AN: Hmm... Not quite the reception I was hoping for, but eh what the fuck? :) I already wrote it so might as well post it, right? So here's Ch2. Thank you very much sinuk for that lovely review. It's always nice to get some insight from a fellow writer and such a fantastic one at that. Phoenix2312- Here's more ;) I hope you enjoy it.

Flashbacks and important words/thoughts are in italics.

Cheers!

Finnick breaks the uncomfortable silence. "I can't believe Cinna put you in that thing."

"He didn't have a choice. President Snow made him." I say defensively. I won't let anyone criticize Cinna. Not when he's the only person who made me feel like an actual human being when everyone else was content to treat me like an animal or some prop.

Cashmere tosses her flowing blonde curls back. "Well, you look ridiculous!"

"Not as ridiculous as you do." Johanna struts up to her, a predatory smile on her face. She circles Cashmere, eyeing her like she's prey. "If you're aiming to blind the audience then you're doing a splendid job, dear. If I have to look at that get up any longer, I'll gouge my own eyes out."

Cashmere's face twists in anger. "Let me do it for you!" She lunges, fingers curled like talons. Her brother grabs her around the waist and yanks her back. "We're on." He says, pulling her towards the stage.

"Good luck, sweetie!" Johanna laughs. Cashmere shouts back a few choice words. Did Johanna just stick up for me? She hates me. We hate each other, don't we? She catches me staring. Her infamous scowl is back. "What?"

"Thanks."

"Don't over think it. I hate that bitch. She's as fake as Flickerman's tan." That makes sense. She walks up to me and tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. Her hand lingers for a moment. I can't decipher the look on her face. At last she says, "Make him pay for it, okay?" I nod, but I don't know what she means. Johanna can tell. She's perceptive. "Snow is using you as an example. This is what will happen to anyone who tries to defy me. Turn it around on him. Don't let him use you..."

What do you do with yourself when you realize your only worth in this life is as a tool? I have been used all of my life. The Capitol used me to provide its necessities until I volunteered as tribute. Then it used me as entertainment, as something for people to point and "oh!" and "ah!" at. When the game couldn't kill me, they used me as a message to anyone out there who dare think of rebelling. My insubordination would not go unpunished.

I was finally rescued from the Capitol, from that dictator Snow, only to be handed off to another. First I was their symbol of freedom, the Mockingjay. The girl whose spark ignited a flame that lit the world on fire. Then they wrote me off. I have no purpose in their war but to look pretty and spit out the lines they feed me. And I'm not even good at that. I thought escaping from President Snow meant I would be free. They took from the frying pan and tossed me straight into a roaring fire. How fitting. I am the girl on fire after all.

It's the night of Finnick and Annie's wedding. Everyone is dancing and having a good time. Finnick and Annie are smiling so wide it hurts my face. I'm happy for them. After everything they have been through they deserve to get a happily ever after. I can't say I know what that's like. It's what was promised to the tributes. Win the games—win a worry free life of excess and luxury. It's what the Capitol assured Peeta and I we'd won. I survived. I emerged victorious. I saved Prim. I should get to go home and dive into a mountain full of gifts and pretend all the badness never happened.

I should have known better. People like me don't get a happily ever after. My happily ever after would have been a mouthful of poisonous berries. At least that way I would have taken back control from the Capitol. I would have gone out on my own terms and district 12 would still be standing. Thousands of people would still be alive. None of this would be happening.

Sometimes I think about the berries, about the moment that changed it all. Even now I can't figure out why I did it. Did I really do it to save Peeta? Did I do it to save my own skin? Did I do it to anger Snow? Was it just an act forged out of desperation? The more I think about it the more unclear my motives become. If I'd killed Peeta, the Capitol would have won. My district would never forgive me. I couldn't have known Seneca Crane would allow us to live when I held up those berries to Peeta. I was truly prepared to die. To end it all.

Everyone thinks I did it because I couldn't possibly bare living in a world without my love. That couldn't be the furthest thing from the truth. Only one thought crossed my mind in that moment before the berries reached my mouth, before Claudius cried out for us to stop.

I hope you're safe, Prim.

Greasy Sae grabs Gale by the hand and pulls him into the center of the floor and faces off with him. People pour in to join them, forming two long lines. And the dancing begins. It's an old song the people from district 12 are familiar with. Soon the room is full of people twirling, laughing, and having a good time.

I'm standing off to the side, clapping to the rhythm, watching Prim grab a timid young girl and haul her off to dance. Prim smiles reassuringly, slowly teaching her some of the steps. The redhead tries to follow but ends up nearly knocking them both over. My little sister laughs, assures her she's doing great. The redhead laughs too and seems a little more at ease as Prim continues to instruct her. Within minutes they're both dancing like they've been doing it their entire lives. I smile. The whole thing makes my heart soar. For a fleeting moment I've accomplished what I set out to do. I saved Prim. Not just from a destitute life, but from a life of pain, uncertainty, and fear.

Someone pinches my arm, tearing my attention away from the celebration. Johanna Mason scowls at me.

I haven't seen her since that day in the hospital. We were never friends. We never pretended to be anything other than tolerant of each other and sometimes not even that. So when I realize she's been avoiding me at all costs, and that deep down it bothers me, I frown.

"What do you want?" I ask impolitely, crossing my arms over my chest, trying not to notice her appearance.

Plutarch thought Finnick and Annie's wedding presented the perfect opportunity for a propo- A way of shoving it in Snow's face that we are neither broken nor defeated. Of course Plutarch, being a native of the Capitol, quickly set out to make it as extravagant as possible. Coin didn't agree but made no move to stop him.

Finnick and Annie borrowed some clothes from Peeta and I, and I have to admit they look even more stunning in them than we did. The rest of the guests are dressed in the standard drab gray uniforms of district 13. The exceptions are Gale, who is wearing his dark blue military uniform. Dalton, the cattle guy from 10, is dressed in a very simple yet handsome 3 piece suit. Plutarch shoved me inside the dress I wore during my first interview with Caesar. And then there's Johanna.

The first time I laid eyes on her, she wore this strange, dress made to make her look like a tree to represent her district. Her hair was done up in an eccentric do, and she wore layers of unflattering makeup. Tonight she is dressed in a very simple emerald dress. It's sleeveless and backless, styled like a halter from the top, and brushes all the way down past her ankles. Her hair is down, just barely touching her shoulders. And her face is refreshing bare. She looks natural. Beautiful. Almost innocent.

Almost.

There's a haunted look in her eyes that speaks of the countless horrors she's witnessed. No amount of makeup in the world can hide it. What has been seen cannot be unseen, what is done cannot be undone. Innocence can never be restored to someone as damaged as her. To someone as damaged as me.

She fidgets under my stare, looking as uncomfortable as I did in the Capitol. Johanna is not the fidgeting type, so I can only assume she's having a hard time with the Morphling. "Don't look so stunned. Plutarch wants all the victors to look as good as possible." I have to hand it to Plutarch. It's a great idea. "Are you going to miss the chance to let Snow see you dancing?"

She's right. What could spell victory louder than a happy Mockingjay twirling around to music? But I don't believe she took the time to seek me out just to tell me to dance.

"Wha-"

Johanna is gone. I catch a glimpse of her back as she exits the makeshift ball room. Her behavior is troubling, but I don't have the time to dwell on it. I join Prim and her friend in their dance.

Hours later I'm on the verge of a break down, hiding in the supply closet that has become a sort of panic room for me. I just had a talk with Peeta, per his request, and things went as expected. Utterly terrible. In fact, after that conversation I'm sure I hate him. I hate him because now he sees me for what I truly am. A monster. A selfish brat. Someone nobody likes. Ugly.

I can't say I didn't expect it. He's been tortured and conditioned to believe I am the enemy. What I didn't expect were his words to hurt me so much. They stung like tracker jackers and even now I feel their poison running through my veins. All of this just confirms what I already know. Snow is winning. He holds no physical influence over Peeta, but he has still found a way to break me through him.

I lose track of time again, my mind wandering and never staying too long on any one thing. I think of how clever I am to hide here where no one thinks to look for me except Gale. I want to be left alone to lick my wounds. These people are like sharks- one drop of blood sends them into a feeding frenzy.

The door is yanked open, and Johanna storms in with an irritated look on her face. She slams the door shut with such force it cracks down the middle. "Fuck! I hate weddings. They're so damn noisy! It's annoying." She says in disgust as she works her way to the back of the closet to join me. It is a relatively small room built to house a handful of school supplies. When Johanna finally settles, we're more than a little cramped. We're shoulder to shoulder. Just about sitting in each other's lap.

I swallow, thrown by this unwarranted proximity after zero contact for nearly a week. I hide my unease with a scoff. "Are you ever not in a bad mood?"

"When I'm unconscious." She says with a sickly sweet smile, batting her thick, dark lashes.

I roll my eyes. "How did you find me anyway?"

"Please princess, you're so predictable."

"You must be feeling better. You're back to your old self."

Johanna tenses for a split second then relaxes. "So why are you here? Have a spat with lover boy did you?"

Her words hurt. I stare at my hands. All the frustration and anger drain away, leaving me with something I've become all too accustomed to. Guilt. Helplessness. I failed Peeta. I couldn't save him and now he's suffering. It's my fault he's like that. "Something like that." I mutter, leaning my head back against the wall. There's nothing to see. I wish I was back in 12, out in the woods under a blanket of stars. A million light years away from this place and this war.

"Don't beat yourself up over it. It's not like you're the one who decided to leave us in the arena." Johanna says, her tone laced with contempt. I know she's tough. I know she can hold her own and tries very hard not to let the pain of what's happened to her show, but I see it. I see it in these little moments when that carefully constructed mask of hers slips and she's not even aware of it. She's hurt that we left her behind to die. Hurt that after she so willingly sacrificed herself for the cause, she wasn't worth saving in Plutarch or Coin's eyes.

How did I miss this before? The stubborn tough guy act. It should be familiar to me. I've played this role before. I'm still playing it. I sigh. I don't pretend to have Johanna figured out. I can't even figure myself out. But I can relate to her, and it takes away my desire to be spiteful.

"Then whose fault is it?"

She shrugs. "Haymitch's? Plutarch's? Coin's? I don't know. I just know that it's not yours."

I'm grateful for that. I don't believe it, but I'm grateful she can see something in me that I can't—That I'm not a total monster. "I know saying sorry won't change what happened, but I am."

She opens her mouth to say something. I mentally prepare myself for what I know will be a tongue lashing to remember. She just nods.

We spend an hour in silence, both of us lost in our own heads, before either of us has the nerve to speak again. Johanna breaks the silence, and when she speaks I sense that something has changed. She seems... lighter somehow. Less burdened. "I bet if we hurry we can steal some leftovers before the kitchen takes them."' I stare at her. "What?"

"That's just so unexpected coming from you." I say, doing nothing to conceal my bewilderment.

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises. Stick around."

She stands stiffly, cursing about being sore and too old for this, and offers me a hand. I take it. Wince when my ribs flare up. Johanna raises a brow. I brush it off. Stealing food from 13 is too tempting to pass up. At the very least it will ruffle Coin's feathers. Johanna must be rubbing off on me.

"So... Cake?"

She grins. "There may be hope for you yet, girl on fire."

I hope her legs move as fast as her mouth.