AN: This update took me a bit longer than expected. School started again and things got a litttttle crazy. I'm hoping to update every Friday from now on. This chapter sets up a lot; next we'll dive into the action!

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The world is drowning in burning roses and I can only watch. They rain from the sky, perfect and lethal, covered in flames and stinking of death. The roses are black and they bury everyone I love. My mother goes first, then Cinna, Effie, Haymitch. My prep team. Gale and his whole family: Hazelle, Rory, Vick, little Posy. Prim, swallowed whole with a smile still playing on her lips, her shirt un-tucked.

And Peeta. The roses burn him longest and last. His eyes watch me while I shriek, while I bang on invisible glass with reddened hands, unable to reach him, to save him. His eyes are the last things I see and I can only scream: "Always," a final promise to the Boy with the Bread as the flames consume him.

I exist in a perpetual nightmare. The texture of the hallucination changes: sometimes they are burning, sometimes they are drowning, sometimes they are beaten. But they are always dying, those people that I love.

I can never protect them. I can only watch, my body, my soul stained with the blood of those I've killed. And the blood of those I cannot save.

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Rough hands on my shoulders attempt to rouse me from sleep.

For once, I am really, truly dreaming. I am back home in District 12, in the Meadow. My father and I lie on our backs, watching the clouds. Prim chases Buttercup. Rue is there. She spreads her arms with the wind and sings. My father's voice joins her and I smile.

The hands are replaced by a slow, gentle burning in my veins. My heavy eyelids open.

I blink twice to clear the sleep from my eyes and my surroundings come into view. I am in a hospital bed in a vast, empty gray room. I am hooked up to several machines that are monitoring my heart rate. An IV drips clear liquid into my veins. My wrists are restrained, hooked to heavy steel bars on either side of the bed. It's my visitor, however, that causes me the most consternation.

President Coin stands on the right side of my bed, arms folded.

I open my mouth to talk and find that my throat is too dry to form words. I make a few rasping sounds before subsiding into silence.

President Coin lifts a small glass of water from my bedside table and hands it to me. "You collapsed after shooting President Snow. Rebel forces found you with extensive injuries in the garden. You have been asleep for one week," she says brusquely. "During that time, you underwent several surgeries. You had to be attached to a breathing tube until very recently, so the doctors say that it may be hard to speak for some time."

I sip the water slowly and nod. I hold the President's eyes for a moment and then push myself up to a seated position. The handcuffs make it difficult and I struggle against the limited range of motion.

"You caused the doctors quite a bit of trouble during your recovery, so they handcuffed you to the bed. Now that you are out of immediate danger, I see no reason that the cuffs should remain on." She removes a key from a small pocket in the front of her white jacket and unlocks the cuffs.

I sit up completely, stretching my arms and wrists appreciatively.

It is then that I notice the changes.

My body has struggled through numerous injuries over the past few years. But all trace of them is gone. My skin is new and soft. My scars have disappeared, erased by a mask of perfection. Frantically, my hands fly up to my face, touch my lips, my hair. The latter is full and long again, streaming out over my shoulders. Everywhere I can see, everywhere I can touch is flawless.

"What have you done to me?" I whisper. I am horrified. I have carried each and every scar as a reminder of the battles I have fought, of the lives that have been lost along the way.

It's like I have lost everything and everyone, all over again. The thought sends chills up and down my spine.

"We have remade you," President Coin says simply. She crosses her arms back across her chest. "You are the Mockingjay, Katniss Everdeen. The war may be over, but there are still battles to fight."

I start to speak, but am overcome by memories. The stench of death suffocating the Capitol. Prim: tending to wounded children. Gale: dragged away by Peacekeepers. Peeta: bloodied and still.

President Snow: drowning in a pool of blood, the ghosts of his last smile still dancing on his lips.

"What happened?" I ask, though I am not sure I can trust anything she has said. I will be sure to get another account, as soon as I talk to someone else.

"The war is over. When you shot President Snow, the rest of the Capitol forces surrendered. In the chaos, I have assumed the mantle of leadership for all of Panem. Refugees from the war are returning home. We are looking to rebuild the country, stronger and more powerful than before." President Coin's cool gray eyes watch me carefully.

I don't say anything. She wants something, and I can guess what it is. She still needs me. She still needs the Mockingjay, that unequivocal symbol of freedom and justice. She needs me to help her put the country back together. I stare back at her, remember Snow's final warnings to not trust Coin. I set my jaw.

The silence stretches, breaks.

Coin stands up abruptly. "You are the Mockingjay, Miss Everdeen. Despite your resistance, you are the symbol of the rebellion. Our deal is not over; your job is not done. We must quell the remaining unrest. You must set hearts at ease."

"How?" I ask, despite myself. "What more can I do?"

"Plutarch is planning another Victory Tour. We will be traveling to all of the districts, introducing the new government and its officials. You will be part of that trip. We leave in the morning. Be prepared."

Without a second glance, Coin heads to the door.

"Wait!" I call. "What has happened to my family? To Prim? My mother? Gale? Peeta?"

She pauses and takes a deep breath. "They're… fine," she says, without looking back.

Then she leaves me alone.

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After President Coin leaves, several teams of doctors come in and out of my room. They read the machines and poke my new skin. One provides me with a mirror.

The reflection I see when I dare to peer into the glass is unfamiliar. There are hints of Katniss Everdeen there, to be sure: in the curve of the chin, the shape of the eyes. I have braided back my hair, and the sensation of it off my neck makes me remember the feeling of the sun beating down on my neck.

But the woman in the glass is different. Her lips are fuller and redder. Her skin is immaculate; her cheekbones high. She is too overtly beautiful to be me.

All mutts are designed to make you feel something. Fear. Terror. Helplessness. I'm a new kind of mutt, more dangerous than all the rest. I'm designed to make you feel hope. I'm designed to make you trust. I'm designed to make you believe.

The door to my room enters, ushering in the stink of liquor. Haymitch pauses in the doorway, cocking his head side to side. "Well, look at you," he says finally.

I say nothing and Haymitch staggers over, pulling up a chair. His hair is greasy and his clothes stained with food and drink. His eyes trace my new face lazily. "Nice face, Sweetheart."

Rage fills me and I lunge towards him, hand raised. He grabs me by the wrist and pulls me closer. His breath stinks but his eyes are now clear and urgent. "Not here," he whispers. He shoves me back and says, louder, "Same old temper, I see."

I sag against the pillows, suddenly exhausted. "Haymitch," I say, my voice low. I feel incredibly defenseless, as if this new skin has left me naked and exposed. "Coin wants me to go on another Victory Tour."

"Oh, yeah. Whole gang's going. We've got the trains back and everything. I saw it to it they were well-stocked." He lifts an imaginary glass in salute.

"The whole gang?"

Haymitch nods. " They found Effie Trinket; she's coming. Your prep team. The Victors. Some commanders. Coin's bringing along everyone who can be considered a 'hero.' That cousin of yours, for one. I hear he's going to be doing quite a lot of talking on the road."

"Gale's going?" I whisper. Suddenly, an image of Peeta, lying in blood, flashes before my eyes. "Haymitch… how is Peeta? Coin said everyone is fine, but I haven't seen anyone but you."

Haymitch pauses. He looks down, avoiding my eyes. "Your family's fine. Mom and sister are working in the hospital. Gale's fine, too. But the boy…" His voice trails off.

My pulse is pounding and my blood goes cold. "What happened? Haymitch! Tell me what happened to Peeta!" I shut my eyes tight, feeling Peeta's body, warm and heavy, protecting me from harm. His whispered promises run through my mind.

"He got banged up pretty bad," Haymitch says finally, eyes on his hands. "He's alive. But he hasn't woken up yet."

Relief floods my body, so overwhelming that I feel dizzy. "He's alive though, you said. He's alive."

"He's alive, yes," Haymitch says. "But they don't think he'll ever walk again."

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Thanks so much for reading! I'd love to hear what you think :)