A/N: I wrote this on my phone! I honestly had very little time to write because of some personal stuff, so I spent the last few weeks writing this on my iPhone 6+. It's enormous, seriously. Anyway. I feel this chapter is emotional, it feels slow but it sets up what might be my last chapter... Annnnnd I might be procrastinating on finishing. Mostly I just write what feels true to the characters. As always, somewhat doctored timeline and a little change, please correct me if I miss something :)

Chapter 50: Lilac Sky

Calliope watched Katniss, calculating everything that just happened in her head. She wanted to be angry, to feel robbed, but all she felt was relief and pity. It did not matter who had sought revenge on Coin first, it just mattered that it was done. It would have been far less tumultuous, however, if Katniss had the sense to wait and let the politics play out how they were supposed to. Still, Coin being dead took away the possibility of a revolt from any of her loyalists. It quashed a potential skirmish before it started. It was hard to pretend that was not a good thing.

A pounding on the door changed the entire room. Crowe was on alert, finger on the trigger of his handgun almost instantly. Glory pushed away from the wall and put himself between Katniss and the door. Tithe hesitated before tapping away at the security pad keeping the door closed, keeping them sealed away from the chaos outside. He altered some settings and pulled up the outside camera feed. Callie had expected some sort of mob, some pitchforks and torches type crowd demanding justice from the Victor who killed Coin.

Instead, Paylor stood with two guards and Gale. All of them suited up in riot gear, but still a small force nonetheless. It was a little anticlimactic for Callie's taste. Paylor was speaking directly at the camera, it took a moment for Tithe to get the sound working so they could hear.

"I repeat," she said calmly, "We are coming to take Katniss into custody peacefully. She will be placed in holding until we know our next course of action. Bring her out peacefully, Commander Cress. For the good of us all."

Calliope felt a surge of defiance, unsure which choice was the right one to make. If they holed up here, it would be a standoff they would lose. But would it be any more right than sending Katniss off on what could be a death march? Callie stayed silent for a while, watching the still figures outside the door. In a way, she felt betrayed. By Paylor, Gale, Katniss, all of them. THe thing that she could not shake was that there was no reason for Calliope to feel that way. She took a long, deep breath and nodded to herself.

Callie adjusted the cloak over her shoulder, pulled her rifle in front of her, and approached the door. She pushed her shoulders back and looked to Tithe.

"Open the door. Just enough to let me out. Don't let anyone past this thing until I give you the all clear, got it?" Her voice was level, decided. Callie pushed away the unreasonable feelings of betrayal and confusion. This was new to them all, she tried to remember that.

Tithe hesitated briefly before tapping a series of codes into the keypad. The door slid open just a little, enough for Calliope to squeeze through. Abruptly, it shut right behind her. She surveyed the small band of security, everyone had the same look of unease on the faces. Nobody was quite sure what to do now. Her eyes glossed over Paylor's attempt to look like she knew what happened next, drifting to rest on Gale.

It was strange standing on what felt like opposing sides of the battlefield. Callie tried to remember they were all a little lost right now. He would not meet her stare at first, but eventually he looked up at her. His eyes were a deep, lonesome gray. They narrowed with uncertainty, pity, and regret. The neutrality of their situation was strange and unfamiliar territory. Nobody standing in that hall could say with confidence what side they were on, if any sides were taken, who was righteous in their choice.

Gale was slightly envious of Calliope then, she always seemed to be sure of herself even now. He knew her well enough to know it was not true, but her ability to feign it was worth envying.

"Tell me what's happening," Callie demanded, trying not to sound as bitter as she felt.

"Snow is dead. The riots are in check. We issued a curfew, a lot of your men watching the streets. We're a headless country, we can't sit and wait for someone to fill the vacuum out there," Paylor referred to the inevitable opening of potential leadership, the possibility someone worse than Coin could rally support and take over, "We need Katniss in custody. We need to deliver some sort of justice for Alma, quell the people's outrage, stifle their confusion."

"If I give her to you to satiate the people, aren't we just doing what Snow did?" The coldness surprised everyone, even Calliope. Paylor seemed to consider the truth of her statement for a moment or two.

"It'd be like Snow if it was an unjust punishment. Hurting the son for the sins of the father. This won't be that way," Paylor was firm in her statement, "The justice that must be done will be reasonable. I'll see to it myself if I have to."

Callie frowned and stopped herself while considering this stance. It was not her decision to make, it was not even her decision when she took Katniss into safety. She took a deep breath and turned, gesturing to the pinhole camera in the top of the door.

"Give me a minute," Calliope said without turning to look back. The door opened, she disappeared behind it.

Katniss was standing now, watching the screen where the security detail waited for an answer. She looked at Calliope and the two young women stared at each other. Katniss was tired. She was tired of running, tired of dancing like a monkey, tired of being used. Callie wished she had bothered to consider it sooner. Nothing had been in Katniss' hands, none of this new future was her choice. Now, here, in this moment was her choice. Katniss could choose the outcome, it was up to her to decide what the next steps were. Everyone was unsure of them, nobody knew what to do now. Maybe Katniss, the Girl on Fire, the captured bird who could not fly, would know what to do.

The question was never asked, but the answer was freely given, "Paylor's right," Katniss said, "They have to take me and try me. This is the test of the new Panem's justice system. We need to decide what it's going to be like, this is how it needs to end."

"It could end with your execution," Tithe said, somewhere between pleading and understanding.

Katniss nodded like she had long ago considered it. It occurred to Callie that Katniss had made peace with her death some time back, as Calliope had made peace with her own.

"I know," Katniss said, "And if it does, then that's how it ends. I knew what I was doing."

There was a peculiar calm in the silence that followed. Katniss walked the short journey to the door and nodded when she was ready. Calliope held her rifle across her chest and waited for the doors to part.

It was an unceremonious arrest, no handcuffs or shouting or protests. Katniss simply let herself be absorbed by one group and passed into another. Paylor nodded her thanks to Calliope, but the young commander pretended not to see it. Gale stayed behind when they took Katniss away, he waited with Calliope and her men.

It took her a long moment before she gestured for their dismissal. Even then, nobody moved to go anywhere. They dropped out of formality, though, without ever deciding to leave her alone. Gale had hoped they would leave, give him a chance to wrap his head around the next steps.

"You did the right thing," Calliope confessed, "Arresting her was the right choice."

The admission was hard for Callie, but she swallowed her pride. Gale nodded, not giving it more attention than it needed. He took a deep breath and watched the vacant hall.

"None of us know what to do," his voice was quiet and lost, "Paylor asked for my help and I didn't know what else to say. There's no rule book for this part."

Calliope met his gray eyes, full of pain at the fate of Katniss Everdeen and distress at the lack of direction. It was broken up by a man in a gray jumpsuit, huffing and wheezing from the effort of a long run. Callie recognized him after a moment or so.

"Duggar?" She said full of genuine surprise.

The man looked up at her and smiled with a brief nod, "Paylor told me where you were. There's an emergency council meeting in an hour." He straightened as he caught his breath.

Callie frowned slightly, "Did she tell you what about?"

Duggar shrugged, "No. But if I had to make an educated guess, it'd be about what to do with this mess."

Calliope nodded slowly and took a deep breath. She looked behind her at her people, over at Gale from District 12, and Duggar from the deep underground District 13. It was chaos right now, all of Panem was in an unbridled upheaval. She felt the warm safety of the men waiting behind her, the unspoken connection to all her Mountain Men even in these scattered hours. Calliope knew who she was, even in the whirlwind of change. She knew who she was supposed to be and who she had pretended to be, but now she remembered the person she had fought so hard to become.

It had been easy to let Coin strip away her identity, Callie had not known any other way. Now, Coin was gone and Calliope needed to find her soul again. She looked back up at Gale.

"Do you still have the Commander's band I gave you?"

Gale gave her an almost sheepish look and nodded. He opened his jacket and rifled through one of the innermost pockets. In his palm was the dirty, stained, once white strip of cloth Corrigan Lark had handed her so many months ago. Callie took it and tied it back around her upper arm. In a moment of consideration, she unclipped the shoulder cloak and handed it to Duggar.

"The war room," was all that Duggar offered, preempting the question before it came. She nodded and began to walk, Gale following at her elbow.

Gale waited for Calliope outside the mid sized apartment. She had insisted they return to it before going to the council meeting. He did not protest, however, and stood quietly now while he waited.

Calliope pushed open the closet doors and stared at the old uniform in front of her, hanging like some tattered remnant of her past. The armor had long been taken away, dented and destroyed, but the black shirt, pants, scuffed boots, everything she needed was there. She stripped off the black and silver getup, casting it aside in favor of the well-worn canvas pants and black shirt. She checked for tears in both, but all of them had been sewn up recently. Calliope moved to the chest sitting under the window in the parlor room. She opened it and pulled out the two curved hunting blades.

For a moment, Callie did not see the repaired holster tucked away in the corner. She slowly pulled it out and took in the fresh craftsmanship. It was as though the piece had never been lost, it was waiting in that chest all along for the moment when she would find it again. There was little time to wonder at it, though, and she slid the straps over her shoulders, the knives into the sheaths at her lower back. Callie hesitated when she stared at her own reflection in the bathroom mirror.

She looked tired, worn out. She felt as drained as she looked. Calliope felt older than she was, much older than she should have felt at this point in her eighteen years on the planet. It occurred to her how often people had forgotten how young she was, how easy it was for her to make them forget it. It was a testament to the times they lived in and hopefully it would be a testament that ended with her generation.

Her fingers worked quickly, braiding her long blond hair against her head and sweeping it up in a high ponytail. She slipped pins into her bangs to hold them back, just the way Pru had taught her. Callie felt a swift, deep pain in her chest at the thought of Pru, Grouse laying in a coma somewhere, Crowe's lost legs. Mostly, she ached for Pru's sharp comments and cynicism. It kept Callie striving to be better, made her want to prove herself more and more. Now, she felt like some sort of wind had been ripped out of her own sails and she had drifted out onto a wide open sea, no land in sight. Callie had only let herself pause for a moment to mourn her lost friend, had only let the real pain slip into her for a brief moment before shutting it out again. She had a job to do, a job that did not lend itself to emotions and attachment. It was a harsh, cold life she had chosen, but Calliope lived with her choice and made peace with it.

Gale was leaned against the wall across from Calliope when the door opened. He ran his eyes over her with a note of approval. She frowned sharply at him, more through him than anything, and he saw the faint ember of fire behind her bright blue eyes. He realized how strange and unfamiliar they had felt since the final battle. Both of them machines of war with no war to fight. Now Calliope had found her warrior self again, her commander self that he had found so inspiring and alluring at the same time. She glowed like the sun.

Gale fell into stride behind her, comfortable following her lead. It reminded him of following her into battle when she had been so unexpected and wild. He remembered her in the Tank, the fluctuation he felt between fearing her and respecting her. This was what their lives should have been like, this was what they were missing when the rebellion ended: a sense of purpose. Callie had always had a reason for what she did, Gale always had a star to follow, both of them were always moving towards something bigger. When Coin cast them into arbitrary roles, they lost that purpose and the fire that drove it onwards. Now that Coin was gone, finding it again felt natural.

It was alarming when the doors to the President's Manor opened and there were several CPN reporters tailed by camera teams waiting in the foyer. All of this and still CPN was up and running as a primary news source. She had forgotten almost entirely about the power of the Capitol media. Calliope was surprised, but pushed herself to ignore them. They, however, could not ignore her. The crowd closed in, desperate to capture her face and get a comment about everything going on. They shouted questions over one another, drowning each other out as they went. Calliope shied away at first, scowling, but curiosity brought her gaze back up to meet them. Gale took a stand behind her and held out his hand to keep them back.

One of them made it through, holding out a small recording pen to her. It was the only person she seemed to hear in the sea of sound, "Commander Cress, right? What do you think of all this? Are we headed for another war?"

Callie paused this time and deliberated an answer she did not believe she was poised to give, "No. This is a matter of diplomacy, not bullets. We don't need a war to solve this problem."

At the sound of her voice, they surged again and Calliope was whisked through the madness by Gale's sturdy arm. He signaled to the guards who opened the door and the two of them half ran into the war room.

The hall was long and quiet, half the table occupied by council members. Lyme's attendance had been noticed, but no fanfare accompanied it. Many people had presumed her dead after the Nut fell, even Callie. The women shared a nod, Lyme paused and looked Calliope over once with a wry smile. Paylor saw it, too, the resurgence of Calliope in front of them. Callie sat between Gale and Glory, locked her attention to Paylor, and waited. Glory reached out and placed a heavy hand on her arm. He felt the sweep of her fingers brush over his for a moment and disappear again.

"It's obvious why we are here," Paylor said dryly, "Panem is in a state of emergency, we need to deliberate and figure out what to do."

"We need a new leader, that's what we have to do," Plutarch said, more curt and calloused than normal. He rubbed his temples with his hand in exasperation, "What're we doing about the girl?"

"Katniss," Calliope spoke sharply before she had a chance to think, "What're we doing about Katniss."

The point was clear, Callie would not stand to let the young woman they had pushed almost to the brink of madness be tossed aside like a cloth. In Panem when President Snow was ruling, that sort of dehumanization brought the Hunger Games. Callie would not let someone's contribution be trivialized like that.

Paylor shifted and nodded slowly, "Katniss will be kept under house arrest while we evaluate her. There's a doctor in the Capitol who volunteered to be her examiner and make sure she is mentally fit to stand trial."

"So we put her on trial. That's decided?" Gale chimed in, more matter-of-fact than anything else. He was distancing himself from it all, bridling the part of him that felt an unreasonable, helpless anger starting to simmer.

"Yes. We have to. Nobody is above the laws, it's time we make that clear," Paylor never let her conviction falter. Despite everything, she was committed to lawful action over all else, "She stands trial in three weeks' time. In the interim, we need a temporary leader. Someone who can explain how the next few weeks are going to go."

"I volunteer myself," Plutarch said quickly, Callie eyed him suspiciously now. Plutarch was an opportunist, despite his aid in the rebellion he was still a Capitoline and he was still a man with an interest.

"No," Haymitch, almost silently, got to his feet and stood next to Paylor, "The people in the Districts won't take another leader from the Capitol. They'll want one of their own. It has to be someone neutral, no vested interest in the Districts or the Capitol. We just need somebody who can disseminate the facts until we know what to do."

"How do we get another president on the podium?" Finnick was exasperated at all the deliberation and politicking. His annoyance was starting to show, "Katniss stands trial. We need a temporary leader. But what do we do about a permanent leader? We need to focus on that." He slapped his fist against the table top for emphasis.

There was a collective unspoken agreement and shared looks of approval. Deliberating on smaller issues could not stop the bigger issue from snowballing if they could not control it now.

"In District 13," Glory said gently, "They elected Alma. What stops us from doing the same?"

"Technically Snow was voted into power. Unopposed almost every run, of course. Only residents of the Capitol were allowed to participate, not the Districters," Plutarch offered.

"Then it's settled. After Katniss' trial, we vote in a new President," Lyme agreed, "And we vote them in the right way. Districts have a voice, everyone gets a vote. We do it with perfect democracy. No tricks." She was not a woman to let a good plan slip away, pure democracy was the best option for a fair and settled Panem.

Calliope nodded assent, "Agreed. Every vote counts, everyone gets to be heard." She liked it, having never realized the elections ever took place. It gave her pause to think that District 1, for all its efforts and it's deep relationship with the Capitol, were still considered lesser beings. It was so far past that it was impossible to be angry about it now.

It was settled. For the most part, anyway, until Haymitch revisited an old topic, "That solves our long term problem, but not our short term. We need someone to act in Coin's place while we figure out the logistics of this voting plan."

Paylor's eyes settled on Gale, Calliope, and Glory, "We need an unbiased leader. For now, anyway. We need someone who takes no stake in a District."

Callie frowned, panic set into her chest. She was eighteen. She could lead an army into battle, but diplomacy was wildly out of her realm of knowledge. Even temporarily she could not lead a country. Briefly, she hoped they would settle on Gale and his recognizability. Calliope had never been that lucky.

"Hm," Plutarch followed Paylor's line of sight, "A young woman who doesn't fight for a District or the Capitol. A woman who fights for her militia, comprised of two, maybe three Districts. A representative of Capitol and District alike. It could work."

Callie felt frustration bubble up and erupt out of her. She thrust the chair back and stood, slamming her knuckles down onto the table, "No!"

Her voice was firm, it silenced all other noise around her. The whole council watched her now, voices snatched away, "I will not be your next Mockingjay. I will not be the next puppet shoved in front of a screen and forced to play nice. I am not a Victor, I wasn't thrust into this l, I chose my life. I will keep choosing my life, I won't have that stripped from me because you need another goddamn pawn!"

Calliope had found her insurmountable rage, that fire she emitted that burned up everything around her. Her resolve against this struggle was real and plain. She would not submit for the sake of submission, nor the sake of making a hard situation easier.

There was a long pause of consideration that floated between all of them before Lyme casually interjected, "She has a point."

"What the hell else are we supposed to do?" Plutarch scowled at the revived District 2 commander, trying to hide his fury at the half smile on her face.

"Well," Lyme got to her feet and matched his height, "You could try asking if that's what she wants."

Glory hid his smile under his hand. He had stayed silent under the pressure in the room, contemplating the request the council made. It made sense, logically speaking, to have a militia commander over a District commander. Calliope was not the best choice, she was their only choice. Someone had to bring order to the chaos in the Capitol, at least for a little while, and that someone had to look out for the interest of Panem entirely. They had to be able to see beyond Districts and Capitols.

"Commander," he said softly. Their conversation was unspoken, a silent exchange of looks. Callie's scowl softened, her eyes shifted to accommodate the irritation at an inescapable outcome.

Calliope turned her attention back to the rest of the council. They were waiting, watching her. Finnick leaned back, fingers obscuring his face and making him unreadable. Lyme looked somewhat amused, maybe defiant in her own way. Haymitch watched her in anticipation, Paylor was a weathered mask of trained calm. Crowe sat silently, watching it all and nodding his assent to whatever answer she gave. Crowe would be with her no matter what, Calliope knew that. Gale tried to be impartial, separate what he watched Katniss suffer through from what was happening now. The District commanders waited patiently for her to speak. Beetee pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his blank expression expecting nothing and hoping for nothing. Plutarch looked the most irritated by the delay. He was so far changed from the kindly man Calliope had met so long ago in this same Manor.

"Three weeks," Calliope snarled through gritted teeth, "Not a second longer. Katniss goes to trial and I'm done."

"The moment the trial is over and the voting segments are in place, we will withdraw you," Paylor nodded her agreement.

"I am not a candidate for President," Callie added, "My name does not appear on that list."

Paylor paused and made a noncommittal gesture, "This is a democratic process. If the people put your name in the hat, I can't control that. I can promise to do my best."

Calliope looked down at her knuckles still resting on the tabletop. It would be three weeks as a figurehead, three weeks disseminating information to the public and putting a bandage on the hemorrhaging faith in the current administration. It was the moment Calliope would recall as when she decided she hated politics.

"I'll do it. But I do it my own way."