Hello lovelies! As always, thank you for your marvelous reviews (and the favorite-ing). I feel compelled to warn you that we're nearing the end: I'm pretty sure the next chapter is the last. All of you guys have made this so much better than I ever thought it would be. Thank you!

The Hunger Games belong to Suzanne Collins, not to me, though I do enjoy playing with her characters.

They're absolutely miserable from the moment they arrive in the Capitol. In fact, Katniss is most excited to see her prep team, which is saying a lot. They fawn over her, complaining about her eyebrows, excited that because of the burns and the skin grafts, she can no longer grow hair on her legs, oohing over her long hair, which she has barely touched since she last saw them. They don't ask how she's doing mentally; aren't quite there enough yet to know how to ask those kind of questions—though the Capitol has changed, the vanity of its citizens is still very distinct from that of any other district. She finds their talk soothing, to an extent, because she doesn't have to say much, and it's such easy talk to follow that even she isn't confused. Maybe the secret to regaining social skills isn't to hide in the woods, it's only to have conversations that aren't about anything complicated or important. She'll have to ask Peeta about that later.

They have public appearances, interviews to an extent, before there is a great feast. She's mostly looking forward to the food, though it is something of a spectacle to see Caesar Flickerman onstage again, looking as if he hasn't aged at all, his wig a slightly more tasteful orange than his usual flamboyant choices. How the hell did he survive when Finnick Odair died?

She wants to see Peeta, but they're being separate so as to make a spectacle when they see each other onstage, similar to the one they made when they reunited after their first Games. Since they're last (the star-crossed lovers are everyone's grand finale), she gets to watch the interviews of other Victors as her prep team does her hair and make-up. She tunes them out as Haymitch takes his place. He's first. He can't be the oldest surviving Victor, can he? She feels a surge of affection as she sees he's in a red bow tie, like the one Cinna put him in after the first Games. She wonders who got him into it today, but knows it really couldn't have been anyone but Effie. He's smirking as Caesar congratulates him on keeping his tributes alive, not only through two Games, but through the war as well. "No one's done that before!" encourages Caesar, his smile wide. She wonders how he stays genuine after all they've been through. Haymitch shrugs, looking at his hands.

"I've done a lot of stuff no one's done before. We all have," he says, simply. It's strange to hear Haymitch less than sarcastic, sincere even. He's not lying, not playing up the audience, not trying to make jokes. He's just being honest. He flexes his fingers, undoubtedly thinking of dead children. Maybe even of Prim. She turns back to the babble of her prep team.

Johanna's interview is hilarious at first, as Caesar questions her about Gale and she, exhibitionist as ever, answers with comments that have her best friend blushing more than she's ever seen. But Johanna calms as Caesar asks how she's faring in 2, as it was a Career district. She flushes as she takes in the meaning behind his question: how is she doing in a district where she assisted with the death of so many of its citizens, killed some of them personally? Katniss shushes her prep team with a wave of her manicured hand. Octavia tuts as she looks at Johanna, who is still dumbstruck, staring at Caesar.

"Why in the world did she cut off all that lovely hair?" Katniss rolls her eyes.

"She didn't. It fell out while the Capitol was torturing her."

Johanna's speaking onscreen.

"We're more popular than you'd think," is what she tells Caesar, referring to Gale of course, who trapped workers in the mountain, ensured that they were buried alive.

"What happened in the Games, in the war, was awful, but whatever happened in the past is in the past."

Katniss tears up as Finnick's words are repeated, and even Johanna has to swallow hard. "And we fought the way we did for this: to be sure there would be no career districts, no reapings…no Games."

Caesar's speaking again, but Venia taps Katniss lightly on the shoulder and tells her she needs to get into her dress.
Her dress is red, and at first she's angry, because why the hell would they put her in something that even vaguely reminds her of fire? But then she sees the embroidery around her rib cage, the way it's gathered on one side of her waist and then drops gently down to almost below her knees, and she knows why. It's as if his presence is in the room. Venia pulls the fabric down, trying with a little more difficulty than usual to secure her garment in place. When she straightens, huffing and puffing, she looks pleased.

"You've gained weight, my dear," she says, and Katniss stares at her. Has she really? She supposes, with Peeta making sure she eats every day, with no Capitol to take food away, no Games to play, that she has been eating more than usual. She smiles, and this feels like a huge victory. The pool of people who can make her smile has been getting wider since Gale and Johanna showed up, has included Haymitch for awhile, but for Venia to make her smile is a huge victory.

Her prep team fusses over the scars on her arms, the scars from all of her skin grafts. They hate the huge one where Johanna dug the tracker out of her arm, but Katniss protests when they begin covering it up.

"It's me," she explains, looking at each of them in term, begging them to understand. "I hid who I was for so long in front of the cameras—please, please, just this once, can I show them?"

The three of them exchange glances, then nod, and again, she feels Cinna's presence. He would've been on her side, she knows it.

They usher her into the same waiting area she'd been in the first Games, when Haymitch had told her of the trouble she'd caused, trouble that sparked from the girl on fire into an inferno, a blaze that saved everything she believed in and destroyed almost everyone she loved.

"Almost everyone," she reminds herself as her podium rises. She blows kisses at her prep team, reminding herself of the girl on the chariot, in the first Games, nervous to hold Peeta's hand. A lifetime ago, really. He has on a black dress shirt and a red tie that matches her dress perfectly. As soon as she sees him, it sets balance back into her world. She's reminded of so many moments, but when she goes into his arms and the audience cheers, she realizes it's the first time she's doing this in front of an audience but not for them. It's an entirely different feeling, one that fills her with joy, makes her feel complete. They settle onto the couch, her legs tucked up under her like they had been a million years ago. Another lifetime, one where she wasn't in love with him, one where she had so few scars, one where Prim was still alive…

Caesar's asked something and she has absolutely no idea what it was. Thank God Peeta's so good at this. If he weren't here, she'd probably just get up, twirl around in Cinna's dress, and go home.

"We're still alive," Peeta tells Caesar, which elicits a nervous laugh from the crowd.

Caesar chuckles. "And still our favorite star-crossed lovers, right, folks?" he asks the crowd, and they roar in approval. They're such a different mix than she's used to: yes, some are still Capitol-esque, dressed in strange clothes, with hair that's an unnatural color. But there are so many normal people there, and she draws strength from this.

"So, tell me, Mrs. Mellark," says Caesar, grinning at her, "when are you going to try for another baby?"

They stare at each other, dumbfounded. Never in a million years had she anticipated this question, and she can see Peeta didn't either. She wants to refute the "Mrs. Mellark" (she is not Mrs. Mellark), but is far too thrown by the memories of faking not only a marriage but a pregnancy, a miscarriage, that she can't. Instead, she finds her voice before Peeta can jump in to save her. She doesn't need to be saved: she needs to be honest.

"We're not," she tells him simply. She feels her throat tightening, clears it firmly before continuing. "My little sister, Prim, she died just a few blocks from here." Caesar nods, solemnly. The audience is as silent as it was the last time she spoke of Prim.

"I loved her more than anyone," she whispers, feeling tears on her cheeks. She smiles, squeezes Peeta's hand. "Sorry but it's true," she tells him, and he nods. He's never doubted this.

The audience barely manages a titter: they are riveted by her honesty. And in a moment, so pure, she understands: this is why they rebelled. The last time she was on this stage, she was lying, fighting for her life and Peeta's life with every resource available, still sure she would die. And now, she's not here for anyone's entertainment, really. Though they may enjoy being entertained, what they want, what they need, is truth. And a country that wants truth, that would rather see her be honest and horrible than lying and charming, that is the kind of society she wants to be part of.

She feels more tears on her cheeks, wipes them away impatiently, sure her make-up is a mess, and she tells Caesar, "She was my best friend, my favorite ally, and I protected her with everything I was and then some."

She chokes up then, has to take a deep breath, and Peeta, still holding her hand, finishes for her. "Prim was the closest thing Katniss ever had to a child," he explains, and she nods.

"Neither of us wants to tarnish that by trying to replace her. She's irreplaceable. And so are all of your children," he continues, turning first to the audience, then to the cameras, "the ones we lost in the rebellion, in the uprisings, and the ones we lost in the Games." She's silent, thinking of Rue. "They were beautiful, and they, too, are irreplaceable. Though we have been fighting for the right things, for justice and truth, there is no replacing those we have lost, and we refuse to forget them."

They smile at each other, tears on both their faces, Caesar completely dumbfounded. Then, in unison, they touch three fingers to their lips and raise them in the air, and around the audience, around the country, everyone follows their lead.

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