The yells from her squad members mingle with my own and hell breaks loose. I fall to my knees beside her, praying again. Three of the blades are lodged in her right arm, the other three skewered her shoulder, and I hope beyond knowledge that they missed vital organs. Misa is instantly there, but her face is filled with shock and it takes her a moment to compose herself. Everyone gathers around Aurora, not just the Avian Squad but the rest of 451 too. Finnick is with them, bloody and battered like the rest, but alive. And two other people I don't know. Katniss crouches down next to me, looking as if she's in a dream.

"She protected me." Her voice sounds incredulous.

"I'm fine. I just… feel a little… pierced.", Aurora says, but the color is already draining from her face and I feel the fear for Katniss being replaced by a whole new fear.

"Help me get her into a safe house.", Misa commands and we all obey.

"I'll scout the perimeter. Make sure no one creeps up on us.", Hawkie says. Even though the goggles obscure her eyes, I know she's crying. With everyone's help, we find a large apartment around the corner and settle Aurora down on a beautiful bed, soaking the white sheets with her blood. Misa shoos us away and shuts the door, but I'm unable to move, paralyzed. Katniss grabs my hand tightly and follows my example. We simply stand there, while I hear the others walk around the rooms, hushed voices talk, someone retells the story of what happened.

"She protected me. I don't even know her name…", Katniss repeats.

"Her name… is Aurora.", I tell her. "She rescued me from my prison. She cured my mind from the hijacking. And now she saved your life." Katniss breaks down after hearing this. She has this concept of dept in her mind, and Aurora is on her list now too, probably ranking somewhere between me and Gale in terms of owing. I pull her trembling form into my arms.

"Katniss. It's not your fault. She'll be okay, she's so strong, and Misa is the best healer I know. Second maybe only to your mother and Prim.", I whisper gently. She gives a shaky laugh.

"Let's go down to the others. There's nothing we can do for her now, but to leave her in Misa's able hands."

Down in the living room, Coach is tending to Waltz' and 451's wounds – since his sister's a medic, he is bound to know some first aid. Finnick got the worst of it, but he gives me a reassuring nod. Gale is less than pleased to see me, though he's hiding it well – more or less. The other two surviving members are Cressida, a young woman with a shaved head and Pollux, a burly avox with sandy hair and a red beard. Finnick explains the happenings of the last few days, how the pod went off and killed their squad leader, Boggs, and how they are on an important mission to kill President Snow. Gale looks more and more agitated at his easily given trust to the Avian Squad, until he interrupts Finnick when he's in the middle of describing the rose-mutts in the sewers.

"We don't even know who these people are, and you're just telling them everything? What if they are Snow's agents?" Finnick looks perplexed for a moment, but it's Waltz who answers.

"Agents who gun down Peacekeepers and save the Mockingjay's life?" His voice is dangerously low.

"He doesn't mean that, he's just confused. You don't belong to the rebels, or 13, so…", Katniss tries to explain.

"I tell them because I know who the woman is that saved Katniss.", Finnick interjects, silencing everyone. I'm intrigued now. "Or at least I have heard rumors about her, secrets being whispered among the few people who weren't at peace with Snow's ways, even in the Capitol." An image flashes through my mind of Katniss standing next to the chariot at the Quarter Quell. He offered me sugar and wanted to know all my secrets.

"They call her the White Queen, after the chess piece. She was said to help people who were against Snow's regime. That she sabotages him secretly. I just never thought it could really be true…", Finnick says.

"It is true.", I say, and every head turns to me.

"Then why didn't she just join the rebels?", Gale asks, suspicion in his tone.

"Let it go, Gale. She might be dying because she shielded Katniss. I think that's enough to earn our trust.", Finnick cuts him off. When his green eyes find mine, I see that he knows. He who gathered secrets like others gather postage stamps, knows Aurora's last name. But for some reason, he chose to protect her.

"I like that guy.", I hear Hawkie's voice over the communicator in my ear, and I suppress a chuckle. Finnick finishes his story and we recount our own, but less than an hour later, we're all so tired our eyes are drooping. Gale gives me a scowl when I volunteer to take the first watch with Katniss, but I don't care. After months of being away from her, I'm starved for her closeness. In the back of my mind, a small voice warns me about how dangerous I could get if I lost control and plunged into an episode, but I push it away and it's surprisingly easy.

"The roof is very nice. And private. Except for me on the other side, but I'll find something else to watch.", Hawkie says as if she has read my mind.

"Let's head up to the roof.", I whisper to Katniss and she nods. We ascend through a narrow stairway and find ourselves on a fenced rooftop with a small stone garden and a few well-groomed bushes.

"Won't we be seen up here?", Katniss asks, looking around suspiciously. I notice that the city view is not quite right, like the night sky was in the arena, so I pick up a stone and throw it over the fence. It bounces right back to our feet.

"A force field. I bet someone on the outside can only see an empty roof.", I say.

"Whoever lived here liked their privacy.", Katniss muses. We sit down and lean against the wall, looking out into the city that I'm sure is just a hologram. I scoop her up in my arms and we stay quiet for a while.

"Peeta. What did they do to you? When we talked, you said something about hijacking…" She turns her gaze to me questioningly, waiting for an answer. It's hard to find a good starting point, but I try to collect myself.

"At first I was left alone for a few days… Snow came and told me if I want to protect you, I need to tell the rebels to cease resistance.", I begin, reluctant at first. "Then they must have realized that the rebels had no intention of giving up, and… that's when the bad things started." I feel the haunting memories creep up on me and a shiver runs through my body. For a second, Katniss' pained face turns into a look of evil and cold sweat breaks at the back of my neck. No, not now, please not now. But it's too little, too late. I need to get a grip, an anchor, before I drown in my flashback.

"Peeta?", she sounds sorrow-stricken, but I fumble with my belt, my jacket, my first-aid kit in hope I can hold on to one of these things. Something soft hits the ground – the papers Aurora gave me on the hovercraft. Katniss picks them up before I can stop her, and while I rock back and forth, trying to force my thoughts into order, she reads. A sound escapes her, so wounded it manages to get through to me. My mantra. It will finish the job.

"Logic. Anchor. Focus. Reciprocity. Origin. Actuality. Conclusion.", I mumble until I feel my heart calm down, the fear subside.

"You never hurt me on purpose. Is that real or not real?" My question seems to startle her, but as she looks down on the pages in her hands, she seems to understand.

"Real…", she answers, before adding, "I tried to protect you from the day the Gamemakers announced that two people could be crowned victors." I nod, smiling slightly.

"Sometimes… I remember wrong things. Or I'm not sure if what I remember is the right thing. Aurora helped me, but…" Almost ashamed, I raise my gaze to meet hers. There are tears in her eyes, but she doesn't break eye contact. "If I get confused, can I ask you?" My voice must sound pleading, pathetic even. But Katniss only puts her arms around my neck and pulls me close, very gently, as if I'd fall apart by her hands.

"Ask me anything.", she says quietly. Finally, I get to tell her everything. About my time as a hostage, my rescue, my months of recovery and of course, the Aviary and her people.

"You sang and danced every week?", she asks me, unbelieving. It makes me laugh lightly and I nod.

"Yeah. It kept our mood up, you know… They know it's important to enjoy yourself a little even when things are most dire. Otherwise, how would we be capable of doing the things we do, without something to look back on?", I muse and Katniss gives me a strange look.

"Is it me or did you get wiser yet?", she scowls, but only half seriously.

"I always was. As I keep telling you, it's you who's not paying attention…" This tickles a slight smile out of her, but it fades only seconds later. Inclining my head towards hers, our brows press against each other.

"It wasn't easy for you in 13… I know…" She sighs and her eyelids flutter shut.

"They want me to be this person… this leader… But I'm not. I'm just so…", her voice trails away, but I finish the sentence for her.

"Tired. I know." I lean back and pull her to my side so her head rests on my shoulder. Despite my urging to sleep a little, she mumbles stories about her time in 13 to me with closed eyes. Occasionally, when she tells something that bothered or saddened her, I give her a squeeze, but otherwise I just listen silently. Speaking to me about these things seems to be like emptying a giant vessel that was in danger of overflowing for a long time. Bit by bit, ounce by ounce her feelings spill from her, loosening their grip on her mind. Until she falls into a light sleep and I'm left with her soft breaths and the feeling of her warm body against mine. It feels like home. Hours must have passed by when I hear the supple footsteps below and see Misa step onto the balcony. At the sight of my hopeful, questioning look, she nods her head.

"I removed the blades. She lost some blood, but she'll manage. I practically had to force her to sleep, but you can talk to her in the morning." Despite her best efforts to talk in a low voice, Katniss, ever the hunter, begins to stir beside me.

"Is she alright?", she asks, rubbing her eyes. Misa gives her a rare smile.

"Yes, miss. Although I'll never hear the end of it about how my sloppy stitches leave scars behind. Ma'am hates them." A compassionate, sad expression flashes over her face, but since this is her usual look, I don't give it much thought and Misa leaves us alone again. Katniss turns to me.

"Peeta, I wanted to ask you something. When we talked over that communicuff in the broadcast room, you said this strange thing, about Haymitch and the Northern Lights.", she begins and even though I'm tired now, I prick up my ears.

"Did you tell him?", I ask hopefully. Katniss nods, but for some reason she looks confused.

"Yeah. But… he freaked out. He told me that his sweetheart, who was killed by Snow, was from the Capitol and named after the Northern Lights. When she was killed, he received a card that… was supposed to remind him how her death was his responsibility. I know it's a horrible thought to have, but I wondered… Why did they never send him the body? I mean, it would have been the perfect atrocity to silence him forever. I thought maybe you wanted to tell him that she could be alive? The way he yelled at me when I suggested it… 'Everyone I have ever loved is dead, Katniss!'" She falls silent for a long moment. When she speaks again, her voice carries an unusual mix of pity and annoyance.

"I always thought Haymitch hates everyone and everything. Life, people, feelings. But maybe the person he hates most is himself." Katniss turns her gaze back to mine. I think she might be absolutely right.

"What did you really mean with that line?", she asks. But she is so clever, my huntress, I'm positive she can find the answer on her own. She's already almost got it figured out.

"Can you guess?", I counter, inclining my head.

"That his sweetheart is not dead.", she concludes and I nod. "It's true then! She's alive, the girl, she…" Katniss looks almost excited now. "But where is she?"

"What's her name?", my tone is urging her to think, to discover. She looks slightly baffled.

"Northern Lights. But that's not her real name – it has to be a synonym. We learned it in school… They have another name…", she struggles like this for a while, but then suddenly, her hands drop into her lap and she looks at me with eyes so wide I'm sure they'll pop out of their sockets. "Aurora borealis."

"Yes. The wounded woman downstairs, who rescued and cured me and saved both our lives in different ways, she is Haymitch's early love. Snow didn't kill her.", I confirm.

"I don't understand. Why did they punish Haymitch in the first place? I mean, it's technically not a crime for Capitol residents and District people to have a relationship, or is it? If it was because of the force field, that's a hell of a delay… And why does Haymitch not know that she survived?", Katniss asks, her voice filled with bewilderment. Gently, I grab her shoulders and turn her to look me in the eye.

"Katniss. I want to answer your questions, but this is not my story to tell. It's more complicated than that, far more. As I would never break your trust in me, I cannot break Aurora's trust by telling you before she has a chance to do it herself. What I can say is this: Both of them think they are responsible for the other's death, although in Haymitch's case, it isn't literal death, but more the murder of a soul. This guilt is why they never went searching for each other." I'm not sure if I'm making myself clear, but Katniss seems to understand.

"I know… After he yelled at me, I left the room. But before the door closed, he picked up that card. It had this blue and white bird on it. I think he has been carrying it for twenty-three years. I saw him pick it up and clutch it to his chest. He still cares about her, Peeta. To him, she's been dead for almost a quarter of a century, and he still mourns her." Her voice is full of wonder, as if someone had just told her that magic is real, or people actually turn into ghosts. I'm not surprised.

Katniss' relationship with Haymitch had always been somewhat edgy and paradox. He had been harder on her than on me, because she refused to play by his book so many times. I used to think he saw himself in Katniss, a person who is unyielding and not the slightest bit impressed by the Capitol. In my eyes, Haymitch both loves and hates Katniss: He loves her because she is brave, a fighter, with a secret potential burning in her heart like a small star.

And he also hates her, for she is so similar to him, so bound to re-enact his own mistakes, so ill-fit for things that go beyond mere survival. And I begin to understand, on a different level, why he sometimes gave me these looks of kindness, but why they always had a slight hint of pity in them. Because I was like Aurora. I loved Katniss beyond reason, but Haymitch suspected that ultimately, my love for her would be my downfall. My one great weakness. That she would hurt me the way he had hurt Aurora, because he is what he is – surly, hostile, running from his emotions rather than facing them. Only nothing in the world is that simple. Aurora wouldn't still love him with all her heart – which she does – if she didn't know that there was genuine goodness in him. And since we are kindred spirits, I am just the same.

"I'm sorry.", Katniss interrupts my thoughts, and I look up at her in surprise. "I… I don't want to end up like that. If I die here… I don't want you to feel guilty."

"You are not going to die here.", I say pointedly. Her resolve breaks apart again and she buries her face in her hands.

"I've messed things up so badly. A mission to kill Snow… What was I thinking!? People died to protect me." I stroke her hair soothingly while she trembles.

"They died because they believed in you. Not the Mockingjay that you became. But the person whose hard shell breaks open, and inside, there is exceptional kindness, and bravery in the face of fear, and a heart that follows its own beat, not the one that is dictated." She meets my steady gaze with a kind of gratitude that I have rarely seen her show, and I wonder if she has been waiting to hear these words ever since our hardships started. If she really thinks she is responsible for all that befell us. Gently, I grab the Mockingjay uniform she's wearing by the shoulders.

"Even though Cinna did a beautiful job once more… The rebellion is not made by this –" Instead, I place the tips of my fingers, light as a feather, above her heart. "But by this.", I say, smiling. And because she has no words or tears or smiles to express what she feels, Katniss does the one thing that needs neither, but is all of them.

When her lips touch mine, it's the most gentle of kisses, only the slightest brush like a warm summer breeze. But it's enough to quicken my heart and bring long-lost memories to my mind as I close my eyes. The blazing of our oven on the day I had baked bread on my own for the first time. My father entering our living-room with a squirrel in his hand, humming an old song. Portia adjusting the tie of my groom-outfit with tears in her eyes, but a smile on her lips at the same time. Katniss' fingers moving when I saw her braid her hair once, the same way as they moved whenever she took up a bow, like a skilled musician playing his favourite instrument.

All these things flash before my eyes during our feather-light, shy kiss, but they are nothing like the pictures I see during episodes. They are not shiny, overly exaggerated or even particularly beautiful memories. They don't fill me with fear or anger. They are the most simple, basic form of happiness. Innocent like the laughter of a child. Unscathed like a piece of fresh, white paper. Risen from the ashes of my shattered mind, new and bare and pristine, like the first flower of spring.

And even though it's short-lived and her lips leave mine only seconds later, for a moment I am not a man who was forced into adulthood by the world's cruelty, or has lived two lifetimes of sorrow, or was on the brink of losing his soul. But only a boy who is perfectly happy with the girl he loves.

"Will you stay with me? Even after… all of this?", Katniss asks, lifting the sheets of paper with my prison report on them weakly. I reach up and softly push away a strand of hair that has fallen unto her brow.

"Always.", I say. She rests her head on my shoulder, and there are no more words to speak. Only the feel of her as she fits perfectly into the bend there. In this brief peace, after a lot of convincing from her, I let myself fall into a dreamless sleep.