When I first see Johanna again, she leaps on top of me in anger. I can't fend her off very well because of my shoulder. Lucky for me, both of us are accompanied by Peacekeepers, who tear her off of me.

"What the hell was that for?" I demand, holding my bruising jaw as I'm helped to my feet.

"A cease fire? Seriously?" Her eyes flash.

"Snow gave me no choice!" I tell her.

She lunges at me, but her guards hold her back. As they begin to drag her back to her cell to deescalate the situation, I finally notice how bad off she looks. Her head's been shaved and what's visible of her skin is ravaged in scars unlike anything I've ever seen. Her wild eyes are wavering, unable to focus clearly on anything.

I suddenly understand how she feels; betrayed. After fighting together in the arena, after running a radius of the whole dome to escape the fire...After all of that, after planning to save Katniss with most of the tributes, I've gone against them and asked them to do the very thing they'd never do.

That's when I know that despite my words, they would not lay down their weapons and cease fire; no one would. Most, if not all, of Thirteen would see me as a traitor for asking that of them.

I hope someone understands my head shake.

"I'm sorry, Johanna." I call as she disappears around the corner. One day, I hope you understand why I did it.

*X*

"Lucky thing we're allies. Right?" Finnick asks Katniss, showing her Peeta's gold bangle.

As the pair sizes each other up in front of the Cornucopia, I spot the male from Five approaching and prepare to throw my knife. I don't get the chance to, however, as Finnick beats me to it with his trident.

"Don't trust One and Two." He says as he pulls his trident from the body.

I take position at the entrance of the Cornucopia and tell them to look for anything useful.

I can hear them going through the contents inside, the clanging of weapons sounding as they fell over or knocked against one another. I don't hear any breaths of relief as a backpack full of gear is found. My heart sinks.

"Anything useful?" Finnick asks Katniss, confirming my worst fears.

Someone barges into me before I can hear the answer. I see a flash of a familiar braid before everything goes black.

Katniss! My eyes snap open and I gasp for breath.

The light of my cell blinds me and I try to raise an arm to block it. I find that my arms are manacled to the floor beside me, tubes going into my veins. There's a clear liquid inside, travelling to my body. My legs are trapped too.

I squint against the light, my eyes gradually adjusting. There are masked scientists above me, one writing on a notepad.

"What is this?" I ask suspiciously. "What are you doing to me?"

I'm ignored.

"Got that?" Someone asks the writer.

"Yep. Every word, Doc."

I gently pull against my restraints, but they're tight and dig into my skin. I grimace a little and relax back against the hard floor. My impatience grows, and it shows in my voice a little. "What are you doing?"

The man with the notepad keeps scribbling words down on the page.

"Nothing you should be concerned about, Mr. Abernathy." The first scientist replies.

"I'm concerned." I mutter bitterly, wanting a straight answer.

"We're just putting some more nutrients into your system after the Games. It'll help to heal your shoulder quicker."

I'm not sure whether to believe him or not. Cautiously, I ask if they're turning me into a mutt or something the like.

They don't answer.

I swallow uncertainly.

"Detach him. He's got enough for now."

Enough nutrients or...? I don't voice it aloud because I know they'll push my doubts aside with a lie of some sort. I have no idea what they're putting in me, but I'm almost certain it's not nutrients- I'm not sure I want to know exactly what it really is.

I feel someone pinch the tube going into my right arm and pull it free. It stings a little, like a needle. The scientist wraps bandages around the spot the tube had been, to stop the blood flow. He moves on to my other arm and does the same. His team puts all of their equipment onto a cart I hadn't seen before. The cell door opens and they leave. It closes.

I'm alone again- and chained to the floor. I sigh in irritation, giving one last, half-hearted pull on my restraints. They couldn't have released me before they left?

I think about the dream I'd had, before I'd woken up to the scientists hovering around me. Katniss. Katniss had knocked me over in front of the Cornucopia. Surely it was only a dream?

I try to remember who knocked me over that day, in the arena. Her face keeps appearing when I conjure up the memory. Hers and no one else's. I shake my head in disbelief. No. She wouldn't.

But she's there, knocking me off of my feet. Finnick laughs from inside the Cornucopia.

I slam my head against the floor and now I see stars instead. I prefer it.

There's no way that dream's true. I know it wasn't Katniss who had attacked me- we were from the same District; we were allies. And even if I can't see it in my head, I remember someone else being the one to knock me over. Katniss had been collecting weapons with Finnick. There's no way I wouldn't have noticed her slip by me.

I try to take comfort in it, but it's not much.

I focus on other memories, ones I know are true.

"The female tribute from District Twelve: Katniss Everdeen." Effie announces. "And now for the male."

Katniss turns and gives me a significant glance. I give her a stiff nod with all the confidence I can muster. I had promised her, after all.

Effie picks one of the two pieces of paper from the other glass bowl and unfolds it. "The male tribute from District Twelve: Peeta Mellark."

I clear my throat, ruining the boy's moment of relief. "I volunteer as tribute."

If I had known how the Games would end, would I have volunteered? If I had known things would go so horribly wrong, that I would lose Katniss, that I'd end up in the hands of the Capitol- would I have done it?

I close my eyes. No. I wouldn't have.

I'm thankful that it's me here instead of Peeta.

I wonder where the boy is. District Thirteen? Twelve?

Oh, God.

Twelve.

There's no way Snow would have let Katniss's actions in the Games go unpunished twice. Peeta could be dead. All of District Twelve could be gone and I wouldn't know it. I guess I just hope they're not.

*X*

Most of my days go like this now: I wake up, chained to the floor with scientists experimenting. I ponder the Games, Katniss, Peeta, Districts Twelve and Thirteen. I eat. I sleep. Sometimes I get to share space with Johanna, but she's never interested in talking to me- I'm not sure if that's worse than her anger or not.

But today's different.

I notice it when they come for me early in the morning; the woman and two Peacekeepers.

I really know it when I enter Snow's office.

"Mr. Abernathy. It's a pleasure to see you again." He greets. "Have you settled in well?"

"Just fine." I tell him, though I'm really not comfortable with any of it.

"Sit down." He gestures to the same couch I sat on during our last meeting.

"What do you want from me?" I ask, obeying his wish.

"To thank you. Your words during last month's interview were very inspiring to the Districts."

That was last month? I've been here that long? I use the same indifferent tone he does. "I think we're all tired of blood being shed. They just needed to hear it from someone they know."

"Which makes it all the more effective. You know the difference between reality and destructive adolescent fantasies." He elaborates. "If Panem follows Miss Everdeen's arrow into a civil war, we witness something far worse than the dark days."

"Katniss Everdeen never wanted a war." I disagree.

"And there won't be one if Haymitch Abernathy still has anything to say about it."

I realize what he wants me to do; I don't want to do another interview about the matter. "I don't know what more there is for me to say."

Snow just stares at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue on.

"I'm sick of it; all of it. The blood...it's mostly on the hands of your Peacekeepers."

"There might be a hundred things in a home that need to be fixed, but that doesn't justify burning it to the ground."

I swallow back my bitterness. "Is that what I tell them, then? Not to burn us all to the ground because of some problems?"

"With your influence, Mr. Abernathy,"He nods,"they will believe anything you say."

I run a hand through my hair; it's grown a lot since the beginning of the third Quell. I stand up to leave, forcing my voice to remain steady. "Whatever you ask."

I can see the approval of my cooperation in his eyes. "If there's anything you need, just know you can always ask."

"I would appreciate you getting those scientists out of my way." I tell him. Despite my suspicions, I play along with the lead scientist's excuse. "My arm's much better."

"I will see that their work is concluded." Snow assures me. "Is there anything else?"

"Yeah." I say. "Is there a library around here that I could visit? It gets boring being cooped up by myself all day."

"Of course."

He doesn't suspect a thing.

*X*

It's not until I go to the library that I realize I've been in Snow's mansion the whole time- right at the very heart of the capitol. The library is too neat, too clean to be public, capitol or not. But the books...there are so many. Hundreds. No, thousands. Which is when I also realize how hard it'll be to find what I'm looking for.

A pair of Peacekeepers guards the entrance to the room as I stroll the shelves, reading the spines of the many books.

I pause to look out an open window and see the daylight. I see fashionably dressed people in the streets, walking from place to place. I think I even see the Training Center in the distance; the very one I was in just over a month ago, the one I've prepared dozens of children to die in.

I shake my head to clear the dark thoughts away and resume looking through the books.

It's a couple of hours before I finally find the book I'm looking for. It's a book on memory manipulations; the vision of Katniss knocking me over in the Quell has not been forgotten- I'm still on edge. I've even noticed several other confusing instances in events I had thought I remembered well. And so my suspicions have led me here.

I find a secluded corner of the library to sit in and begin flipping through the pages. I look for anything involving injecting the victim with a clear liquid. There's several, but only one catches my attention.

It's about tracker jacker venom.

It's called hijacking.

Before I start reading the page, I know that this is what they've been doing to me. I know that I most definitely shouldn't be reading this. I know that Snow won't be pleased if he finds out. But I read it anyway.

Tracker jacker venom is used to associate fear with certain memories, and to alter those memories with hallucinations.

A certain memory is first called to the front of the mind by some type of stimulus. Words and images associated with the desired memory can be used. Once the victim has remembered the event, tracker jacker venom is injected into the bloodstream.

The quantity of venom is small enough that it causes almost no physical reaction and minimal hallucination. However, the memory is slightly altered by the hallucinatory effects and becomes associated with fear and pain. The disorienting effects help to disguise the falsity of the memories. Afterwards, the brain replaces the memory with the new form, along with the negative associations.

Complete hijacking requires many sessions and can take months.

Recovery is almost impossible and is much more difficult to see through than the original hijacking. It is unlikely that the victim will ever recall all of their original memories as they were.

I sigh and close the book.

The Capitol is trying to turn me against Katniss.

The worst part is that I can't even fight it- it's tracker jacker venom, out of all things. You can't fight hallucinations. I'm doomed- doomed unless I can get out in time. And right now, it seems unlikely that I'll ever leave.

But...if they're trying to turn me against Katniss, it must mean that she's still alive. I feel a sharp relief flow through me. It's the best feeling in a long time. She's still out there.

The Mockingjay- the girl on fire- is still alive.

Maybe I'm not completely doomed after all.