Author's Note: (Special shout out to Natalie5678 for helping me through my writer's block, helping beta read, and brainstorming ideas for this fic! She's a godsend! And she totally deserves all the credit for Peeta's new idea in this chapter! Way to go Natalie! Working hard to get to that Everlark endgame finale/smut payoff! LOL but seriously thank you! And thank you to all the readers who stuck with me and came along after Burning Bright & Blazing Free ended! Your continued interest and reviews inspire me to push myself to write this crazy Russian roulette POV insanely dark mess of a Mockingjay reimagining! Just to name a few, Busyme and Aretusa you all are awesome too! Thanks for all the support and reviews! Enough rambling! Onto the angsty chapter!)

Prim

I glance worriedly between Peeta and Gale, as we settle ourselves into Deen's hospital room. I know this situation isn't easy for them. My sister's inability to communicate effectively and her commitment problems had almost destroyed her relationships with them in the past. Even before all this outrageous new propaganda started. And now the Capital was at it again. Trying to tear everyone apart. But instead of using Jabberjays like they did when we were in the woods to try and sow division between everyone, they were using my sister's voice, her songs.

It had been heartbreaking to watch what they were doing to her. My sister was not like that. She wasn't cruel and manipulative. She wasn't fickle, really, she was mostly just confused. Feeling real, genuine emotion for other people scared her. It made her feel helpless and weak. And if I knew one thing about my sister it's that Katniss hated feeling vulnerable and weak. This had to be killing her.

But she was trying. After they had shot that red haired girl….I could see that she was trying so hard to do the right thing. She would always feel responsible for that death, no matter what anyone told her. Just like with Rue. Just like with Laurel.

Her and Gale had that same kind of stubborn belief that responsibilities fell to them alone. Maybe because they were both the eldest, and considered themselves the main providers, and protectors of our families. They always bore more of the burden than was healthy for them.

"I guess it was only a matter of time." Deen says as he looks over at Peeta. Peeta's gaze hardens.

"I really hope you're not gonna tell me that you've been keeping secrets like Haymitch, because that would make it very hard to trust you in the future." Peeta says in a stern tone that belies anger and disappointment both. And right now, as he stands over Deen's bed, I'd say he looks almost like an angry father more than an older brother to Deen.

"You haven't exactly been up to snuff in your mentoring abilities." Deen retorts.

"And just what the hell does that mean?" Peeta asks, really mad now. I shift uncomfortably. Deen shakes his head as he stares at my sister's...boyfriend. The word feels strange, somehow too much and not enough at the same time to label Peeta.

"Peet, man, I tried to tell you the other day. But you just collapsed on the floor for two and a half hours!" Deen exclaims, with real concern in his features.

"I-" Peeta begins, trying to find some excuse. But Deen interrupts him.

"Look, you're the one who's good at planning. You and Haymitch. You got us out of 12, out of their reach. You can do it again, for her, but only if you are determined to hold on, no matter what the truth is. Because there are some things we're going to need to discuss and plan for, that you probably don't want to hear." He tells Peeta in a low, sad voice. And for the first time I feel apprehensive about joining their team. I have a feeling that if Peeta doesn't want to hear whatever Deen needs to tell him, then I probably won't either. But what can I do? They have my sister and I have to get her back.

"I'll do whatever I have to." Peeta answers through gritted teeth, in an eerily similar echo of my internal monologue.

"I don't want to be responsible for making you lose it completely man. I couldn't live with it, and we won't be able to get her out man, without you." Deen says with a sigh as he looks at his mentor. Deen eyes suddenly look older than his 16 years. He's only slightly older than me but he's been through things I can't imagine. Just like my sister, just like Peeta. Escaping through the wilderness was enough horror for me to last a lifetime. But these three hadn't just followed along like I had. They had fought, and suffered, and gotten sick and shot and so many other things, on top of everything else they had already been through in their Hunger Games. They were incredible. And so strong.

It still amazes me that my sister and Peeta mentored this young man, despite their own pain and tragedy. They were responsible for him and his life in ways I couldn't really understand. The Hunger Games bound them together in this strange but undeniable way. They were as much Katniss' family as my mother and me, as much as Gale and the kids were. And we were all bound to do everything we could to save her.

"Deen. Just spit it out. I'll….I'll deal with it." Peeta finally says after a beat.

"Ok. Look, what I wanted to say, the other day before Haymitch and I got into a fight, was that there's this process. I found out about it, the last week of my stay in the Capitol. Pretty much every victor goes through this process after they win their games. The Capitol sends them home for a few months to lick their wounds and try to get a grip on the horrible shit we go through in the arena. But there's another angle, behind the scenes that you and Katniss never knew about. Snow, first of all, probably held back because of the unrest in the districts after you and Katniss won, because he needed you to put on a good show, and he needed time to get his hooks into both of you. I mean he could have exploited you at any time, by threatening Katniss, but he had to wait for her to dig herself in deep before he tried with her."

"Are you talking about the….forced prostitution of the victors?" Peeta asks, in a voice that tries for steady but ends up coming out sounding tight and strained.

I gasp, and bring my hand up to cover my mouth in dismay. Deen winces, and turns beet red, but doesn't look at me. His gaze stays steadily on Peeta. I glance at Gale and he looks stricken, he actually lowers himself into a chair, seeming to have lost the strength to stand up while hearing this. I try to breathe in slowly and deeply through my nose, when I feel my heart pounding much too fast in my chest. I can't afford to have a panic attack right now. I've told them over and over that I want to help and I want everyone to stop treating me like a child. At the same time I'm trying to get a hold of myself I'm fighting back against the urge to run to my mother and sob into her arms.

Not my sister...no, please no. The thought echoes helplessly in my head. Deen, though, is determined to carry on and starts speaking again.

"The first time, after the Games, it's called The Bidding. It's supposed to be a secret among the Capitol elite. There's usually a lapse of a few months before the victor returns to the Capitol for the Victory tour. During that time, the elite place bids in order to purchase time with the victor when they return for the Victory tour. Some victors don't catch on right away, like me. Oftentimes, the elite will try to be subtle and seduce a victor at a party or an event. It's all a big game to them, trying to charm the pants off someone they've already paid for." He says with a tone of extreme disgust in his voice. And not for the first time, I feel sympathy for him and what his life has been. He reminds me so much of my sister, in toughness and determination and survival instinct. But now he sounds vulnerable. And I know without a doubt Katniss is probably feeling ten times as vulnerable and helpless as he looks at this moment.

"When that doesn't work, Snow breaks out the big guns, the death threats. I got a letter, and a picture. You can probably guess what the letter said. The picture though, was of the three of you. You, Hyamitch and Katniss at my crowning ceremony. He owned me from that moment on." He pauses for a moment when he sees Peeta wince.

Peeta, being the kind of person he is, probably blames himself for being used against Deen. Deen shakes his head before continuing.

"None of it was your fault man, it's just the way it is. I know you and Katniss went through something similar, with your families when you had to convince everyone you all were crazy in love after your Games. I'm grateful, so grateful it didn't happen to you. That was one of the reasons why I….why I obeyed. So that you and her wouldn't have to go through it. I had no idea Snow had a longer game plan in store. The old bastard knew the only way he'd get Katniss to cooperate for the rest of her life was by holding a future child of yours over your heads, as a constant threat. I know you think no one knew what happened after the engagement man, but people talk. Especially on the train. I know what she tried. After that scare….Snow backed off a bit right?"

He looks at Peeta steadily, but Peeta blanches, his eyes grow wide for a second, and he sighs. He stares back at Deen in defeated acceptance, and nods.

There is a story here. It sounds bad. Could Deen actually mean that my sister tried to hurt herself? I remember her coming home from the Capitol at that time. She had been severely depressed after finishing her first year as a new mentor. My mother had put her on special medicine for months. That's when I got my first introduction to antidepressant care and how to nurse emotional wounds as well as physical ones. But my sister making a suicide attemp? That sounds too unbelievable to even contemplate. It makes me feel sick with worry over her. WHY did she never say anything? Why was she constantly hiding things from us?

"Do you think that's what Snow has on her? Do you think he's using her-my-our-" Peeta tries to say the words but they echo almost too loudly even though his voice is soft. Gale flinches visibly, and I look over at him in concern. He looks positively green. I worry for a minute if I should get a trash can in case he gets sick. I walk over to the other side of the room and pick up the trash can, and the simple action of bending my head makes my world spin. I wonder if I'm going to need this trash can for myself, I feel so sick now. My sister could not be pregnant on top of everything that was happening. She just couldn't! The thought screamed in my mind so loudly it hurt.

"Before you can ask, I know what Haymitch told Coin. The whole baby thing, if it really was true, I think Snow would have used it against her and you by now publically. I know that she kept taking the contraceptive medicine until the day she was captured. I asked her mother, earlier. So, no Peet, I don't think she's carrying. But she doesn't have to be anymore for Snow to go through with her Bidding. A child would have assured her obedience for years, but he's going to execute them all soon anyway." Deen says in a quick rush of words, but his eyes look tired, as if saying this has taken a lot out of him.

"Deen, is there a point to this?" I ask interrupting, terrified by the turn this conversation had taken.

"I'm trying to map out a timeline for our plan. The things he's doing, roughly correspond to something that happened during my victory tour. The second interview, that dress, that's the part of the process called the soft opening bid. During that part, they show off the victor in a subtle way. Soon though, they'll progress to more overt measures. With me, it was half buttoned shirts and tight pants, dirty dancing with those fake nipped and tucked Capitol women. That lasted a week. Then, kissing them on camera, and getting caught in broom closets, wrestling half naked for tv with Peeta and Brutus, although they are probably unlikely to repeat that with Katniss since she's female. That was another whole week, called the moderate bid. I wanted to warn you. You should be prepared to see something similar to what I'm talking about on tv. I don't know what they're using as collateral, probably her prep team, or Cinna and Portia and Effie. She'll try to keep them alive as long as she can, I'm sure. But beyond that, the actual...transactions started that last week of my extended stay. At least for me. The timeline may not be exact, but the steps we can easily follow to see where they are in the process of the actual bidding. Finnick explained it to me one night when we met at the same party. He's been through it for years. He was actually shocked Hyamitch wasn't with me. He got really angry, until I explained I had basically run off like an idiot. Finnick helped me, he was the one who got me out of the party that night and returned me to Effie and Cinna. He's not really as bad as everyone thinks, it's just the persona he has to project. So at least Katniss has someone looking out for her who understands, who can help her through this." Deen says quietly.

Peeta is silent for a few minutes, and just when I think that Deen was right, and that Peeta has lapsed into some disconnected reality in his own mind to avoid this conversation, he speaks up.

"Did he explain how the money was exchanged? How was it transferred? Are buyers anonymous? What's a good average price, or estimate?" He says in a very uncharacteristic manner. I notice his jaw is clenched, as well as his hands, but I'm impressed with his determination, if not a little started by his questions. I can't imagine why he'd-

"I know some. Finnick explained a little. But to be honest, Haymitch probably knows more, since he's been around longer. Why? It looks like you've got an idea."

"Yeah, I think...I think I actually do."

"I'll go get him." I volunteer quietly, just wanting to get out of the room. It felt suffocating in there, having to hear about the horrible reality of what my sister may be going through very soon.

Katniss

(The day after her first hijacking session)

I wondered absentmindedly what Prim was doing at this very moment. It was morning, or at least the start of a different part of the day. I could tell by the shift change in the guards. And for a moment I just lay on my cot and remembered brushing my little sister's soft blond hair over her ears and soothing her to sleep with a song.

Prim was so delicate, even her hair was different. Hers was finer and of course lighter in color. My hair was thick and dark. We were like night and day, me and her. But we did have a similar pattern of freckles sprayed lightly across our noses. And if you looked long enough you could see similarities in the shapes of our hands, and builds.

I would never get to see her grow into a woman. I would never get to see her fall in love and get married. But at least she had that chance now. And at least she was out of District 12, and as far away from the Reaping and the Capitol as she could ever get.

Something else to try and soothe my fevered mind with. Whatever they had done to me last time had been horrible. And it felt like there were pieces missing. I tried to recall the questions and the images, but they all blurred together in my head at a rapid, dizzying pace. I forced myself to stop trying to think about it. It was no use.

Finnick it seemed had returned from his trial mostly unscathed. So had Joanna, and Seeder and Chaff. But Mags had not. Finnick waited up for her all last night but she never came back. When the guard shift changed, which was usually our indication that another day had begun, and he hadn't seen her return, he had lost it for a bit.

I tried to block out the image of Finnick's face crumpling, probably into silent tears before he turned away and sought privacy by laying down on his stone bunk and facing the wall. His stoic silence felt heavier and worse than outwardly breaking down.

Joanna had tried to comfort him, but he just nodded mutely at her words without ever turning around.

I found that instead of tears for Mags I felt oddly hollow. I didn't know if it was an after effect of the drugs or not.

On the other side of the wall I heard the others crying quietly. Except for maybe Joanna. It seemed she and I were two peas in a numb emotionless pod. I wanted to say something, to do something for Finnick, but I had no idea what.

He seemed like he needed time to grieve privately anyway. Mags had been his mentor. She had been the oldest living mentor in Panem, which was a feat in itself. To lose her in this way after she had survived the Hunger Games, and mentoring District 4 tributes for who knows how long, was unimaginable.

But grieving, especially under these circumstances, was very dangerous. Finnick had to go into the mock arena again tonight. He and Chaff and Joanna seemed to be the biggest action draws for the audience. So they needed to be as stable and rested as possible. Which was unlikely to be achieved if Finnick couldn't put Mag's death aside for now. Still, he needed to grieve her, at least a little.

"Finnick, tell me about her favorite things." I say quietly, as he stares up at his blank cell wall.

"Huh?" He asks, not having heard me. But he does turn around to face in my direction.

"Mags. What did she like the most? Just talk about that for a minute, just for her." I told him. And his sea green eyes find mine, and something like recognition or understanding passes between us.

"Her favorite food was called ceviche. Her favorite time of the day was low tide because she would always dig for clams. She loved the color blue. She loved the ocean. She was the most amazing person. I think she was the bravest person I ever knew. She told me that I was like the ocean. She told me, no matter where you go, no matter how far you stretch and reach, and venture, you'll always come back to yourself. She kept me alive these past 12 years, even when I didn't really want to be alive. She….I'm sorry, I can't-" He says, finally breaking off.

"It's ok Finnick. That was beautiful. Thank you for telling me." I tell him with an encouraging nod. He tries to smile back at me, but it's too painful to be called a real smile. Still the attempt makes me think he might feel a little better.

"Why did you ask?" He queries, and I try to think of the real reason. I didn't want to be blunt and say to help him focus on his own survival. Finnick is a victor, he already knows that's what he should be doing. Still, Mags was too important to him. He couldn't help his sadness at her death. I too, had become reacquainted with the specific and familiar dance of grief over the past few weeks. It was never easy.

"Because she was extraordinary." I finally told him, because it's true. He smiles again, and this time it's more genuine, but there are also genuine tears in his eyes. And it makes my eyes water for a split second. I look away and stare at a spot on the wall.

"Katniss?" He inquires and I look back at him.

"Yeah?" I respond after I've cleared my throat.

"Thank you, for saying that about her. Somehow, that summed it up." He states with quiet dignity. And I feel that Mags did a very good job of mentoring him. He was a lot more polite, and tolerable now that the Capitol facade had been pulled away. I smile at him in a friendly way.

"I'm glad Finnick." I tell him and go back to laying down on my slab.

Within minutes though, the guards come in to whisk me off.

Thankfully, I'm taken to the music room instead of the torture levels. I hadn't realized I was practically shaking until we stepped off the elevator. Hym was waiting for me, with an anxious look on his face, but he wasn't alone. Two men were there as well. They stood with their backs towards me, wearing fine suits. The tall, dark haired man wore a brown suit in a soft caramel tone. The other man wore a charcoal grey suit, and was a little shorter, stockier, and he had bright blond hair. My breath caught in my throat, as I stared at the two of them.

It couldn't be.

No.

They couldn't be here.

I think for the first time in my life I felt like I might faint at the sight of something.

Peeta and Gale?

Peeta

Gale

My mind whirled, my vision blurred. Hym was saying something, but I couldn't hear him my heart was pounding so loud in my own ears.

Had I really failed? Had they been captured this whole time?

There was a frozen moment, and it was like I was back at the river. Where they had both almost died. I choked out a strangled sound at the thought that I sudden;t wished they had died that day. Both of them. Rather than have them here with me, living through this hell.

The noise seemed to cause an effect, and they turned around, just as my knees were failing me.

A hand reached out, and grasped my arm, dragging me up and against the soft silk of the grey suit.

"Careful there, sweetheart." A voice, that was both familiar and not...something just a bit off...said in low seductive tones near my ear. I blinked in surprise when I stared up into blue eyes framed by thick pale lashes.

One cornflower blue, the other...almost the same color...but up close, so close I could feel his breath on my cheek, I could see his left eye had a splash of wild green in the iris, like an ink stain spread haphazardly over a blue dish.

"Did your knees get weak at the sight of me sweetheart?" The blond man said in an imitation of Peeta's cocky exaggerated drawl that he used sometimes on our tours.

I recoiled, wrenching myself out of his arms.

The blond just chuckled.

I looked over at the man with dark hair and was shocked to find him a somewhat connvining imitation of Gale. If Gale had a sharper nose, and a more prominent brow ridge. His eyes though, were different. More blue than grey. But he sure had the stubble down, and the height and build. He stared back at me passively.

My mind reeled.

Hym cleared his throat.

"May I introduce your new duet partners?" Hym said in a carefully neutral voice, and shot me a pointed look. He was trying to tell me something with his eyes, but I felt like I couldn't really breathe correctly.

"My what?" I asked in a breathless voice.

Hym pointed to Gale first. "Your new stringed instrument instructor. He'll be teaching you guitar for the time being as well as traditional vocal infection for the more folksy songs you'll be performing."

"This is your entertainment instructor. He'll be teaching you stage presence and choreography." He says, indicating to the blond with a wave of his hand.

I stare at them both dumbfounded. I want to ask if this is some kind of joke. But with everything that's happened lately, and with the warning on Hym's face, I swallow my protests and questions. I grit my teeth. Joanna was right. Snow and all his friends are sick fucks. This was sick.

But Octavia had already lost a finger, and Venia and Falvius were counting on me. Distantly I tried to recall their faces and remind myself of why I was doing this.

I was ashamed to admit their faces didn't have as much of an effect on my corporations as the memory of the burning pain that they had inflicted on me when they shot venom into my veins.

I shivered at the memory and went to take my seat on the usual stool. The Gale lookalike meandered over slowly after picking out a guitar and heading over to bring it to me.

He didn't flinch at the look of sheer hatred in my eyes.

"Let's get to work." He said in an emotionless tone.

I swallowed against the bile that rose in my throat when I noticed how he set his mouth into a grim line that was remarkably familiar.

…..

Finnick Odair

They came for me and Joanna in the early evening. At the same time they pulled Chaff and Seeder out. There was a smug satisfaction in the eyes of the guards I didn't like. And there were a lot of them. 8 in total to escort us to the battle grounds. But when we got to the elevator they broke us up into teams. 4 guards to go with Joanna and I. And 4 for Seeder and Chaff.

But instead of heading into the tunnels underneath the Tribute training center, the elevator went up a few levels. At first I didn't understand what was happening. Until the doors opened and I heard Katniss' voice floating out from somewhere inside the room.

Bright show lights nearly blinded me, but I blinked rapidly to adjust. I needed to know exactly what we were up against here. There was something sinister in the air tonight I couldn't exactly pin down.

Before me stood a giant glittering structure, Large enough to encompass an entire floor of the tribute center from one end to the other. Gold and ornate designs shone between thick bars of gold painted metal that rose from the floor and went up and up in a curved shape that tapered into a dome.

A bird cage. A golden cage to display Snow's most prized possession. The Mockingjay.

Katniss was on stage, rehearsing it seemed for her performance tonight, but she wasn't alone. There to her left with a guitar on his lap and dressed in an old brown leather jacket and rough blue jeans over a plain dark blue cotton shirt was her cousin.

Shit.

I thought as I shook my head. This was not good. My plan for keeping her alive until our operatives could get help was looking shakier and shakier by the minute.

"Fuck is that?" Joanna asks me, her wide brown eyes taking in the scene.

I squint as we get closer in passing. But as I inspect the man on the stool next to Katniss, I can see there are a few things that are off.

For one, he's wearing lifts to make him appear taller than he is. I'd say he's actually closer to 6 ft tall, instead of the 6'2 they're going for. And his features aren't as chizeled as I remember from the one lengthy appearance I can recall he made on camera. He had been interviewed during her Games, when she got down to the final 8.

But that was years ago, and I wasn't sure if I was remembering incorrectly or not.

At least until I saw the blond man lurking near the edge of the stage. He was almost a dead ringer for Peeta. Except for the predatory look in his eyes as he stared at Katniss in her dark blue dress, the same one everyone had seen her wear during the last televised celebration on Deen Sparrow's victory tour. I immediately didn't like the cruel tilt of his mouth and the arrogant set of his shoulders as he reached out a hand to help her descend the steps off the stage. She ignored his hand and he grinned at her, with malice in his eyes.

"Well that answers that question at least." Joanna mutters under her breath.

I nod. It wasn't really Peeta and her cousin. They were dopplegangers. Probably chosen to further mentally destabilize Katniss.

There was a humming noise like a mechanized whirling and the stage Katniss had been performing on, slowly retracted into the floor and was swallowed up seamlessly beneath the marble surface. The floor closed up and it was as if the stage had never been there.

I looked over to the other side of the room. Seeder and Chaff were directly opposite Joanna and I, looking at us through the bars of the cage.

And suddenly it made sense.

The cage wasn't only for Katniss. It was for all of us. Joanna's eyes narrowed to almost slits as she worked out what was happening just a second after me.

We'd be fighting tonight, in a caged match. Only this time we'd be on teams, and most likely, fighting each other.

"Well dip me in shit and roll me in glitter. We're going to have to kill them aren't we?" Joanna exclaims in angry dismay as she looks over at our fellow victors and cellmates.

"That's what it looks like right now Jo." I tell her in a weary voice. I raked my hand over my face in abject horror.

"You're exactly right, rebel shitbags. So go and get prepped. Don't want to be late to your own funeral now do you?" Thread says with a scornful scowl at us.

We allow ourselves to be led away.