"Are you going to do any propos soon?"

"Oh, Finnick, you're looking good. How are you?"

"A few weeks of bed rest sure didn't do anything to those wonderful arms of yours, did they, Finnick?"

I resist the urge to groan. Prim had told me that Katniss was starting to film the Mockingjay propos later today, so I decided to stop by the set. The moment that I stepped foot into the room, a trio of girl's came rushing over.

"Um," I start, and they all shut their mouths immediately, as though I'm going to say something big and special. I don't have the heart to chase them away, but if I try to ask nicely, I know that they won't leave. I move so that the bracelet on my left wrist is more visible.

Hey, look, I'm mentally ill. See? Don't flirt with the mentally ill guy!

They don't notice. Out of the corner of my eye, I see more girls starting to drift over. I don't want these girls. I want Annie. Annie. God, I miss Annie…

My hands reach for my rope, but I realize that I left it back on my bed. I've been doing that, trying to function without it. But I've never been this far away from it.

"Look, we've rendered him speechless," one of the girls coos.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. If they don't notice my bracelet, then I will draw their attention to the fact that I am mentally ill in other ways.

I jump backwards.

"Brutus? Enobaria? Cashmere?" I start backing away. "Stay away from me! Damnit, stay away! I have a knife!"

They run away like I bit them.

"Impressive, Odair. I see that you still have a way with the ladies."

I turn around, grinning when I see Haymitch shaking his head at me.

"I heard that you were in isolation," I tell him. "Prim told me that you weren't taking the no-alcohol rule well."

He must've gotten over not taking it well, though, because he actually looks decent for once. Shaved, clear-eyed, wearing clean clothes. It's a small miracle in of itself.

"That would be an understatement," he grumbles. "And what about you? I heard that you were going off the deep end."

"I went off the deep end a long time ago," I say. "I've just managed to stay afloat until now."

"Well, keep it up a little longer," he says. "You've always been a damn good swimmer. Besides, I bet that you could make a few good propos, yourself. Read a few love poems, that'll get 'em fighting."

I roll my eyes.

"More like fainting."

Fainting. Falling. Crashing to the ground. Dying.

Damn, damn, damn. Why didn't I bring my rope?

Right. Because I'm not going to be able to use it if I ever go to rescue Annie.

"If it was the enemy, that would be fine. Better than what they want to do with Katniss. It's like District 13 is just another version of the Capitol." I look at him in confusion, and he shakes his head. "You'll see. Are you going to hang around here?"

"It's not like I have anything else to do," I say.

"Good. I won't be able to talk to you any, but getting out is good for you."

"That is exactly what Katniss's mother says. Have you ever considered-"

"Do not even try to play matchmaker with me, Odair," he growls. "I finished with girls a long time ago."

I give him a strange look, but he's clearly not going to elaborate, so I say, "What a pity. I have several that I would love to dump off on you. Especially my nurses."

"Nurses. What are they, sixteen?"

"About," I say. "But it doesn't stop them from flirting with someone who's twenty four. Who says that they'll stop at fifty."

He glares at me.

"I was sixteen in my Games. They were twenty five years ago. Do you know how to do math?"

"Not really," I joke. "I quit school when I was fourteen. Why? Did I guess low?"

He walks away, shaking his head and muttering about smartass head-cases.

I smile as I wander towards the sound stage for a better look. There are cameras and light, but no Katniss.

There is a Plutarch, though.

I back away, not wanting him to see me, but his eyes latch on and he runs over anyway.

"Finnick, you look better."

I'm extremely tempted to do to him what I did to those girls, but I know that he has a lot of say in who rescues Annie, and I don't want to offend him, even though at the moment I am very, very mad at him for not caring enough to get her out of District 4 in the first place.

"Thanks," I force out, even though I know that I don't look better. I still look terrible, by my standards anyway. Of course, Plutarch probably doesn't realize that. Usually ugly bastards like him are so jealous that all good looking people look the same to them.

"How are you doing? Doctor Michaels tells me that you may be able to start training within a few weeks."

Weeks? WEEKS?

I want to tell him that I'm fine, to laugh, to make him think that I'm being a good Finnick and not caring that he's sitting here making movies when Annie could be dying, or that he's saying it'll be weeks before I can even start training when my problems have never been physical in the first place.

Instead, I snap, "Well, I would be better if you'd bother to get off your lazy ass and find Annie."

He backs off quickly, holding up his hands like he's scared that I'm going to jump at him. The Finnick that he knew back in the Capitol was always cool, always quiet. He doesn't realize that I'm angry, not crazy.

Moron.

I've always hated people from the Capitol.

"We're trying, Finnick," he says soothingly. "It'd be a waste of personnel if we barged in there and tried to yank her out. And if we bother going to the Capitol, we'd have to get Johanna and Peeta, too, and they'd both be under higher-security."

Because even the Capitol doesn't think that Annie is important.

"You've had two months to work everything out! I thought you were supposed to be smart! I bet that the only reason you rebelled in the first place is that you couldn't stomach the blood and guts in the Games. You filthy piece of weak, pathetic, Capitol scum."

"Calm down, Finnick," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "I can get you sedated if I need to."

"Wave you magic wand and show off your wonderful power?" I laugh. "And you did absolutely nothing to deserve it, that's the funny part. I've killed, fought for my life, and served as the Capitol's resident gigolo for eight years, and I'm stuck in a hospital with brain problems, probably being laughed at over coffee by you and your little friends."

God, I sound crazy, but it feels so good to yell at him. It would feel better to hold a trident over his heart until he promised to find Annie, but that would probably be counterproductive.

"Calm down, Finnick. Maybe you should go back to the hospital."

"Find Annie, or you'll be the one needing the hospital," I spit, then back away from him and leave the room. For a very, very long time, I simply pace back and forth through the hallways, my heart pounding and my thoughts swarming. I desperately need my rope right now, but going back to the hospital would be just like listening to Plutarch.

Plutarch. Shithead. He doesn't care. He's going to get Annie killed. He doesn't get it, he doesn't know.

I sink to the floor. He really doesn't know. He has no one, he doesn't get what this is like, doesn't understand.

Maybe that should make me feel bad. It doesn't. I have no doubt that my words will start working their way through his self-conscious little brain, that they won't leave him alone until he finally does decide to send a rescue mission to the Capitol, and that makes any bad blood totally worth it.

I take a deep breath and push myself to my feet. I should go watch Katniss.

After a small hesitation, I return to the room and wander around the sides of the set, avoiding eye-contact with Plutarch.

Katniss arrives eventually, looking stunning but very un-Katniss-like and uncomfortable. I realize that Haymitch was right, that this district is just another version of the Capitol. They've got her bloody and dirty, like she's just been in battle. Her face is painted so much that I wouldn't recognize her if I ran into her in the street, and they spend hours just getting the lighting right.

This is the same thing as all of those videos that they made of me being a happy victor, of friendly Peacekeepers happily patrolling the districts, or the scenes of a charred District 13.

Maybe that should give us leave to lie to everyone, because the Capitol did it, but it still feels wrong. We're fighting to get rid of all the deceit, but how are we going to do that when we're what we're fighting with?

I sigh and look back at Katniss. She can see it, too, in the way that she's conducting herself, the look in her eyes while they adjust her makeup and the smoke machine.

It's just like getting made over for the Games all over again. And what's the point? Do the rebels really need a rallying point? Isn't the thought of freedom enough?

This is a waste of time, and money. The only way that Katniss would make a real difference is if she would get in a hovercraft and go fight.

I swallow, knowing that I could do something more if I got a little screen time, but that would involve saying things that I don't want to say. I push the thought out of my head. Snow would kill Annie if I breathed a word of it, anyway.

If she isn't already dead.

I ignore the possibility and continue my wandering. Eventually Plutarch announces that they're finished, and I mosey over to where Katniss is looking at herself on a monitor.

"They'll either want to kiss you, kill you, or be you," I joke. She laughs, her eyes still focused on the screen as if in disbelief.

The awe of being beautiful. And she is, very beautiful. I just wonder if she realizes that the people in the districts know what she really looks like and aren't going to appreciate the ruse.

Then I figure that she'll get over it in twenty minutes tops. Katniss isn't stupid.

Plutarch and another Capitol woman call Katniss back, saying that they want to try to film the first scene to show to Coin.

I lean back against a wall and look on interestedly as they reposition her.

They double-check all of the lighting and makeup, and then someone shouts, "Action!"

Katniss steps forward, holds her bow over her head, and yells, "People of Panem, we fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice!"

Everyone goes silent. I bite my lip against an amused smirk. I can see the fancy Capitol people looking at each other worriedly, as if wondering what in the hell they're going to do.

I wonder if they realize that people like Katniss Everdeen because she's real. So real that she can't act to save her own life. And the quote? What has she done to hint that she would say anything even close to that. I'm sure that they're very proud of it, but I could have thought of something better.

Then Haymitch's laughter starts projecting over the intercom, filling the silent studio. He stops for just a moment to say, "And that, my friends, is how a revolution dies." Then he continues laughing.

Katniss tightens her hand on her bow, as if contemplating shooting someone, then stomps off the set without even looking at Plutarch.

I smirk at the Gamemaker and leave as well.

A/N- Finnick's getting better. J. Bitter, but better. I guess I don't have much to say. I'm glad that everyone liked the last scene in Ch.25.

Thanks so solid as a cloud, Daydreaming Viking Girl, RueofDistrict11, cindella204, and Hahukum Konn for reviewing.

~bballgirl32~

…

P.S.- For everyone who reads Sibling Rivalry, I am dealing with major brain farts. I know I said I'd update yesterday, but it's probably going to be late tonight or early tomorrow. Sorry.