One of Peeta's habits these days is asking a lot of questions about what happened in District 13 while he was in the Capitol. He says knowing helps him cope. I don't understand how, but who am I to question it? This is why, when we're sitting on the couch by his fire one day, munching on the last of the squirrels I've just brought over, he asks me about when I agreed to formally join the rebellion and become the mockingjay.

I tell him about the meeting, my demands, their first disastrous attempt at a film shoot, and Haymitch's idea for proving they needed a different strategy – getting everyone to list my most impressive moments.

"What did they say?" Peeta asks.

This feels awkward, but I answer, "When I volunteered for Prim, when I sang for Rue when she died, when I drugged you so I could go get your medicine..."

"They should have asked my opinion of that first." In spite of the pain of the memories each example brings up, he makes me grin. "I know what I would have said, if I'd been there."

I'm feeling even more awkward but curious, too. I've still never been able to believe I deserve Peeta's love, especially after I finally came to love him back. "What?" I ask him.

"When you chose Beetee, Wiress, and Mags for your allies."

His answer only confuses me. "What are you talking about?"

Peeta tries to explain. "Remember when Haymitch told us we needed allies for the Quarter Quell? You ignored all the Careers, all the big, strong, impressive killers and sponsor magnets like Finnick, and..."

I interrupt him. "Yeah, I remember what happened, I just don't get what's so special about it."

Peeta sighs, smiles, and shakes his head. I imagine him saying "What am I going to do with you, girl? You'll never learn." But what he actually says is: "Haymitch wanted you to look for tough, popular allies, like everyone did every year, but you chose the outcasts."

I'm outraged on their behalf at the implication that I chose them because I thought they were the weakest and most helpless, that I pitied them. "I didn't choose them because they were outcasts..." I start to stay.

"I know," Peeta says quickly. "But don't you see? You chose them in spite of the fact that they were the outcasts. You didn't care that they didn't look strong on the surface. You didn't care what others thought of you for it. You could see how strong they really were, and you weren't afraid to show it, no matter how it looked to the rest of the tributes or the sponsors. Katniss, you trusted and believed in them when no one else would, just like you did with Rue." I've told Peeta the details about my alliance with Rue long ago, and I remember how he's told me what a bold move that was, sponsor-wise, choosing a little girl for my ally. I knew that at the time, but I didn't care. "You didn't judge them the way everyone else did," Peeta continues. "You saw their true value. I've always admired you for choosing them. It said a lot about you."

I want to tell him he's being ridiculous, but I ask myself, Am I proud of choosing Beetee, Wiress, and Mags? Of admiring them more than the vicious Enobaria? Of valuing their respect, their friendship, and their skills more than Brutus' approval? Of standing by them instead of sucking up to Cashmere? No, I'm not. I can't deny what Peeta's said... unless you take into account the ultimate consequences of my choices. "It didn't work out very well, though, did it?"

"It would have been worse if the Careers stabbed us in the back right after you killed the rest for them at the Cornucopia," is Peeta's response. He squeezes my hand reassuringly. "You did the right thing."

Peeta turns half-around, reaching for the bookcase behind him. After the revolution, they began republishing the books that had been banned by the Capitol ever since Panem was founded, and I buy one of them whenever I can. It reminds me that our dark days are over, that those who enslaved us are gone, that they have no power over us anymore. Peeta has quite a few of his own. He pulls one down that I recognize and starts searching for something in it. "Just like it says here," he says when he stops. He passes the book to me and points to the part that reminds him of my choice:

"Do not look at his appearance or at his physical stature, because I have refused him. For the Lord does not see as man sees; for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart."*

"And so do you. See? You did the right thing," Peeta repeats.

I've never read this part before. It feels eerie that it should come so close to my own favorite story. I turn the page. "I like this story," I say aloud.

"I know." Peeta holds me closer, and we lean back and read about how an unlikely volunteer stepped up and defied the odds in battle.

*1 Samuel 16:7