon the news of what had happened with Peeta came, well before Nola came to her senses. Gale nodded, somewhat distractedly, when they said Peeta was out of it, because he thought Nola was sleeping more than usual, and it was because she might need it more than others. His attention returned to the conversation when Plutarch named Katniss.
—She's in the medical wing. The effects of the torture on Peeta are even worse than we imagined. We don't know the extent of his mental state. He's only able to focus on Katniss being the target, and he let us know that when he tried to choke her —Plutarch restrained Gale as he stood up—. She's fine. She's with her sister and a good team of doctors. And you should see a doctor. We can't afford soldiers with internal injuries or gas leaks. Nola will be fine. You can come back later.
Gale just nodded, but didn't leave. Nola woke up about two hours later, when Gale was looking elsewhere, so the first thing the girl saw was a completely different room from the one she had been waking up in for weeks. It was much larger, and it was thankful that the walls weren't bright white, because she'd been thinking for days that she'd go crazy if she looked at them any more. Despite the tired feeling, she realised that there was nothing binding her to the bars of the bed as had happened so many times in the past, and as she looked at the wall and saw that there was a glass on it, it quickly dawned on her that she was no longer in the Capitol.
She tried to remain calm, but her breathing inevitably quickened. Something inside her told her that she was safer now, but she had learned that not everything she felt was true, and that she could often be fooled by appearances. She couldn't even trust her instincts anymore.
A burly-looking boy leaned out of the window, and Nola turned her head with some distrust but curiosity. His facial features reminded her of someone, but she was sure she had never seen this boy before. The boy merely raised his arm slightly, waving his hand as if to greet her, and Nola stood still at that, not understanding whether it was a mockery or a genuine gesture.
—Hello. I guess you must be disoriented and confused. My name is Gale. Gale Hawthorne. You're in District 13 right now. I'll explain everything later, I promise. I imagine you'll want to get out of there and see for yourself what I'm telling you, but first the doctors have to make sure you're okay. The rest are here too. Alive. Annie, Johanna, Peeta—
Nola's green eyes were busy drilling into Gale's face, and he tensed—. Peeta's here? Peeta was beside me. Peeta pictured and I guessed and the other way around.
—Yes, Nola. Peeta's here. We got all four of you out of the Capitol alive. You're safe here in District 13.
—I thought District 13 disappeared a long time ago.
—That's right —Gale nodded, hopeful to continue the conversation and see that Nola had the least after-effects—. We were all led to believe that District 13 was gone, but it's actually underground. Ever since the Hunger Games started, the people of District 13 decided to come up with a plan to take down the Capitol and Snow's presidency, and put an end to the killing. They wanted to attack on many occasions, but only now are they starting to get the support of the other Districts. Now there are opportunities to overthrow the Capitol, because we have the Mockingjay, remember, Nola?
—Peeta doesn't like Mockingjays —Nola muttered, looking down at her hands—. He told me we had to get rid of them before they get rid of us.
Gale's heart lurched at the confession. He remembered Peeta's attack on Katniss, and feared that his friend's life was doubly in danger. Of course, from everything he'd seen in videos and the like, Nola was infinitely more deadly than Peeta; physically weaker, perhaps, but she wouldn't hesitate to take her out if the circumstances presented themselves. Now, however, Gale had before him only a faded, squalid version of what Nola Bernacci had been, and instead of feeling satisfaction at the demotion of a killer, he could only feel pity and disgust for those who had done this to her.
—Are you hungry? Thirsty? I can get you something.
Nola nodded. It had been days since she'd talked as much as she had in those ten minutes, and her throat was dry from lack of contact and hydration. Plus, her stomach had growled at the mere mention of food.
Gale disappeared behind the glass for a few minutes, Nola couldn't estimate how many. She decided that getting out of that bed was the best option to test how her legs worked. The first few steps were feeble, though getting onto the bed was easier than she expected. After a couple of laps around the room she seemed to regain her mobility. Her skin was paler than usual, though she didn't know if it was because of the contrast of the bruises against her skin tone or because it had been days since the sun had hit her.
She was grateful that lighter, more comfortable clothing now covered her. They seemed to have ditched the tracksuit the Capitol had given her and replaced it with a black jacket, a grey T-shirt underneath and baggy trousers —though she sensed they would have suited her before. She wasn't cold and she wasn't hot, though the mere thought of being underground, as Gale had indicated, made something in her body want to get out of there quickly.
She saw that the wires clinging to her body were long, for she had walked quite a ways and they had not come away from her skin. A few beeps indicated that all seemed to be well, and she continued to look at the table for something she recognised. There was nothing, just medicine, patches, used bandages and a huge syringe, which was enough to make her senses sharpen and the skin on her neck prickle. She remembered the syringe in the Capitol scientist's hand as if it had been yesterday for the first time, and closed her eyes as she physically felt the pain inflicted on her.
She picked up the syringe, not quite knowing what to do with it. She didn't recognise the liquid inside, nor did she know what they were using it for, and though Gale's tone of voice seemed conciliatory, she couldn't trust anyone who had that device from hell so close to her.
—Let go of that syringe, please —Nola turned sharply to meet the grey eyes of Gale, whose voice had become a little harsher, if oddly comforting—. No one's going to do anything to you with it in here. It's for drawing blood. It doesn't inject anything strange. You can trust me —he showed her a tray of food, seeing that Nola was still unresponsive—. I've brought you something. I think it will be a little better than hospital food. It's from the cafeteria.
The blonde looked at the food curiously, as if she could smell it through the glass. She remembered with a frown that the food of the last few weeks hadn't tasted like anything, and that she always lay in bed with an empty stomach. It looked like something potato and meat, so her mouth watered: anything would taste better than Capitol food from now on.
So she listened to Gale, dropping the syringe and leaving it on the same metal tray she'd taken it from.
—Soldier, what are you doing? —A male voice stopped Gale from entering the room, and when Nola found herself without food, she moved a little closer to the glass to observe. She felt as if she were a stinker or a freakshow; everyone milling around outside to stare at her as if they expected some reaction from her.
People gradually appeared in front of her. Some she hardly recognised, but others looked familiar. There was a small man in a wheelchair, with a dark complexion, glasses and a nervous twitch. Beetee's name rolled off her tongue as if she had known him since childhood, and when the man gave her a nervous smile, Nola knew she had guessed right, and that one way or another her mind wasn't betraying her.
—I was just trying to... I was making sure she was okay. I think she was hungry, so I got her something.
A tall man put a hand on his shoulder when he stopped talking, and Nola looked at him seriously. She didn't recognise him—. You know that after what happened we can't risk talking to them. We don't know how badly they've been hurt.
—You let Annie stay with Finnick, and Johanna is perfectly capable of talking to whoever she wants. Why can't she get out of there? Just because Peeta had a fit doesn't mean she's going to act like that too.
Peeta's name and what was attached to it were enough to get Nola out of bed quickly. The man who had restrained Gale and Beetee were the first to react, making sure the door was locked, and Nola felt guilty because they thought she was going to hurt them. She didn't want to hurt them, she just wanted to know about Peeta.
—Peeta? What happened to Peeta?
—Nola, I should introduce myself. My name is Plutarch Heavensbee, and I'm—
—Shut up. Where's Peeta? Tell me where he is.
A mocking laugh came from the shadows, and his features were drawn with difficulty in Nola's mind. The man had been in her memories, she was sure of it, but she wasn't sure if she should trust him or not. Dozens of times he had appeared at her side, almost as many times as a blonde girl, but this man had sliced her throat more times than any of them.
They're just memories. False memories, Nola told herself. How would you be alive if he'd slit your throat, stupid? We've been over this. Concentrate.
Yet she had learned so many times to hate him in her head that the mere image of the man repulsed her.
She knocked hard on the door, hoping it would be enough to open it, but of course it was only a reassurance that it was securely locked. The man's face changed, as did Nola's—. It seems we have another one with a fit of rage. Do you know who I am, Nola?
The blonde nodded awkwardly, trying to find it within herself to remain calm and patient. She knew she would need it if she wanted to know about Peeta. She knew she would have to behave the way they expected, and then she would be able to attack—. I think so. I've got... I've got random faces in my head. I remember Beetee. He was with me at the Hunger Games. And Johanna and Annie. Johanna... She got her hair cut off. And Annie was screaming a lot. Annie was looking for someone. Your facial features are familiar, but something tells me I shouldn't trust you. The only clear memory in my head is Peeta —Nola muttered the last sentence, more to herself than in response to the rest.
The man's face fell slightly, to the surprise of the rest—. I'm Haymitch. Abernathy? We've known each other for a couple of years. I don't know what they've told you about me, but up until a few months ago even you could have beaten me in a fight. You called me a drunk and a moron, but you weren't wrong. The reality is that right now I couldn't hurt a fly. I couldn't hurt you either, because, I don't know if you know this, but you yourself decided several weeks ago that we are part of the same team. You can trust me not to hurt you, Nola, and in return I can expect the same from you.
Despite the hours of sleep, Nola was tired. She hadn't slept for too long, hoping that those memories or flashbacks or videos that popped into her head day after day wouldn't keep popping up at night, while she slept. So she just nodded, surrendered, her hair falling in her face as she slid down the wall.
Haymitch sighed and stepped away from the glass, pulling the others with him—. This is bad. This is very bad —Beetee said, analysing something on his technological device and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
—Peeta's been brainwashed that Katniss was his main enemy, all right. But then what have they done with Nola, wiped her memory? —Gale chipped in, folding his arms.
—I think it's more serious than that —Beetee countered—. She says she remembers random faces, but there's been no problem with her recognising mine, and she also knows Annie, Johanna and Peeta. I think the correlation is clear. Snow has decided that the best thing about Nola is her strength, and what he's done with her is turn it around. Alter her perception of the people closest to her. And it goes further. Whereas Peeta, a genuine and vulnerable person on the surface, has been made to believe that he has to take Katniss down, Nola has been made to believe the opposite. Nola is mentally strong, we all know that, so they must have tapped into her memories with the same poison, but in reverse: turning the people around her into enemies who want to attack her," Beetee continued, "It's no coincidence that she has no problem recognising me, or Johanna, or Annie. They've been in there with Nola, and Snow probably had no interest in her seeing them as enemies in there, and well, I've only known her for a few weeks. I'm of no interest to her, and the Capitol knows it. But Haymitch, you've been in direct contact with her for years. And Finnick, well, you've seen that he can't even recognise the name Annie would be shouting every day. She'll recognise him when she sees him, but we can't be sure that her perception of him is completely altered. And we can't know what her new opinion of Katniss will be until we see it with our own eyes," Beetee said seriously.
—She can be faking it, can't she? —Plutarch suggested—. I've seen Nola in action on multiple occasions. Her manipulation skills and eloquence are brutal.
Haymitch gave him a defiant look—. I know that girl. The first thing she would have done if she was really Nola is find a way out of that room, but you see the first thing she's done is say she's hungry and ask what the hell happened to Peeta Mellark.
—All right, all right —Plutarch agreed—. We need to find a way to make sure she's not a danger to us, let alone the Mockingjay. Any suggestions?
—I can talk to her —Primrose Everdeen's voice startled them out of the darkness. She wore a jaunty blue apron over a medical gown, as if she had just performed the same healing duties as her mother.
Katniss, who had appeared just behind her, frowned—. Don't you dare.
—Katniss is right —Beetee said, though in a less than convinced voice—. We don't know if she's a danger to anyone yet and we can't let you go in there without that knowledge.
—But she hasn't had a problem talking to Gale, has she? —Prim insisted—. Maybe the people she didn't know before all this she can talk to. I don't suppose I'm a threat to her because she didn't even know me before the torture. Gale, did you get the feeling that she wanted to hurt you?
Gale opened his mouth, ready to respond, but the burning glares of Katniss, Plutarch and Beetee silenced him momentarily. Beside him, Haymitch just looked at him with the intention of getting him to answer honestly—. No —he finally admitted—. No, on the contrary. I think she got the feeling that I might hurt her.
—Gale didn't even go in there with her.
—I asked her to drop the syringe and she did. Just treat her calmly and like a normal person. Look, it's been proven that she doesn't have the same damage as Peeta. She's probably scared and tired, and all we're doing from here is studying her like she's an animal. She'll just want someone to explain to her what's going on.
Gale received an almost offended look from Katniss, who instantly recoiled at her friend's words. It was hard to understand why Gale, the notorious people-hater, was now able to empathise with someone like Nola.
—You can stand outside if you like —Prim offered—. I'll go in with the excuse that I've come to change the bandages on her wounds, and if anything happens to hurt me, then I'll come out myself and put up no resistance. But let me talk to her —Prim picked up the metal tray that Gale had left on the shelf before handing it to Nola, who was now sitting cross-legged on the bed, staring at her socks—. I don't think anyone who looks like that has any intention of hurting anyone —Prim whispered.
Prim's conciliatory words, Gale's righteous attitude and Haymitch's somewhat defiant look were enough to make Beetee and Plutarch sigh slightly, leaving the last word on Katniss's lips—. I disagree.
—I doubt that in this state Nola would be capable of hurting a child —Beetee interjected, a little more convinced. The truth was that extracting information from someone as intriguing as Nola was now was too interesting.
—I warned you not to get too close to Peeta, and you did anyway —Prim commented—. My instincts weren't entirely wrong.
Katniss frowned, slightly offended—. Peeta isn't Nola.
—No, you're right —Prim agreed—. Peeta's worse now. We'll get them back to normal, but we have to take it slow. Right now the only person who can explain what happened in there is Nola. So I'm going in.
Prim's last look at Katniss made Katniss click her tongue and finally give up. Everyone quietly milled around behind the window, especially Katniss. Prim closed the door behind her, hurrying to set the tray of food down in front of Nola, who gently raised her head.
Nola didn't recognise this new person, but she was so small and with eyes that reflected such kindness that she guessed she hadn't been a part of her life before. Nola had been told repeatedly that her life before had been full of misfortune, death and blood, and this girl, no older than twelve, was the opposite of that definition. Nola stared at her curiously, as if trying to guess what her intentions were.
—My name is Prim. I'm here to change your bandages; I'm your nurse. I've brought you some food in case you're hungry.
Against all odds, Nola smiled slightly, almost imperceptibly. This caught the attention of the outsiders, but Prim simply looked up as she picked up the new bandages—. Hello, Prim.
—You're hungry, aren't you? Gale brought you this.
Nola looked at the tray and nodded. Then she stared at the fork —Will you even let me take the fork? Aren't you afraid I might use it like the syringe? Or use it on you?
—Well, it's quite the Nola we know —Haymitch mumbled on the other side of the glass.
—Of course —Prim replied—. All yours. How else do you expect to eat?
—Okay.
—I can tell you about Peeta, too. I imagine you'll want to know why you're here.
—I know a few things. I know who Snow is. I know that we were in the Hunger Games, and that Peeta, Johanna and I were taken out by the Capitol. I know there are two sides now: the rebels and the holdouts with Snow. I don't remember all the people clearly, but I know why I'm here. I'm in District 13 now. Gale said so. With the rebels. I'm a rebel. I've left everything behind —Nola muttered to herself, as if she's telling herself to believe it. Then she chewed a piece of bread—. What happened to Peeta?
Prim told her as she changed her bandages—. They think he's been tortured with some kind of poison that can alter his perception of reality and his senses. He attacked Katniss as soon as he saw her, as if he wanted to kill her, so they had to sedate him and keep him under constant control so he wouldn't do anything like that.
—I could hear him screaming. His voice was horrible until it ended in gasps because he couldn't take it anymore. I never saw what they were doing to him, but I imagine it was something similar to what they were doing to me. They forced you to sit in a chair, hooked you up to a machine and the torture began. It was very difficult to distinguish reality from lies. The truth is that it still is —Nola closed her eyes tightly and then gently—. I don't know when I'm living and when I'm remembering. I don't know when someone who says they'll never hurt me will start sticking knives in me, or slitting my throat, or putting an arrow through my heart. I tried to defend myself, to try to defy reality, but I never wanted to hurt them. I don't know if all those times I saw the life go out of those people's eyes were true or false. Do you know it?
From the outside, Haymitch ran his hands over his eyes. Then he sighed with tremendous regret, as if those words had pierced his heart through and through.
Prim shook her head, healing the wounds on her shoulder—. No, Nola. I don't know. But I believe you when you say you didn't mean to hurt them. You're safe now, okay? Our team will try to find a solution, and soon you'll be like you were before.
—Do I want to be like before? Honestly —Nola tilted her head to one side, gently pointing at the glass—. Everyone's suspicious of me, aren't they? I don't think it's just because of everything that's messed up in my head now.
—Well —Prim smiled—. You chose to be with us before this. You went against everything you grew up with for the chance for a better Panem, for better Districts, even though you knew you didn't have everything with us. I think you can be at ease with the old Nola. Reach out, please. I need to see the bruises on your wrist —Prim asked, a little distressed. The bruises and grazes on the girl's wrists were more than evident, and Prim didn't have the heart to ask about that, but she did ask this—: If you don't mind my asking, do you remember why you did it?
—Why I did what?
—Accept Haymitch's plan. Becoming a rebel.
—Oh, yes —Nola replied, shrugging her shoulders a little—. I did it for Katniss.