A/N: Sorry about the slow updates. I've just become very lethargic lately. Hopefully I'll bresk my writers block an finally finish this! I hope you're enjoying it, and if you are, you should vote for me and this story on the Countdown to Mockigjay fanfic contest. I'm a contender, and I'm absolutely honoured. The sites link is .com/site/countdowntomockingjay/

All the other entries are fantastic. You should definitely give them a read! :D

Okay, here we go.

We were ready.

After what seemed like an eternity of too much planning and not enough action, we were ready to leave.

My father stood at the table, stooped over blueprints and combing through every single fine line until it was ingrained in his memory. They all stood there, warily watching, waiting for him to speak.

"We move in tonight." he said, cocking his head up from the table. His eyes glinted menacingly, and I remembered just how similar we were; it tore me to pieces and filled me with self-loathing.

But I had to get over my hatred for him.

He was leading me to Peeta.

Dad straightened his spine, and winced at the uncomfortable knots that had formed in his shoulder blades. He rolled his arms and closed his eyes, releasing the tension in his shoulders, but not in the room.

"I don't think we're ready," a squat man with a ruddy face and short grey hair stepped forward. He had a scar running across the right side of his face from escaping the explosion five years ago. "We've only had this plan in motion for a few weeks, and we don't even know if what that girl says is true."

I narrowed my eyes at him from my spot in the corner, leaning against the doorframe and watching everyone like a hawk. He could feel my gaze burning into his skull, looked at me briefly and hung his head in embarrassment.

"That girl's name is Katniss," My dad said softly, which was far more menacing than if he had blown up. "And she's right. We need to infiltrate the Capitol, and we need to strike while the iron is hot. If Peeta Mellark is alive, it's a plus. We will not leave a man behind, agreed?"

There were murmurs of assent and eyes darting around the room to avoid my father's gaze.

"Agreed?" My father injected as much authority into his tone as possible. He really was a born leader, and drew all attention to him. HI steely determination radiated through the room and infected every member of his audience.

"Agreed." a unanimous assent echoed around the four walls. I was itching to get moving, but we were still parked firmly on the District 13 airship, planning.

Planning. I knew that the mission we were about to undertake was dangerous and needed serious consideration, but every minute we planned was another minute that the Capitol might decide that Peeta was disposable.

My chest began to implode at the thought. I swallowed down my fears and concentrated on my father's words. Finnick stood beside me, equally captivated, and leaned against the kitchen wall. The moon was high in the sky and stars twinkled through the infinite blackness. It was the perfect send-off. One last glimpse of hope before we set off to meet our doom. Some, or more realistically, most of us would die, but we would go down fighting, and the Capitol would remember us long after we were gone.

I shut my eyes and squeezed them tight, thinking of that night on the rooftop when Peeta and I had spoken- had a real conversation-for the first time. I remembered how the moonlight had shone around his head like a halo. I saw the brief hint of a smile play across his lips and the fiery determination in his eyes when he told me he would not let the Capitol change him and he would be himself during the games.

Even during torture, he had not succumbed to their wishes. He was Peeta.

And I needed him back.

I squeezed my eyelids tighter, so tight they almost hurt and concentrated on the brightest star I had seen. I had ever been a big believer in fate. I always thought that things just happen by chance, and there was no predetermination; you just had to deal with the consequences of what life handed you.

But I concentrated on that star, shining like a beacon and pictured Peeta's face, and made one of the only wishes I had ever made in my life.

I wished for him to come home.

I wished for him to come home to me.

I wished for our safe arrival.

I wished for our survival.

Finnick's elbow lightly hit my ribs, and I recoiled at his touch.

"You okay?" he whispered, concern colouring his tone. I finally released the death grip hold on my eyelids, and gently touched my cheek. Wetness coated my hand as tears spilled down my face.

"I'm fine," I said, although as much as I tried to stop them, the tears would not stop falling.

"We'll get our boy back," Finnick said, "I promise."

"I'll hold you to that." I laughed quietly, but only half-heartedly. I knew that we had a thousand to one shot of ever finding Peeta, but a glimmer of hope still took a great stake in my heart, and as his face popped into my mind's eye once more, and I watched his face and every move and nuance, I realised he looked like an avenging angel.

More importantly, He was my guardian angel. He always had been.

Now I would return the favour.