A/N: Just a trigger warning - this chapter contains descriptions of graphic violence, torture, and injury.


Peeta

The footage of Finnick and I in District 12 has sparked something in the rebels. Regardless of the fight we are engaged in to end the Hunger Games, the people still seem to respond powerfully to their victors. More citizens from across the districts are joining the ranks to fight against the Capitol every day, and Coin is convinced it is because of me; my face, my voice – something about me gives the people hope. I want to pursue this – this faith that the people have in me. I want to go out into the districts and face what is happening, rather than remain hidden in the depths of District 13. It's what Katniss would want to do, I know that much; and while I'll never replace Katniss as the Mockingjay, perhaps I can do my part in this way. And if my actions help to bring her home, then all the better.

Following on the heels of these successes, President Coin has chosen a name for me. Or rather, Plutarch has - but I imagine it was a team effort.

"Peeta my boy!" Plutarch starts in, a huge smile fixed in place to match his jovial tone. I don't even have to be looking at Haymitch to know he's rolling his eyes in exhausted annoyance at Plutarch. "Wonderful news! We've decided on a Rebellion moniker for you, to go along with Katniss's Mockingjay title!"

Honestly, I'd prefer if Katniss was here to actually hold her title, but my repeated appeals to Coin have been met with the same empty assurance: It's not the right time – but soon.

"Fantastic!" I reply, trying to muster as much victor-charm as I can into one word. The fewer words I'm forced to speak, the less chance of my offending someone with my true feelings on the matter – you're all stalling…. I still don't trust you…. Bring her back.

Plutarch clicks a button on some sort of remote control and suddenly text covered in flames appears on the large screen behind him: THE GUARDIAN.

Oh, well then.

"Why 'The Guardian'?" Haymitch snorts behind me.

Plutarch titters at him as though his reasoning is obvious and Haymitch must be in on the joke. "He's a protector! He's safeguarding the districts against the Capitol! He guarded Katniss in their first arena and was prepared to do so in the Quell! He is fighting against the oppressors and is a hero who wants to save the damsel! All qualities that translate into a humanitarian figure of the war."

"It's great, Plutarch, really," I assure him. I honestly want to laugh a little bit at the absurdity of the whole thing, but this was part of my deal with Coin. And if Katniss ever heard herself referred to as a damsel…well, I wouldn't be surprised if Plutarch got another arrow shot at him.

Plutarch preens from my half-hearted praise and hands me a stack of papers. "Here's your script for the next propo shoot…."

"I was thinking," I interrupt before he gets too wrapped up in his enthusiasm over his own ideas. "If we're supposed to be stirring up continued interest in joining the Rebellion, maybe I should go out and meet with some of the fighters - Finnick too. I mean, if we're highlighting the humanitarian side of the rebels' actions, it might be more effective than filming in a studio."

"I can't authorize that kind of risk," Coin quickly cuts in. She has a determined set to her frown, and I'm swiftly anticipating a major clash with her over this.

"There shouldn't be any fighting in 8," Commander Boggs counters, his voice quiet and even. "There was bombing a few days ago, but Commander Paylor has reported nothing further for five days now. It'd be safe…. And like Soldier Mellark said, it would build rapport to have well-known victors fighting as rebels in the field."

I look to Coin hopefully. I need to get out and actually help with something before I go stir-crazy. And Katniss would want to do this too….

She draws out her decision, but eventually acquiesces with a single nod and Haymitch is assigned to come along to be our eyes from above. Commander Boggs and Gale will join Finnick and I, along with Plutarch's camera crew.

It's not ideal, but nothing ever is.


When we arrive in District 8, I'm shocked to see how different it is from the time I spent here during the Victory Tour. The Justice Building where Katniss and I gave our speeches has been reduced to rubble, and the smells of char and death permeate the air all around us.

It's a nightmare.

A woman with dark skin and a bandage around her neck that needs changing approaches us as our hovercraft retreats. "You're alive," she states bluntly, looking between Finnick and I. "I'm Commander Paylor, welcome to District 8." She has a brusque imposing manner about her that must be inspiring to the troops she leads. She would have made a good victor, I realize.

"Soldiers Mellark and Odair," Commander Boggs introduces us, merely out of politeness; it's clear she already knows who we are. "Solider Hawthorne, and this is Cressida, Messalla, Castor, and Pollux," he continues, gesturing to each person in turn.

Paylor nods and assesses our crew through narrowed eyes. I'm sure we're being judged harshly, and deservedly so, for our immaculate uniforms that haven't seen a day's worth of fighting. I don't blame her, not for one second. Finally, she looks straight at me and says, "I'm glad Coin finally sent you. The people were starting to worry you wouldn't fight after what Katniss said in her interview."

I can feel the frown automatically form on my face, but I take a moment to harness my impulse to snarl in defense of Katniss and her actions. The world doesn't know what I know about Snow; they don't know what he's doing to her or what he's making her say to stay alive. "We want to be here," I answer simply, making sure she can discern the truth of my words. "We want to do anything we can to help."

Paylor must get what she's looking for from me because she nods once and turns to walk towards a large warehouse a few hundred yards away. A large white "H" is painted on the side – it's the hospital. "President Coin wants you to visit the wounded; lucky for you, we have a lot of those," she calls over her shoulder as we move to follow her.

We pick our steps carefully as we trudge through the debris that covers every single surface. Once we cross the threshold into the makeshift hospital, the smell of death becomes overpowering. Gale covers his mouth and Messalla swears under his breath. Finnick maintains his look of stoicism and follows close behind Paylor. I want to vomit honestly, but I need for Coin to see that my presence here is valuable; the better results for her, the more favor I can garner to get a rescue mounted for Katniss. So I manage to take shallow breaths through my mouth and work to block out the smell as best I can.

"Are you sure it's smart to keep all your dead and wounded in one place?" Gale asks. He's right of course, but I don't think these people are able to do anything more than what they already are. Snow is pummeling them, and District 8 is scrabbling to survive.

"There's a mass grave a couple of miles away, but I can't spare the people to transport the dead. If you have a better idea, I'd sure love to hear it," she bites back, not even bothering to turn her head as she answers.

"I don't…I didn't mean," Gale tries to string together some sort of apology for his ignorant words but is stunned into silence by the sight laid out ahead of us.

It's absolutely horrific chaos. There are hundreds of people here, most of them wounded, some of them already dead. The healers are doing the best they can, but even I can see that there isn't much to be done. The smell of blood and filth is ripe and thick enough to be felt like a heavy presence on my tongue; the sharp echoing sounds of the moans of the dying and wounded are cacophonous. All at once I feel like a little boy again – ignorant and scared and wanting to just turn around and hide from all this.

But there is nowhere for me to hide because Snow took away my home and my family; he's murdered so many innocent people and will continue to kill so many more. He's taken the girl I love, and he is hurting her every single day just so he can prove a point. So, I take one step forward. And then another.

Someone calls out my name; when I turn towards the voice, I see it is a little boy…. He's missing an arm. "Peeta Mellark?" he calls out. I step closer to him, but his eyes skitter to the person behind me. "Finnick Odair?"

Finnick and I both crouch down carefully in front of the young boy, and I give him a small smile. "Yeah," I answer softly, reaching out to take his remaining hand. "What's your name?" I ask.

"George," he replies. He can't seem to keep still; he's squirming in his seat with excitement and shock and pain and he's looking back and forth between Finn and me. "What are you doing here?" he asks, incredulous that the two of us are actually with him in District 8.

"We wanted to be here," Finnick kindly tells him, the smile on his face eliciting a matching one on George's face. "We heard you'd been very brave, and so Peeta and I wanted to come see you." The glee on the boy's face is beautiful, and it's moments like these that my friend Finnick Odair breaks my heart. Who would he have become without the Games? I can so easily see him with children of his own, getting such joy out of a quiet life on the beach with Annie in District 4.

A woman who must be George's mother is propped nearby; and though she is obviously suffering considerably from an injury I can't identify, a subtle smile lights up her face at her son's interaction with the former Capitol playboy. Her eyes catch mine, and she clears her throat before asking, "How are you doing, dear?"

I move closer to her so I can answer quietly "I'm alright," I assure her.

"How are you managing without Katniss?" she rasps out, the genuine concern in her voice humbles me greatly. These people have never met me, have never met Katniss; and yet they care what happens to us. This indisputable connection between people is what I'm fighting for; Snow wants us broken into pieces and kept apart in our own corners of Panem, too far-flung to make a stand…. But as I speak with this woman in the ruins of a district far from my own, I'm starting to wonder if that was never truly the case.

I don't want to push the reality of my troubles on this woman who is, in all likelihood, dying in front of me. "I'm…surviving, I guess," I manage to answer.

"And the baby?" she gasps through her pain.

This answer is harder; while I don't want to lie, as far as the districts are concerned Katniss and I were having a baby when we went into the Quell. I don't want to garner ill-will towards Katniss or the Rebellion by explaining our deception, but I do not see any point in continuing the charade.

"I…I lost them. Both Katniss and…the baby," I admit. "And I just…. It hurts so much," I cannot seem to hold back my grief as I speak to this anonymous woman in 8. "I have never felt so…hopeless in my life." While my sadness over an imaginary baby may not be real, the hollow pain in my chest at the loss of Katniss is more sincere and intense than anything I have ever experienced.

She pats my hand the affectionate way I wish my own mother would have and leans closer to me. She whispers, "You'll get her back. You'll fight; and you'll win. You both will show Snow what we're all capable of, and you'll tell your future children how you never lost hope, even when things were at their darkest."

No matter how many more days I live, I know I will never truly be worthy of the compassion shown to me time and time again by the people of Panem. The only way to repay their benevolence is to fight for their freedom.

"Thank you," I gently respond, and squeeze her hand. When I stand up, I realize that the camera crew has been filming my exchange with this woman. I nod to Cressida and move on to another group of wounded civilians. Finnick and I take our time and speak with dozens of people, offering words of comfort and eliciting smiles where we can.

By the time we leave the hospital, I am completely emotionally drained. While I'm very good at speaking with strangers, it has been difficult to share so much of my personal pain with person after person. Almost everyone asked about Katniss, and it fills me with hope that she remains so prominently in their minds. They seem to want to get her back to me almost as much as I do.

"That footage was amazing, you two," Cressida commends Finn and me. "We'll start putting together a new propo as soon as we get back to 13."

We're almost back to our extraction point when Boggs calls out, "Haymitch has eyes on incoming Capitol hovercraft. We need to get under cover now!"

Paylor motions to a warehouse nearby, "There's a bunker in that building there! I have to get back to my men!" She takes off with the rest of her fighters while we race on towards the building she indicated.

Just as we enter the warehouse, the Capitol begins dropping incendiary bombs. The force of the blasts and the blistering heat of the flames practically knock us off our feet. Finn and I clutch at the doorway, bracing ourselves as we watch explosions chase Paylor and her soldiers, who are frantically retreating to the shattered remains of empty factories. Without warning, the Capitol hovercrafts change direction towards the hospital, destroying everything in their path. With a sickening sense of what is about to happen, I watch in dismay as the hospital is turned into a raging inferno. I can hear the harsh sounds of gunfire coming from the area where I saw last Paylor heading, so I tear off across the wide open wreckage without a second thought. I'm driven purely by my need to do something for the defenseless people I just met in the hospital – to help them right here, right now. I need to take part in this fight against the Capitol in any way I can.

"Mellark! Get the fuck back – shit! Odair!" Boggs bellows behind us. We keep running. I can't stop - I need to do something. For Katniss…. For George…. For all the innocent people I just spoke with who are dead now for no reason at all.

We reach an abandoned factory where we can see Paylor's troops firing machine guns from the roof. Finn locates a ladder that's attached to the building and begins scaling the wall. I begin the climb right behind him, but I struggle to fully control my prosthetic and I am only about ten feet off the ground when I hear Boggs's voice again, ordering us to retreat. He's cut off abruptly and I look down to make sure he's unharmed and am surprised to find Gale following me up the ladder. From the looks of it, he silenced Boggs by delivered a swift kick to his face.

"Go!" Gale yells up at me.

He doesn't have to tell me twice.

By the time the three of us have scrambled up on to the roof, the hovercraft are out of range but look to be circling back towards us.

"I thought you were on your way to the bunker!" Paylor shouts at us. She's covered in a fresh layer of dust and is positioned at one of the large machine guns pointed at the hovercraft.

Finnick aims one of his incredibly charming smiles at her and twirls his modified trident around in his hands. "Just here to help, ma'am."

She chuckles at him and rolls her eyes. "Know how to handle this thing?" she asks, gesturing to the unmanned gun next to her. I nod, stepping up to it. While only the Peacekeepers had guns in 12, I've gone through enough training in 13 to safely handle this type of weapon. Hand-to-hand combat has always been my strong suit, but I need to step up now. The Capitol must pay for what they've done here today.

As the hovercrafts get closer, I line up the sight, taking a moment to breathe and aim. Katniss taught me how to shoot once while we were training for the Quell; I was barely passable, but I remember her pointers. You can do it, Peeta, she whispered in my ear. Just breathe.

"Incoming!" Paylor hollers and opens fire.

I follow her lead, and one of us strikes the wing of the closest hovercraft, the impact of the blast causing it to spiral off into an abandoned building about half a mile away.

"Those warehouses are empty," she assures me.

I nod in response, my fears temporarily assuaged. I already feel like I'm smothered in the amount of blood on my hands, so it's heartening to know I'll only be adding to it minimally if I can help it today.

We hear the telltale howling sound that precedes the approach of more hovercrafts. They break through the clouds and head rapidly towards our position. "Left one's mine!" Gale calls out. He kneels at the edge of the roof and takes aim with the crossbow Beetee constructed for him. Finnick positions himself close by, his trident raised in front of him. Just before the two remaining hovercrafts pass above us, each man fires their weapon. Gale's explosive arrow strikes the tail and Finn's trident launches an explosive spear that hits the plane's underbelly. They both spin off-course and begin falling disjointedly from the sky. I can feel the searing lick of the flames that erupt as they collide with the rocky debris.

I throw myself down the ladder, stumbling through the rubble as I attempt to comprehend the carnage surrounding me. There is so much devastation; even though I wasn't present that last night in District 12, I can only imagine it felt something like what I'm experiencing now.

It is soul crushing and putrid, overwhelming and heartbreaking. I want to fall to my knees, pound the ground with my fists, and scream at the sky. What is the point of all this?

"Peeta!" Cressida shouts my name. "Peeta, can you tell everyone what you're seeing right now? Peeta what do you want to say?" She points at the camera that Pollux holds next to her. It is aimed right at me. I can't run away; I can't cry out or even shoot someone in a fit of rage…. But I can do this, I can use my gift for weaving words to move the masses.

I stare into Cressida's camera for a moment, the fires that engulf the newly dead prickle at my back. I take a deep, halting breath and say, "I want the rebels to know I'm alive. That Finnick Odair, Haymitch Abernathy, Beetee Latier, and I are all alive and we are fighting with the Rebellion. That I am in District 8, where the Capitol has just bombed a hospital filled with unarmed men, women, and children. And there will be no survivors! If you think that the Capitol will ever treat us fairly, you are lying to yourself! Because we know who they are, and what they do. This is what they do!" I point at the blazing destruction behind me. "And we must fight back!"

I turn around to face the devastation and fight back a sob. I know Castor is getting footage of me from this angle as well. "I have a message for President Snow. You can torture us, and bomb us, and burn our districts to the ground. But do you see that?" I direct the camera towards the burning hovercraft baring the Capitol crest on its side. "Fire is catching! And if we burn, you burn with us!"

And then I let myself fall to my knees and I scream into my hands until my throat goes raw.


Plutarch's newest propaganda centers around my speech from District 8. We see the faces of those in the hospital, and the way people's faces light up when they see me and Finn. Then we watch them die. But it's my words that are spotlighted, and though I feel ill as I watch the footage for the first time, I can only hope I make a difference…somehow.

I am dubbed The Guardian - officially the Protector of the Rebellion, spewing promise and rage and vengeance against the Capitol's wrongdoings.

Coin is happy. Plutarch is happy.

But still, Katniss is not brought home.


"You need to come with me," Commander Boggs tells me while I'm poking at my dinner. "You too," he adds, nodding at Finnick who sits across from me.

We both move to clean up our trays, but he stops us and explains, "No time, someone else will get them." He signals to someone behind us to take care of our mess. This sets off warning bells for me; District 13 is all about personal responsibility, it's borderline treasonous to not tidy up after yourself. So, if we're being told to actively disregard a chore, we're either about to be executed or something major is happening right now.

Boggs leads us through the labyrinthine halls to the Command room. I hold my tongue the entire way, my anxiety building with every step; I'm on the verge of asking him what's going on just as we arrive, but I then catch sight of the goings-on inside and I have my answer.

Katniss is on the screen again, but she's unrecognizable.

"They just announced the broadcast, we thought you should be here," Boggs murmurs under his breath. I have a feeling it was him alone who insisted on mine and Finnick's presence, and that Coin would have been fine if we'd simply continued on with our dinner.

"Thank you, Commander," Finn answers for both of us.

Because there is no way I can speak. Everything I managed to eat is threatening to make a repeat appearance and an odd choking sound is emitting from my throat. I almost died in each of my Games, but I have never seen anyone look so broken – so close to death – as Katniss does now.

Katniss is somehow even thinner than she was the last time we saw footage of her. She's just…skeletal – every bone is pressing out sharply against her skin, her lips are starting to pull back against her teeth with dehydration. Her skin tone is a sickly combination of colors that I have trouble discerning at first, until I realize she is entirely covered in bruises. The Capitol has tried to cover them up with thick stage makeup, but now I can see them all; there are the blacks and purples of fresh injuries as well as the yellows and greens of healing ones, all layered on top of one another across the grey pallor of severe illness. Her hair is cut rough and short to just above her chin, and her eyes are dull with confusion. Every time she moves, she flinches in pain, and every time she breathes a distressing wet rattling sound is produced.

I cannot even begin to fathom what they've done to her. What were they doing to her while I was filming propaganda? While I was eating perfectly balanced meals and grumbling to Finn about sore muscles after a day of physical training? While I've been trying to gain favor from an ambivalent President Coin, Katniss has been tortured within an inch of her life. The heat of panic and guilt begins to drip down from the crown of my head towards my throat. I feel as though I may start screaming at any second.

Caesar Flickerman is practically holding her hand through this interview, and it becomes obvious how much trouble she's having the longer it goes on. She tends to trail off while speaking, and even when she limits herself to one-word answers, she slurs her words like she can't hold them properly in her mouth. I feel it in my heart that the Capitol will not be able to squeeze much more time out of Katniss Everdeen before she dies in their hands.

Our latest propaganda starts to cut through the interview footage, and I'm beyond grateful to Commander Boggs for coming to get me; if I wasn't able to see the continuous video of Katniss, I might lose my mind once and for all. I quickly disregard the images of Finnick, Gale, and I in District 8 – it has been airing nonstop in the districts for a couple of weeks, but this is the first time Beetee's been able to break through the Capitol's feed. I focus instead on the image of Katniss and witness the moment she catches sight of us. Seeing us seems to give her a physical jolt; and for a few brief seconds her eyes focus, her shoulders straighten, and her stubborn spirit shines through. She reminds me of her old self, but there is a small smile hinting at the corner of her mouth that threatens to break my heart. Hold on Katniss, hold on to me.

"Katniss is there anything else you'd like to say to the districts?" we hear Caesar ask. His words seem to break Katniss's concentration on the video of me.

"Yes, Caesar," she says, her voice like broken rocks. She licks her lips and takes a few moments to seemingly gather her strength. She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment as her shallow rattling breathing echoes throughout Command. Something is coming, I can feel it. "Consider this ceasefire," she begins brokenly. "Think about it – how will this end? What will be left? No one can survive this; no one is safe now. Not here in the Capitol, not in the any of districts, not you in 13." I feel my eyes begin to water, but I won't even allow myself to blink. Katniss manages a single deep breath that causes her to cough, resounding through me like a gunshot. She stares directly into the camera, and then, with more alertness than I've seen from her in months, she cries, "Peeta! They're coming Peeta! Everyone in District 13 – you'll be dead by morning!"

Her words are cut off when a fist slams into her face and she is thrown clear from her chair. My hands come up to cover my mouth in horror. We hear a man's scream from somewhere on the set, and I can distinguish Katniss whimpering as she hits the floor. We can't see her onscreen anymore, but we do see four Peacekeepers gather around what I assume is her prone figure on the floor. I am pulling my hair out when they start hitting her with batons and their bare fists; I am screaming and struggling in Finnick's arms and trying to reach for her as her blood hits the camera lens and paints the screen in front of me bright red. By the time the video goes black, I barely feel human anymore.

"That was a warning," Finnick declares immediately, his own voice raw with pain as he lowers me to the floor.

No one speaks. I don't think anyone can.

"Tell them Haymitch!" I prompt, my throat torn apart from yelling.

"They're right," Haymitch agrees. "If she's in the mansion, Katniss probably overheard something. She's giving us a warning."

"We can't be sure of that," Coin rebuts calmly. She's pacing with her arms crossed in front of her, but her restless movements give her away – she knows what this is, she just doesn't want us to be right.

"Katniss is dying right now!" I spit out, wiping tears from my face. "She would never give herself up like that unless she was sure her information would save us."

Everyone remains completely silent for what feels like the longest minute of my life, until Coin finally breaks and says placidly, "We're due for a drill. Commander Boggs please sound the alarm for a Code Red Emergency Evacuation Drill." As he goes to carry out her orders, she turns to us. "We'll see what happens," she tells us. Then she stops her movements and looks directly with me. "I want her to be right, Soldier Mellark," she adds gently. "I want her sacrifice to be worth something."

I have to fight the bile that's rising in my throat. Sacrifice implies she isn't going to survive whatever comes next….

"Please follow the evacuation instructions, Soldiers," Coin's tone reverts to its former briskness. "Mr. Abernathy, Commander Boggs, and I will remain here to wait out the night. We'll all know soon if Miss Everdeen was correct, I imagine."

We're summarily dismissed but Haymitch steps forward towards me. This is probably the closest he's gotten to me since I punched him on the hovercraft that pulled me out of the Games months ago.

I don't give him the chance to speak. Finnick has to hold me back while I hiss out bitterly, my finger in Haymitch's face, "Get her out, Haymitch! If she isn't dead yet, she's going to be dead soon! I don't give a shit what kind of deals I already made, if she dies then my part in this Rebellion dies with her!"

"You and me both, kid," Haymitch grumbles in reply, before dropping a hand on my shoulder. I almost flinch from the contact. "Get down to the bunker, now. I'll sort this out."

A recording of a woman's voice instructs us to make our way in an orderly fashion down to the fallout shelter, so I allow Finnick to pull me from the room and down stairwell after stairwell. About five minutes into our seemingly endless descent into the bowels of District 13, we are rocked with an explosion so powerful that the entire underground district seems to shake.

"I guess Katniss was right!" Finn calls out to me as we turn rapidly to continue down another set of stairs.

A second blast follows moments later, and another after that. The fifth one must hit some sort of water main, because suddenly it's raining inside, and everything becomes slippery and chaotic. Carefully trained District 13 citizens begin to panic when the lights are knocked out, and in the confusion, I lose sight of Finnick.

After what feels like a never-ending series of stairs and hairpin turns, I finally make it to the end and follow the flowing sea of people towards the bunkers. I'm about to stop and go back so I can look for Finnick when I'm shoved forward and his familiar voice snickers in my ear, "Come on Peeta, Katniss will kill me if I let you die out here."

At least one of us still has their sense of humor.

Once inside I take a moment to look around; we're in a room that must go on for over a mile, the whole thing filled with beds stacked on top of one another. Finn and I are directed to an area designated by where our bunk compartments are located up above, and we find packs full of food, water, and flashlights resting on our set of stacked beds. I see Mrs. Everdeen and Prim a few rows over attending to patients from the infirmary, and I'm relieved to see they made it down here without incident.

The sounds of rocks exploding and layers of earth blasting apart overhead reverberate for hours on end. With each explosive roar, I think back to a different part of Katniss's video.

Boom.

Her mottled skin.

Boom.

Her ragged breathing, like she couldn't ever fill her lungs.

Boom.

She winced every time she moved.

Boom.

The dark red of her blood on the camera.

Boom.

The way she spoke – like she knew what was coming. She knew they would hurt her.

Boom.

My warning was her goodbye. That's what the smile was – she knew.

Boom.

"Finn, you have to distract me. I…I can't," I finally beg him. He's sitting on the bed above mine, tying knots in his rope over and over again. Is this how he's felt since he lost Annie? How is he even still sane?

He swings himself down and perches beside me on my bed. "Here," he says, handing me his coil of rope. "Try tying some knots."

My skepticism must show on my face because he chuckles quietly and tells me, "It sounds odd, I know. But it helps."

"How do you bear it?" I ask brokenly, working to undo the knots he's already tied into the rope.

"I don't, Peeta! I never have!" he exclaims. "I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there's no relief in waking." He lets out a deep sigh. "But I try hard not to give into it; Annie wouldn't want me to, and Katniss wouldn't want you to either. It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart. So don't fall apart, alright?" He pats my shoulder and squeezes it firmly. "Mags told me that."

I let memories of the kind old victor from 4 wash over me as I force myself to focus on the task in my hands. Don't fall apart don't fall apart….

"Thank you, Finn," I murmur.

"Of course," he replies. "Tomorrow we'll get you your own rope. Until we get them back, I still need one."

I choke out a laugh in response and shake my head. "Agreed."


Twelve unending hours after Katniss's ill-fated message, we're permitted to leave the bunker. Commander Boggs meets Finnick and I outside the heavily sealed doors and steers us back up to Command. On our way we pick our way through piles of smoking rubble as we get diverted around whole corridors that have collapsed from the bomb blasts. In Command, we're greeted by a solemn President Coin; she's leaning the weight of her body on her hands and looks to be pouring over readouts and maps scattered in front of her on the table. Plutarch hovers at her side, desperately grasping a cup of coffee with shaking hands, while Haymitch paces the length of the room. All their faces are lined with frayed exhaustion; I'm sure we look much the same - neither Finn nor I even attempted to rest throughout the long night in the bunker.

"Soldiers Mellark, Odair," Coin welcomes us, and attempts a weary smile.

I return her greeting, but it's Finnick who bypasses pleasantries and immediately inquires, "How bad was it?"

"Could have been worse," she asserts. "They missed all of our aircraft and large-scale weapons. Only the upper fifteen level were damaged, and none of our citizens were killed." She looks to me and affirms, "Miss Everdeen's warning gave us ample time to evacuate people from the vulnerable levels. That's something I won't soon forget, Soldier Mellark."

I'm too drained to play this game of niceties and negotiations with Coin today, so I lay it out plainly for her. "We need to rescue Katniss as soon as possible. Today, even." Though I truly mean the words I'm saying, I'm aware that my voice is resigned; I'm wholly expecting her to deny my request once again.

But - "You're right," she agrees, much to my surprise. "Now is the time. I've already reached out to our contacts in the Capitol, and they have revealed to us that while they were brought to the President's mansion for their interviews, the victors are being kept in the basement of the Tribute Center. The rescue mission will launch tonight."

"I want to go," I announce, before she can continue. "I know the Tribute Center, better than anyone in 13. I need to be there…. If Katniss is still…alive, then she needs to see familiar faces or else she'll fight her rescuers."

Coin looks to Haymitch who has a smirk on his face. "The boy's right," he mutters. "Girl's more likely to take a swing at someone than listen to sense. Johanna and Enobaria too. Not that I blame them…."

"I'm in as well," Finnick interjects. At some point during this exchange, he took a seat at the large table and is now putting his feet up on the surface in front of him. "If Peeta goes, I'm going too. Plus, I've been a victor for ten years, I know the Tribute Center's secrets inside and out. You'll never locate them without us."

Plutarch grins and pipes up, "It would make for compelling propos, Madam President. Just think - victors saving captured victors! The victors of Panem reunited for the cause!"

"Absolutely not!" I interject. "You saw the state Katniss was in. And that was after being beautified by a prep team! I do not want her condition, or the condition of the other victors, to be shown without care for them. Especially if…if…."

If one or more of them is already dead when we get there.

Fortunately, everyone seems to pick up on what I am trying to say.

"I can't sanction launching the film crew, Mr. Heavensbee," Coin replies. "This has to be a covert mission with minimal forces. I can't risk more than a half dozen soldiers without compromising the agents we already have under cover in the Capitol."

"Can we film it with body cameras?" he asks instead. I cut my gaze to Haymitch who gives me a small shake of his head. He's telling me this is not the hill to die on with Plutarch or Coin, not when we're so close to getting Katniss back.

"Fine," she agrees with a decisive nod. "Soldier Mellark, Soldier Odair – I want you both on the mission, along with Soldier Hawthorne. Commander Boggs will lead." She turns to him and says, "Choose your last two soldiers, Commander."

"Yes ma'am," he responds stiffly.

"Madam President," begins Plutarch. He's tapping his fingers against his mouth, looking over his notebook; he's planning something, and chances are we're not going to like it. "We need a distraction." When no one jumps to agree with him, he huffs out a breath and explains. "A distraction for the Capitol. We need all eyes looking elsewhere if we're to get into the Tribute Center undetected."

"But the scheduled power outages?" Coin protests.

"Doesn't matter," he rejoinders, shutting her down immediately. "It helps, but it isn't enough. There is always someone watching. So, what we need is a diversion; something that no one can look away from. That's how we will get in."

Coin nods slowly and then inquires, "What would work? You're the Capitolite, Mr. Heavensbee; what would capture your attention to that degree?"

Plutarch replies easily, "What every Capitolite loves – drama, Madam President." He turns to look at Finnick pointedly.

"Are you serious Plutarch?!" Haymitch erupts. He doesn't just look angry, he looks betrayed.

"It's the only thing that would be effective enough to allow us to slip in without notice, Haymitch. I know it, and you know it as well," Plutarch explains, his voice gentle, as though he's trying to calm a wounded animal.

I feel lost trying to figure out what's got everyone so on edge, but I follow the group's collective gaze over to Finnick. He's staring hard at the ground, his mouth drawn into a firm frown. After a few tense moments, he lifts his head and seems to shake off whatever was holding him back from answering Plutarch sooner. He cranes his neck, cracking the tight muscles, and releases a loud exhale.

"Fine," he states. His response is simple, but I know he's just agreed to something significant.

Haymitch rushes to his side and places a hand on his shoulder, putting himself between Finn and the rest of us. "You don't have to do this," he pleads with him.

"Yes, I do," Finnick argues. "If it will help her, I'm ready. I need to get Annie back Haymitch; this is worth that."

Plutarch stands from the table and addresses Finn alone. "Haymitch and I will meet you in a half hour in the studio, Finnick. It will just be us and Cressida, no extra people, if that will make this easier."

Finnick chuckles once, the sound heartbreaking. "Sure, Plutarch, sure."

"This will help her," Plutarch assures him, and turns to leave the room.

Before I can think to follow them, Finn and Haymitch walk quickly after him, leaving me behind.

Orders are given, soldiers are chosen, and in a few hours we will finally – finally - be on our way to the Capitol.

It's time to go get our girls.


"Tonight's mission is a straight in-and-out retrieval, we are only there to extract the prisoners. As much as possible we are trying to fly in under the radar – orders are to not engage enemies or discharge weapons unless absolutely necessary," Boggs's directives sound scratchy and distant even though the speakers have been rigged directly into our helmets. There are six soldiers heading into the Capitol, along with four medics who will remain behind on the hovercraft and will be standing by to treat the victors during the long flight back to 13.

"How are we getting in?" Gale asks from across the aisle.

"We got intel from our agents that the Capitol has been restricting their electricity output since the dam attack in District 5. Systems should be shut down from midnight to 8am. If we're lucky, anyone who may be looking will be distracted and we can cross into Capitol airspace undetected," Boggs explains to the group. "Plutarch and Beetee have put together a special propaganda that will broadcast to any Capitol feeds that are still up and running."

"What sort of propaganda?" a soldier queries.

"I filmed something before we left," Finnick assures him with a smirk. "If anything, Snow certainly won't be able to take his eyes off it."

The man looks tempted to push him for more information, but he seems to think better of it and remains quiet. Finnick has been tight-lipped since returning from his time in the studio with Plutarch and Haymitch. Whatever he was asked to divulge as a distraction, we'll all know about it sooner rather than later. Until then, Finn doesn't seem to want to discuss it and I'm not inclined to ask. Snow has done plenty to all of us, and I'm sure the details are nothing short of awful.

"If all of that goes well," Boggs continues, "We're going in through the roof." He turns to look at Finn and myself. "Now, the blueprints are not clear. How are the floors organized?"

"There are twelve residential floors," Finn explains to the group. "One per district. District 1 is on the first, 2 on the second, and so on. The roof is only accessible through the District 12 apartments. There's a main entrance floor that opens out to the street, but it also connects to the Avenue of the Tributes, the Training Center, and the Interview Stage through a system of tunnels. That's how everyone bound to the Games is transported to various events. There is a basement, it isn't regularly accessed. I've only been down there a few times." He leans towards me and in a mock whisper says, "Secrets," and I give him an answering smirk. Capitolites love to impress victors with secrets, even a new victor like myself is made privy to this; I'm not surprised my friend has been down to the basement with some brownnosing Capitol citizen. He continues, "I wouldn't be surprised if those tunnels connect the basement to the Presidential Palace, especially if that's where the prisoners are being kept. They wouldn't risk bringing them out in public."

Boggs simply nods once in answer to all this information. "I'll send that intel back to Command. While we won't be pursuing a way in tonight, it may be helpful later on. Any experience with the roof?"

"Yes," I respond quickly. "Since Katniss and I were housed on the top floor, we spent a lot of time on the roof when we wanted to be alone." At this statement I see Gale's head snap around sharply to look at me. "Will the forcefield that normally surrounds it be down with the power outage?" I ask my commander, instead of reacting to Gale's personal issues. I refuse to apologize for any of my time spent with Katniss.

Boggs cocks his head at me, silently requesting more information on what I'm talking about.

"There's a forcefield surrounding the edges of the roof," I tell the group. "So tributes don't…you know…throw themselves off."

"Don't want anyone dying too early?" Gale scoffs, bitterness evident in his tone.

"Where would the fun be in that?" Finn pipes up, a shit-eating grin on his face. Even after that evening we had bonding over coffee, it doesn't seem like these two have warmed up much to one another.

"We'll see, Mellark. We didn't have intel about the roof," Boggs mutters. "I for one am glad you two are here," he tells us, his voice genuine.

It's decided that Finn and I will follow behind Boggs upon entering the Tribute Center to help direct the group. I can feel the animosity radiating off Gale from where I'm sitting. I understand his eagerness to do something - to contribute to the war effort - but I can't help my exasperation with him. This isn't about glory for me; this is about saving Katniss. The fact that I'll be reentering the place that served as my prison while in the Capitol has bile creeping up my throat. I hated our time in the Tribute Center; the ghosts of dead children peeking around every corner, our own deaths stalking us from room to room. It's a horrible place, and if not for Katniss, I would gladly never lay eyes on it again.

"Once we locate the prisoners, I'll remain in the lead. Solider Odair, you'll extract Annie Cresta. Soldier Felt, you have Enobaria Brass. Soldier Hawthorne, you're responsible for Johanna Mason. And Soldier Mellark, you will retrieve Katniss Everdeen. Soldier Springs, you will man the rear and cover us while I disengage any cells or restraints," Boggs hands out our orders, and I can physically feel the hatred rolling off Gale at this point. Swell. I don't have it in me to get into a pissing contest with Gale Hawthorne, though I'm privately smug about the assignments. If nothing else, I know I won't be able to focus on anyone besides Katniss while we're in there, and now I won't need to. But also, what guy doesn't want to play the hero for the girl he loves?

Boggs is quiet for a few minutes and then starts digging in one of the pockets on his sleeve. "This is a covert mission," he reminds us. "If we are captured, the information we carry can lead to the deaths of many," he pulls out a small box and shakes it, making a sharp rattling noise. "Some of you are also high-value targets," he adds, looking pointedly at Finn and me. "These are Nightlock pills – suicide pills. You are under orders to take yours if you are detained by Capitol forces." He hands out a purple capsule to each of us and instructs us to put it in a small pocket on the left shoulder of our uniforms. "You can use your teeth to remove it if your hands are bound," he explains.

"We're thirty seconds from entering Capitol airspace," the voice of the pilot announces over the hovercraft speaker.

"Gas masks on," Boggs commands. "This is it!"

I do so and try to slow down my racing heart by taking deep breaths. In and out. We need pass into Capitol airspace without detection for anything else to work. This has to work.

He starts a countdown at ten seconds. It's like the Games all over again.

If we're caught, we will die - either by their hands or our own. My heart is beating so hard it feels like it's trying to escape my chest. It's counting down to the end, just like it did in the arenas; like it knows there may be a limited number of moments left, and it wants to prove its worth.

As the pilot reaches five seconds, I see that Finn is staring hard at his hands, laced together in his lap, his knuckles are white; Gale is squeezing his eyes shut tight.

"Three…two…one…."

Nothing happens. Odds be damned.

"No response," the pilot assures us after a few tense moments.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and turn my head to see Finn casting a small smile at me. I return it, because I know he feels as I do: we're one step closer to them.

The Capitol is pitch black, darker than I have ever seen it. It's always lit up with an excess of electric lights, streetlamps, spotlights, colorful blinking decorations. Now it is as dark and silent as a tomb.

The hovercraft glides to a halt as we reach the Tribute Center and Boggs orders us all to attention. The floor opens, and we all clip into a rope line that will allow us to drop without killing ourselves. Boggs nods once to us, and then jumps out without a word. Finn gives me a carefree grin before taking his turn to leap out into the night.

I'm next. Look sharp, Mellark, I tell myself. I take two steps forward and then I'm weightless, falling towards a roof I cannot see. I manage to land without breaking my leg - or my prosthetic, thank the Odds – and press a button on my helmet that Boggs informed us will turn on the night vision. I see Finn and Boggs over by the door that I know leads to the stairwell to the twelfth floor. I keep my footsteps as silent as I can while making my way over to them; who knows, maybe even Katniss would approve of my improvement on that front. Three more set of footsteps follow behind me, and we are on our way.

Boggs uses some sort of tool to pry open the lock on the roof door, and Finn finds a brick to prop it open to ease our return. I take a moment to thank the Odds he's more clear-headed than me, the last thing we need is to be trapped in the Tribute Center with no means of escape.

As we move slowly down the stairs, I tell our team, "This takes us down to the floor assigned to the District 12 tributes. From there we can access the main stairway to the other levels."

Boggs acknowledges me with a nod and then holds up his hand, his fist a signal for us to wait at the staircase door while he clears the hallway that leads into the main apartment. He gestures us forwards after a couple of moments and we advance forward with our guns drawn.

I let my eyes wander around the rooms of our assigned apartment; I see Katniss everywhere in this place. It was our prison, but it was also the last home I shared with her before both of our arenas. I imagine her sitting on the floor by the floor-to-ceiling windows where I told her I did not want to be a piece in the Capitol's games, on the night before the 74th. She is in her bed, her head pressed against my chest throughout the night on the eve of the Quell. Her laugh echoes across the dining room where we grasped at the small moments of joy available to us, telling jokes with Cinna and Portia.

I allow myself a peek into her room as I make my way past it, hoping to see anything that remains of her on the off-chance the Avoxes did not clean it out in the months since we were here. To my surprise, her final interview gown is still displayed on a hanger, draped across the outside of her wardrobe. How is it still here? After everything she and I have both been through since we last set foot in these hallowed halls…. I would have thought the Capitol could not have scrubbed this place of us quick enough. The black and white patterns of Cinna's design, mimicking a mockingjay, fill me with hope once again as I lay eyes on it – just as it did the last time. It lightens my heart to think that perhaps the Avoxes have kept her dress exhibited as their own private rebellion. I decide to take its presence as a good omen, a sign that I may get Katniss out of here yet.

I move on, but catch a glimpse of Gale behind me, following my lead to investigate the empty bedroom. I know the second he lays eyes on her dress, realizing it was her room. He whips his head back around and his gaze locks with mine. I nod once, affirming that Katniss was once here, however long ago it was; it's also possible I am confirming that I know this private space of hers, and hold it more sacred than I do my own former room.

The twelfth floor is abandoned, the air still with inactivity. No one has had need to be here for a long time.

Boggs clears our way to the main staircase, and once we reach it, we begin our descent.

Every floor is dark and appears uninhabited, noiseless in each one's utter desertion. I've never seen the Tribute Center so empty, even late at night when I couldn't sleep and would wander the halls. I try not to let the feeling of abandonment unsettle me too much as we continue downwards.

As we reach the final floor that housed the tributes, Boggs pauses to remove several devices from his pockets. "Gas for the guards," he explains, holding one aloft for us to see. "We'll release one at each floor until we reach the basement, and then one at every door on the basement level. If there are guards in the same room as the prisoners, it will knock out the prisoners as well. Once we retrieve the victors, make sure you can carry them in a secure position, we won't have time to stop and readjust on our way out. Understood?"

"Understood," we all answer immediately.

He tosses the first gas bomb along the floor of the main entrance level, and Finnick points to a semi-concealed door twenty feet away that's camouflaged to blend in with the wall.

"That's the basement," he murmurs.

We move forward towards the door, keeping an eye out for Peacekeepers. I finally see one when I just about trip over his prone body on the floor. At least we know the gas works. It sends a spike of relief through me as I spot another unconscious man a few feet away; there's a good chance the girls are here, and still alive, if there are Peacekeepers still stationed here.

Boggs counts down on his fingers for us to see, and at zero Finn opens the door while he throws in a gas canister. He counts down once again, and after the last finger falls, Boggs leads us through. Down another set of stairs, we come upon two more Peacekeepers who are out cold in front of a door that requires a numeric code to enter. Without pausing at all, our Commander enters what is evidently the right sequence of numbers – more intel from Coin's spies? – and the door pops open. We go through the countdown once again and make our way into the basement prison – into the place that has haunted my nightmares since I learned Katniss was taken prisoner.

It is a stark barren hallway, and I can see that when the lights are working everything would likely shine bright white - perhaps even blindingly so. While all the doors lining the corridor are closed, there is a large window that looks into each room. I can imagine President Snow observing the goings-on in each one, making sure his Peacekeepers tear Katniss apart to his exact specifications. The first room only has a table in it, with a chair on either side facing one another. Used for interrogation, maybe? The one directly across from it contains a metal slab that is big enough for a person to lay down on it…and there are straps in each corner to hold said person down. As we continue forward, we pass rooms filled with chains and lengths of rope blackened with blood; there are buckets filled with a liquid that I pray is water but fear otherwise. I have to hold back the pained moan clawing its way up my raw throat when I pass a room with a single hook hanging from the ceiling and dark stains splattered on the walls. Is it blood? Whose blood would the Capitol want to spill so liberally, other than Katniss? I'm gripped with sudden debilitating panic at the thought that these stains may be the only thing left of the girl I love.

Two more turns down the pitch black hallways and I catch sight of a door with both manual locks and a glowing pad for entering another code. It's down a dark passageway, all on its own. It would be a perfect place to stash something you would not want noticed – that you wouldn't want found. A perfect place to leave what you want forgotten.

"Down there," I murmur into the microphone in my helmet, alerting the group to my find.

We haven't seen any Peacekeepers down here, and I'm hoping that means luck may just be on our side tonight.

Boggs manages to pick the lock and then enters in another code. The door pops open and just before he can toss in another canister of gas, the eerily soft sound of singing drifts out.

"Are you, are you, coming to the tree?" an unfamiliar female voice softly croons. "Where I told you to run, so we'd both be free…."

"That song is from 12," Gale informs us. "Katniss's dad used to sing it."

My heart is pounding so violently it feels as though it could break right through my ribs.

"And that's Annie," Finnick swiftly confirms. When he moves to push into the room, Boggs holds him back with a firm hand.

"'The plan, Solider Odair. We stick to it," he states, leaving no room for argument.

"Don't gas them yet," Finn pleads, his voice tight. "Please let me check on her first."

Boggs holds Finn's gaze for a few tense moments before nodding in acquiescence. He throws open the door and the lights inside are only slightly brighter than the opaque darkness that coats the hallways; it reminds me of the cave from the Games or the mines back in 12 – dim, stuffy, and freezing. I can make out four caged cells that barely clear my height and are probably just about the width of my arm span; there is a small aisle running between them, just wide enough for one person move through. The putrid smell of filth, depression, and human waste is stomach-turning, and I hear one of the soldiers behind me gag at the overpowering stench.

"Oh, I'm sorry," a raspy high-pitched voice grumbles, cracking and rough as the owner works out the words. "Does our cozy home offend you in some way?"

I turn to find Johanna Mason leaning against the bars of her cage. Or at least, the remains of someone who used to be the Johanna Mason I once knew. She is bald, her hair shaved down close to her skull, and covered in fetid burns. She's as skinny as Katniss looked in her interview and is wearing a loose prison tunic, which only serves to showcase how frail her once-strong frame has become. Her teeth are a light brown, and she sneers at us, ready to spit more wrathful fire at these strangers gawking at her.

"No need to be so harsh Jo," Finnick pipes up, dragging her rage-filled attention his way. "We're the cavalry! Here to save the day, yes?" He takes a quick step towards her and reaches out a hand to grasp hers, but she flinches back.

She narrows her eyes at him, and I can see something broken and ugly pass between them. We left them here to rot and fade away, and it seems forgiveness will not be easily earned from Johanna. Finally, she jerks her chin and softly tells him, "Go get your girl."

Finn doesn't need more prompting than that as he spins around and both our eyes locate the huddled form of Annie Cresta on her knees, pressed up against the bars of her cell. Her hand is extended in front of her, reaching frantically towards the cage across the aisle, where I can just make out a tiny body splayed awkwardly in the middle of the cell floor.

I hear Boggs working to open the cages behind me and Johanna calls out, her voice tender, "Bar-Bar, wake up. The good guys are here." Her voice is still broken and sarcastic, but I can detect the slightest bit of hope in it now.

Finn is already crouched in front of Annie, his gloved hands cradling her thin face and running his fingers through the tangles in her stringy hair. "Annie. Ann! Ann, come on girl, I'm here now," he murmurs soothingly, desperately trying to shift her to focus on to him.

But she only keeps looking around him, as though he's not even in the room. "Katniss! Katniss!" she starts calling, and my head snaps back towards the body in the cell across from her.

Oh my Odds. The tiny broken body that hasn't moved since we entered the room…. I haven't let my mind entertain the obvious. Johanna, Enobaria, and Annie are all accounted for. It cannot be her. No. No.

I take the few remaining steps needed to reach her cell and begin jerking the door, trying to pull it open. No. No. No No. NO. There's no response, not even a wince or a flinch or an unconscious twitch from the girl on the floor. I kneel and then I can see her black hair, and the details of the dress she wore in her interview last night. It's her. Odds, it's Katniss.

"Katniss!" I shout frantically, not bothering to keep my voice down. "Katniss wake up now! Katniss Everdreen, wake the fuck up!"

"They brought her back in hours ago, she hasn't moved since," Enobaria's voice rings out from somewhere behind me.

"Katniss!" Annie cries. The she returns to her unnerving song. "Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be, if we met at midnight in the hanging tree…."

I'm losing control of my sanity and am about to do something I'll probably regret – like scream at the poor mad girl behind me – when Boggs catches on to what's unfolding in our corner of the dungeon. He strides over and starts working on getting the cell door open, muttering curses under his breath. I realize it probably only takes thirty seconds to get the cage unlocked, but each one feels like an hour is crawling by. I'm on the verge of throwing myself against the bars to try and knock down the cell myself, because she's finally so so close and she's not answering and she's not moving and it's quite possible Katniss is dying in front of me, when I hear the wonderful tiny clicking noise as the lock turns over.

I shove Commander Boggs out of the way without a second thought and wrench the door open to reach her. I skid across the floor on my knees and drop my gun to the side, immediately disregarding my military training and all the strict protocol I'm supposed to be following. My hands shake as they reach out to touch Katniss's back; I can distinguish every single bone along the length of her back, each one jutting out sharply against her skin. She's always been thin, but never like this. I want to jolt her until she wakes, touch her face so she knows I'm here. I want to pick her up and start running, to curl her against my chest so no one can take her from me ever again. But I don't; the last thing I want is to injure her further.

"Finn!" I call out, my voice quavering in my panic. I remember he was the one to bring me back from the dead when my heart stopped in the Quell. "Please!" I beg him, my eyes never leaving the motionless body in front of me. "How do I tell if she's…still alive?"

His voice is unsteady, but there's still strength in it when he explains to me, "Put your pointer and middle finger on the side of her neck, see if you can feel her heartbeat. If you can, put your hand in front of her mouth to see if she's breathing."

I do as he says, and I almost lose my mind entirely as I wait to feel something. Come on Katniss.

There! Thank the Odds, there's a very faint thudding in her neck. It's slow, but it's there – it is the best thing I have ever felt until I move my hand to her mouth and just feel the slightest movement of air against it.

"Ok, ok. I'm going to move you Kat. Odds, I'm sorry about this," I ramble as I turn her body over slowly to rest on her back. She emits a rattling moan, and it is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard because it means she's still with me.

I get my arms under her and end up overcompensating when I pick her up, almost falling backwards on to my behind. She weighs nothing. Her body flops in my hold like a ragdoll, and I have to adjust my grip to make sure she doesn't slip out of my hands.

When I turn and face the rest of the group outside Katniss's cell, I see that everyone is getting themselves into position to move out. Gale is watching us, and I know he wants to come over and take her from me. I'm sure my alarm over her condition is obvious, which can't be helping anything. Get it together Mellark, I remind myself harshly. The solider assigned to be the rear guard in close by, and picks up my discarded gun, looping it on my shoulder for me.

"Thanks," I mutter, but my eyes are locked on the girl in my arms. Katniss. Finally, Katniss.

"Masks on!" Boggs commands from over by the door. Each soldier takes a moment to check their own mask before slipping spares on the prisoners. I manage to get one on Katniss, and as small clouds fog up the clear plastic in front of Katniss's mouth, I'm thankful for the tiny reassurance that she's still breathing on her own.

At his signal we move out, staying close to the walls as much as possible while covering our charges. Gale carries Johanna in his arms, but unlike Katniss she's awake, casually flicking at Gale's ear as he valiantly attempts to ignore her. Annie is able to walk, but she still isn't lucid, and Finn is keeping her arm tucked in his while he wields his gun. Enobaria is on her feet as well, but she refuses any physical contact with her guard, instead clasping Jo's free hand in her own.

We're out of the basement and back on the main floor without incident when gunshots suddenly ring out across the lobby of the Tribute Center. Our rear-guard fires back, as does Boggs. We take cover behind the grand staircase, and I can hear the Peacekeepers approaching fast. I know I can't fight them off and hold on to Katniss's limp body at the same time, but there's no way I'm letting her go. Our exchange of gunfire with the Peacekeepers seems fruitless as no one appears to fall and no path to safety presents itself; it's then that Enobaria rolls her eyes and reaches into the pocket of Boggs' uniform where he's been methodically producing gas canisters. She successfully pulls one out while he's distracted, tears off the trigger, and lobs it over our heads towards the encroaching guards.

"Let's get the fuck out of here, now please," she hollers over the ensuing noise, yet her tone remains almost casual.

Once a Career, always a Career, I remind myself. I can't help but admire my fellow victor for her ingenuity.

I push myself forward, making my way up flight after flight of stairs. Katniss doesn't wake, and I can hear Annie start to hum from up ahead of me. We keep going – further, more – we keep going until we reach the roof. I run towards the open hovercraft doors, they're almost within reach when a sharp pain radiates through my shoulder and almost sends me tumbling to the ground.

"Son of a bitch!" I bite out, turning my head to see what happened. A small group of Peacekeepers breach the stairwell to the roof, and they're gaining on us. I race the last few steps to our hovercraft, crossing over the threshold just as the doors begin to close. I look around, doing a quick headcount, and see that we've all made it back on board. I have no idea how I ended up at the rear of our group, Katniss and I could easily have been left behind. This thought skips past my consciousness quickly; I barely take five seconds to examine it before I realize – Odds, we did it.

"Hang on everyone!" the pilot calls. "The Capitol ships are on their way – we have to try and lose them!" The hovercraft takes off immediately and turns sharply, lacking any of the smooth transitions I've become used to in the last two years of traveling around Panem. Boggs directs the pilot to follow the route we'll take back to 13. We accelerate suddenly to avoid getting hit with Capitol fire. The whole ship shudders violently and tosses us around carelessly. I fall to the side, making sure to create a cage with my arms to protect Katniss as I hit the ground roughly. The craft tips back and forth, trying to outrun and dodge the Capitol guns that feel horrifyingly close. I look down at the girl in my arms – if we're going to die, I can't ask for anything more in this moment. She's free, even if it is only for a short while.

Boggs struggles to his feet and yells to the pilots, "Take backup route C! Tell President Coin we're evading Capitol craft and need to disappear. Advise her to put District 13 on lockdown for the next six hours in case Snow comes looking for the prisoners. Engage camouflage protocol now!" The pilots scramble to carry out orders as quickly as possible; soon the sounds of incendiary blasts fade away and the hovercraft becomes stable enough for me to sit up with Katniss in my lap.

One of the medics makes her way over to me and gently tries to negotiate Katniss away from me.

"Please," I beg her. "She hasn't woken up at all."

She nods sympathetically and says, "Let's take a look at her, alright?" She reminds me of Prim, and I desperately hope that Katniss will be able to see her sister again.

Together we lay Katniss down on the cold floor of the ship and remove the gas mask from her face. I pull off my own and then I get my first real look at her since the Quarter Quell. I'll see you at midnight, she told me…. It was the last time I spoke to her. She had placed her hands on my cheeks then, trying to comfort me as we separated. I pick up one of her hands now and place it on my same cheek, hoping she'll realize I made it back to her, however late I may be.

I take in her form as the medic checks her over, and my heart breaks with what I see. Katniss's skin is paper-thin and swollen, she's entirely covered in dark purple and black bruises. There are welts on her wrists that are obviously infected - the skin is beginning to rot. One of her arms looks longer than the other, and when I run my fingers up the length of it, I can feel that her shoulder is bent awkwardly.

"It's dislocated," the medic informs me. "We'll have to ease it back in."

Katniss's ankle dangles off the end of her leg strangely, and there is no response from her when the medic examines it. Her face is puffy and distended from the beating she took after her warning to District 13, creating a tough painful mask that covers her skeletal thinness. She has two black eyes, and I can tell that her nose is broken. There are lacerations on her forehead and scalp, and there's a worrying sponginess to the bones in her cheek when I run my thumb across it. Dried blood is splattered around her mouth, as though she coughed it up at some point and lacked the strength to wipe it away. Her hair is brittle like dried grass, and shorter than I've ever seen it; it's chopped haphazardly, like it was done in the dark by someone who didn't care how it turned out.

"A guard did it," Johanna's quiet voice breaks through my inventory of Katniss's injuries. I look up to see her laying nearby, another medic examining her wounds. When I don't reply fast enough, she clarifies, "Her hair, I mean. I guess they did all of that to her, but I was referring to her hair specifically. It's the easiest place to start, isn't it?" She gives me a wry half-grin. "She still had it in a braid from one of her interviews with Caesar and some dumb-dumb guard cut it off and took it as a trophy. Snow was so pissed! Brainless was too – Kitty Kat fought like her tail was on fire. We could hear Snow yelling, 'Now she can't be on camera you imbecile!' Anyways, we didn't see that guard again after that." She chuckles at the fate of the nameless Peacekeeper. I can't say I feel bad for him, at this moment I'd like nothing more than to burn the Presidential Palace - and everyone therein - to the ground.

"I'm so sorry Johanna," I murmur after a few strained moments. "We should have come sooner."

"You bet your cute ass you should've Lover Boy!" She retorts with no play at hesitation whatsoever. "She was holding on pretty well for a while there; Snow convinced Brainless you were dead, so she decided to play the martyr to save her sister again. But then your little performance when you first showed your faces really turned things around - gave the girl some hope, and she seemed to get some of that annoying fighting spirit back. After a while though…you boys never showed up, and Snow really seemed to revel in that. He wanted to rub it in that no one was coming to our rescue, so then they really started hurting us."

Hearing all this stings, but I need to listen to Johanna. If they went through all this, I need to be strong enough to bear witness. Every moment without Katniss has taken its toll on me, breaking me with every breath I take. Johanna's words only drive home how my actions have had a hand in destroying the girl I love. And now I don't know if she'll ever wake up, if she'll….

"P…ta?" a voice whispers. That voice could break through the fog even if I were firmly in the grips of madness. The hand against my face twitches infinitesimally; her fingers dig into my cheekbone ever-so slightly and it makes me want to cry out in relief.

I latch on to her wrist, pressing her hand tightly against my face. "Katniss?" I breathe, my own voice struggling against my rising exhilaration. "Odds, Katniss!"

She doesn't open her eyes, but the corner of her mouth lifts just a touch, and she winces immediately at the small movement. There's blood coating her teeth when she speaks again, and I desperately want to wash it away. "'m…I…dead?"

"HA!" Johanna cackles. I shoot her a dark look and she hastens to explain, "She said the same stupid thing when she woke up that first day in the Capitol after the Quell." Her tone gets noticeably gentler as she speaks directly to Katniss, "Brainless, you weren't dead then and you're not dead now. Open your stupid eyes and take a look at who's here."

And then she does. She does. Her eyes crack open, and a gasping gurgling sound emanates from her mouth. "P…ta?" she rasps. The blood vessels in her eyes are all broken, causing her silver eyes to blend in with the bruises on her skin.

"Hey there Katniss," I smile at her and choke out a strangled laugh. It's her…it's really her. "You gave me a real scare you know."

"So…rry," she huffs, and a fresh trickle of blood falls from the corner of her lips.

"Shhhh…. Stop that," I tell her. I want to touch her, run my hands all over her body to reassure myself she's real and she's here with me. She's so breakable though, so different from every memory I have of her from before her capture. "We're on our way to District 13. You're safe now."

Jo scoffs at my words, and Katniss tries to move to find the source of the sound, but flinches and ceases before she can make any progress. "Jo…?"

"I'm here, Brainless. Don't you worry your pretty little head about me, your boyfriend got us all out," Johanna assures her with a loud sigh.

I want to be embarrassed by Johanna's bold assertion that I'm Katniss's boyfriend after all this time. Katniss used to get so uncomfortable whenever people would speculate about our relationship, but now is obviously not the time to get into it with my ornery fellow victor.

"P…ta," Katniss tries again.

"I'm here, I'm here," I promise her.

"P…you're…alive," she mumbles, her voice ragged. She closes her eyes and repeats her words once again. I can't help but suppose she's talking to herself now. Her words fade and she loses consciousness once again.

I look to the medic, my panic rising swiftly the longer Katniss remains insentient. She shakes her head, but is quick to reassure me, "She's alive. That's more than was to be expected in her condition. We'll be able to treat her more thoroughly back in 13, but for now I can stabilize her. Honestly, it's probably for the best if she stays unconscious while I splint her breaks."

"Please," I plead with her once again. "Tell me how to help her."

"I need you to step back while I assess her. After that, I may need extra hands to hold her down. For the moment, stand down Soldier," she orders me before getting to work.

I scoot back a couple of feet and run a hand through my disheveled hair. Johanna snickers and I glance up to meet her eyes. She gestures to my head as a means of explanation. "While I can't really be one to judge hairstyles," she begins sardonically, "I can't help but enjoy how ridiculous you look, Goldilocks. Usually, I only get to see you when you're camera-ready."

I know my hair is probably pulled up in all directions and matted with sweat, but I don't think I have it in me to get pulled into Johanna's antics at this moment and elect to ignore her.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, my gaze never leaving the medic who is pressing her hands against Katniss's broken body. Out of nowhere, Johanna speaks up, "I'm glad you got us – you and Finn and tall, dark, and handsome over there."

"Gale," I supply, my tone flat.

"I don't actually care, but sure," Jo counters blandly. I think she's irked because I interrupted her. "I mean it though, Peeta. I honestly thought…. It looked like it was the end there for us – and it had felt that way for a long time. When they brought Katniss back from her last interview and she looked the way she did, I knew we didn't have much time left." She pauses and tilts her head in thought. "What did she do, by the way? To piss them off so much? I couldn't get an answer out of any of the Peacekeepers."

I take a deep breath and turn to face Johanna fully, taking a moment to rub the exhaustion from my eyes. "She warned us…me, I guess…that Snow was going to drop bombs on 13. She said it in the middle of her interview, and they started beating her on camera before it cut out."

Johanna looks struck and then turns to look at Katniss again. Her eyes are narrowed, like she's assessing Katniss in a new light. "Was she right?" she asks.

"Yes," I nod. "The bombs started a few minutes after the feed cut out. She saved a lot of lives. I honestly think that's why President Coin finally agreed to a rescue mission. I swear Jo, Finn and I have been pushing for one since we got to 13, but no one really wanted to hear it."

"Crap," Johanna moans dramatically, much to my surprise. "Now I have one more thing to thank Brainless for if her stupid ass ever wakes up again." Without another word, Jo pushes herself up and limps her way over to the seats lining the walls of the hovercraft on shaky legs that look like they can barely hold up her meager weight. She manages to get there though and drops down theatrically into a seat next to Enobaria. The victor from District 2 turns to look at her and leans down to speak quietly in her ear. Johanna barks out a rough giggle and Enobaria arches an eyebrow in response. Jo smiles and taps her stained brown teeth, and Enobaria smirks before lightly punching Jo in the shoulder.

As I take in this exchange, a surprising warmth slowly fills my chest. Last I saw of the footage from the Quell, Enobaria and Johanna were actively trying to kill one another. What's happened between them during their imprisonment to change their relationship so drastically? I can't help but wish Katniss were awake to fill in some of the blank spaces – while it doesn't seem like her own relationship with Johanna has altered much, I wonder if she bonded with Enobaria or Annie at all in the months she was away from me.

I turn to locate Finnick and find him sitting on the floor with his back resting against the chairs. Annie looks to be deeply asleep with her head resting in his lap. His frown is pronounced as he strokes her hair back from her face. No one has been brought back to us intact it seems, but we're all here and no one is fighting at the moment. If victors who are supposed to be enemies can emerge from this war with a semblance of friendship or at least a truce, then maybe there's some hope for the rest of Panem.


Evidently, due to our skirmish with the Capitol during our escape, it is decided that we are taking the long way back to District 13. Boggs tells us it's to prevent the Capitol from ambushing us as we return with their prisoners, but I can only see it as a possible death sentence for Katniss in her current condition.

The medics insert needles into all the captured victors' arms – to get them the nutrients they're severely lacking, the medics attempt to explain after Johanna seizes the proffered needle and threatens to stab the frightened man in the neck. A short while later all four women are asleep, and I'm told by Boggs that he had the medics add a sedative to their fluids.

The medic who treated Katniss assesses the intense pain in my shoulder, which I'd honestly put out of my mind until this moment. It seems I've been shot. Compared to my fellow victors, I feel that I've gotten off lightly. She numbs me, removes the bullet, and stitches me up. It's so easy, this fix. But just like that, I have one more wound from the Capitol, one more piece of evidence on my body that my life is barely my own.

I haven't moved from my place on the floor by Katniss's feet when after a couple of hours, Gale comes over and crouches down near her head.

"She looks awful," he mumbles. I have no idea if he's talking to me or to himself.

In case it is me and I'm expected to answer him, I reply, "Yeah…. The medics are too nervous to do much before scanning her for internal injuries."

Gale nods at this information and rubs a hand roughly down the length of his face. "Did you…," he begins. When he doesn't continue, I raise an eyebrow inquisitively. "Did you think it was going to be so bad?" he finally asks.

"What do you mean?" I try to clarify. "Her torture?"

He nods again, not taking his eyes from Katniss's broken form at our feet.

"Any hope I had that she would be spared disappeared after that first interview. Snow is callous, psychotic, and focused when it comes to getting what he wants – the ends always justify the means for him. He wanted to hurt us, and he chose to use Katniss to do so. She was the Capitol's weapon, the same way I have been for the Rebellion. If we hadn't gotten them out, Snow would have executed the victors on live television, and then happily gone on to have tea with his grandchildren while ordering Katniss's remains dropped on our doorstep in 13."

Gale looks contemplative while he takes in what little insight I could provide. Finally, he reaches out and looks as though he wants to touch Katniss's face. Before he can though, she shifts in her unconscious state and must end up hurting herself because she groans loudly. Gale pulls his hand back like she snapped her teeth at it.

"I wanted to be a good soldier," he says softly. "I've wanted this revolution since I learned what the word meant, and I didn't want to do anything that could risk my standing in Coin's eyes." He pauses for a moment and lets out a loud sigh before digging his fingers into his eyes and grimacing. "But this…. This is my best friend…the girl I lo-," he shoots me a look and I have to hold back a scoff. Even though we're both aware of each other's feelings for the girl who lays between us, I doubt my adding levity to the situation would be appreciated by my romantic rival. "She looks like she's already dead. I should have pushed harder - like you and Odair. I should have done more to get her back."

I bite my tongue because there is nothing to say. After all, he's right.

After a few quiet minutes, I say, "Thank you for carrying Johanna out of there. She can be a bit…. Well, she can rub people the wrong way."

Gale looks relieved for the change in subject. He turns to me and smirks. "She's…. Yeah, she's pretty terrifying," he admits.

I make a noise of agreement and glance over at where Jo and Enobaria are laid out next to each other. "She definitely is. And this is her in a fairly pleasant mood," I chuckle.

Gale blanches and his mouth sets in a frown.

Now I can't help but tease him. "She told me she thinks you're handsome," I relay this bit of information to him with a small smile.

"Lucky me," he mutters, his tone sarcastic. He pushes himself up to stand and moves to go rest in one of the chairs along the wall. His departure is abrupt, but I don't fault him; Gale has never been one for vulnerability, especially not with me.


After a solid twelve hours of circuitous air travel, we finally arrive back in District 13. There are teams of doctors waiting for each of the prisoners, ready to whisk each of them off the second the hovercraft doors open. Those of us on the recovery team are debriefed and released; Gale, Finnick, and I are all ordered to report to Command in two hours. Gale stalks off on his own, probably to inform his family as well as Katniss's that she's back. Finn turns to me and simply asks, "Coffee?"

We make our way to the cafeteria and he retrieves two steaming cups from wherever he's squirreling away his hoard. "How's your shoulder?" he asks.

I shrug my uninjured arm and tell him, "I'll live."

He doesn't lift his eyes from his drink as he says, "Annie hasn't been clear-headed yet. She keeps talking about 'the screams' and whispering Katniss's name and moaning her brother's name. I don't think she's even seen me…." Finn trails off and then takes a deep breath before he continues, as if gearing himself up for what he's about to say. "I haven't seen her like this since her Games. What if…. What if she doesn't come back this time?"

I take a few seconds to sip my drink, letting the warm liquid ease the chills that his words cause to run through me. Because Annie isn't the only one. What if none of them ever really comes back?

"Will you love her less?" I inquire, even though I know the answer.

Finn looks at me like I just spit in his favorite food. "Absolutely not," he asserts.

"Then there's your answer. You love who you love – the person they are – and you take each day as it comes. Don't count Annie out yet, you always say she's tougher than anyone gives her credit for," I assure him. "And you'll love her tomorrow as you love her today and as you did yesterday."

Finn seems to be processing my words before a slow grin spreads across his face. "Damn, Peeta. With a speech like that, it's no wonder you're the voice of this revolution."


When Finnick and I arrive at Command, I'm immediately pulled into a rough hug from Haymitch and I resist telling him to go easy on my bullet wound. "Good job, kid," he grumbles quietly so only I can hear. I clap him on the back and shoot him a grateful smile as I pull back.

"Gentlemen," Coin calls the room to order and motions for us to take our seats at the table. Finn and I naturally move to sit near Haymitch, positioning ourselves apart from the District 13 soldiers and their leader. And for the first time, I witness Gale waver in a decision over his loyalty – he looks back and forth between the two groups, before choosing the empty seat next to Finn. It happens so quickly, I wonder if I'm the only one to witness it.

Once we're all seated, she continues. "I want to commend you all on a successful mission. All four of the victors have been successfully extracted to District 13. It seems that while President Snow did not want to give them up, he is not pursuing them to our doors. Now, per our agreement with Soldier Mellark, all four of the imprisoned victors will be pardoned for their seditious words and actions while in the Capitol."

"How are they?" Haymitch interrupts, having little care for Coin's grand declarations. I recognize that he's circling the wagons, so to speak; while he has been deeply involved in the Rebellion for Odds-knows how long, he is a member of the quickly-diminishing group of living victors, and he wants to hold close those of us who are within his reach.

"They're not well. The medical teams have been doing intake on the victors for the last two hours," Plutarch speaks up, answering for Coin. While he's not always known for having a sympathetic demeanor, he at least knows the victors, and I imagine he'll deliver the details of this news to Haymitch with significantly more warmth than Coin ever would. Plutarch pulls a pile of folders in front of him, opens the one on top, and begins to read. "All of the prisoners are dangerously malnourished and dehydrated, leaving them very vulnerable to illness and unable to heal efficiently from their injuries. The spoiled food and contaminated water they were given has left them infected with a number of parasites and bacteria, which has further added to the difficultly of their recoveries. They all have significant light sensitivity in their eyes from being kept in the very dim conditions reported by Commander Boggs for an extended period of time – possibly since the Quell. From what we can tell, they all were tortured on a regular basis; we won't know exactly what was done to each of them without speaking to them individually, it seems the Capitol conducted these sessions separately." He pauses but refuses to look up from his notes. "Annie Cresta is suffering from four broken fingers, bruising in her brain – likely from repeated blows to the head, a broken nose, and extensive cuts and bruises."

Finnick looks like he's about to vomit all over Coin's table. "And she still hasn't come back from her madness," he adds in a monotone voice.

Plutarch nods in agreement, but his face is thoughtful. "The doctors believe it's a form of self-protection. They are optimistic, Mr. Odair, that she will come out of her cognitive disassociation in time."

Finn doesn't answer him, but he dips his chin in thanks.

"Enobaria Brass has had multiple teeth forcibly removed and is suffering from several infections in her mouth. She states that the removal of her teeth was a punishment carried out over time in response to her ripping out the throat of a Peacekeeper during an interrogation."

"Good for her!" Haymitch chortles.

The corner of Plutarch's mouth twitches in an amusement. "It certainly is in keeping with Miss Brass's past behavior. She is also suffering from broken bones in her wrist and hands, as well as extensive bruising from beatings." Plutarch clears his throat before continuing. "Now for the bad news."

The implication of his words suffuses itself into the space surrounding us – everything we've been privy to so far is just a warmup to what was done to our friends.

"We believe that because Johanna Mason was a member of the Resistance, she was tortured more profusely than Enobaria or Annie, who obviously were unaware of any rebel plans. Johanna has electrical burns that have become infected on her arms, legs, torso, and head. She states that she experienced torture which we believe to be similar to what was called 'waterboarding' before the Dark Days; she was strapped to a board, her face covered with a cloth, and water was poured over her face, simulating the experience of drowning. During this, she was shocked and burned with electricity."

Even Coin pales a bit at this information.

Plutarch continues, "She also has three breaks in one of her arms, which she claims is from punching a Peacekeeper after he verbally threatened to assault Annie."

This brings a ghost of a smile to Finn's face.

"Now, we all know why Snow focused his ire on Katniss," he prepares us. "But as she is still unconscious, we do not know what was done to cause her injuries. Enobaria and Johanna can only attest that they heard screaming while she was being interrogated, and that Katniss would generally remain silent when questioned about the details of it."

Now it's my turn to feel ill. I remember watching Katniss scream when the Jabberjays were attacking her in the Quell; I remember hearing her wails when the old man was killed in 11 during the Victory Tour. I can feel the reverberation of that pain echo though my chest; to imagine her experiencing that level of pain for months on end makes me want to leap across the table at Coin. We could have done something. We could have gotten them out of there sooner.

"Katniss has a severely broken ankle, five broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a broken collarbone, and a shattered cheekbone. She has significant scarring on her back that the doctors have determined to be from a whip, or at least something like it."

Gale and I lock eyes, and I see his face turn green. Was this punishment dispensed to echo his own wounds at the hands of the Peacekeepers in 12? Katniss received the penalty she once stood in the way of.

"Katniss has extensive bruising and lacerations covering her entire body, we assume they are a combination of previous torture and the beating we witnessed onscreen following her warning about the bombings. She has significant internal bleeding, as well as evidence of severe head injury." Plutarch pauses for a moment before looking up to speak directing to Haymitch and I. "We are uncertain…. We don't know what this means for Katniss. She had a seizure upon arrival in the infirmary and has been placed on an intubation machine to assist her in breathing…. It is impossible to determine if or when she will awaken, and what condition she will be in if she does."

If. Plutarch says that word so many times. They don't know if she will wake up. They can't say if she'll live. They won't say if she will ever be the same.

I don't realize I'm crying until I feel one of my tears hit my hand that rests in my lap. I reach up to wipe at my face and peek at Haymitch. He's staring at the table with his eyes narrowed and I watch his jaw tick, but he doesn't betray the depth of his feelings to anyone here. Gale is staring off to his left, refusing to look at anyone while he processes this information. Finn simply looks heartbroken.

"Has Mrs. Everdeen been informed about Katniss?" Haymitch mutters.

"Yes," Plutarch assures him. "Mrs. Everdeen and Primrose were informed of her condition upon her admittance to the medical ward. Primrose was with Katniss during her seizure. While they're not on the primary team of those caring for the victors, they are involved, Haymitch."

I can't help but be thankful it doesn't fall to me to tell Prim and Mrs. Everdeen that the girl we all love may never wake up again. She may never run through the forests or tease her little sister or shoot an arrow.

Silence envelopes the room, the severity of the victors' injuries hanging over everyone.

"We can use this," Coin finally says.

Everyone looks up at her words, and I can see that I'm not the only one who is aghast at what she's implying.

When no one jumps to support her idea, she endeavors to explain. "The Districts would be enraged if they learned how the victors were treated by Snow. We can use that! Build up the troops, capitalize on that anger and use it to take District 2. We can showcase the victors' injuries, detail what they went through. This is what we've been waiting for!" her voice gets more excited the longer she speaks.

Even Plutarch is looking a little hesitant, which is surprising; normally this nightmarish idea would be right up his alley.

"Are you insane?" Finnick asks, his voice harsh and broken.

Coin pulls herself up and draws on all her superiority to look down on Finn for his outburst. "No, Soldier Odair, I am not. While I understand you are in a great deal of emotional pain, I do not appreciate your impertinence, Solider."

"Madam President," Plutarch breaks in. "I think what Finnick is saying is that this is a very vulnerable time for the prisoners." He's keeping his voice quiet, calming. I can see how he managed to survive working with Snow for so long. "I think it would be best to let them heal for a few weeks; it will allow them to better process what has happened to them. It will also give us time to see if Annie or Katniss comes around. Their testimonies would be much more powerful than hearsay from Johanna or Enobaria."

Most days I want to wipe the smarmy smirk off Plutarch Heavensbee's face, but in this moment, I could hug the man and bake him a cake. I can't imagine the camera crews in Johanna's face, Annie pulling away in fear, or strangers poking at Katniss's broken body. Katniss was always so pure, so shy when it came to anything about the human body, her own included; the idea of it being put on display without her knowledge in order to rally the troops is almost too vile to conceive.

Thankfully, Coin concedes to Plutarch's protests, and we're summarily dismissed from Command. I end up outside the infirmary, frozen in place even though there's nowhere I'd rather be than inside those doors at Katniss's bedside. I've spent every moment of the last few months yearning for Katniss's presence, and now that she's here I can't seem to take the first step towards her.

"What's got you caught up, boy?" Haymitch queries, startling me with his proximity. I swear, every victor other than myself is able to silently sneak up on people.

I shift my weight back and forth while I figure out how to explain how I'm feeling. "You haven't seen her, have you?"

He shakes his head in response.

"She…. Odds, Haymitch I've never seen anything like it. I stood in the cage where they kept her – it was so awful…. I don't think I could live long enough to describe how terrible it was. Even seeing that, seeing the rooms where they were tortured, it's unfathomable how bad she was. She…. I honestly thought she was already dead when we got there. There was hardly a doubt in my mind, from how she looked." I pause, taking a deep breath and turning to look at my mentor. "I love her so much, but I feel so responsible for everything that was done to her. You know her, Haymitch. She's so brave. You know she likely didn't care what happened to her as long as she was protecting people – Prim, Gale, me! Johanna said that after our propos aired, she waited and waited and hoped that I would come to rescue her. And I didn't! I just made more propaganda and wasted time while they were killing her. And I can't…I can't…. What if this is it? What if I was too late, Haymitch?" I'm breathing too quickly, but I can't seem to take in enough air. I bend over and rest my hands on my knees, letting the weight of my head pull me forward.

Haymitch steps in closer to me and places a strong hand on my back. "Listen to me, boy. I'm much too sober and far too tired and I truly don't wish to have to repeat myself. Although I'm sure the girl will have her own version of that little meltdown when she comes to." He says when she comes to, not if, and I hold on to it with all my might. "Yes, we could have gone in sooner. I don't know how much sooner, but I intend to have a long, intensely unpleasant discussion with Coin tomorrow about that very topic. So leave that guilt to me, kid; I plan on carrying it on my shoulders for many years to come." He lets out a long sigh, allowing me time to absorb his words. "I haven't seen her, but you and I are going to go in there are take care of our girl. We're going to stay with her through this, because she is going to come out of it, and she is going to be mighty disagreeable for a very long time. You are the only one she needs to help her through this. Everyone in this whole damn country loves Katniss Everdeen for what she can be and what she represents, but you, you love her for who she is. She is brave, idiotically so. But she is also noble. If she thought she was doing the right thing, there would have been nothing anyone could say to change her mind. I doubt that will change when she comes out the other side of this thing."

After a few moments, my breathing begins to return to normal and I'm able to look up at Haymitch. He and I have only had each other to lean on since we got here, although I've been reluctant to let him in. But I do need him, and now the last member of our dysfunctional family is finally here with us, and we both need her.

So, I stand up. I breathe. And we walk through those infirmary doors.


A week later, and nothing much has changed. Bruises are slowly starting to fade, and bones are beginning to heal, but no one is really better.

Enobaria hasn't spoken to anyone outside of her team of doctors, and she threatened to rip her remaining teeth out and throw them at Plutarch if he even tried to talk to her about propaganda again.

Annie still isn't lucid, but Finnick stays with her almost all the time, waiting for her in the hopes she will come back to him.

Johanna is on a lot of morphling, and it seems to loosen her tongue a bit, which I think makes her even more terrifying to the people of 13. She alternates between snarling at the orderlies and propositioning her nursing staff. Plutarch seems to look at her off-putting behavior indulgently, like that of an errant pet. She told him she would chop his hand off after he patted her head like a dog following one of these displays.

The first time Haymitch saw Katniss, he turned right around and vomited all over the hallway. After he had finished with that, he sat down next to her bed and rested his chin against her tiny, damaged hand. Our mentor took in her ravaged appearance, so much more heartbreaking as a whole picture than it was when the clinical list of her injuries was read out to us in Command. Katniss didn't move once. He spoke quiet words to her that I couldn't hear, before pushing to his feet and running his palm along her shorn black hair; he left the room quickly after that.

I stayed with her for the rest of the day, only leaving when her mother or Prim came in to visit with her. Prim burst into tears immediately upon seeing the condition her sister was in, while her mother stoically cataloged her injuries. I remember Katniss telling me how her mother shut down after her father died, and I worried that I was seeing hints of that same behavior now with her daughter's condition.

Afterwards, Prim hugged me and thanked me for bringing her sister back; I couldn't bear to tell her that I wasn't sure if I was too late.

Gale brought the other Hawthornes once. I think it was too much for the younger children, Mrs. Hawthorne hasn't brought them back since, although she returns on occasion to brush Katniss's hair or hum softly to her. In some ways she acts more maternal than Katniss's own mother. I try to give Gale privacy whenever he visits, but the nurses told me he doesn't say anything when he's there. I'm not sure what to do with that information, honestly.

Haymitch, Primrose, Mrs. Everdeen, and I are with her every day.

She still hasn't woken up.

The doctors won't let me stay the night in Katniss's room, but I can't seem to force myself to return to my compartment. I'm resting in an uncomfortable plastic chair in the hallway near her room one night, passing the hours sketching images that remind me of better times, when I must pass out without realizing. I come to as Finn shakes me by the shoulder and whispers my name harshly in an effort to wake me.

"What's wrong Finn?" I ask, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"Have you seen Annie?" he demands, his voice edging towards panic. "She was asleep, and I left her room for five minutes to use the facilities. When I came back, she was gone. Odds be damned, you don't think Coin or Plutarch would have taken her for propos do you?" He's started pacing up and down the hallway in front of me as he talks, getting increasingly agitated.

"No Finn," I try to reassure him. "Honestly, after Enobaria's threats I think Plutarch has backed off Coin's suggestion entirely. Maybe she's just wandering? She can't have gone far."

I get up from my seat and am about to head for the nurses' station to enlist their assistance in locating Annie when I hear it – a soft humming coming from Katniss's room. I hold up a finger to silence Finnick's frantic ramblings and then point at the nearby room to direct his attention towards where the sound is coming from. He exhales loudly, seeming to take a moment to collect himself, and then nods at me.

He moves around me and cranes his neck to peer into the hospital room. He must lay eyes on Annie because he practically deflates before slumping against the doorframe. Finnick turns to find me, a half-smile on his face, and beckons me to join him. I step closer and cover my mouth with my hand at the sight before me.

They're all here. Annie is curled up in bed beside Katniss, her arm draped across the other girl's stomach and her head tucked into Katniss's shoulder. Annie's humming, and I can just make out the familiar tune of an old song from 12. Katniss must have taught it to her. She must have sung to Annie while they were imprisoned and tortured; even with everything that was happening to her, Katniss still found the strength to sing to her mad friend. Katniss Everdeen's kindness never ceases to overwhelm me.

Jo seems to have wheeled her morphling pump in here with her, and she has curled up in a chair next to the bed. Enobaria lays on the floor at her feet. They both appear to be asleep, comforted by the presence of their fellow prisoners.

I take a step back to leave the room, tugging on Finn's sleeve to bring him along with me. A nurse is walking down the hallway, and I flag her down to ask about what I've just witnessed.

"Oh, the girls?" she asks, gesturing towards the now-full hospital room. "They've slept in there together almost every night since they got here. Normally we wouldn't allow it, but Mr. Abernathy requested that we make an exception, at least for a while. We check in on them a few times throughout the evening, mostly to make sure Miss Everdeen is still in a flat position to help her ribs and collarbone heal." She pauses before looking at her notes and asking, "Did Miss Mason bring her morphling in there?"

"Yes ma'am," Finn replies, his charm on full display. I can already tell no nurse will be getting past him to the sleeping victors tonight.

The nurse chuckles quietly and rolls her eyes. "The doctors want her to be weaning off it," she explains, her voice full of warmth for her wayward charges. "Personally, I think she deserves to use it for a bit longer, all that she went through. But what do I know…?" she trails off as she leaves us, resuming her rounds to her other patients.

"Well, I'll be Odds-damned," Finn says quietly, his grin still firmly in place. "Who knew Haymitch was such a softie? I'm never going to let Enobaria live this down, by the way."

I laugh softly, knowing he won't actually tease any of the girls for seeking comfort amongst one another. My heart swells for them, and for my mentor who quietly asked that they be allowed this kindness while they heal.

Finnick and I sink into the chairs by their room, and settle into a vigil for our fellow victors, guarding their peace through the long dark night.


A/N: This whole story was born out of the scene in this chapter when Peeta sees Katniss's final interview in the Capitol. I couldn't get the idea out of my head, and set about writing what would have led up to it, and what would have followed afterwards.

Thank you to everyone who has read One Need Not be a Chamber to be Haunted, and to those who have taken the time to follow, favorite, and review. While this story is already completed, knowing that people are enjoying it gives me so much encouragement and fills me with such joy.