With this story starting to wind down, I'm finding myself with less incentive to finish it. But I promise I will. Now that Mockingjay Part 2 is out, I'm getting a few new ideas for the ending, so wish me luck.

This chapter is long like the previous one and begins the "trick" part of the story. Because of the way the book had the assault, I wanted to do something completely different here. It's not a comfortable one to be sure, but it will serve its purpose.

I'm really sorry it took so long, but with a little inspiration, hopefully, it won't be too much longer.

Enjoy!


Terms

It's Porter who wakes me with nothing but light from the corridors shining on his face. Normally anyone waking me this way would not get a good reaction. But with Peeta's hand in mine, there's a totally different reaction.

"Everything's ready," he whispers. "It's time."

Slowly, I follow his pull, glancing back to see Tailor waking Finnick. Naturally, I ask the only thing I can. "What about Peeta and Gale? My mother and sister."

"Annie's going to keep an eye on them. It'll be a little while before they need to wake up. You're family's waiting for you."

I don't argue further, rising and following him out of the room with Finnick and Tailor in tow.

Down the corridor from where I've been sleeping, my mother, Prim and Annie are all sitting close together like they've been waiting the entire time for me and Finnick. My sister is the first to rise, rushing to me and throwing her arms around me like she hasn't seen me in days, as opposed to hours. I find my mother's eyes as I hold my sister, but I say nothing to her, leaning back to look at Prim.

"Everything's okay," I tell her, moving to sit down as Finnick and Annie move to the other side of the corridor. "It's all just part of the plan, right?"

"But you're going to be in the Capitol, Katniss," she exclaims, weeping softly and surging forward again to keep holding me. "You're not safe there."

I do what I can to calm her, stroking her hair and kissing her cheek before I lean back and look her straight on. "That's why I need you to be safe here, Prim. And I need you and Mom to look out for each other until we see each other again. We will see each other again, Prim. I promise."

She cries still but nods, grasping my hands and putting her head down.

"They don't know how long you're going to be gone, do they?" my mother asks.

I shake my head. "But we'll have the support team, and Finnick and I have been doing a good job at protecting each other lately. I trust him. You should too. And Annie will be here with you, so look out for her too."

My mother nods and extends her hand to my shoulder. "Of course."

"Katniss," Porter calls from down the corridor.

I look up at him, seeing him nod me toward him, and I know the goodbyes are finished. Glancing back for Finnick, I turn my attention back to my mother and Prim.

"Peeta's going to be with me," I tell them. "And Gale. So I need the two of you safe. With Haymitch and Effie. Promise me you won't do anything dangerous. And I'll promise too."

Prim leans forward one last time, sobbing softly, and though I want to comfort her, I know I have no time anymore. I kiss her in her hair gently before nudging her back toward our mother so I can rise. She almost doesn't let go of my hand, but my mother holds her tighter, forcing her to release me. Looking back at them is the worst thing I can do, so I don't.

Finnick joins me, not crying but wiping his face of tears already shed. Once we're side by side again, I look up at him, questioning. He gives me a nod like usual, and I reciprocate. And that's that.

For eight hours straight, literally, Finnick and I are shuffled to station after station that has been set up to scan our bodies for every disease in 13's database. The fact that there are so many baffles me, even though it shouldn't. Before our country was formed, one of the major forms of population elimination was through incurable diseases and infections. Reading about them in class did nothing to prepare me being tested for them. Each station has a scanner calibrated for a specific disease, and for the most part, Finnick and I move along to each one at the same intervals. A few times, the scanners find something in him that triggers the alarm, but then it goes away — like the beginnings of the disease might be in him but never truly formed. He isn't fazed by any of this, but I can't help but be bothered by it.

As we pass one station and move to another, guards come up behind us dressed in biohazard gear, and they take away the scanners without saying anything to any of us. It must be how everything is meant to go, because no time is given to question it.

One good thing in all of this is that I'm able to sit through most of it. It's boring, tedious and completely unnecessary because I know I don't have any diseases. Snow must have become so paranoid that even the tiniest microbes cause him panic. I can't say if this makes me anxious or satisfied.

When we finally make it to the last station which also consequently puts us both back at the doors to the room, there are guards waiting to take us across the corridor where Beetee is waiting with Boggs and our new armor. I remember this being the next to last step before we go, and anxiety fills me as Porter runs the last scan.

"You're shaking, Katniss," Porter says in the middle of his calibrating and my mild anxiety attack.

To his statement, I scoff. "If you were about to be delivered to a paranoid, egotistical meglomaniac to be used as one of his new play things, wouldn't you be?"

He chuckles and keeps scanning. "When you put it like that, yes. But you'll have the support team already in the Capitol with you. You just have to stall Snow long enough for them to overwhelm the Internal Security."

"And how do I do that?" I ask desperately.

The scanner beeps, finished, and he faces me with as serious a look as anyone can. "Snow's been trying this entire time to get inside your head, right?"

I nod.

"So let him think he has. It's been my experience that there's no greater revenge than showing someone who's trying to break you how whole you are. And show him he failed."

Never have such powerful words been said to me that I immediately understand. I think almost instantly back to waking up in the hover craft four months earlier to the idea that I'd lost Peeta. Of course, thanks to Haymitch, I hadn't, but what if I had? What if Snow had taken Peeta? I know now that nothing more than that would've broken me.

Porter sees the impact of his words have had and nods when I understand. Snow has been trying to take everything that matters away from me, and he's failed. Now he thinks he'll be taking me from everyone who loves me. I have to make sure he fails at this too.

Across the room are two more stations, but these are piled with two crates each and accompanied by armed guards from the Armory.

"These beauties are probably the finest piece of technology I've ever invented," Beetee says as he watches the guards unpack his armor. "And you and Finnick will be the first two people in history to wear them. Hopefully, the only two people for this specific purpose."

My armor is laid out and I'm summoned forward with a female guard before a partition is put up between us and the men who will help Finnick with his armor.

"It's a little more snug than I remember," I say as the chest piece is put over me.

"The material has to adapt to your skin the longer you wear it," she says and lifts the back piece to fit it into place. "Once it's warmed up, it'll be virtually invisible. And it will conceal anything underneath it. Have you looked at the list of authorized weapons for you to wear?"

I shake my head, and she sighs softly before stepping out of the partition. She returns with an electronic pad, hands it to me and continues fitting the armor to my back. The list includes but isn't limited to knives, rope, magnetic string, long needles and short batons. Mentally, I think of the damage any of these weapons can inflict, and I immediately know I'll want knives. I don't have any experience with rope that doesn't include making traps for rabbits and squirrels, and making knots thanks to Finnick. I have no idea what magnetic string will do, unless it comes serrated, and the long needles and short batons require close proximity to be effective. Knives can at least be thrown if needed, and I'm fairly decent with those.

So I hand the pad back to her, responding definitively, "Knives."

She bows her head as she takes the pad, and that settles it.

Once the fitting is done and my armor is in place, along with my weapons, I'm given a new set of clothes to go over my armor. The only word I can use to describe what it feels like is effortless. With my other armor, it was form-fitting but tight and restricting. This material is so smooth and moves with me as if I'm wearing nothing. One other plus is that once I have this latest set of clothes on, which is a long-sleeved gray shirt and a pair of gray pants, it's impossible to tell that I'm wearing anything beneath them at all.

The guard pats me down to make sure all the contact points have sealed, and once she's satisfied, the partition is taken away to reveal Finnick there in his shirt and pants as well.

"You'll both be given one last set of clothes before you leave," Boggs says once we're in front of him again. "This next step is one of Snow's more paranoid conditions, but we agreed to it nonetheless. If you'll follow me."

The room we're shown to has a partition down the middle and three bins on a table at the back of each side. Porter is again tasked with showing me to the table, and it's at this point I learn how far Snow has gone to ensure I have no say in what he does from here on in. Inside the first bin are clothes — a pair of pants identical to the ones I'm wearing and a shirt as well. The second bin has a strange collar that snaps together in the front. In the last bin is a set of wrist restraints that look exactly the right size for me.

Apparently, this is what Snow wanted.

Bleak as it is, I'm still surprised when Porter says he has to watch me undress, replace my armor with my weapons beneath them and put on the clothes and restraints.

"You're kidding," I say — well, plead.

Embarrassed or sympathetically, he shakes his head. "No," he says. "They gave me a check list. Coin said to make sure none of the steps were skipped."

Of course she did.

I'm no stranger to this, as Cinna and my prep team all did much more when I was getting ready for the Games. But something about doing it now, here in 13, where I was supposed to be free of such things, it makes me ill at the very idea that I am again being prepped for slaughter.

Porter's eyes never leave mine as we move through the final steps of getting me ready, and once he's done with his check list up to the part of me getting dressed, he moves back to the front of the partition, leaving me to retain some of my dignity.

It's quiet for just a minute before my partner is all of this decides it's okay for him to talk, no matter how much I don't feel like talking.

"You know I've been meaning to ask," Finnick says from his side of the room. "When are you and Peeta going to tell your mother and Prim?"

"Tell them what?" I ask, feigning ignorance.

"Come on, Soldier Everdeen," he teases. "It's just us in here. Well, us and our friends. You can tell me."

If I say this out loud, it will change everything. He knows that. And he's still asking. So I don't lie to him. "When this is over," I say.

His feet shuffle along the floor, and after a minute, he pokes his head around the end of the partition.

"Hey," he says, and as I'm only currently wearing the pants assigned to me, I slowly turn to face him. He wags his finger for me to come closer, and as usual, I follow his request. Once I'm close, he takes my hands in his as I hold my shirt over my chest. "I know it's different with me and Annie," he tells me. "We don't have anyone to answer to anymore. But don't let that change anything."

I'm quiet for a minute. "I won't," I promise.

He brings my hands to his lips, and I happen to glance down and see him now in a towel left over from his own prepping.

"Finnick," I say, and he leans back. "Maybe some pants?"

He glances down and then steps back, striking a provocative pose and displaying some of his old swagger from our first meeting. "Why?" he asks. "Do you find this . . . distracting?"

Shaking my head, I nudge him away. "I'm only human, Odair," I tell him.

He laughs and walks away. I turn to do the same. About halfway back to the changing tables, he flings his towel over the partition to my side.

We don't' talk after that.

When Finnick and I are both dressed and ready for the last step, Porter moves from his spot at the door to lock the restraints in place. He mutters to himself as he does, checking lights and snapping a pin here and there. I hold out my arms for him to pull my wrists together, and the magnets clang together before hissing as they tighten.

"This is a stupid question, but does that feel okay?" he asks, amending it to say, "less uncomfortable than usual."

I nod minimally because it's the only movement I can make. "I'm okay."

He nods too and steps aside for me to go forward.

The concrete is cold against my feet when I realize I haven't been given as shoes or socks. One glance at Finnick shows he hasn't been allowed any either, and I decide this must be part of the agreement. But it's the end of October. I know it will be cold outside.

Enough time has passed that the team taking us has already gotten everything set to go and is now waiting on us to finish. Before we're allowed on the hovercraft, Coin makes us wait until literally every guard is out of Special Defense so we'll have an unhindered path to the platform. I'm given the option of sitting with a guard or Porter, and since Finnick can't sit with me yet, I pick Porter almost immediately.

The minutes pass silently as we wait until I look at Porter and realize that I've known him this entire time but never asked him anything about his life.

"Did you have any family?" I ask, adding, "other than Benedict."

He grins but doesn't deny me. "Before this, a mom and a step-dad. Why?"

To his question, I shrug. "I realized I've never asked, and I guess I hoped you had something to go back to when this is over. I know I've been busy, but everyone's risked something to be here. Did you leave anyone else behind?"

"Well," he says, his dark eyebrows raised and his brown eyes already hundreds of miles away, "I did have this girl I loved. We were talking about maybe getting married. Neither of us had ever been chosen for the Games, but some of our friends had. I turned 21 and had to move across the district to the Plant, and she stayed at the horse-breeding farm where we'd lived before. I haven't talked to her in a while."

Deciding to dig further, I turn to him. "How did you end up in District 6?" I ask. "And how is Benedict really related to you?"

He laughs softly and folds his arms over his chest. "You're curious all of a sudden," he notes.

"I'm being delivered to a psychotic dictator," I tell him. "Forgive me for needing a distraction."

He nods, understanding. "Ben and I have the same father. He was born in Five, but because of a permanent relocation, my mother and I were moved to Six when I was ten. Apparently, they were low on factory workers, so my father and Ben stayed in Five. I lived on the farm until I was an adult when I moved to the factory where you took the hovercraft. I was there for two years before you showed up."

"Half-brother," I conclude, and he nods. "And your father. Is he still alive?"

The grins fades, and he's about to speak when the doors open. A guard steps in for me, and Porter stands. I follow, watching his face and impulsively leaning in to kiss his cheek.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

Sadly, he bows his head, and I turn to leave with the guard. Porter follows, walking with us all the way from our waiting area to the lift that will take us to Special Defense.

Finnick and Tailor are waiting at the lift, and we all step in together. No one talks. It seems that everything needing to be said has passed.

The hovercraft waiting is already filled with our team, and Porter and Tailor stop at the ramp while Finnick and I are taken in and put in seats next to one another. Peeta and Gale are across from us, both stunned at our appearance.

In all, there are twelve people who volunteered to take me and Finnick into the Capitol, which makes a fourteen-person entourage that will be flown into District 2 and then escorted to the edge of the Capitol. Other than Peeta and Gale, Boggs and Andreas are joined by Jackson, Benedict, Tamar and Teagin. I'm surprised to see my entire camera crew here, especially since the only weapons I thought they were familiar with were their cameras. Cressida and Messalla seemed to have corralled Castor and Pollux, but they all appear to be coming for support. Their presence immediately fills me with dread, especially because if anything goes wrong, Snow won't hesitate to punish them for defecting.

Before I can say anything, Boggs, steps off the ramp to talk to Porter and Tailor and then comes back, repositioning his earpiece.

"We're ready to move out," he says in his official voice. "All the medical procedures and security measures have been completed, and once we have the go-ahead from Control, we'll leave Thirteen airspace and head to District 2. We'll be in the air approximately four hours, and when we land, we'll be transported to a staging area just outside Capitol limits. There will be Peacekeepers waiting for us, but we'll still be allowed in the city to deliver Katniss and Finnick to the tunnels under the city. Everyone knows their jobs. We stick to the plan, and no one will get hurt. Are we clear?"

No one objects, and Boggs nods toward the ramp where Porter and Tailor are waiting. They signal the pilot, and the alarm goes off to clear the platform. Just as the ramp closes, I yell to Porter.

"Keep an eye on Haymitch for me!"

"Consider it done!" he yells back.

The ramp seals shut and within minutes, we're cleared, rising up through the unaffected tunnel on the opposite hangar and into open airspace. Sunlight filters through the small windows, giving me my first view of the ground in 24 hours. Not much has changed, but there are crews out cleaning the rubble. They all cover their faces as we depart, and my last view of Thirteen is of the side of the valley most affected by the attack. I don't know when I'll see it again.

My eyes find Peeta's then as he watches me. There's something in his eyes I've never seen there before, and it's mirrored in Gale's eyes as he does the same thing. This particular kind of ruse has obviously given rise to anger in them both, and I find myself wishing this could be done some other way. I wish there was some secret frontal assault being planned on Snow, and this is all a way of keeping his attention off any brave soul who would attempt it. Just two days ago, I watched the hope return to Gale's face in the Command tent in District 2.

It's gone now, replaced by a different kind of anger than before.

"You should get some sleep, Katniss," Boggs suggests, out of my line of sight.

I glance at Finnick, and he nods. It's difficult to deny this request.

Because I am undeniably exhausted from the last several hours of tediousness, I fall asleep easily while we're in transit, uncomfortably laying my head back and then over on someone's shoulder. I have a dreamless sleep, probably because my consciousness can't begin to process the situation I'm in. The jolt of the hovercraft landing startles me awake, with sunlight glaring at me through the tiny window across from me.

"Katniss."

My eyes find Boggs now in front of me, and I look to see everyone else ready. He nods for me to rise, and I do. My feet are cold, but other than that, I'm actually warm. Boggs nods to Finnick, and once we're both standing, everyone follows.

Finnick and I are led off the hovercraft to the landing strip. I remember being here less than two days ago. Are we really back so soon?

The men flanking the truck are dressed as rebels, and they each nod as Finnick and I climb into the back. I sit down, and Finnick sits next to me before we're again surrounded by our team. Boggs climbs into the back too, but only to relay one last bit of information.

"Volunteers from Two will be helping us with the checkpoints from here to the Capitol. Once there, the last tack team will be responsible for the guards once Katniss and Finnick are handed over. We'll stop four times and go through two manned stations. Just stay ready in case something goes wrong."

He steps down then and joins Andreas in the front cab. Only a minute more passes before we're moving again, along the smooth road out of District 2.

The smooth ride turns bumpy just before we come to the last checkpoint. We've been driving for what feels like hours, and my back hurts from sitting up for so long. With Finnick sitting next to me, I know he's in the same situation, but he's being extremely quiet about it. The collar around my neck is another issue, but Finnick doesn't seem to mind. I silently wonder, morbidly perhaps, if he's had to wear one in the past. Do I even really want to know that?

Because we're sitting beside each other, he's close enough to take my hand, so he does. I grip his hand as hard as I can, afraid for the end of the journey, but even more afraid that we'll fail. Failure is not an option.

Since Boggs spoke last just before we left District 2, I keep glancing at him as he sits in the front cab. Andreas is driving beside him, who after his recuperation and assimilation into 13 actually volunteered for this before it was even an option for him. They both look similar now that Andreas' blond hair has grown out enough to be in a less conservative style, but Boggs still has the most authoritative look of the two — the one that gets people to listen to him when he speaks.

Of the people around me, I know the least about Jackson, Tamar and Teagin, as they only joined our group in District 2, but of what I know, they're all capable women who are very good at what they do. Cressida and Messalla, along with Castor and Pollux are probably the most out of place, even if I have become accustomed to their presence in just a couple of months. I've realized they're probably the ones probably need this to work as much as I do. Silently, I tell myself I'll get to know them better when this is over. In the middle of this group of people I know, Benedict is the one I wish hadn't come even though I know he volunteered a lot like Andreas did. Coin probably didn't want him to come either, as it's become obvious to a lot of people that he's a good soldier and very good with a rifle.

Then there is Gale and Peeta. Despite me objecting, I think I knew immediately that they would want to do this. Even with his growing feelings for Madge, Gale clearly still feels an obligation to help me no matter the cost, but I think he understands what we'll gain if we succeed. At least I hope he does.

Despite his insistence that he be present during this entire endeavor, I made Peeta swear that at the first sign of trouble, he would get himself and Gale away from here. It took a while, but he finally did. I know it won't be easy for him, but I couldn't live with myself if something happened to him or Gale because of me. If that happened, my reasons for doing this would become practically nonexistent except to make it back to Prim.

The only person missing is Johanna.

She'd be here now if Finnick hadn't made her promise to stay behind with Annie, and she grumbled about it the entire time. I tried to give her an extra responsibility to help my mother and Prim in the hospital, but I doubt she will. She doesn't like sick people any more than I do. I actually wish she was here now. I wouldn't be so nervous.

No one has spoken since we were allowed through the next to last check point. I can't say it's improved my outlook on our situation, despite it having gone perfectly so far. No one can have sensed it will have the same negative effects as anything we've done up until now, but then, they probably don't want to admit it either.

This last check point will be unlike any of the others, because these Peacekeepers won't only be checking the cargo hold to make sure we're the only ones back here. These guards will be taking us into the heart of the Capitol, all the way to Snow's mansion.

"It's going to be okay," Finnick says softly, mostly to me because he obviously senses my fear. But I can feel that he's lost some of his confidence too. "This is going to work. I know it."

I want to believe him, but I'm afraid to believe anything right now.

My pulse increases when the truck stops, and within a minute, the doors open to reveal two large guards, masks covering their faces and automatic rifles in their hands. This part of the deal requires two members of our group to escort us out of the truck and transfer us electronically from District 13 custody to that of Snow. Gale and Peeta move to do this without anyone asking, helping me and Finnick from the truck to do their part. It all seems to go without a hitch — until the guard holding me nods to his partner to begin the pat down.

It starts at my neck and shoulders, and the guard's hands run down my arms to my sides and then my legs. When he pauses, I think he's finished. But his hands trail up between my legs, and my head shoots up to see Peeta react immediately.

His own hands grip the rifle he's holding, and his posture straightens like he's about to move forward. The only thing I can do is press my lips together and shake my head minimally to warn him. If the guards suspect we're not doing this for Snow's reasons, it will get us all killed. Peeta knows that. I don't dare move or speak, and his grip on the rifle doesn't let up. In fact, when the guard glides his hands across my chest and under my arms, Gale discreetly kicks Peeta to stop him.

Once that's done, the collars and cuffs are removed, and Finnick and I are both marked with a S over the left side of our necks. It isn't as degrading as I thought it was going to be, and the guards return our restraints to the truck we came from.

"We'll take it from here," the other guard announces.

Andreas nods and motions for everyone else to get back in the truck. Finnick and I are guided away from the check point, which is already well beneath the surface of the Capitol. From what the maps said, we're halfway to Snow's mansion.

On cue, the engine of our truck sputters and refuses to start. The remaining guards move around to help our team, but then I'm too far away to really see what's going on or hear what's being said.

The Peacekeepers guide us to an elevator that will take us up to the surface, probably less than ten city blocks from our destination. I know a truck will transport us, but the men with us aren't Peeta or Gale. They're not Benedict or Tailor. We're on our own now.

Because I'm barefoot, I feel the smooth concrete as I walk. It's almost too smooth and gleams in the white florescent lights above our heads. The clothes I'm wearing are softer than they probably should be, belying this dire situation that I've allowed myself to be put in. My hair still flows freely from the time I've spent since decontamination, and I'm not supposed to have any weapons within reach — not even a hair tie that would allow me to keep my hair from my face. Even Finnick's hair has grown a little since we've been underground, but because of our hunting with Gale, neither of us is pale or malnourished.

The elevator has a tile floor that is nearly as smooth as the concrete, and the Peacekeepers direct us inside before stepping on themselves. As soon as Finnick is beside me again, I grab his hand, looking for stability but also simply needing him within reach, like he's the only weapon I need. He's not just a friend anymore. Like Peeta and Gale, and maybe even Johanna, he's family. Along with Annie, Benedict and Haymitch, he's a part of us, and I refuse to lose him now.

It takes probably ten seconds for the elevator to zip us up to the top level of the underground staging area where we were just delivered, and like everything else in the Capitol, the platform behind the elevator doors is sleek and smooth, with no blemishes or jagged edges. We walk straight across the room to a plate glass door that opens onto the streets, but this is where the crystal clear illusion diminishes.

The first sting at the bottom of my foot is sharp and halts my movement forward. I look all over the pavement and see that glass has been scattered for several meters, from the steps leading up to the building to all the way into the street. The railing meant to aid people climbing the steps has been ripped out from the concrete and replaced, though not as pristine as was previous. The streets are littered with paper, posters with my face on them, and some of the buildings across the street are spray-painted with my Mockingjay across the windows.

The second sharp sting prompts Finnick to lift me off the pavement, and he carries me to the waiting truck on the curb. I am utterly shocked by the state of the city, and I am even more shocked that it is as quiet as a tomb. The city's glow is so different from what I remember. No longer is it pristine and multi-colored like a rainbow, glittering and refracting in every direction. It is now red and orange, the glow of fire and destruction and chaos.

The Capitol is falling apart.

Once inside the truck, because we're no longer restrained, Finnick takes up the job of doing triage on my feet. The meager first aid kit in the truck isn't as plentiful as those put on hovercrafts. It only carries bandages, ointment and a cold compress for burns. Finnick cleans the glass away and then sanitizes my skin before wrapping my foot in the gauzy material he finds. Though I'm tired from the ride into the Capitol, I'm anxious, and Finnick somehow senses that, rubbing my feet and keeping them warm while we're in transit. He never mentions his own feet, because he must have walked on the glass with me. Surely he needs bandages too. I can't tell if he's trying to distract me or himself, because while he's doing that, we're both looking at the disaster outside the windows.

Every block is a new pile of rubble. The buildings all reflect the ugly, angry scar ripping the city apart, and because there are no people on the streets, I can only guess they're indoors, barring themselves from the destruction around them. A little, tiny, insignificant part of me actually feels sorry for them. None of these people are fighters like Finnick and me. They've been pampered their entire lives. All they ever wanted was to be fed and entertained, and now because of the war, their food and entertainment has been horribly interrupted.

But for the largest part, I don't feel any pity for these people at all.

"Plutarch was right," Finnick says softly as the truck pulls through the once shining Capitol toward the City Circle and Snow's mansion.

I look at him, sufficiently curious. "About what?" I ask.

He looks at me and then nods to the window and the disaster beyond it. "They've been cut off for months," he says of the Capitol Citizens. "Already gone through their stock piles. Unable to sustain themselves. Plutarch predicted it before we went into the arena this last time."

I glance at the Peacekeepers transporting us, but they remain oblivious. Scooting closer, I lower my voice. "How did he know?"

"The excess, Katniss," Finnick says. "The Games. It's all they know. Panem et Circenses."

Confused, I shake my head. "Panem what?"

I only recognize the name of our country, of course, but the rest is nonsense.

"Plutarch said it was a saying thousands of years ago, from a language called Latin about a place named Rome," he explains, going on to say, "Panem et Circenses means 'Bread and Circuses.' He said the person who wrote it was saying that in return for full bellies and entertainment, his people had given up their political responsibilities and, in that, their power."

His words settle deep in my mind, making more sense than anything ever has. The Capitol and its people devouring anything and everything given to them, like some strange engineered mutt unaware of its own existence. Devouring the Games. Devouring me and Peeta like a novelty of celebrity and decadence. Devouring Finnick and Johanna and Mags. Annie. Even the Career Districts.

"So that's what the districts were for," I conclude, and he nods. "To provide the bread and circuses."

"And as long as that kept rolling in, the Capitol — Snow — could control its little empire. Plutarch didn't think they would last more than a few months. He was right."

I look out the window again, at the destruction and the symbol of my Mockingjay scrawled everywhere. Something I can only describe as shame settles into my gut without my permission.

"How will we recover from this?" I ask, mostly to myself, but Finnick draws me closer to him.

He presses his lips to my temple, much like a brother would his sister, and whispers. "We did before. We will again. I promise, Katniss."

I lean into him, but there's nothing left to say, so I stay quiet.

The trip through the city ends when we reach the City Circle, probably half an hour later. I'm worried about Peeta and Gale and all the others we left behind. I'm worried about Finnick even though I know he can handle himself. I'm worried about Prim and my mother and everyone I left in 13.

All of that fades when the door behind me in opened to show the grand staircase of the President's mansion. I've only been here once. It looks exactly the same. There's literally no damage to it at all. At the top of the staircase is a woman dressed in a red suit with her hair done in the usual Capitol style. Her face is hard and unemotional.

I realize I'm meant to climb the stairs to her, and I step out of the truck with Finnick, wincing at the pain in my feet before I glance at Finnick and move to the first step. The Peacekeepers climb back into the truck and leave. The woman greeting us waits impatiently as we climb the stairs slowly. Whatever she's expecting, I plan on making her wait as long as possible.

The instant we're in front of her, our host purses her lips and addresses us impolitely.

"My name is Egeria Traal," she says. Her light brown skin is impossibly smooth, and her dark brown hair is braided into a twist atop her head. The design of her suit is restrictive and complex, with a tight collar and a belt that pulls her waist in impossibly small. A white stripe swirls from her neck to the hem of her jacket, and she stands on five-inch stilts for shoes that make her tall and imposing.

"He's been expecting you," she adds.

I look at Finnick, and he looks at me. We both follow her without argument.


The next chapter is going to be short, but interesting when you read it. I won't give it away now, but it won't be like any of the other chapters of the story, if that's enough of a clue.

Until then, see y'all later!