Peeta sat at the table, lounging back in his chair, genuinely bored with the heads of 13 that filled out the rest of the large oval tables' chairs. He'd come in twenty minutes ago when Haymitch had been asked to invite him into the meetings from this point forward, he was expected to attend. Nothing they said mattered to him. If it wasn't about you then it was a waste of his time. He'd much rather be in his room painting, or drawing pictures of his memories of you. They would be the last he'd see of you, if these terrible strategy meetings were any indication. These people had their heads so far up their asses, Peeta wasn't sure if they could smell anything but their own bullshit.
After 30 minutes of more of his time wasted, Peeta let out a sigh so loud and deep, it shook the large table his cheek rested on.
"You brought me out of my room.... for this? Can I have my morphling and go back to my nightmares in peace now?"
"Peeta, is there something you'd like to add?", Plutarch asked chipperly.
Peeta turned his head so that his right cheek rested on the table and he was looking over the military and diplomatic officials of 13. All of which were looking at him with differing expressions., none of which he cared to decipher.
"No. Which is why I want to know why I'm here. I have no reason to be at another war mongering table, as it makes its plans, to do just what it was made to. So again....why am I here?"
"We would like to bring you in and involve you in the taking back of the Districts. Haymitch has informed us that you've agreed to become a part of the rebellion", Plutarch explains gesturing between Peeta's slumped form and Haymitch sitting directly across from him, trying not to appear as though he was sleeping for half the meeting.
"If Haymitch led you to believe I wanted any part in the planning of killing innocents, he lied", Peeta scoffed still refusing to lift his cheek from the table. "I've had my fill and unlike all of you, with your guns and bombs, it's a bit bloody and personal for my taste"
"War is never personal", the snow haired woman he'd come to know as Coin, spoke coolly.
Now Peeta was enraged and revolted, his head lifted quickly from the table, eyes locking with the cunning leader. He hated how both she and Snow had such bright white hair, though hers had streaks of deep grey that matched her name. Peeta did not like this woman or her callous attitude towards life in the slightest.
"Murder is always personal", Peeta rumbled so lowly, it was practically a growl as his eyes held hers, refusing to break contact with their soulless depths. They were such a light grey they were almost as light as her snow-white hair. Even her lifeless eyes irritated him. "Just because you have the luxury of commanding other people to do it for you, doesn't mean it isn't personal. People aren't just numbers. Every. Single. Life. It was someone with hopes, dreams, family and love to give. You clearly have been underground with your perfect little soldier fucking fantasy world where everyone falls in line, living the life you designed for them. Come topside and join us in the real world, where the children are forced to kill each other and watch the life leave their eyes as your hands are covered in their blood, clawing at you to get just one more breath. Not with guns. Not a bomb that you can drop from miles away, to reap the fruits of your deadly gifts with no guilt as you watch it melt the flesh from women and children! No! We are forced to murder each other with our bare hands, while all of you sit here in your cozy little fuckin pods ordering us to do it for you!", Peeta roared now on his feet, having thrown his chair at the wall opposite him, Haymitch having long since ducked seeing this outburst coming.
When it hit the wall, Peeta pushed away from the table and stormed out of the room without a backwards glance, one hand in his pocket and the other tugging at his hair.
"I told you", Haymitch shrugs at the rest of the diplomats who were looking to him for an explanation. "A teenager he may be in age, but that is a man on the brink. And he is ready to burn the world to match the flames of pain it's dished out to him from day one. He doesn't give a shit about your battle plans. If it doesn't involve a way to get her, he could truly not give a damn"
"So, what do you propose we do to make him more amicable?"
"Stop wasting his time. It's only pissing him off. You want a voice for the rebellion that the people resonate with, you have it and you're wasting his time with strategy meetings about things he'll never need to know about. Use his voice. His intellect. Peeta isn't the type of person that revels in the killing of others. He wants peace, to be able to love and live free. That's all he's ever wanted for himself and everyone else. If it's not about that, he just Does. Not. Care", Haymitch shrugs, chewing on his lollipop and doodling on the paper in front of him, still not looking at the rest of the room. He was annoyed that he had to be at the meetings, he couldn't imagine what the pointless chatter did to Peeta.
"A voice. You want us to let him talk directly to the people? You think that would work?"
"He's had it with the bureaucratic politics. All a Victor cares about is action. Words have meant very little to any of us", Finnick tacked on, popping a sugar cube in his mouth, adding his own doodles to Haymitch's paper. "If you want all our cooperation, give us yours"
"Here, here", Beetee slapped his hand to the table in agreement.
"Then, what would you all suggest?"
****
Peeta sat on his bed and rolled the pearl he'd given you on the beach across his lips. He remembered with a deep sadness your last words to him when you'd placed it back into his hands that night of the Quarter Quell.
"Give it back to me when I come back. Remember, we protect each other?"
"Always" Peeta nodded, his hand on your hip and forehead resting against yours.
This wasn't part of the plan. You weren't supposed to separate. And with two careers still hiding in the trees, Peeta was fighting a losing war with himself on letting you go. When your eyes hold his, he sees you genuinely fearful of leaving him too, and it makes it that much harder to let you go. Pulling you into his arms once more, he placed his lips against yours, surprised when you immediately slip your tongue into his mouth. As his left hand buries in your hair, yours does the same, and you kiss him as if you truly love him and for once, he allows himself to believe it. It is the only way he can convince himself to let you go. Once you part, he pecks your lips gently one more time, holding the pearl between both of your lips, as you hold one another's eyes.
"And when I give it back, it'll be on a ring during our toasting", he smiled sadly, knowing that he would never walk out of here. Only you would, just like he'd planned.
"Can't wait"
"I love you...so much"
"I love you too Peeta"
"Hurry back"
When he finally releases you, Johanna hands you the long-serrated knife, that you'd taken off of Cashmere after ripping her throat out with your teeth, when she'd tried to ambush Peeta.
You'd gotten her off of him before he even knew she was there, ripping Cashmere from his back before she could get her hands on his shoulders good.
"Mine!", you hiss, hands pinning her shoulders down, as your teeth rip her trachea out, with a loud growl of anger.
Finnick had watched you with a silent curiosity, when you'd spit it out and let out a powerful roar, wiping your mouth and quickly making your way over to Peeta. Peeta had been frozen solid, trying to decide if he should be horrified with the fact that the entire thing had turned him on. Your hands were on his cheeks, fingers trailing over his neck and shoulders as you assessed him for any damage Cashmere may have inflicted, before you could get her off of him.
"Oh, thank God. My Peeta. Safe", you mumble to yourself as his thumbs caresses your cheeks tenderly.
"All good thanks to you, sweetness. Again"
Your pupils expand as they sweep up to hold his, mirth twisting your blood-stained lips.
"I'd kiss you if I didn't have her blood in my mouth"
"Well let's find a tree and rinse your mouth so I can claim my prize"
And claim his prize he had, on that beach. What he would give to go back to that moment and freeze time.
***
Peeta sat at the roundtable, watching the end of a series of commercials made by District 13, that Plutarch named were coined as 'propos', feeling his aggravation and irritation building even higher. When the screen went black, the annoying dramatic music stopped and Plutarch leaned back, with an unearned triumphant grin on his lips.
"So, what do you think?", he asked giddily.
"About what?" Peeta sighed, ready to be irritated further.
"The propo idea"
"It looks exactly like what the Capitol does to brainwash people into believing they're on the right side of history...with dirt. What else am I supposed to think about it?"
"No Peeta, what do you think about being in the propos, to help reach the districts?"
Peeta's left brow shot up, mouth twisting into a demented smile, before he fell into deranged, maniacal laughter for two minutes straight. Peeta laughed so hard he was crying, his bruised ribs aching and his throat began to hurt. As he fell into a fit of a few chuckles every few seconds, he finally locked eyes with Plutarch again.
"When Haymitch said you all had come up with a good idea for me to reach the districts, I thought he meant something other than Capitol tactics. You want to dress me up in your little soldier gear, make me up and have me scream about rebellion to a camera? Are you people fucking stupid?", Peeta laughed, reveling in the fact that Effie snapped her fan in front of her face to hide her own laughter, as she snickered quietly. Haymitch was a lot less graceful, full-blown chortling, as Effie attempted to hide her face behind his shoulder.
"Manners Peeta!", she tried to admonish between her snickers.
"Manners my ass", he snorted, loving how his swearing always irritated the Coin woman. He did not like her and he wanted her to know that had the roles been reversed, you'd be much worse. And a lot quicker to violence to get results. "For people who claim to want to overthrow the Capitol regime, you sure as hell act just like them"
"What Peeta means, is that you can do the same thing without all of the glitz and glam. You have nothing but soldiers down here, but how many of them have been to war? Have had to kill? You're asking someone who's had to fight for their life many times over, against other innocents who also just wanted to live, to get pretty and ask them to join a fight they're not even sure they can win"
"So, what would you propose than Mr.Mellark?"
"I may not be the weapon master that she was, but I can fight. If you want people to fight for you, you've got to be willing to show them you'll be right beside them, if not in front, to achieve your common goal. You have my remaining allies at this table and haven't even asked them the best way to approach this"
"We-"
"And I know you haven't because if you had, you would have never asked me to put on another mask to appease another overlord that wants people to fall in line behind them.", he started, making his position and feelings about Coin clear to everyone, including the dictator herself. "You would be utilizing their talents. Effie is from the Capitol but she's one of us. She could tell you how to appeal to them too, not just the districts. Haymitch has worked both sides, he has the trust and respect of so many people, you could use to help sow the seeds. Yet, you've got him in here sucking on lollipops and reading out of boredom. Finnick has the love of every district and its real. But again, you've had him cooped up in our room, away from anything to do with being on the frontlines, looking our people in the face, to show he's always been one of them. Exactly what you should have proposed to me. You want to win the people and haven't even shown me one fuckin' reason to believe you'd be any different than Snow! All of you have been down here too long studying Snow's playbook. Get a new one, because this shit's pathetic", Peeta finished lowly, now bored with this conversation, and making his way to the door.
If they wanted his help, they needed to think forward and stop trying to blow smoke up his ass. Or he'd start a coup of his God damned own to get you back to him before Snow could kill you.