One more chapter after this!

The blue haze of dawn leaks through the window. It takes with it the fantasy of last night, replacing the memory—their bodies desperately entwined—with the glare of reality. Katniss blinks awake, finds herself nestled in his arms, and inhales the sweet scent of him. Her fingers slide through the fine hairs across his chest. His heartbeat thuds against her ear.

The first thing she feels is not the afterglow of what they did. No, what she feels is pure anger burning in her throat.

Her virginity had already been taken before Peeta came back into her life. Her first time happened when she was sixteen, two years ago, with a Capitol boy. During the months they'd dated, they fucked half a dozen times, always rushed and sloppy. It became less painful each time, but it failed to provide the mental escape she longed for.

Even worse, her mind had flashed to Peeta during that very last romp with her boyfriend, while she was bent over the Rococo armchair in her bedroom. She'd glanced at the watch strapped around her wrist, wondering how much longer he needed to finish, when Peeta's youthful smile invaded her thoughts. She wondered what he looked like as a teenager. Was his mother treating him well? Did he have a girlfriend who made him happy? Would he be a tender lover?

She missed Peeta suddenly, and that made her furious, and that's when she shoved her boyfriend off of her. Yes, he'd been nice and charming, not crude or unpleasant to be around. Katniss even enjoyed talking to him, and he actually listened to her. But he only dated her for status, as did every other boy that followed him. To all of them, she was a prize.

Not to Peeta. His touch was different. With him, it had been rushed and fierce. Yet he'd cradled her face in his hands and stared at her the way he did when they were children—as if she mattered.

Peeta should have been my first. He should have been a lot of things.

She buries her face in the crook of his arm. His soft body heats her skin, warning her that they can't stay in bed. People will wake up soon. They'll be looking for him. For her.

Peeta's a heavy sleeper. Maybe he isn't used to someone waking him up, someone making him groan softly, thumbing his chin until he stirs. Katniss would love to wake him up forever. She'll only get this one opportunity, however she can't bear to do it while she's naked. The intimacy would make leaving him more difficult.

It's not easy prying herself away. As she slides off the bed, Peeta makes an adorable noise, something like a masculine whine, and an even more adorable face, his features scrunching together. He rolls over unconsciously and rests on his side. The blanket slips low enough to reveal the wall of his back and the beginning swell of his ass.

In another world, all that could be mine.

Shit. She hates him for completely different reasons now.

Katniss picks through their clothes, which they'd discarded before falling asleep. She finds his shirt and drapes it over her head, the worn cotton brushing her shoulders. Peeta is not a tall man, yet the hem hangs past her knees. She presses the shirt collar to her lips and closes her eyes. Just for a minute, and then she swears she'll get dressed in her own clothes.

"Of all the beautiful outfits I've seen you wear, this is my favorite look on you," his sleepy voice says.

Katniss turns. She feels a blush creep up her neck at being caught mooning over his shirt like a heartsick schoolgirl.

Have mercy. He's sitting up, the white sheet pooling around his waist. He's tousled and sexy—and she's mortified because she wants to spend the rest of their hours kissing the truth away. She's in danger of becoming one of those girls who thinks kissing can solve things. That love is the antidote to war. It conquers all.

Peeta's grin fades. He watches her closely, his features sagging beneath the weight of everything just outside this room. "You still plan to leave."

He knows her unspoken thoughts well. She knows him, too. At least, the bits and pieces. Is that enough? How do people fall for each other without knowing everything? Without learning about the normal things before going insane and depressed and stupid with love?

She sinks onto the bed and curls her feet beneath her. "I have no choice," she says. "You know what will happen if I stay."

"I won't let it happen," he bites out. "I will never let anyone hurt you."

"Peeta, don't make that promise. You won't be able to keep it. Go back to the bunker. Wake up your Star Squad and talk strategy. Act like everything's normal—as normal as can be expected. I'll be far from here by the time they realize I'm missing. They won't suspect you."

He hangs his head, shakes it in refusal. She longs to touch whatever part of him is available. Hands are out of the question because they're busy squeezing the bedsheets. She reaches for his foot, his toes, his ankle, targeting easy areas, not wanting to smother him. But before her fingers actually get to any of those places he shifts away, rejecting her.

Katniss changes her mind. She goes for full-on contact. She climbs behind him, weaving her arms around his torso, securing her legs around his waist, linking herself tight to his frame and resting her head between his shoulder blades. Peeta relaxes, flattening his arms over hers and threading their fingers together.

She speaks into his ear. "Peeta?"

Nothing.

"Peeta."

Nothing.

"Peeta Mellark—"

"Katniss Everdeen-Snow," he snaps.

She kisses his lobe. "You know I have to get out of here. I'm not coward. This isn't about me, it's about you. Will you still be able to treat me like a prisoner? Lock me in that cell again, for appearances sake? I don't think so. And what about Haymitch, Finnick, Plutarch? What about Gale? He's your best friend. You're in the middle because of me. All the people closest to you—I'm ruining your relationships. I'll destroy the image of the Mockingjay. Think about it: I'm too much of a liability. You need everyone to trust you. To follow you. You can't be compromised."

And if a rebel manages to kill her, it will destroy him. He will find a way to blame himself for it.

She's an enemy and an outcast on both sides. She's no good for him. She won't drag him down.

His silence proves that he understands what she's saying, but being understood doesn't exactly feel great. It feels the opposite in so many ways, in so many corners of her. She brushes the side of his face with her mouth, believing he'll sense everything else that's stuck in her throat.

It's always been you, even when I didn't want it to be. You're the best person I've ever met. You make me believe I can be better. You've ripped my heart from my chest, but that's okay. You can have it. It's yours.

Suddenly, she lands on her back. Peeta lands on top of her, flattening his palms on either side of her head. "There's. No. Way. I'm. Letting. You. Go."

She will not cry. They've become two people who aren't allowed to have each other, yet she won't stop holding on, gathering pieces of him and storing them in her memory. And she will not cry.

"All these years, I always knew you worshiped me," she jokes.

"I hated you," he admits.

"Same thing."

"Yes," he agrees, his voice brittle. "So please don't go."

She rests her fingers on his face, marveling at how different it is to be with someone gently, rather than to be with them harshly. Her life has mostly been the latter. Until Peeta, who saw in her something worth his affection. His feelings are a mystery to her, because in order to deserve him, she would have to be born as someone else. She would have to either save the world or keep her filthy hands off it. She would have to be raised by people like her father and mother, grow up near a forest where she could disappear into nature, learn an honest trade like hunting, and live peacefully.

She's being dramatic. Maybe he's just a kind, brave boy who doesn't want to be set high on a pedestal, who didn't ask to be a savior, who got there by chance. A boy who's blinded by lust and nostalgia, who thinks Katniss Everdeen-Snow can be saved. Maybe Peeta doesn't want her to live through countless lifetimes to deserve him. Maybe he only wants her to forgive herself, to realize that it's up to her to change.

That's also why she has to leave. Because here, she won't live long enough to try.

Peeta gets her reasons, however he thinks they can overcome them. He won't give her up, no matter what she says. His determination straddles the thin line between Devoted Lover and Dumbass.

All right. Then she'll have to go with Plan B.

So she lies to him. "Fine," she says. "I'll stay."

Peeta asks her for one more time before they return to the bunker. Her back arches so he can peel off the shirt she's wearing, and then he kisses her senseless. He fucks her again, slower than before. She raises her knees and clings to his body. She moans against his racing heartbeat, "Keep me here."

He thinks she truly means it. And in her own way, she does.

kpkpkpkpkp

They get dressed while Peeta tries to convince her to maintain a positive attitude. "I'll get Haymitch and Finnick on your side eventually. Once I have them, everyone else will follow. I can do this for you." Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he yanks the laces of his boots and then double-knots them. Then he stands and tosses her a cocky grin. "I've got a reputation for saying the right things."

"Stop acting like it'll be easy," Katniss says, buttoning up her jumpsuit. "I've seen you demonstrate your skills plenty, Peeta Mellark. I've been on the receiving end of them, but even you have handicaps. This isn't the same—what?"

Why is he grinning at her, all wistful?

He grabs her by the hips and tugs her close to him, and it sucks because he smells good, which she doesn't need right now. Her senses have to be alert, not distracted. She braces her hands on his forearms and attempts to push him away, but he tightens his grip, his arms banding around her waist. "I like hearing my full name on your lips."

"You'll regret this choice. I'm giving you one last chance to kick me out of here."

Peeta doesn't listen. He drifts a finger across her cheek.

"We've got to focus," Katniss breathes. "Please, stop touching me."

"I can't help it."

"Dammit, Peeta, you'd be better off without me."

"Katniss," he whispers, like it's a secret. "I forgive you."

Get it together, Everdeen. ASAP!

The sound that comes out of Katniss is one she hadn't thought herself capable of making. It's like someone has tried to strangle her and then has suddenly let go. She lifts his hand and kisses his knuckles, because he will always be her biggest weakness. "No, you don't," she says. "Not yet."

He angles his face down at her, resting his lips on hers. "If things had been different, if we were on the same side from the beginning, we would have made an epic team."

"I suppose," she concedes.

"So trust that. Let's be an epic team now. We can protect each other."

She sighs. "You're relentless, aren't you?"

"I am," he says.

Bunching his shirt in her fists, she pulls him to her. He grabs her face, his lips descending on hers like something gentle fallen from the sky. Her knees buckle, but he holds her up. She used to witness kisses like this between other people, different from the insincere ones she'd shared with other boys. She used to stumble upon couples in private corners during dinner parties and balls, in random hallways or in the gardens of her home. She used to be grateful that she wasn't on the receiving ends of those romantic kisses—real kisses between real lovers—because who'd want to have something so deep, only for it to end seconds later?

Now she wants nothing more than that. Nothing more than his hands shifting from her face to the back of her head, securing her beneath the movements of his mouth.

"Ready to go?" she asks when he breaks away.

"Ready," he says.

"Okay."

And then Katniss punches Peeta in the face.

She aims for the right spot and lands a blow that knocks him unconscious. His head whips to the side, and he staggers backward, crashing onto the bed. His wow-blue eyes fall shut. He's going to be fine, she assures herself. Furious, but fine. The rebels won't blame him. They'll assume he tried to stop her from getting out of here.

First, she grabs a paper and pencil from his desk and writes all the details about her grandfather's army: strengths, flaws, operations. She also draws a hasty map of the presidential mansion, identifying secret points of entry, as well as passages that no one else knows about—that her grandfather believes Katniss doesn't know about—and the security detail. She lists passwords and codes to dismantle alarms and disrupt communications. She reveals exactly where her grandfather is likely holding Johanna Mason and Annie Cresta—Odair's D4 friend—prisoner and how to breach the area.

The rebels have already witnessed Katniss's mental breakdown. It's not a stretch for them to believe that Peeta got this info out of her, bribed her or took advantage of her vulnerability at some point. He'll figure it out what to say.

She stuffs the paper into his pocket. "Remember," she whispers.

Next, the area needs to appear as though there was a struggle. In her mind, she quickly choreographs the fight and follows its progress, overturning the desk chair, smashing the reading lamp onto the floor, and tossing pillows off the bed. That will suffice.

Katniss steals his communicuff and stomps her heel into the face until it breaks apart. Unfortunately, he's got no weapons on him. The pencil she used is hardly a means of defense, but it's sharp, so she takes it anyway.

After slipping the pencil up her sleeve, she checks the hall, then twists around. Peeta doesn't stir. She blows him a kiss, leaving the door wide open so it looks as if they tumbled into that room, and catapults down the corridor while struggling to get her bearings. The night before, he told her that he had a room underground as well, but he also wanted a place to clear his thoughts, somewhere that enabled him to see the sunset when he needed it. He fought with everyone about it, but he got his way. It's a luxury that only the Mockingjay could have received.

According to Peeta, his windowed room is near the hanger, where they keep hovercrafts and weapons. Everything else is below ground, but there's no way she's going back down there. Not if there might be a suitable armory in the hangar. Also, she might find other supplies and a smaller control room there. Possibly.

She turns two corners and slams into someone. A towering, uniformed figure stands before her, his livid gaze latching onto her face. It's Hawthorne.

She's lifted off her feet and hammered into the nearest wall before she knows what's happening. He clamps onto her neck, choking her with one hand, pinning her shoulder with the other. The more she gasps for breath, the tighter his grip becomes, robbing her of air. Her pencil pierces the skin under her sleeve. She fights to keep it from dropping.

"Nice try," Hawthorne snarls, reeking of sweat and something sour. "I knew Peeta wouldn't be able to keep you on a leash."

She wiggles her wrist.

"You've got him fooled, but not me."

The pencil slips out.

"You're nothing but Capitol scum."

It lands in her fingers.

"You'll find out what it's like to suffer. You'll get what you deserve."

She jams the pencil into his ear. The boy roars, releasing her, grasping his bloody lobe.

With a growl, he launches toward her again. Out of nowhere, a hand darts out and stabs something into his arm. His eyes roll back, and he drops to the floor, out cold. Primrose, the medic girl, appears behind him, brandishing a needle. "Are you okay?" she asks calmly.

Katniss clutches her throat. "How . . ."

"My mom says I pay attention to things. I don't know if that's true, but I know people here. I've heard them say what they'd do to you if they could. I saw the way Gale was looking at you last night, like he wanted to harm you. Plus, I couldn't sleep anymore. I saw that you were gone. I saw him leave."

"Thank you—"

"This isn't something you thank a person for."

Katniss nods. She kneels beside Hawthorne, disarms him of the gun and knife strapped to his side, and rises again. "I can't stay," she begins.

Primrose holds up a hand. "Are you going back to the Capitol?"

Katniss shakes her head. "I don't know."

The only reason she'd consider that would be to defeat Snow, risk herself in order to protect Peeta and everyone else. The information she gave him would be a last resort for the rebels, in case she failed and got herself killed like an idiot. But how would she get to Snow from here? Of all the damn things she doesn't know how to do, it's fly a hovercraft. Could she stow away on a train? Make it to the Capitol on foot?

Could she stomach it? Cutting down her own grandfather?

Primrose hesitates, peers at her, and reaches a decision. To Katniss's bafflement, the girl rattles off directions, mapping out the safest route into the forest. "You'd better hurry," she says, then turns to leave—just like that.

"Wait," Katniss says. "Why did you help me?"

Primrose wheels back around and shrugs. "I didn't do it for you. I did it for Peeta. I mean . . . well, he must love you a lot."

Katniss's chest squeezes. "He means everything to me."

For some reason, she wants Primrose to know that. Once he wakes up, Peeta will go back to hating her. But maybe if she leaves the words behind, with somebody to hear them, to carry the words back to Peeta, one day he will believe them, too.

After the girl leaves, Katniss rushes to the hangar. As she hoped, there's a control room, not as big as the main one must be, but it will have to do. There's one other thing she needs to deal with. Hacking into the system takes longer than she cares for. Her shaky fingers jump across a landscape of buttons, typing, clicking. And then, at last, she's there.

She clings to the back of a chair and stares at the screen mounted on the wall. "President Snow, it's Katniss," she says aloud, battling to keep her words steady. "Are you there?"

No response. She licks her lips.

"President Snow, are you there? It's me," she repeats. "It's Katniss."

The fucking monitor hisses. It kills her.

"President Snow," she demands.

Without warning, his white hair invades the screen. It's the first thing she notices. That, and the rose in his lapel.

"Now, now, my dear," her grandfather says, sitting in his office chair, relaxed and diabolically elegant. "What happened to Grandfather?"

She gulps down the acidic taste building on her tongue. "Were you ever really that? You lied to me. All these years, everything you said, everything you taught me."

He threads his fingers together like a net. "Hmm. You seem to have misplaced your manners along with your loyalty. I can tell from that flush crawling up your neck, and that bed hair, that you've let the rebels get to you. One renegade in particular has wormed his way into your . . . good graces."

The way he emphasizes that last part makes her sick. "Keep him out of this," she snarls. "If you don't, I will come to the Capitol and end you myself."

Snow leans forward in his chair, twiddles his wrinkled thumbs. "I never was able to knock him out of your system," he says matter-of-factly, confirming her suspicions that he had Peeta reaped because of her. "You had such promise growing up, dearest. I was even convinced that you'd managed to squash your little childhood crush to smithereens as the years went by." He raises his index finger in the air. "But just to be certain, I tested you. Yet when you came of age as a Gamemaker, with that insolent boy at your disposal, you showed your true colors by keeping him alive. Subtly protective, but I saw through it. Just imagine my disappointment: Behind those steely irises, you proved to be soft as your father was."

Don't you love me at all? Don't I matter even a little?

Hot tears prick the backs of her eyes. Katniss grits her teeth to stop them. "You announced my death to the world."

"I would have thought you'd grasp the logic behind that."

"Once, I would have. Back when I used to be a monster like you."

"And what?" Snow jeers, his eyes crystalline with amusement. "You think you're redeemed because of the Mockingjay? He's had you, that much is clear. But do you honestly think he'll want you after all this?"

Katniss swallows. "Someday, he might," she mutters.

Her grandfather laughs, flashing white teeth and lips covered in sores. "I applaud your stubbornness and entitlement, dearest. You get that from me."

In response, she pounds her fist against a flashing button. She watches the screen twitch, the connection falter, and the darkness swallow him whole. "Not anymore," she whispers, quoting Peeta.

She finds a bow and grabs a supply pack from the stash in the hangar, then vanishes into the woods. Not anymore.

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