A/N: Holy shit, I did not mean to take nearly two months to update this. There were calls for updates to Loyalty, and I got on a roll with that fic and didn't want to end that without sort of completing the mini story arc there. Same thing here, wanted to leave it at a good point without a whole bunch of suspense or angst if I was going to be gone for a while. On that note, I'm glad to be back!

Of note, this is the first chapter in a long time in which I return to the original connected one shot format, skipping around or summarizing canon scenes, assuming you've read the book. I do that with scenes that play out the same way or with only small alterations that I can explain in narration. No need to waste words. There are still scenes that are adapted from the book and retain some of the original dialogue, of course.

I dance with the idea of enlisting Beetee's help for two days before I finally bite the bullet. Johanna and I are hustling through breakfast when she catches me eyeing him from across the room.

"I can tell him all about it, if you want," she offers.

I eye her warily. "Like the footage, or the tryst itself?" Johanna just winks and I roll my eyes and stand up. I'd better say something before she does. I chug the remainder of my juice then grab my empty tray, but Johanna catches my wrist.

"I'll take care of it," she says, gesturing at what little food remains on her own tray.

"You're so kind," I deadpan.

Johanna chuckles and encourages me, "Just get it over with. Then you can stop being nervous."

"I doubt it," I argue, nodding at the table where he's seated with Haymitch and Effie.

"You already told Haymitch," Jo shrugs. "Besides, you don't have to go into detail. Just tell him when and where to look and…" She smirks. "He'll know what you want deleted when he sees it. And I'm sure he will, once he commits it to memory."

I glare at her, hardly amused. "Johanna, you're disgusting."

"I would," she winks. "Just saying." I think she's toying with me, trying to give me courage by pissing me off. It's working. I throw her some more side eye as I stalk off toward the others. When I focus on my destination, I realize my escort and mentor are holding hands. Maybe their secret affair is not such a secret after all, and I was too wrapped up to notice. Wouldn't be the first time.

My bravery is waning by the time I make it to the table, so I use what little I have left before it's all gone, abruptly interrupting the conversation with, "Beetee, I need your help with something." There's already a dusting of rose in my cheeks, and it only darkens when my mentor snickers into his muffin. "Haymitch, you are not helping," I chastise him. Before my nerves can convince me to flee, I regain eye contact with Beetee and inquire, "Are you able to delete District security footage?"

He raises his eyebrows, and I glance uneasily across the table at my smirking mentor and intrigued escort. I glare at Haymitch, who just turns his palm up and sweeps it around their corner of the table. I decide that I have little dignity left to lose at this point, so I return my gaze to Volts and elaborate, "There's a sort of… compromising video of Johanna and I. Or two. In the forest."

Beetee's face is priceless. Not much blush shows through his dark skin tone, but he's blinking rapidly and, though his mouth is open, he seems to be having trouble forming a response. I might be laughing if I wasn't so embarrassed. I glance over at the other two and see Effie straining to cover her grin with her napkin. Haymitch elbows her and chuckles, "I know, explains a lot, right?"

"Shut up, Haymitch!" I snap.

Beetee is fiddling with his glasses in his lap when I turn back his way. "Um, I'm sure I'm capable of that," he answers, blinking away from my eye contact, "but I'm afraid I can't help you. It's not a risk I'm willing to take." I deflate and make no effort to hide the depths of my disappointment. He just purses his lips and says, "It's a crime, Katniss. And seeing as the victors' immunity is contingent upon your performance as the Mockingjay, I'd rather not cross the likely next president of Panem." I can suddenly feel the warmth returning to my cheeks, but not just from embarrassment this time.

"Well you're hardly the most charming wheelbarrow in front of a camera either," I scoff. I don't think Beetee's even covered by the Mockingjay Deal, but pointing that out is hardly going to convince him to help me.

"On the contrary, I have no doubt in your ability to move an audience," he denies, slipping his spectacles back on. "But President Coin made it clear that you have to play by her rules in order for the deal to stand."

I blink in confusion, and Haymitch clarifies, "He means you do whatever you want, even if it's against direct orders." He leans back in his chair and muses, "One would hope you'd have learned by now, considering you got shot last time, but I kind of doubt it."

I raise a challenging eyebrow at Beetee. "So you're afraid to help the figurehead of the rebellion because she's too rebellious?"

"Remember which side you're fighting for, Katniss," Effie interjects in that gentle yet shrill way of hers.

I snort dismissively. "Like you're one to talk."

"You're so very delightful today, sweetheart," Haymitch observes dryly.

"Katniss, we're gonna be late." Jo is suddenly at my side and gripping my elbow. She sees Beetee blinking between the two of us and winks suggestively. "Hey, Volts."

She guides me away, and when we're out the door I shake my arm loose and demand, "What was that for?"

"You looked like you needed saving."

I scoff indignantly. "Oh, so you can save me, but I can't save you?"

Jo smirks into her collar and replies, "Correct."

"Fuck you," I grumble, hunching my shoulders to jam my hands in my hip pockets.

She chuckles to herself, but when she looks up at me again, Johanna is serious. "Don't make enemies out of allies, okay?"

When we make it to the training field, Soldier York waves us over. "I've recommended you for the exam," she says. "Both of you. You're to report to the obstacle course immediately."

I stand still in shock and delight for a second before a huge grin breaks onto my face and I laugh out of relief even more than joy. Jo bumps my biceps with her shoulder, excitement also gleaming in her eyes. We stand a chance now. I've been living off the idea of vengeance, but a niggling fear that it was too little too late prevented me from fully enjoying it. I didn't want to get too excited.

"What do you say, Soldier Mason?" I drawl. "Wanna go kick some Capitol ass?"

"More than anything," she affirms.

We fly through the obstacle course with ease and then head inside for the written tactics exam, which I already know we'll both ace. Johanna finishes several minutes ahead of me, and I don't see her face again until I'm exiting the indoor shooting range after my weapons test. I think it was her shooting up the targets two lanes to my left, and if so, she seemed to do okay. Nonetheless, shooting is probably her weakest point, so I'm relieved to see the smile on her face.

Despite it not being my thing, I make some small talk as we head down to the Block together for the final portion of the exam, because if I'm not talking I'll be thinking, and if I think too much I'll get nervous and fuck up. But as we near the briefing area, Jo finally broaches the obvious subject. "Finnick says you go through alone," she says. "Did Gale tell you anything?"

"Same," I confirm. "He had to search a home all by himself."

"Finnick said he had to shoot his way out of an ambush scenario," Johanna contributes.

I shove my hands deep in my pockets and muse, "Guess there's no telling what they'll throw us into."

There's a backlog at the Block when we arrive and start to gear up, which a girl I don't know explains is due to some technical bug they're working out. Well, I'm sure glad there's a toilet nearby, because if I have to wait for an hour to go in, chances are I'll piss myself or toss my guts in nervousness before then. I'm still internally grumbling about it when I hear Jo call out, "Hey! Twiggy!"

I wheel around and see the lanky boy sitting in a corner to our left and Johanna breaking from my side to join him. I follow right behind her and nod in greeting while she's taking a seat beside him. "Where's your other half?" I ask facetiously. "Already in there?"

"She did her exam yesterday afternoon," he replies as I sit down on Jo's other side. "York sent her when we got to the shooting range."

I'm a little insulted that Boobs got recommended before I did, to say the least, but I still say, "Oh. Good for her. Pass on our congratulations."

Kearns shifts in his seat and reveals, "She didn't pass." He twitches his mouth glumly. "She failed the Block portion."

"Oh," I mumble, unsure what else I can say.

"How long does she have to wait before she can retake it?" asks Johanna, ever the pragmatist.

"Two weeks," he tells us.

That's too long. The first squads are only days from shipping out, and the opening offensive should be starting in earnest within a week or so. His girlfriend will only be a part of the battle if it drags on, which we're all hoping it won't. "She might still make it to the Capitol later," I reassure him anyway. "With reinforcements, you know."

"Yeah, maybe," he mumbles, predictably despondent.

Jo scowls and commiserates, "That's bullshit. It hardly seems fair we're at the mercy of one random scenario."

"It's not random," he immediately counters. We blink in surprise. "Well, it's hard to predict what type of scenario they'll put you in, but…" He looks around before leaning in and whispering, "They threw Foligno out there in pitch darkness and hit her squadron leader with a mortar 30 seconds in. I've heard rumors before, but now I'm sure the test is designed to target our individual weaknesses."

"Nightblindness and improvisation," I remark knowingly.

"Mm hm," he confirms. "They said she lacks initiative and independence."

I catch my partner's eye and smugly remind her, "And you said those were bad qualities."

Jo scoffs, "They're good, to the extent that they keep you from being a liability." She blinks and looks over at Kearns. "Sorry." He shrugs. She turns back to me and continues, "Anything can be bad when taken to extremes. You can bet that will be your weakness, Everdeen."

"Which weakness? I have many to choose from." I start counting them off on my fingers. "Lack of physical brute force. A bare minimum of training."

Before I can get any further, Johanna shakes her head condescendingly and cuts in, "Brainless, think about it. What did I say makes you a bad soldier?"

I'm smacked with a sudden head rush as her point dawns on me, bringing a chill with it. "I can't take orders," I say quietly, to myself as much as her.

"They're gonna give you a chance to run off on your own or do something heroic and then tell you not to do it," Jo informs me smugly.

"Yeah, definitely," chuckles Kearns, who's apparently eager to get in on the fun.

The other victor smirks and pokes me in the ribs. "Put that ego of yours aside and do as you're told, and you should be fine."

I can feel my face flushing, so I snark, "Wow, you guys are so helpful," to cover my embarrassment. I glare at the boy. "What will yours be, Kearns? Noticing details like, 'Oh, there's a freaking land mine under my foot'?"

"Maybe," he replies in all seriousness. "They'll probably kill my leader, too. But at least I know it's coming. Foligno, she wasn't prepared." He glowers at his hands and mutters, "She didn't stand a chance."

Johanna surprises me by placing a comforting hand on the teen's hunched back. It takes me a moment to realize that it's because she can relate. How hard would it be for the two of us if one was shipped out and the other had to stay? I shake that unpleasant thought from my head and offhandedly suggest, "You could throw your test so you don't have to leave her." I'm actually serious.

Kearns snorts. "Would you do that if you knew she failed?" he demands, nodding at Johanna.

My eyes immediately flick over to Johanna, who just shrugs. I guess she's right; this should be no surprise. Of course the kid suspects our relationships might be comparable. We had enough double dates in the Block for him to witness our dynamic and how we protect each other no matter the cost. I return my focus to the boy, who's still looking on expectantly. Right, his question. I have to give it a moment of thought, to be honest. I understand why someone would do such a thing if they ended up in that position, and if Jo went ahead of me and I knew she failed, the temptation would be there. I don't want to leave her behind again. But battle is not for the faint of heart, and if we ended up in different squads, I still would have do without her protection and she without mine. The most compelling argument is my vendetta against President Snow and my desire to end his life on my own terms. Nothing can really trump that, not even Johanna Mason.

"No," I finally state. "I wouldn't." We don't say much more as we continue to wait for the next soldier to be called, but I quietly slip my hand into Jo's and she doesn't pull away. We could use each other's strength. Who cares what people think? Besides, girls sometimes hold hands platonically, right?

A few minutes later, a robotic voice calls over the speakers, "Soldier Silas Kearns, report for individual assessment." Jo and I exchange a look. It's like this place tries to mirror the Capitol in every creepy way possible. I guess they inherited the Capitol's technology and none of these people know what it's like in the Training Center, but still. Our companion stands on shaky legs and clears his throat. He rolls his shoulders with a deep breath and then turns back to give us a departing nod before he heads to the entrance.

"Good luck, Twiggy," Jo says loudly enough for the whole room to hear. The others waiting around mostly snicker among themselves, except for another boy from our Block squad and class with York, who laughs boisterously at the nickname.

Silas glares at the kid and then at Johanna, but he's smiling a little. "Good luck, Mouthy," he tosses back at her, much to the delight of our audience, which responds with a few hoots and some impressed laughter. She gives him the finger in response, and his face cracks into a grin before he wheels around and struts to the entrance. Once he disappears, she chuckles under her breath and relaxes back into her chair with a smile, and that's when I realize that that was her intention all along. She just gave Kearns what he arguably needed most heading into the test, a shot of humor and confidence. She might be a nicer person than most people give her credit for.

For as much as she was able to set our squad mate at ease, Jo grows increasingly agitated over the time it takes for two more people to be called. She's abnormally quiet and jittery, knee bouncing and eyes darting about. When her hand spasms in mine, I give it a squeeze and assure her, "You'll do fine, Mason. Just remember to keep your breathing steady and your sights lined up."

"That's not it," she breathes tersely.

My brow crinkles and I pull back to get a better view of her face. "You're not nervous?"

"No, I mean that's not my weakness," she clarifies. She sighs at my continuing bewilderment and explains, "I'm not nervous about being tested, not on combat skills. I know my shit. But it's like the arena in there, all controlled, booby traps everywhere." She gestures at the simulation room in front of us. "These people, they're Gamemakers, can't you see that? And they can make it rain, I'll bet." She swallows. "Blood, or worse."

My skin starts crawling as I consider her fears. "You don't really think they–"

"Yes, that's exactly what I think," she breaks in bluntly.

Haymitch's words from the other night echo in my ears and I hazard, "You know, maybe we should try to trust these people. Give them the benefit of the doubt. They're on our side, right?"

"It's not about them being evil, Katniss. I'm just saying that logically, if they're weeding us out based on our weaknesses, that's what they're gonna do to me."

"I assumed he meant combat weaknesses," I admit. I rub my thumb over the back of her hand and add, "And even if you're right, we've worked on it."

"I know," she says with a tight smile that I think she's just putting on for my benefit. "I'm glad. But if they…" She trails off and stares down at her still-tapping foot. "I don't know if I'm ready."

I squeeze her hand tighter and let my head fall on her shoulder. If Jo is anything like me, and I know she is, nothing makes her feel stronger than giving someone else strength. Her name is called a few minutes later, and I instinctively stand with her. We just look at each other for a few long seconds. Comforting others is not one of my fortés, and I can't really resort to kisses right now. It wouldn't even be a resort, because I honestly really want to kiss her and wish her good luck, but I'm too awkward to do that here. Not so much because I don't want people to know, but because even holding hands is more affection than I'd usually be comfortable displaying in public. I settle for clapping a hand on her shoulder and looking deeply into her dark, anxious eyes.

"You've got this, Mason," I assert, giving her arm a gentle squeeze.

Johanna smirks. "Of course I do, Everdeen," she retorts. "I'm the best."

"Good luck," I say with an awkward nod of encouragement just before she turns and heads through the door leading to the Block entrance. I just stand there and helplessly watch my girlfriend go into battle without me there to back her up. I hope I never have to see that again.

It's only ten minutes before I hear my name called and look up in surprise. I thought Jo finished her weapons test a few people ahead of me, so I expected to be waiting alone for a good half hour before going in. Oh well, it's a good thing – less time to psych myself out. When I stand up after gathering my rifle from where I'd left it under the seats, I notice a couple of soldiers who must have been between us in the queue looking on disgruntledly. I shrug in apology and move on. Nothing to do there.

When I step inside the Block, the first thing I notice is the dank smell and feel of the air. My stomach constricts and I look down to the paving stones to find them wet. Before I even have time to properly process this information, a couple of Peacekeepers appear and I instinctively strafe to my right and pick them apart with bullets before they can bury any in me. My squadron leader comes online in my ear the second they hit the ground and instructs me to rendezvous with my squad at a point farther down the Block. So it's an ambush scenario, in more ways than one. I only start to feel sicker and angrier as I slowly make my way through the streets and pick up on other details. Drips hitting my neck and making me flinch when I walk under a storefront's awning. The sound of torrents of water rushing from drainpipes onto the already soaked pavement. Maybe I'm not always the most perceptive person, but I'm not an idiot. They're trying to throw me by making me think Johanna's in trouble, the same trick the Gamemakers in the Quell pulled on me with Prim's screams. Perhaps they didn't even make it rain on Johanna, but they want me to think they did. Maybe obedience isn't the weakness they are targeting after all.

I grit my teeth and do my best to channel my fury into the situation, narrowing my focus and taking out every Peacekeeper I see with ease. Two on the rooftop to my left, another in the doorway up ahead. The onslaught of white uniforms is probably helping me at this point, keeping me from being in my own head too much and worrying about my lover. I'm a couple of buildings away from my goal when a half dozen Peacekeepers come charging around the corner and I growl in frustration. This is more than testing weaknesses – it's setting me up to fail. And that's when I notice something. A drum of gasoline lying carelessly in the gutter. Right, improvisation. It's not a weakness of mine, but this must be another thing they want to see from me, being able to perceive that blowing up the drum will be the only way to achieve my mission. Just as I step out to do it, my squadron leader, who's been fairly useless up to this point, quietly orders me to hit the ground. Every instinct I have screams for me to ignore the voice, to pull the trigger, but Johanna's warning rings in my head and I immediately flatten out on the wet asphalt. Someone else blows the gas tank. The Peacekeepers die. I make my rendezvous point. As I'm heading to the exit, I smile wryly and make a mental note to thank her for the tip.

A soldier meets me at the door and congratulates me, stamps my hand with squad number 451, and tells me to report to Command. I shuck my weapons and armor and march straight there, my neck still burning under my collar. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled with my success, but I'm every bit as angry. That they possibly did test Johanna with water, that they forced me to witness the hypothetical aftermath of it, that they tried to use my feelings for her against me. It's all so very Capitol.

***o***

"What am I going to tell Annie?" Finnick says under his breath when I join him in the hallway outside of Command. Our squad just received a briefing from Plutarch on our battleground, the booby-trapped streets of the Capitol. It so resembled the arena that Finnick and I made a crack about the invasion being the seventy-sixth Hunger Games, but it was really to cover our nerves. Under that joke and my otherwise studious mask, I was telling myself to hang on until I could get to the woods and scream. Or curse. Or cry. Or maybe all three at once.

"Nothing," I answer. "That's what my mother and sister will be hearing from me." Bad enough that we know we're heading back into a fully equipped arena. No use dropping it on our loved ones. Well, some of them. Johanna was probably given a similar presentation while receiving her orders if she passed her test, but even if she didn't, I think I need to tell her. She would want to be in the know, and she'd kill me if she found out I'd kept it from her. But Annie's sanity is more precarious than Jo's.

"If she sees that holograph–" Finnick begins.

"She won't. It's classified information. It must be," I bluster. "Anyway, it's not like an actual Games. Any number of people will survive. We're just overreacting because – well, you know why. You still want to go, don't you?"

"Of course," he affirms, an unfamiliar darkness crossing his face. "I want to destroy Snow as much as you do."

"It won't be like the others," I say firmly, trying to convince myself as well. Then the real beauty of the situation dawns on me. "This time, Snow will be a player too."

A body rounding a nearby corner catches my eye before I have the chance to continue, and I look over to see Haymitch stalking toward us, his face clouded with a jumble of emotions I can't read. But when his eyes land on me, I discern a rare hint of sympathy in them, and I start sinking down into a squat before he can even say the fateful words. "Johanna's back in the hospital."

I cover my ears with my hands, as though that might dampen the ringing in them, the sound of a futile alarm. On my way to the meeting, I'd assuaged my own fears by telling myself that the water was probably just a trick to fuck with me, like the jabberjays. And even if it wasn't, Jo went in expecting that twist and she wasn't in there for an abnormal length of time, so I convinced myself that I was being paranoid and that worst-case scenario, she froze up and failed. Her not being in my sharpshooter squad didn't worry me at all either, for obvious reasons. I'd really wanted to trust that Thirteen would not do the same to her as the Capitol did, but as the reality of the situation strikes me, my lungs seize up and I start quaking with emotion. Rage. Helplessness.

I slowly remove my hands just in time to hear a bewildered Finnick ask, "What happened?"

"They made it rain," I squeak. I force in a couple of breaths and elaborate, "In the Block. I went right after her and saw all the water. But we've been working on it, so I hoped she'd be fine."

"They didn't just make it rain," Haymitch corrects me. "They flooded the street." My already tight stomach lurches inside of me and threatens to spill its contents on the tile a couple of feet beneath my spinning head. And I thought I was set up for failure. "She had a flashback. Panicked, didn't know where she was. She's back under sedation." Back on the morphling. As if this whole thing was not horrific enough already.

"Where's President Coin?" The words sound more like an inhuman growl, and I barely even register that they're coming from my mouth. When no response is forthcoming, I look up and see Haymitch and Finnick watching me warily, like the wild animal I must surely resemble in this moment. "Where is she?" I snarl, louder this time, straightening up predatorily. I don't wait for a response this time, instead turning and storming back into Command. The metal door smacking into the stone wall makes Plutarch jump, but Boggs just observes me quietly from where they stand at the end of the entrance hallway. His posture and expression remain remarkably unaffected as I close in on the two of them, almost as if he…

He was expecting this. He was in on it. I stand there mutely gaping like a fish, and he calmly gestures into the room as Haymitch and Finnick follow in my wake. "Katniss, have a seat."

"I'll stand, thank you very much," I snap.

Boggs makes sincere eye contact with all three victors before focusing on me again and beginning, "I understand that you're upset, but I need you to step back and look at this logically. In the higher ranks of the military, we have to make hard choices for the sake of everyone."

"I trusted you," I spit, before he can get any further. I laugh ironically and toss a hand in the air. "But you never trusted her, did you? You didn't even want to let her outside the gates."

"I assure you, Soldier Everdeen, none of this was personal."

"Bullshit. Are you sure this isn't payback for Johanna mouthing off at Coin when–" I stop before I can say any more. Chances are, Boggs knows about that humiliating meeting with Coin, but I doubt Plutarch or Finnick do.

"I have nothing against Soldier Mason," comes the president's icy voice. I startle and whip my head toward the entranceway, where the gray-haired woman is just stepping out of the shadows. "In fact, we were all hoping she would be able to join you in the Capitol and be a part of the propos we'll be filming there during the offensive. But as much as that would have helped the cause, we can't have mentally unstable soldiers out there who may be sent into a panic attack over something as innocuous as the weather." Coin stops next to Boggs and calmly explains, "We had to test her, for the safety of everyone."

I shake my head in frustration and blurt, "It's not even about that! Don't you understand what you people have done to her?"

"There's no need to be dramatic, Soldier Everdeen," Coin condescends, what little empathy was just in her voice now wearing thin.

"I'm not being dramatic!" I shout, absolutely incensed. "You don't get it! You weren't there to see how hard it was for her, how brave she had to be, just to dip her fucking feet in a tub of water." I give them a chilly laugh and shake my head to cover the contortions of my face and how my lungs are seizing up on me.

"Katniss–" Boggs protests gently, inching closer. He reaches out to touch my shoulder, but I slap his traitorous hand away. The president, I always had my doubts about. But not him, not since the trip to Eight. His involvement in this hurts far worse than Coin's.

"She was just starting to get over her fear of water, and now all that work is wasted!" I appeal earnestly, to both of them. "She'll be plagued by nightmares again, and if they've put her back on morphling, she's going to have to go through the agony of withdrawal for a second time." My voice starts cracking, and I suck in as deep a breath as I can. "I promised Jo that no one here was going to hurt her." I can barely force those last two words out through my burning throat, and before I know it, Haymitch's arms are wrapped around me and holding me steady. I release my tears into his shirt, trying desperately to curb my strangled sobs and salvage even a slice of my dignity. He rubs my back soothingly, and I almost push away because I don't want to be comforted right now. I want to be angry. But I let him hold me up because I'm so weary. Of fighting. Of everything.

"Soldier Everdeen," Coin says in a softer tone than before, "please understand that I am truly sorry for the outcome of Soldier Mason's test. We feared this might happen, which was part of why we were reluctant to let her train in the first place. We knew we would have to test her to be sure she could function no matter what happened on the battlefield, and we knew the result would probably be unpleasant."

"When is there ever going to be a flood in the Capitol?" Finnick asks bitingly.

"I just finished telling you the types of technologies the Capitol uses for their defense pods," interrupts Plutarch, who I'd forgotten was still standing behind the two leaders. "You know how within their capabilities it is and how fond they are of psychological weaponry."

"Yes, as a Gamemaker, you'd know all about that," I spit, lifting my face to level a death glare at the paunchy man. "Were those jabberjays your idea, Plutarch? Congratulations, they still give me nightmares."

"That has nothing to do with it," argues Coin.

"It has everything to do with it," I snap, turning back to her and Boggs. "I'm not stupid. I know why I was sent in right after Johanna, when the streets were still wet." I give them a sickly sweet smile. "Testing me, right? Making sure I'm not a liability when I'm afraid for my lover's safety?" Plutarch's eyebrows arch and he glances around at all the unblinking faces in the group. I guess he didn't know. "But if she'd already failed, why bother? You knew she wouldn't be there to distract me in the Capitol, anyway."

"We felt that even if Mason failed, a test of psychological strength would be in order for you, given the struggles you have had with your mental health during your time with us," Coin rationalizes. I scoff, all the more disturbed. "But congratulations, you were able to put your concern for your loved one aside and continue to function, unaffected." Unsurprisingly, this doesn't make me feel any better, but Coin either doesn't notice or doesn't care, because she just nods proudly and declares, "It was a pleasant surprise, given your performance in the arena."

I stare disbelievingly at the trio in front of me. Boggs has apologetic sympathy in his eyes, and even Plutarch has the grace to look down guiltily, but Coin stands firm. Johanna was right about her after all. I shake my head and tell them, "You're all no better than the Capitol."

Coin looks to Haymitch and appeals, "Perhaps you can better explain this to your charge, Mr. Abernathy. Surely, you must understand. You know how fragile victors can be, how important it is to protect them from situations they can't handle."

"Protect them?" Haymitch snorts. "Putting victors back in the situations of their nightmares, on purpose, what kind of protection is that? It's not the smartest move, if it's their mental stability you're worried about." I pull back to examine Haymitch's face because I think I detected a hint of anger in that, but he just calmly elaborates, "I thought you were all about resource management in this district, reducing waste and making the best use of what you have. If you really want the victors in the propos, why waste them in the Block?"

"We were most concerned for the physical safety of the victors and the other troops. We wouldn't risk sending an unstable person to the front lines just to get some quality television," Boggs counters irritably. "The best way we knew to predict Mason and Everdeen's reactions in potentially triggering situations was to simulate them under controlled circumstances."

"There are no controlled circumstances, not to us!" Finnick blurts, startling me. "Every moment feels like life and death once you've been to that brink." My friend takes a second to compose himself under five silent stares before continuing, "You have no idea what it's like to be a survivor of the arena, okay? To have to fight those memories every day, to be stripped of your dignity, your control over your own life, your will to even have one. Even your loved ones, for some of us." He involuntarily blinks over to Haymitch at that, who silently sets his jaw in response. Finnick sighs and looks back to Boggs and Coin. "Did you really have to make Johanna lose her mind, on top of everything else?"

"Soldier Mason's psychological afflictions are neither our doing nor our responsibility, Soldier Odair," Coin reasons. "When she agreed to go through the exam, she gave us implicit permission to test her in whatever way necessary to see to everyone's safety."

"A flood wasn't fucking necessary," Finnick retorts. "Rain, sure. But the Capitol isn't gonna go out of their way to target Johanna with water. No one gives a damn about her. Not here, not anywhere."

"Nonsense," Plutarch rebuts. "She's one of the faces of the revolution. She's a victor."

"Nobody cares about the victors," I scoff. "Nobody even cares about me, just what I represent." I nod his way. "All you care about is good television."

"All anybody cares about is how they can use us," Finnick huffs. "Our bodies, our faces, whatever. Hell, even our lives."

"Yeah, our sanity's pretty low on the list," I pitch in. "The Capitol people know just how to paint and prop up a broken victor for as long as the cameras are around." I chuckle wryly at my boots. "And then they're gone. We're not even people to them."

When I lift my head, Bogg's caring eyes catch mine immediately. "We're not the Capitol, Katniss," he says softly.

"Yeah, go tell that to Johanna," Haymitch snaps. There's a moment of awkward silence between the six of us before he nods at the door and says, "Let's go."

Finnick bolts for the hallway, and when Haymitch and I catch up to him, we find him leaning against the wall, jaw set, staring at his empty hands. He's surely missing his rope right about now. I chance a hand on his shoulder and gently prod, "Are you okay?"

He quickly wipes his nose and says, "Sure. Better than Johanna, anyway."

"You two should go see her," Haymitch says. "You're all she has in this place."

My heart sinks. Because not only is this true, but soon we'll both be gone and she'll have nothing. Prim will try to help her again, I'm sure, but she doesn't understand what Jo is going through. Johanna has no real friends left once we're gone. No family, of course. Not even anything to remember them by. Not so much as a token from her home district.

"Okay," Finnick agrees, pushing off the wall. Then he stops short and catches my eye. "Or do you want to go first, by yourself?"

I almost smile at this display of deference, at finally being treated the way my feelings for and relationship with Johanna should dictate. Maybe people knowing is actually a really good thing. But I shake my head and say, "No, it's okay. I have something I need to do first."

I channel my lingering anger to give me the confidence I need to go back into enemy territory alone. Coin and Boggs are embroiled in what looks to be a somewhat heated discussion, but my new commander notices me approaching and stops midsentence. "I need to speak with you," I tell him. I don't have to specify that I mean alone.

Boggs excuses himself from the conversation and follows me to a nearby corner. When I find myself faltering for a moment, he jumps in and says, "Katniss, I really am sorry that your girlfriend ended up in the hospital." I just blink despite his earnest eyes and tone, and he insists, "That was never our intention."

"I don't have time for apologies right now," I say flatly. I know he's telling the truth, but if he can't be bothered to worry about Johanna's mental health, then I can't be bothered to worry about his feelings. I cross my arms. "You owe me a favor."

***o***

I chew on my cheek as I tentatively approach Johanna's hospital room, rolling the apple-sized bundle between my hands. I don't know if I'll be able to handle seeing her so broken again. Part of me really likes it when she needs me, admittedly, but I can't stand seeing my loved ones hurting, especially when I feel powerless to help. Of course, this isn't about me, as Johanna would surely remind me if she could hear my thoughts.

I pause outside her door, take a steadying breath, and peek around it. She's shivering, eyes clouded over, and doesn't see me right away. Her mind must be elsewhere, probably still in the Block. Or worse. Within seconds, she shakes her head sharply and blinks away whatever memory is plaguing her mind, and then her muscles tense slightly as she senses me watching her. Once her eyes snap over and focus on me through the haze of sedatives, she sinks back against the inclined bed and lets her shoulders droop, her gaze dropping and mouth twitching with embarrassment.

"Hey," I rasp, cautiously crossing the threshold into the room.

The victor blinks up but only nods and swallows in greeting, making my throat swell in turn. Most of Johanna's ferocity is in her abrasive attitude, the front she puts up for the world and only lets down for a select few of us. Stripped of that, as she is now, there's only a slight young woman, her wide-set eyes fighting to stay awake against the power of the drugs. Terrified of what sleep will bring.

"What took you so long?" she asks hoarsely, with a slight accusing undertone. "I was starting to think you weren't going to come visit." She scoffs inwardly. "Like before."

I shrug uncomfortably. "Haymitch said you were under sedation, so I wasn't sure you were even awake. Besides, I had to bring you something."

Johanna sighs and deflates into the mattress again. "You didn't have to bring me anything but yourself."

I cross to her and hold out the bundle. "It's rude to refuse gifts, you know," I scold her cheekily. "Especially handmade ones." I place it in her hands. "Smell it."

She lifts the bundle to her nose and takes a tentative sniff. "Smells like home." Tears flood her eyes.

"That's what I was hoping. You being from Seven and all," I say. "Remember when we met? You were a tree." I smirk a little and blink away from her as the scene replays in my head. "Well, briefly."

Jo cocks a sassy eyebrow and manages a half-smirk of her own. I blush slightly but am mostly preoccupied with trying to hold back a choked sob at seeing her back to how I'm used to, at least for a second. Brazen. Confident. Tempting. Unbreakable.

She grabs my hand and holds it tightly. "You have to kill him, Katniss." She forces a wry smile. "I guess you're getting to him first after all."

Now my eyes really start to burn. "I don't want to go without you."

"Maybe you don't want to, but you will," she says plainly. "You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you didn't go, didn't at least try to kill him." She drops her eyes to her lap. "And you'd end up resenting me."

"No," I protest earnestly, "I could never–"

"Believe me, it's really easy to hate someone when you've loved them already."

Her wording throws me, and I end up stammering, "I'm not even talking about hating you, I just… I wouldn't blame you for a choice I made."

"You say that now," she asserts sadly. She gazes at me intently and squeezes my hand. "Don't make any decisions based on me. You have to follow your heart."

Now I really don't understand what she's getting at. "I thought you were telling me to go."

"I am," she confirms. "But what you want most is to kill Snow. That's what you lie awake at night thinking about." That's not entirely true, not lately. My mind's been distracted from vengeance by other, less familiar emotions. Johanna chuckles darkly and looks down. "You already told Twiggy you wouldn't throw your test. I know that wasn't just about pride, Katniss. You need to kill Snow. It's your driving force." Her eyes flicker, and she chews on her lip in thought. "Then again, if they capture him, you might still get the honor," she ruminates hopefully. "Didn't Coin say she'd flip you for it?"

"We both know that bastard doesn't deserve a proper execution," I declare menacingly.

"Yeah, he can die in a fire," snaps Jo. "Like my family." Her eyes drop, and soon her thumb starts rubbing absent-minded circles on the back of my hand. Eventually, she muses, "It wouldn't be nearly as satisfying, anyway, having him served up on a platter, would it? You want to take things into your own hands, do it your own way. It's who you are."

I suddenly grin. "By the way, thanks for the advice. You were totally right about my test, they wanted to see if I would follow orders instead of my instincts." I pause momentarily, weighing whether or not to go on. But I don't like keeping secrets from Johanna, so I hesitantly continue, "That, and…"

Her brows knit. "What?" she demands soberly.

"They sent me in right after you, so I could see all the water," I cautiously divulge. Her face morphs in horror. "You were right about Coin. She told me straight up that it was a test of my psychological strength."

"I told you we couldn't trust that bitch."

"We can't trust anyone here." I don't want to leave her here, with these people. Who knows what else they might do to her? I'm only half-joking when I suggest, "You still up to killing a crew and flying there yourself?"

"Nah," she says with a wry headshake. "I'm a liability, right? You'd all be better off without me."

I give her hand a squeeze and lean in so our lips are only inches apart. "Never."

Johanna pushes off the bed a little and engages our lips in one of the more chaste kisses we've shared in a while. But that doesn't mean it's not emotional. I've been doing my best to squash my own feelings since I came in for the sake of being strong for her, but I don't feel strong. I feel like a mess, and that's only exacerbated by the sensation of her lips feebly pressing against me, her energy sapped by drugs and emotional trauma. I don't want to leave her, not in this condition. I don't want to leave her at all. We've barely even had a chance to get started with whatever this is between us, and now we're being ripped apart again.

Tears start spilling out of my eyes – ugly, heavy tears that weigh down my eyelashes like the drugs are weighing down Johanna's body – and I silently berate myself for my weakness and blindly hope she is too drugged up to notice. It's mere seconds before she stills her lips and flicks her eyes up to take in my wet ones. I look away guiltily and wait to be scolded, but no words come. I blink back to Jo in surprise when I feel her thumbs tracing my cheekbones, wiping away the beads rolling down from my eyes. This only makes me cry more, of course, so I lift my own hand and roughly swipe them away.

I push out a shuddering breath and mumble, "I'm sorry."

"I'd be more concerned if you weren't sad," deadpans Johanna. She cracks a bit of a smile, and I can't help but let out a noise that's half chuckle, half sob. She cups my jaw and studies me earnestly for a moment while I swallow painfully, forcing myself to hold her gaze this time. "Stay with me?" she finally asks, her voice betraying the fear I recognized when I entered. As though I would ever voluntarily leave her alone with her nightmares.

"Do you really have to ask?"

That makes Jo smile, genuinely this time. She adjusts the bed so it's flat and rolls to her right to make room for me to slip in behind her. She hums contentedly when I wrap her in my arms, then presses the bundle to her nose and inhales deeply. If this moment smells like home to her, it feels like home to me.

The older girl passes out within moments, and the nightmares follow soon after. Holding her as she shudders in her sleep only strengthens my resolve to leave her, ironically enough. Coin was right about at least one thing: this is Snow's fault.

"Don't worry, Jo," I whisper. "I'm gonna make him pay for it." That's one order I am more than happy to follow.

***o***

I startle awake at the loud creak coming from my left, my heart suddenly in my throat. I instinctively raise my unimpeded arm as a defense against the approaching enemy and the sharp stream of light shining directly in my eyes. The door closes and, in the dim light that remains, it takes me a bleary moment to recognize Prim and remember where I am.

I glance down at the weight I feel on my chest and find Johanna curled into my other side and still dead to the world, thanks to the drugs. I hardly left her all day, only to scarf down some lunch because I was as ravenous as I was nauseous after the testing and that ill-fated meeting in Command. Otherwise, I disregarded my schedule all day, even the specialized weapons practice I was promised with Squad 451. But that wasn't just because of Jo. I was too embarrassed to see Beetee, and too bitter to see Boggs.

"How is she?" Prim inquires, approaching us on soft feet.

"Hard to tell," I admit. "She's been sleeping on and off for most of the day, but she's been stirring less in the last few hours." Well, the last few hours I've been awake. I don't know how long it's been since I passed out, but if Prim's still on duty, it's no later than ten. I study my lover's face and caress her forehead with my thumb in an attempt to wipe away the worry line I see there. "I've been waking her up when she starts getting agitated. I think it's helping."

"She's lucky to have someone who cares about her as much as you do." The way Prim says this, it's not quite right. It sounds calculated, not like a mere observation and compliment. It sounds evasive and placating, like Gale's voice did when he was easing me into the news about the bombing in Twelve.

"You're here to kick me out, aren't you?" I deduce, suddenly indignant. Prim sets her lips in a firm line. "What, did they send you because you're the only person I wouldn't murder, given half a reason?" I chuckle dryly. "I guess I'm still mentally disoriented, huh?"

"Katniss," she insists quietly. This is not a little girl whose highest priority is pleasing me. Not anymore.

"I'm not leaving," I assert, circling my right arm tighter around Johanna. "She needs me." My voice catches when I add, "I need her."

"Don't put up a fight," my sister warns me. "Do you want to end up back here again?" Now that's a thought. If I didn't think it would jeopardize my deployment to the Capitol, I'd be tempted to injure myself or fake a mental breakdown just so I could be admitted. But, no. I don't want to be incapacitated or on the sidelines any longer.

I begrudgingly start to extricate myself from Johanna. Just as I'm easing out from under her head, she grabs a fistful of my shirt and whimpers. I think I can actually feel my heart breaking inside of my chest. I desperately look to Prim, but she can only quirk her mouth sadly and say, "I don't make the rules. I'm sorry."

"Sure you are," I grouse. I know I'm not being fair, and I would normally never lash out at Prim. An advantage to taking my frustrations out on her, though, is that she understands how I work and will undoubtedly forgive me. She's one ally I could never make an enemy of. I'll apologize later, when I'm in fewer pieces.

I gently massage Jo's fist open and slide the pillow under her head before it's left totally unsupported. "I'm on the early shift tomorrow," Prim tells me once my feet are on the ground. "I'll wake you up so you have time to visit her before breakfast," she offers.

I find it in myself to say, "Okay, thanks," like this is something to be grateful for. Logically, I know it is, but I'm too upset to give logic much weight right now. I say little more on the walk home, preferring to stew in my bitterness at today as a whole. I barely bid my sister goodnight before shutting myself in my compartment and staring blankly into the space that now seems far too large without Johanna.

I realize I've missed taking showers once I step under the spray that somehow feels cleansing for the mind as well as the body. Unfortunately, bathing alone in my otherwise empty compartment is also what drives home the reality of my situation. It was one thing to talk about leaving Johanna when she was right beside me, but now I have to process all of these things on my own. I'll have to do everything on my own for a while. I've always valued my independence, but now that I finally don't want to be left alone, I am.

I sink to the bottom of the tub and let the hot spray pelt the top and back of my head as I stare at the torrents of water running down to the drain. So harmless, yet so destructive. My eyes start leaking again, adding to the stream. I clench my fists and begin to shake, choking on my sobs. It only makes me feel worse, because I know I'm being childish. A good portion of the soldiers going to the Capitol must be leaving lovers behind. Finnick Odair. Silas Kearns, if he passed his Block test. Boggs too, probably, given he has a son. I allow myself these selfish minutes of mourning anyway, because I need them.

When my tears are as spent as I am, I shakily stand up. Slowly, to mitigate the oncoming head rush. I towel off and slip into my sleeping clothes, then stumble out into the living area. I jump when I come around the corner and see someone sitting at the table, but it's only Prim.

My sister stands and eyes me with compassion and not a hint of wariness. I wish I could have her capacity for empathy and trust. I wish my life hadn't drained me of what little I had of those qualities in the first place. "Want me to stay with you?" she offers. I nod feebly. Prim directs me to my bed and crawls in behind me. I settle facing her and let her stroke my hair and cheek, only blinking in response.

Several minutes of Prim's warmth wakes me back up, at least in soul. I eventually get the energy to swallow and mumble, "I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"It's okay, I understand," she says, like I knew she would. I'm not sure she does understand, though, not entirely. My reluctance to leave Johanna's side in that moment was augmented by my impending abandonment of her in Thirteen and the guilt I feel over it. My lingering guilt over how she was abandoned in the arena to be tortured by the Capitol certainly didn't help either. Prim must sense this after all, because she assures me, "I'll take care of her for you when you're gone, don't worry." But still, I feel my behavior warrants further explanation. And, to be honest, I want her to know why this is upsetting me so.

I swallow down my nerves and place my palm on Prim's waist, holding her gaze intently. "Prim, Johanna and I… we…"

She grins. "Was that supposed to be a secret?" Suddenly, I feel very awake.

"Oh my god," I huff. "Does everyone know?"

Prim lifts an eyebrow and probes, "Would that be a bad thing?"

"Not really," I grumble, "I just… I don't like being read so easily."

My sister smiles again and tucks some stray hair behind my ear. "You're finally happy, and it's obvious. That's good, Katniss."

"Except for the 'obvious' part," I grumble, rolling my eyes.

"It's obvious to me, but I'm your sister." She smirks. "But I can't say I was surprised. I kind of wondered about you and Madge when you got home from your first Games and you were hanging out all the time."

I never thought of that. I've been trying not to think about those among the ranks of the missing and presumed dead, but now I allow myself to consider this. Madge didn't wake me up inside the same way Johanna did, but even when we were just friends of convenience, I enjoyed her company. I always felt a certain affinity for her, especially once I got back. I assumed it was because we seemed to get each other in a way no one else did. Maybe it was also for other reasons.

"You should keep her around," Prim continues, drawing my attention back to the girl in question. "I think she's good for you." She adds with a wink, "And she'd make a great sister-in-law." My blush only brightens her smile.

I clear my throat and point out, "It's a little early for that, don't you think?"

"No," she states firmly. "It is early, but I can tell. Or do you not think you two are for real?"

"I'm just trying not to get too excited," I admit. "With this world we live in…" I let that hang there because I'm not sure I can bring myself to articulate to Prim that I'm afraid to enjoy anything because it could all be taken away in an instant. But I can tell I don't need to by the solemnity and care in those crystal blue eyes when she nods confidently and traces her thumb over my cheekbone.

"That's why we're fighting for a better world."

A/N: Thanks to District 7 Profanity, the other best beta in the business.