A/N: Hope you all like this one! I'm trying to make it a little darker and more intense than Into the Sea, so I hope you enjoy! Reviews are always welcome! Thanks for reading friends;)

Prologue

People say that before you die, your life appears to you in flashes. They say that you can see every high, every low and every mistake that you made. As a person who had knocked on death's door I can tell you from experience that this doesn't happen. In fact, when you know you're about to die, you don't see anything. It's just darkness. Like there is no promise of anything else. That was the scariest part about my encounters with death, the darkness felt final.

At 80 years old, the only person I have in the world to truly communicate with is myself. There are people who love me and care about me, but I can't speak or write, and my pointing and mumbling can get annoying, I realize that. It gets annoying for me too, it's frustrating when you need to say something and it turns into a game of charades. They're good to me, though, Finnick and Annie. And despite whatever rumors fly around District Four, nothing that has ever happened to me has ever been their fault. It hasn't been anyone's fault. I lost what I lost because of my own mistakes. Honestly, it's almost insulting to blame someone else for my hardships. They are mine. Maybe that's why death feels so final, because in the end you're the only person you have. There's no one who can comfort you in death.

My thoughts were turning dark, which wasn't surprising considering what night it was. A shiver went up my spine as I listened to the anthem play. It was a tune I'd heard a million times, but it still reminded me of the evil man on my television screen, the one who helped enable this psychotic world.

Snow crossed the stage like he did on any other broadcast, waving to the audience and throwing his fists in the air like he'd done something noble. I rolled my eyes at him and Finnick chuckled, placing my hand in his. Annie did the same from the other side of me. I patted her hand, knowing that this night was harder on her than anyone else.

"Good evening, Panem!" Snow shouted over the cheers. "I'm here to make a very important announcement. Now I know that this night is a celebration to a lot of you on any other year, but this year is special, and I know that you're all especially excited about it so I think we should get right to it, don't you?" The cheers erupted, and Snow's assistant brought him an old looking box. Snow slowly reached into the box, letting the audience get to the edges of their seats. Finnick and Annie did the same on either side of me.

I sat still, suddenly getting an ominous sinking feeling in my stomach like something very bad was about to happen. Snow pulled out the browning paper and unrolled it, tossing the ribbon aside. "In honor of the 75TH Annual Hunger Games, the third Quarter Quell, the tributes will be drawn from the pool of already existing Victors."

My heart sank the rest of the way to the bottom of my being. I knew exactly what it meant. Finnick and Annie stared at the television screen, confused expressions on both of their faces. When they turned to look at each other, the hopelessness that they felt consumed the room. Two people who had tried so hard to fight, were ultimately losing. Annie jumped to her feet, "I can't go back in there."

"Shh," Finnick was across the room and had his arms around her quickly, "It won't be you love, there are thirteen other women from our district to choose from. You'll get through it, I promise." He made eye contact with me and I could see that even he knew he was wrong.

This wasn't just about Katniss and Peeta. They may be the reason that this Quell exists, but Snow will use the opportunity to break up Finnick and Annie too. They may not be as powerful as Katniss and Peeta, but their love was a dark cloud hanging over Snow. If rumors of Finnick and Annie ever reached the Capitol, Finnick's 'career' could be ruined. But it was Snow who wanted to prevent that.

Finnick quickly said goodbye to me and then ushered Annie from my house, mumbling to her about drawing her a bath, getting some warm clothes on and going to bed. I wanted to do the same. But I knew I'd be up for hours. I had to come up with a plan, there had to be something I could do to stop this.

Feeling hopeless was the worst thing to feel. I am an old woman missing the ability to speak, what could I do to save anyone? Hours passed as I sat there, running through Snow's words, Finnick and Annie's reactions, trying to figure out what this meant for not only them, but Katniss and Peeta and also Panem. How would people react? What would the Capitolites have to say?

My door opened again and I waited until Finnick sat down beside me to pat his knee. "You knew I'd be back, huh?" he asked, sighing and closing his eyes. I knew it must have been a long night for him. I nodded and he ran his hand across his face. "It'll be us, won't it?" he asked.

He took his time meeting my eyes, and when he did, I nodded again. I'd only seen Finnick Odair cry a handful of times since I'd known him, and this was one of them. I poked his shoulder to get his attention and then I shook my head. "No what?" he asked.

I pointed to myself. His eyebrows came together, "You what, Mags?" I sighed. I pointed to his heart, "love" I mumbled. He nodded, "yes, I love you," he almost laughed, "What's that got to do with it?"

"Annie." I tried. "Yes," he hesitated, "I love Annie. Very much."

"Annie….no….fight…" Either he needed to process the words or he needed to think about my mumbles and try to figure out what words I'd meant to say. Usually it was the latter, and when his eyes darted up to mine, I pointed at myself again.

He shook his head fiercely, "No. No, Mags. You can't. I won't let you take her place. I can't lose you," the tears were reappearing in his eyes. I knew that Finnick would struggle with this, no matter what, he'd be losing one of us. He'd be fighting beside one of us in that arena. And I knew it couldn't be Annie. For both their sakes, it couldn't be Annie.

I touched his face, calming him and trying to communicate how much I loved him and needed to do this. He'd come to terms with it. I'd never want for him to have to choose between me and Annie. I was 80 years old, I'd lived my life. I'd experienced love. They were only in the middle of their story. They deserved to fight, but they couldn't both fight from inside that arena.

"Why?" he asked, tears still falling for the loved one he knew he was about to lose, and maybe his own life in the process. I could have told him I was doing it for him, for Annie, for them both, for their love, for myself, anything. But any of those answers would make him feel guilty and they'd only be a fraction of the truth. There was one main reason that I would do this. That we were both doing this.

So instead I said, "Rebellion."