/Some Quick (or not so) Words -

Thank-you for all the encouragement and feedback I received for Only If For a Night. I know some people are peeved with the direction I took. So, to those of you not-so-happy... sorry! But... I had a reason! I swear! If you haven't read Only If For a Night, I strongly suggest it, though it isn't necessary. However, this is a continuation of that story. With that... hope you enjoy!

Note 01/01/16 - The cover-art is my work from one of my stories entitled "Oriole"; but, I thought it would also work well here.

Katniss -

I'm laying in the sand on my back. The sun is hot on my face, even though I know it isn't real. It's just an illusion, part of the Games. Still, it makes my whole body warm and stretch out lazily. For a few seconds of pleasure, their fantasy will suffice.

I feel his fingers tracing slowly over my knees and my thighs. Soft lips kiss my forehead, making my eyelids flutter. But I don't open them. I just want to enjoy this moment. To feel him laying beside me.

The sand crunches as he sits up. For an instant I want to betray my decision to lay still; but when his hands cup my belly, I let it go. He pulls the band of my shirt up to my chest and I feel his warm breath on my skin as he leans down and places a dozen kisses on my stomach. I raise my hands and rest them over his on the bump - but it isn't there.

My eyes fly open as blinding white light floods my brain. I scream. It hurts so much. A sharp pain that goes in my eyeballs and shoots out the back of my skull. I blink and I try to claw at my eyes, to shield them from the light. I can barely focus, but something isn't right. My fingers are red... my hands are dripping with blood!

Hands wrap around my arms and someone adjusts the sun - no, not the sun - a lamp. I'm being thrust onto my back as I try to wrench away from the pain in my... skull? No. That isn't right either. I don't know what's happening to me.

Where am I?

Where's Peeta?

But no one answers because it's all in my head...

The dream haunts me each and every time I close my eyes. But still, Gale insists that I try to sleep. I tell him, "I'll sleep when I'm dead" even though part of me is convinced I'm already dead. I may as well be. The Capitol certainly wishes I was. But I've got things left to do.

"You're pushing yourself too hard," Gale scolds me as we make our way onto the Hover-plane - one of District 13's cool toys. He's constantly trying to tell me to slow down and take it easy. They tried to tell me I wasn't fit to be up and about. I told them to get out of my fucking way.

I wasn't going to spend any more time doped up on morphling. I need my senses. Not to numb them. I can't think straight with it. I need a clear head and I need to see it for myself.

My leg bounces up and down as we fly over Panem. The engines are surprisingly quiet - a new stealth prototype that apparently Beate had some hand in. Turns out they knew all along. District 13 - the fabled district that was supposedly wiped out by the Capitol - secretly building up technology and an army underground. Waiting until they finally had reason and motif to act.

I'm not stupid. I know what they're thinking...

The Famous Katniss Everdeen - one of the famous star-crossed lovers from District 12 - who's husband is now a prisoner of the Capitol, and who's darling child was to be the star of Panem... if she'd survived.

Tears collect at the corner of my eyes. Gale tries to hand me a tissue to wipe them but I stubbornly shake my head. Let them see. I don't care. They think being a Symbol of the Rebellion is a great honor. Then let them see what it cost to get me here. Let them share in some of it too because, god knows, I can't bare it all.

"We don't have to do this," Gale says for the hundredth time as the plane begins to descend. A cloud of ash surrounds us like a dust-devil rising up from the ruins of my home.

I shake Gale's hand off of my arm. I know I shouldn't. Gale's done nothing but try to be there for me ever since I came to. I know that, without him, my mother and sister would both be dead and I'd have absolutely nothing. But I can't accept his pity. Not right now. I need the pain. It fuels my anger and my determination.

"I'm not a piece of glass, Gale," I tell him through clenched teeth and prepare to disembark.

My crew are anxiously gathering their cameras and boom-mics as I make my way to the back of the plane. What a rag-tag ensemble we make. But it has to be documented. This is the best way to rally people to our cause. People have to know what happens when the Capitol gets angry at one person. They punish the whole village.

"I was thinking about the script Plutarch wrote," Cressida, my director, informs me as the ramp begins to drop open.

Cressida is always thinking about her work. She's dedicated to making the best "propos" (propoganda videos) anyone's every seen. She's also a tad eccentric with her shaved head and green ivy tattooed into her scalp. She defected from the Capitol, like Plutarch Heavensbee, and she's been dogging my steps since I woke up in the District 13 medical facility. At least her crew - Castor and Pollux - aren't as annoying... minus the cameras and mics.

"It's garbage," I tell her as I brace myself. The doors of the plane have opened fully onto what was District 12. What's left now is little more than ash and soot. The only buildings standing are in the Victor's Village. Like some sick, symbolic gesture that the Capitol is infallible. They choose what goes and what stays.

"Couldn't agree more!" Cressida claps her hands and follows me down the ramp. Castor and Pollux have already begun rolling. "So, I want you to be as open and honest as you can be. Just... say whats on your mind."

My lip twitches into a smirk. Say what's on my mind? ... "You asked for it..."