Katniss

Coin has allowed me to go outside.

She didn't want to, she made that abundantly clear, but my doctors testified that it may help my "mentally disoriented" mind heal faster if I'm permitted to breathe in the fresh air and feel the sunlight on my skin, if I can get a break from feeling like I am buried beneath the crushing weight of thousands of pounds of dirt that are piled on top of me. Peeta told me about what it was like when Snow bombed 13, and he and the others were forced to shelter in the bowels of the district; I think I truly would have gone mad if I'd had to go through that myself.

Not that the alternative was much better. Peeta contends that I saved thousands of lives that day, that I kept the war going with my brave sacrifice, believing I would surely pay with my life for warning 13 about the bombs. All that may be true, but I was only thinking of him and of Prim. They stayed alive, so it was worth it to me. The rest is just extra in my mind.

I requested for more people to be able to join me outside, but Coin ruled that only one other person could accompany me to the surface. For security reasons, she said.

She lies.

She doesn't want us victors conspiring without her supervision.

After the propo aired, baring all of our ugly parts to the world, there's been a warmth from the population of District 13 toward the victors; to say this was unexpected on our part, is an understatement.

Plutarch explained to me that, Now the people truly feel like they know you.

They know we're damaged, but now they also know we're human. We are still treated with a certain degree of tentative awe and distance is generally maintained by the people around us, but there isn't as much fear as there used to be. I know that victors used to scare me right up until I became one myself. The Capitol always portrayed them as other, as more, than the rest of us. They could kill us – would kill us – and then move on casually with their day. And while I myself wouldn't want to count any of my fellow victors as enemies, they are also the people I feel genuinely safest with. Because honestly, who's going to cross Enobaria to get to me? Now, we're seen as real people; some of us train and drill with the other soldiers, we eat in the cafeteria, we love and tease, complain about sore muscles, and try to mind our own business a lot of the time.

President Alma Coin does not like this change, and it is dangerous. I know this, because one day over breakfast in my hospital room Haymitch wrote Peeta and I a note – to bypass the bugs - explaining that we needed to watch our step. With the changes in the dynamic between the victors and the people, we could easily pivot power and respect away from Coin if we were so inclined. When I told him I'd rather cuddle Buttercup without the protection of long sleeves while juggling razor blades than hold a position of power, he told me it didn't really matter.

When this war ends, he said, someone will have to take power. If it isn't you, you're certainly going to be asked to weigh in. Would you back Coin?

I didn't have an answer to that.

If your answer isn't immediately "yes," then you present a problem. Watch yourselves, kids.

At first, I tried to reach out to Gale, to see if he wanted to join me in the forest. He never answered the scribbled invitation I had Hazelle pass along to him. Posy said he threw the note away and then stomped out of their compartment.

I try to put on a brave face, but I feel so much guilt over hurting my friend. I know the tension between Gale and I will reach a boiling point someday, I can only hope the two of us live long enough to repair our friendship.

So instead, Peeta volunteered to join me above ground; I know he loves my company, but even after two arenas and a cartload of training before the Quell, he still fears what may live in the woods. I'm not terribly surprised by this, the Peacekeepers made sure to pass along stories of wolves and bears in the trees surrounding 12 when we were children. Some things they said ended up being true, but most were not. I try to be patient with him, letting him tightly clutch my hand every time a twig snaps or leaves rustle, because I know he's really only out here with me for my own sake.

We sit together by a small stream I discovered almost as soon as we were given leave to wander just out of sight of the guards at 13's entrance. The sun shines down, the reflection off the water so bright I'm forced to shield my eyes to keep them from tearing up. The warmth is so intense I feel moved to unbutton my coveralls and pull my arms out of the sleeves, letting the top half of the garment gather at my waist. The sleeveless undershirt I'm wearing is thin, so I can feel the cool breeze as it moves past me; the icy splashes of water from the stream speckle my arms, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. I let out a long deliberate breath and take a moment to revel in these woods. They may not be the trees of my childhood, but among them, I am more myself than I have been almost a year.

Peeta is watching me as I get comfortable, a small fond smile teasing the corner of his mouth.

"They're going to make me fight," I announce without preamble. He looks like he wants to argue with me, but I cut him off. "It's true, and you know it. They want all of us to be out there; we're not accomplishing enough by hiding here underground." I notice these things, even if I am still largely restricted to the infirmary.

"You're not hiding," he contends. "You're healing."

I want to roll my eyes in dismissal of his assessment but manage to hold back doing so. While I view my inactivity as cowardly and useless, he sees it in a much kinder light; Peeta will always see me as something better than I actually am.

"Regardless," I counter. "Coin is getting fed up with me, and the rest of you by extension."

He knows I'm right; I can see it in the curve of his frown. The fact that he doesn't try to disagree with me sparks an unpleasant feeling of anxiety deep in my chest. Peeta is always the optimistic one, so if he doesn't have anything positive to say about what's happening, then things must be worse than I originally thought.

I rest my head in the crook of his shoulder and whisper the words I'd be too ashamed to admit to anyone other than him. "I'm scared."

He presses a lingering kiss to my hair, breathes me in and then replies, "I'll protect you, Katniss."

"No, not for me," I argue. "I'm scared for you, Peeta! For Finn and Annie, for Jo and Enobaria. I'm scared for Prim and mother and Gale and Hazelle and the kids. What if I can't protect them? What if I'm too weak and don't get better? What will Coin do to you – to them?"

Peeta runs his hand down my arm and rests his grip on the curve of my hip, digging his fingertips into the slight curve of it.

"You and I... we've beaten the odds," he says, his voice a quiet hum. "We have lived when we should have died - many times over. Katniss, I swear to you, Coin will not be the person who takes us down. I will do whatever is necessary to make sure of that. All of you - you and Prim, all the victors - you are who I have left. My parents and my brothers are dead. You are my family, and I will protect you from whatever she has in store for us."

"But what about you? Who protects you?" I ask, lifting my head to meet his eyes.

"We protect each other," he assures me. "That's what we do."

"That's not really an answer, Mellark," I tease.

He looks down at his wrist and smirks back at me. "Time's up," he informs me.

I scoff, and this time I do roll me eyes. "Now you're just avoiding the question."

He grins, and his eyes shine with pure affection as he looks down at me. "I love you, you know?" he says.

I can feel a small smile playing at my own mouth now. I nod at him. He rises to his feet and reaches out to pull me up to meet him. Once we're standing, I realize there's a furrow between his brows and any semblance of lightheartedness has fled from his face.

"What's wrong?" I ask immediately, that cold clammy feeling of anxiety only growing and spreading inside me.

He takes a moment to pull me in close, resting his palm against my lower back. His other hand grips the back of my neck firmly, angling my face up to look at him. He takes two deep breaths, and then presses his lips hard against mine.

When he pulls back, he tells me, "Coin is sending me to 2. To assist on the front lines."

There was a moment in the Quell, just after Peeta hit the forcefield, when I felt my own heart stop. I felt the ground slip out from under me, and I thought to myself, I've lost him, now there's nothing left of me.

I feel that same thing now.

"What?" I manage to croak out. My voice is rough and feels too big for my throat. It can't make its way past the panic and tears that are quickly taking up the space in my chest.

He runs his fingers along my hairline, his grimace firmly set in place now. "She gave me no choice. Katniss, I don't have much time to explain this before we have to go back inside. Please, can you listen?" The urgency in his voice silences all the questions I'd been hastily putting together in my mind to pummel him with.

I nod hurriedly, pulling my bottom lip into my mouth and biting down on it. If I don't, I'm afraid I'll start screaming.

"Plutarch told me they needed more from the victors – both in propos and in the districts. Coin made it clear that both of us needed to take on a larger role in the Rebellion. They even suggested the possibility of having us get married for the propos. I refused, wholeheartedly. Finn stepped in and offered up his wedding to put them off. Then they started talking about battle plans for 2. Enobaria volunteered to go, but then Coin ordered that I join her. Gale too."

I was wrong. I'm not just losing Peeta; I'm losing them all.

The only noise I can make is a horrible whimpering moan that gets lodged in my throat. Peeta clutches me closer to him and whispers close to my ear, his voice harsh, "I swear to you Katniss, I will come back to you. I will make sure that Gale and Enobaria stay safe as well. We will come home to you." He pauses a moment and pulls away just a bit. His tone lighter, he adds, "Honestly I'm sure Enobaria would be offended if she ever heard that I implied she needed looking after, so please don't tell her. I like my neck intact, thank you."

I cough out what could be taken as a laugh because he's right. Maybe I can keep him here with me if I tell Enobaria that Peeta thinks she can't look after herself and she goes and breaks his good leg. I know I'm crazy to think it, but right now my desperation is reaching a fever pitch.

"I would never again subject you to a wedding for the cameras, Katniss. Not for Snow, and certainly not for Coin. You and I have earned the right to live our lives in peace, and I would gladly lay down my life to make sure you get that. I will keep you safe, Katniss Everdeen," he tells me. His voice is strong and courageous, just like the rest of him. I believe every word he says, because I trust Peeta entirely.

But he's the only one anymore who is beyond reproach.

"When?" I ask, my voice is a horrible imitation of itself – raspy and full of sharp edges. I can't let go of Peeta, even though I know I'm digging my fingers deep into the muscles on his sides.

"Right after the wedding," he murmurs. "Since Finn and Annie aren't being shipped out, I think Coin doesn't want to waste any time once Plutarch gets his footage of us 'having fun'."

"Fun…," I can barely process the word. I never was someone who had much time for fun, but now the word truly seems to have lost all real meaning.

"The Mockingjay and the Guardian acting carefree? What's not to love?" His words are harsh with derision. We're both being used by the people in charge here, there's no denying it. But after the show is over and the lights go down, he's being taken away from me, along with two other people I'm not sure I can bear to lose. "I just wish Finn and Annie didn't have to have their wedding in front of the cameras," he continues. "They deserve more than that."

I can only nod in reply because they do deserve more than what they're getting. We all do.


"I'm going with them to 2," Enobaria admits to me as we eat lunch together not long after my conversation with Peeta. "I don't know if we'll be coming back to 13 before we go to the Capitol, but I'm going straight there regardless of whether the lot of them elect to join me or not."

Since being rescued, Enobaria often has trouble meeting my eye. I know why; I understand because it is for the same reason that I have difficulty meeting hers. And Johanna's. And Annie's. We all were the most vulnerable versions of ourselves while we were out there in the darkness. We became who we never wanted to be, something we hoped no one would ever bear witness to - weak, hurt, dying. A victor is told over and over again that they are the only one strong enough to live, the lone survivor. We are not supposed to be fragile in front of anyone else, but the four of us were given no choice in the matter. I guess that is one more reason I have to be thankful for Peeta - we always had each other to lean on and were never expected to shoulder our pain entirely alone.

But now, Enobaria looks at me right in the eye. It's how I know she will not be dissuaded from her decision to run headlong into battle. I want to tell her not to go, please don't you leave me as well, but if our roles were reversed, wouldn't I choose the same course?

"You can't stop me," she adds, echoing my thoughts.

"I wouldn't dream of it," I promise her sincerely. I wish I could go with them, because I want Snow to die for every lash he put on my body, every drop of blood I lost, and every moment of pain I suffered. I want him to pay for the thousands of innocent children he has killed in the Games. I want him to suffer the same paralyzing fear I have been plagued with since I was old enough to learn what the Games were and what it meant every single day for me and my family. "I wish I...I...I want…," I clumsily try to explain all the things that I'm feeling, but I've never been good at saying anything meaningful, especially when the occasion calls for it.

"I know," she assures me. She reaches out and grips my hand, her grasp is firm enough to tell me she truly does understand why I can't join her on the battlefield. That my wants don't mean I'm well-enough to fight in a war.

"Fight for me, for us. Kill him, Enobaria. I think it's the only way I can bear to let you all go, is if I know it's to end this. But…. Please… if we lose, I don't want to go back. I won't go back," I plead with her, my ally. She understands what I'm saying, which is a relief because even I didn't know what I meant until the words were already tumbling free. I will not go back to the Capitol as a prisoner ever again – I'd rather die.

She nods once, and then pledges something to me in the fiercest voice I've ever heard her use. "I am going to kill Snow, for the four of us. If it is not me, I will be there when he falls. We are not going back - I'll die before I let that happen."

My breath catches in my chest, and I know she speaks the truth. We do not hug - that is not Enobaria and I. But she knows me, and I know her; she will go to the war to fight, and if the war comes to me, I will fight it here. We will not go down easily – she and I, Jo, Annie, Finnick, Haymitch, Beetee...Peeta. I will fight until my last breath leaves this body, if it means I can protect them from Snow.

"Will you watch out for them? Peeta and Gale, I mean," I request as she begins to rise from her chair next to my bed. "Peeta is strong, but he doesn't enjoy hurting anyone. And Gale's a fighter, but he doesn't know Snow like we do."

A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, "You got it, Girl on Fire. I'll bring your boys home to you."


Despite Coin's loudly-voiced opinion that the celebration is too grand and Plutarch's outspoken belief that it is in fact too drab, the day of Finnick and Annie's wedding arrives. With it comes so much fanfare and excitement throughout 13, that I can't imagine how these people have survived so long without something to rejoice in. Most of the guests wear their uniform coveralls, but the bright smiles on their faces mark this day as something different - something more - for them. Haymitch took Finnick to 12 to raid mine and Peeta's closets, since any frivolous clothing seems to be entirely absent from this district. Evidently, they got a little grab-happy because they returned with enough dresses for me, Jo, and Enobaria, as well as an extra suit for Peeta. Haymitch managed to dig one of his own out from the back of his closet, along with a spare for Beetee.

Finnick looks resplendent in a dark blue suit of Peeta's, the color bringing out the bright green of his eyes and setting off the fiery bronze of his hair. Annie wears one of my green dresses, the fit is loose but beautiful and light as it swirls around her legs. They are striking – not because of their beautiful clothes, but because of what today is for them. No one can look past the radiant faces of two people for whom this day was once an impossibility.

A man from District 10 performs the ceremony, since its similar to the one used in in 4. A net woven from long grass covers the couple during their vows, and they touch each other's lips with salt water to symbolize their bond to one another through both the ocean and their tears. They sing the words of District 4's ancient wedding song, likening marriage to a sea voyage; and even though Finnick's off-key singing should be enough to take me out of the moment, the pure unadulterated devotion and joy on his face as he sings the words to Annie causes me to tear up against my will.

They seal their vows with a kiss, and the crowd erupts in cheers and applause. Johanna sticks two fingers in her mouth, letting out a sharp ear-piercing whistle that causes even stoic Enobaria to chuckle and sound her own jubilant whooping shout. Haymitch sports a fond smile, absorbing this rare happy moment between two victors; I'm sure that he never believed any of us would get here, to celebrate this moment freely without worrying about the consequences. Peeta is grinning widely and presses a soft kiss to my cheek before slipping away to the kitchens. He's been preparing the cake for Finn and Annie, and thus far has refused to let me take a peek at it.

The happy couple takes the time to greet guests and express their thanks as people sample the food and apple cider provided by the kitchens. I can't help the smile I feel overtake my face as I observe the two of them. I remember how reserved Finn was in the Quell, how hard he tried to maintain his Capitol persona to protect both himself and Annie, and how quickly that fell away when he and I were trapped in the wedge of the arena with the jabberjays. The gut-wrenching pain he felt was obvious to me as Annie's screams echoed around us, because I felt it too as the voices of my own loved ones blended with hers. I remember my conversations with Annie throughout our captivity; whether she was lucid or confused, her love for Finnick was always apparent. It defined her, just as my own love for Peeta is beginning to solidify and become a permanent and distinct part of me.

Suddenly the room fills with gasps and excitement as four people wheel out a huge wedding cake from the kitchen. I wind my way closer so I can see what Peeta has done for our friends. I cover my mouth with my hands when I catch sight of the oversize cake and fight back the tears that threaten to fall, because it's home. The design and decorations are not reminiscent of our home – no, Peeta has created a confection covered in the blue waves of District 4 with fish and sailboats, seals and sea flowers. It is so thoroughly who Finn and Annie were before they were taken by the Games, so authentically who they are supposed to be, and perhaps now they will finally get the chance to do so. Peeta has made this cake so intricately beautiful, that I am instantly transported back home to 12, to walking the merchant quarter and bringing Prim to see the decorated cakes so she could coo at the pretty colors. I hadn't known then that Peeta created those; now I don't know how I could have believed it to have been anyone else. He follows behind his cake, and takes the hugs and kisses offered by Annie and Finn in thanks for his gorgeous gift. I step back though, making my way through the crowd and putting distance between us. I feel overwhelmed, and he deserves to shine in this moment without worrying about how I'm faring. Sometimes the guilt of what happened to my home district crests over me like a tidal wave; it steals my breath away, and I have to talk myself down from the verge of screaming until I'm hoarse.

I stumble as I exit the throng of people surrounding the wedding cake, gasping for air as black spots rob me of my vision. I manage to find a chair and grip the back of it with every ounce of my strength, forcing myself to take deep measured breaths, counting to ten over and over again in my head. Just as I'm beginning to get a handle on my thoughts, I'm joined by one of the few people whose presence is both welcome and unwanted.

"What's your problem, Brainless?" Johanna asks, her snarky voice cutting through the chaotic fog my emotions were creating in my mind. Jo will never let me hide behind the unfeeling victor-mask that non-victors tend to accept, because she is one of the few people in Panem who knows exactly why I'm prone to donning it.

"Oh you know," I try for feigned lightheartedness. "Just the insurmountable guilt of having caused the deaths of thousands of innocent people."

"That'll do it.," she snorts. "Blondie did a great job with that cake, huh?"

"Yeah," I reply, my voice warm with affection. "He's always been remarkably talented; I just didn't realize it until the Games."

She hums in reply, taking in the celebration going on around us. After a few minutes of silence, Johanna abruptly declares, "I'm going with them."

I whip my head over to her, my mouth open in confusion and horror. No. No. "You can't," I whisper, the panic clawing at me once again, trying to drag me down.

She nods, only once. "I have to."

"Why?" I beg. I know my voice is uneven and pleading, but I don't have the energy to try and cover up any of my vulnerabilities at the moment. Why are you leaving me too?

Jo looks at me out of the corner of her eye, a small smirk in the corner of her mouth. "You know why," she tells me, and then swings her head over to look pointedly over to where Enobaria is currently threatening to smear cake all over Finnick's face.

Oh. Oh.

While I don't have much understanding of it, I do know that homosexuality exists. I may be sheltered, but I'm not an idiot. It has always been suppressed and looked down on in the districts, but such things are never looked at twice in the Capitol. Many of Finn's lovers were men, and I've observed enough sexual fluidity during my time there to have had my eyes opened to what goes on in the world outside of 12. Looking back at Jo and Enobaria's interactions since our rescue, it all makes a bit more sense now. Their closeness since we were brought to 13 suddenly takes on a whole new light.

"Do you love her?" I wonder, my curiosity winning out over my inclination not to pry into someone else's private life.

She lets out a loud, dramatic sigh. "Yes Brainless, I do. Who knew Snow was such a little matchmaker?" Jo chortles at her own observation. "Finn and Annie, you and Blondie, me and Bar-Bar. Although, I imagine it would be rather impossible to attempt a relationship with someone who had never seen the inside of an arena, don't you think? Odds know I've never had any success with it. It's just that…. I can't let her go, not without being there to have her back," she admits, her tone losing all of it's abrasiveness. This is the Jo that no one gets to see, the one who loves just as fiercely as she hates.

I nod, because I get it, I do. If I could go and keep Peeta safe, I would. And I hate that I'm not able to.

"Will you keep him safe?" I bid her. "Peeta, I mean. Keep him alive because I can't be there to do it myself?"

She must hear the pain in my voice, because there isn't any trace of sarcasm in hers when she answers me. "Sure, Mockingjay."

Johanna steps away and then I watch her wrap an arm around Enobaria's waist. The other woman leans in and kisses Jo affectionately on the side of her head. My heart warms at the sight of them; they deserve to be treasured, the both of them.

The crowd has started to clear the floor for dancing; there may not be much to cause celebrate back home in District 12, but dancing has always been something we do with lightness and mirth. I spent much of my childhood practicing the steps to our dances with Prim in front of our hearth in preparation for attending the districtwide celebrations at the winter and summer solstices. I never had interest in going, as they were generally the place where lingering glances and quick kisses were exchanged, the place where courtships began…but Prim always wanted to go. If I had never gone into the Games, she would have attended her first one this year.

A man who managed to escape the firebombs with his fiddle begins to play, another beats out a rhythm against a pot from the kitchen. A woman from 10 uses a set of spoons to round out the tune, and Thom, a friend of Gale's from the mines, steps up to add his voice to the tune. I recognize it – it's a song of longing, a song of returning home to those you love.

I saw the sun begin to dim
And felt that winter wind blow cold
A man learns who is there for him
When the glitter fades and the walls won't hold

'Cause from then, rubble
What remains can only be what's true
If all was lost, it's more I've gained
'Cause it led me back to you

As Thom begins to sing, Peeta approaches me and holds out his hand. "Dance with me?" he asks me. I let out a shaky exhale, knowing that everyone is going to be watching us once we get out to the makeshift dance floor.

"Alright," I grumble, and grab on hard to his hand.

He leads me into the crowd, and we place our hands on each other the way Effie taught us so long ago on our Victory Tour. Peeta takes the first step, and I follow where he goes. We dance as I listen to Thom's words, knowing this moment will play in my head repeatedly until Peeta is safely returned to my arms.

From now on
These eyes will not be blinded by the lights
From now on
What's waited 'til tomorrow starts tonight

Let this promise in me start
Like an anthem in my heart
From now on
From now on

"Did Plutarch send you over, to get us dancing for the cameras? So they'll see we're having fun?" I accuse, then grimace at my sullen tone; I shouldn't take my anxiety about Peeta's imminent departure out on him, he certainly didn't elect to leave me behind.

Thankfully, my kind boy with the bread once again seems to know me well enough to forgive easily. He quirks a small smile and pulls me close to him, tightening the arm wrapped around my waist and drawing his other closer to us, clutching my hand steadfastly against his heart.

"No," he murmurs, leaning in so his lips brush against my ear as he speaks. "We're dancing for us. I never had the guts to ask you to the solstice celebrations, but now… now I just want to dance with my girl."

I drank champagne with kings and queens
The politicians praised my name
But those are someone else's dreams
The pitfalls of the man I became

For years and years, I chased their cheers
At the crazy speed of always needing more
But when I stop and see you here
I remember who all this was for

From now on
These eyes will not be blinded by the lights
And from now on
What's waited 'til tomorrow starts tonight
It starts tonight
And let this promise in me start
Like an anthem in my heart
From now on
From now on

We're only swaying now, the more formal dance steps forgotten as we gaze into each other's eyes. His girl. He's right – I am his, and he is mine. And tomorrow he'll be gone, off to fight in 2 with three other people I'm sure I love. I want to scream and run away from what's about to happen, from the idea that I could lose any of them to Snow.

Peeta knows the risks involved in what he's being forced to do, I can see it hiding in his eyes, behind the untroubled front he's putting up for my sake.

"Peeta…," I whisper, unsure how to voice what I want to say.

He reaches up and tucks a piece of loose hair back behind my ear, smiling as he does so. He won't push me to articulate my thoughts, his patience with me and my limitations is infinite.

And we will come back home
And we will come back home

Home again
And we will come back home
And we will come back home

Home again
And we will come back home
And we will come back home

Home again

From now on
These eyes will not be blinded by the lights
And from now on
What's waited 'til tomorrow starts tonight
It starts tonight
And let this promise in me start
Like an anthem in my heart
From now on
From now on

"I love you," I finally blurt out. It is the first time I really say it to him, and it is not pretty. But Peeta deserves to hear the actual words before he leaves for the front. He needs to know that I am here, that I will always be here, and I will be waiting for him to come home.

He stops swaying with me, the shock evident on his face. Tears gather in his eyes, and he beams around a shaky breath.

And we will come back home
And we will come back home

Home again
And we will come back home
And we will come back home

Home again
From now on, from now on, home again

"I love you," I tell him again. It's less messy the second time around, the words dancing easily across my tongue. "And you had better come home to me."

And then I lean in and kiss him, not caring who may be watching after all.


After hours of celebrating that are measured in laughter and cake, dancing and cheers, the newlyweds finally retire to their compartment. Jo and Enobaria already left, and I lost track of Gale a long while ago. Peeta and I are giddy with love for each other and fondness for our friends, and we only get about three hallways away from the cafeteria when he pivots me, pushing me with a surprising amount of force against the wall. His hand cups behind my head, softening the impact so it's as though he lightly placed me against it, any roughness with my body is erased under his care. He kisses me hard, his lips are the spark that ignites my own fire deep within me, and then I'm pressing back against him and holding on to keep him close to me. I have never really put much thought into learning how to kiss, Peeta and I always just did it. He's never complained, but we've also never had time to really learn one another, to explore.

I intend to correct that. Right now.

I use my teeth to nip at his bottom lip and he moans, the sound vibrating down my own throat. He runs this tongue along the seam of my mouth, and I let out an embarrassing mewl that grants him access to me. That same hunger I felt on the beach is roaring, and I never want to stop. Was this what I was fighting against all this time? How could I have ever thought I didn't need this from him? How could I have ever wondered if I wanted this with someone else?

How incredibly stupid of me.

Peeta groans my name, his voice so low and rough it sounds like a growl. Something clenches low in my belly, and I end up digging my fingers into his curls and tugging harder than I had intended. Instead of chastising me though, Peeta pulls back from my face, just far enough so I can see his satisfied grin.

"I love you, Katniss Everdeen," he murmurs, and surges forward for another kiss.

I want to tell him how much I love him back, but I get distracted by a sudden realization. "I want you!" I exclaim, probably far too loudly for a hallway that's deserted by everyone except us.

This stops him right in his tracks.

"I…. What?" he asks, dumbfounded. There's a furrow in his brow and he looks as startled as he did when they called his name at the reaping; but at the same time, he looks as hopeful as he did when I told him that I needed him in the Quell.

"I want you," I repeat. I'm quieter this time, but now my voice carries a distinctive nervous warble. "Odds – I…. I didn't know it could feel like this. That I could feel like this." I'm blathering, I know this, but I can't seem to stop. "Like every time I look at you, I'm burning up inside and all I want to do is wrap myself around you so I can share that heat with you. You're a part of me and you're everything I want and…and I need you to know that. I need you to understand that before you leave –"

"Katniss," he interrupts me, bringing both hands to cup my face. My face is burning up with mortification and I'm anticipating rejection, but he must know how embarrassed I am by my own words, because he lowers his head enough that he can look me in the eyes, and I have no way to hide from him. So, I don't. I meet his gaze head on and hope that he can see in my eyes that I meant what I said. I've never felt surer of anything in my life. "Katniss," he tries again. "We don't –"

I cut him off by throwing myself at him, curling my fingers into the roots of his hair and clinging on for dear life. I press fierce, quick kisses to his lips before moving on to his cheeks and the tip of his nose and then his neck. I run my tongue along a particular spot just below his ear and it's as though I cut the strings that were holding him taut. All the tension in his body drains away and he makes a noise that sounds like he's inhaling smoke on a hot day and I can't waste another moment trying to convince him that this is the right thing for us.

"I know we don't have to but damn the Odds, Peeta – I want to!" I practically spit the words at him so he can hear them quicker. I put on my severest scowl and snarl at him, "Now where the hell is your room?"

I know I've shaken him because for the first time since we we've been reunited, he doesn't even crack a smile at my orneriness. He just blinks a few times as though he's trying to clear the fog from his head before replying, "I share a bunk with Haymitch."

If there were ever six words that equate to a cold shower more than those, I can't think of them at the moment. I'm ready to roar and start devising ways to lock Haymitch away somewhere unpleasant when Peeta says, "Come with me, I know a place."

And then we're racing down the hallways, as fast as we can with my low endurance and Peeta's one good leg. Peeta has my hand tight in his grip, pulling me sharply around corners and down stairwells until we're standing outside a rather forgotten looking door and I'm out of breath. He looks down the corridor in both directions, even though it's obvious we're alone in this part of the district, before shoving the door open with his shoulder and slamming it closed behind us.

I blink rapidly to encourage my eyes to adjust to the low light of the room, and I'm starting to get frustrated because it's taking way too long, but then the smell hits me.

Trees. Grass. Soil.

The woods.

My mind is exploding when I reach out for Peeta and ask him, "Peeta, where are we?"

He chuckles lightly and squeezes the hand I've managed to entangle in the lapel of his suit jacket. "Well, I know that about ten levels up they have the main zone of plants, and farming plots, and even a meadow. On one of my early days here I was meandering around the district, hiding from Haymitch and opening random doors and I stumbled on this place." I hear him rustling something and feel him bend down to pick something up, and then after a few more sounds I can suddenly see.

It's amazing.

The trees are not terribly tall, the grass hasn't been kept, and the room has a distinct sense of stillness that comes with a place that has long since been neglected…but it is wild and green and beautiful.

"I think it may have been one of 13's first tries at their agricultural system, or who knows - maybe it was just a place that someone made so they could have a bit of the outside world down here. The first time I came in here, it was right after your second interview. I was so worried about you and I missed you so much, that I was honestly worried I had lost my mind when I opened the door," he tells me. "But it felt like a gift – like somehow you were reaching out to me from wherever you were. I felt closer to you, whenever I would come here. In my head I started calling it my 'Katniss Room'."

At this last revelation I can track the blush that works its way up his neck, even in the low glow of the lantern he's gotten lit.

He coughs out a laugh, full of self-consciousness, and rubs at the back of his neck. "Please don't tell Johanna that. Or Finn. I'll never hear the end of it."

I manage my own light titter, still completely overwhelmed by both this place and Peeta's words.

"Katniss," Peeta catches my attention with his serious tone. He takes both my hands in his and steps close enough to me that my chest brushes against his when either of us takes a deep breath. "Katniss, I love you. I have loved you since we were children, and I will love you every day for the rest of my life. What you said earlier…did you mean it?" he asks, his tone uncertain.

I nod my head but can't force myself to look him in the eye as I do. Instead, I focus on our entwined fingers, hoping that I'll somehow memorize the way his hands feel in mine before he leaves me in a few hours.

"I have wanted you since I had even the slightest understanding of what that meant," he tells me, his voice low. "But I don't want you to feel like we have to –"

"I don't!" I protest, finally looking up at him. Having something to fight against seems to push me to overcome my discomfort, even if I'm just fighting against Peeta's worries.

"I believe you," he assures me, bringing one of his hands up to cup my face. "Just let me say it, please." I nod, giving him permission to continue. "We don't have to," he tells me again. His voice drops to a rough whisper at his next words. "But I want to. I want you, in every possible way that you'll allow it." He presses his forehead against mine and persists in a rush, "And we can stop at any time…. Just tell me. I just…. I wanted it to be here, where there are no cameras, and it's only us. I want this to be where we are together, for real."

I can't hold myself back any longer and rise up on my toes to reach his lips with mine, my arms wrapping around his broad shoulders and his large hands running down my back to keep me tight against his chest. My tongue darts in and out of Peeta's mouth, his hot breath making me heady and restless. His fingers trail upwards, resting on my ribcage; his thumbs press against my thin bones as though asking for my consent to explore my body further. I breathe out an agreement, speaking the words yes yes yes into his mouth as I dig my fingers into his curls. He finds the tiny clasps of my dress, moving to drop wet kisses against my neck while he works at them with his thick fingers. Patience has never been one of my virtues, and I rush to strip him of his own fancy clothes. He shakes his jacket off one arm at a time, my hands racing to unbutton his shirt before his outer layer even hits the ground. Eventually I push his shirt off, and my mouth feels dry at the sight of how much muscle he's gained back since the Games. I fell in love with his inner strength, but for the first time I get to act my own age and feel myself swoon as I take in Peeta's powerful body in front of me.

When I force my eyes back up to Peeta's face, he's wearing a self-satisfied smirk that has me scoffing and rolling my eyes in response.

"See something you like?" he teases as he continues to work at my dress. Cinna obviously did not design this frock with a situation like this in mind. Usually, the thought of my stylist and his awful fate will hit me like a sucker-punch of guilt; but in this moment I can't help but think of the half-smile he'd be wearing if he knew where Peeta and I ended up – together, and on our own terms. I think this is what he would have wanted for me, so in this moment I allow myself to let go of the guilt, just a little bit.

"Shut up," I whisper back, pulling his mouth back to mine. I use my teeth to nip at his bottom lip again, and he groans against my teeth.

"What the hell is wrong with this dress?" Peeta finally snaps in frustration. He takes a step back and spins me around so he can face this foe head on. "Did Cinna hate me or something?" I hear him muttering at my back.

I giggle, the sound escaping me before I can tamp it down. "I usually had three prep team members and Cinna there to take my clothes off for me," I inform him, my voice colored with amusement.

It's Peeta's turn to huff out a laugh, and I finally feel the dress loosen as he undoes the many clasps that line my spine. "Never again," he mumbles as he grasps each side of my gown and pulls it forcefully all the way down to the floor. Once he straightens back up to his full height, he spins me back around to face him and pushes back my hair that had gotten mussed back behind my ear. "I'd like to put in a request that I be the only one to undress you going forward. That ok?"

I let out another breathless chuckle, and I swear I've never joked with anyone this much in my life. I love that there is joy and laughter in this act between us; we have had so little to rejoice in during our turbulent lives, but here in this moment with Peeta I feel almost giddy with excitement and delight as we touch and tease each other.

"Hmmmm," I hum, making a show of tilting my head back and forth, as though undecided on the matter. "I guess that can be arranged," I finally tell him with false solemnity.

"Fantastic," he agrees with a dramatic nod. It hits us both at the same time just how little clothing we're both wearing, and Peeta takes a small step back, running his eyes up and down my body.

I'm covered in scars. My skin was once marred from my years of hunting, but that was nothing compared to its current state. I'm tempted to cross my arms to cover up my naked chest out of modesty, or the rest of my disfigured torso with shame, but Peeta must sense it, because he grabs for both my wrists and steps into me, so his body is flush against mine. I can't hold back a gasp at the feel of the bare skin of his chest brushing against my own.

"I have never seen anyone more beautiful, Katniss," he sighs, his voice harsh and raspy.

I'm tempted to ask if he's seen anyone else naked, but I decide I don't particularly want to know the answer. "But my scars…. I look like a mutt," I grumble.

He holds on tight to my wrists and tells me, with as much gravity in his voice as the times when I've heard him deliver a speech to honor the dead or to rally the troops, "Our scars make us who we are. Mine tell the story of my family – the good and the bad. My mother hurt me, and my body holds on to that; but my father taught me to bake, and my brothers to wrestle. That's all a part of me. My scars show the world that I fought for my life in the Games, that I lost parts of my body because my life was worth something. Yours tell the world that you provided for your family, that you fought so hard to live. Time and time again. Your scars show that you're a survivor, Katniss Everdeen. And that's the girl that I love – the survivor, the one with the scars to prove it."

I'm feel like I'm choking back a sob when he leans in real close to me and whispers in my ear, "These don't hurt either," as he runs his finger along the waistband of my lace underwear.

The laugh I bark out is scratchy and wet from the tears I feel fast approaching, and I know I can't hold myself back any longer.

I wrap my arms tightly around his neck, and let my weight pull him down with me into the grass. Thank the Odds he seems inclined to follow, because I don't believe my weight would have been enough to knock him off balance if he didn't want it. He lays me down, following quickly to stretch out on top of me, his weight heavy and comforting. The skin of my stomach and my breasts rubs against his chest, and I feel breathless with the intimacy of the sensation.

"I didn't – I'm sorry, I don't have a blanket or anything. I didn't plan this –" he worries, tripping over his words in his anxiety that I'm somehow disappointed with any part of what's happening between us.

I kiss away his uncertainties, shushing and soothing him like I would a skittish animal. "You brought me here, to the woods, where I…. I feel more like me than I have in almost a year. And I'm here with you. That's what matters to me, Peeta."

For all our familiarity and openness up until now, I can't force myself to meet his eyes when I reach down and work at unbuckling his belt and undoing his slacks. Peeta's hot breath is coming out in ragged gasps against my chest, causing goosebumps to rise and my nipples to tighten against him. He rolls off me to push his pants down his legs, and just as he's about to return to his place on top of me, I reach out to stop him.

"What – do you want to stop?" he asks, his eyes wide and nervous.

"No," I swiftly assure him. I feel as though I'd do anything right now to just keep going. "Do you…. Do you want to take it off?" I ask, gesturing to his prosthetic.

His eyes warm with affection, and he reaches out to run his fingertips along my jaw. "If you don't mind?" he asks, searching my face for confirmation.

I shake my head because I want him. Just him. Not this piece of metal and plastic designed by the Capitol as a consolation prize for taking away his leg. Peeta is whole, even without his leg or his prosthetic. And right now, I don't want his prosthetic anywhere near what we're about to do with each other, because it is only us.

He reaches down and detaches it, rubbing absently at the stump to ease away some of the soreness from being on his feet all day and night for the wedding. I know he's self-conscious about this part of his body, but I've never been bothered by it. The only concern it has ever given me is how it affects his ability to fight – in the Games or in the war.

After what feels like an eternity, he returns to me, laying on his side along the length of my body and props his head up in his hand as he traces his fingers along my stomach. He doesn't follow the lines of any of the scars, and for that I am thankful. Slowly, he drags them up to draw patterns along my breasts, leisurely circling closer and closer to my nipples. By the time he finally touches one, I am practically shaking from overstimulation. He leans in and takes the other into his mouth, and I make a noise I didn't know I was capable of. I'm feeling hot and needy and eager for more of him and his touches.

"Peeta!" I whimper. I can't figure out if I'm pleading with him out of frustration or arousal. Maybe it's both – I'm too worked up to care.

He pulls away from me, and I want to shriek with annoyance. Get back here! I want to holler at him, but then I realize what he's doing. He moves to kneel between my calves and drags my underwear down my legs, his gaze fixedly taking in every inch of my body as it becomes exposed. I'm sure I'm blushing more than I ever have before; no one has ever really looked at this part of my body, and certainly never with this much…intent.

"Katniss," he murmurs, his voice filled with something akin to awe.

I honestly have never given much thought to that part of my body before; it was just another functioning part of the machine I needed to go on living. But Peeta is looking between my legs like he wants it – that he wants to know it. It leaves me breathless and a little dizzy.

"Pee-ta," I whine at him again, fighting the urge to give him a kick to move him along.

In response, he reaches up to run his finger along the slit between my legs and I react like I've been shocked by electricity. I yelp and automatically twist to snap my legs together, but then I feel the tension seep out of me as he continues to touch me; when I groan through my clenched teeth as he grazes a place that makes me tremble, he rears back enough so that he can maneuver his own undershorts down his hips. He must toss them away, because suddenly we're both naked and he's next to me, reclining on his side once again. Peeta slips one arm underneath my head and lets his hand come around to rest on my breast. He pinches my nipple between his fingers, and I feel a swooping low in my belly. Gasping, he returns his fingers to the place between my legs and rubs at that same spot in earnest. I let out a high-pitched impatient noise because I'm unexpectedly hurtling toward something I've never felt before, and while it's scary and overwhelming, I also feel like I may die if I don't reach it.

He rearranges his hand and teases my opening with his finger. I nod my head eagerly, because suddenly I need him inside of me – something I never expected to feel, and something I never thought I'd want. He eases one finger into me, and he lets out a guttural moan like he's been kicked when my body practically pulls him in. His face falls to my shoulder, his hot breath dancing across my skin. He uses his thumb to rub small circles into that sensitive spot, and after a few moments he's able to work another finger inside me. I'm getting higher and more dizzy and closer to the feeling I know is just out of my reach, when I realize I haven't touched Peeta yet. But as my fingers brush against him, he jerks back and gives me a quick shake of his head.

"I'm barely going to last as it is," he huffs out a self-deprecating laugh. "I want you to come first, please Katniss! I need to see you come before we do this. Come for me Katniss, now!"

And even though I'm normally never one to follow directions, I do. I finish with throaty moans and panting gasps and Peeta places his lips over mine to swallow each of them down as if to keep each noise all for himself. I stutter out my exhales, and I blink away the haze that settles over my brain. I look at the boy next to me in wonder and watch a blush travel down his neck to his pale chest. I practically haul him on top of me, and he's chuckling at me as he tries to find a place for his hands, until I reach down to stroke him. He chokes out a gasp and shudders before dropping his head against my neck and canting his hips towards mine in response.

"Katniss –" he groans. "Give me a second. Let me –"

"Now Peeta!" I snap at him, my patience now completely gone.

He lets out a huge breath and nods, and I note with amusement he's no longer arguing with me. He reaches down between us, batting my hand away and taking himself in his hand. He positions himself at my entrance, and slowly pushes himself into me. Its slow-going, tight and painful at times, but he uses his thumb to rub at that same spot between my legs to make it feel better for me, and finally he fills me up to the hilt. It feels odd and new, but I revel in it. Why was I fighting this? This love – this feeling with Peeta – is as natural as breathing.

We move together, and at times we fall out of rhythm and it's awkward and graceless. It takes us a moment to reset our pace, and we laugh and kiss and touch as we get through it. He keeps his eyes on my face and presses his forehead against mine. After a minute, the discomfort fades away and I dig my dull fingernails into his back to pull his body closer into my own. He is mine, and I am his – and now our bodies are connected and all I want is to chase that feeling I had before and for him to get there with me. When I tell him so, he snorts and assures me he won't have a problem. I start to move my hips faster, and every time he pushes back into me a whimper escapes my throat. He picks up his pace to meet mine, and soon I'm reaching out to touch that feeling again.

"Peeta?" I say his name as a question, though I'm not sure why. I only know I need him here with me for what happens next.

"Let go Katniss," he pants against my neck. He lifts his face and looks directly into my eyes as he reaches down between us to rub between my legs, pushing me over the edge.

I stare right back and watch his face as he takes in my climax. The blue in his eyes shrinks until is almost entirely eaten up by the black, and just before I let go entirely, I tell him, my words almost a plea, "I love you!"

His peak follows right on the heels of my own, and I swear on all the Odds, I have never seen anything more beautiful than him in this moment.


I must have drifted off shortly thereafter because the next thing I'm aware of is the thumping of a heartbeat against my head. I would know the cadence and strength of that rhythm anywhere….

Peeta.

Everything that has occurred between the two of us tonight comes rushing back, and I know without confirmation that I must be blushing. I practically pounced on him. What was I thinking?

There's nowhere for me to hide now, I've revealed too much of myself to Peeta; there's no turning back. What if something happens to him? This is the Quell all over again! If I lose him – if Snow gets his hands on him - what will happen to me? I won't get out of this underground tomb disguised as a district, just like I wouldn't have made it out of the Games; I'll spend the rest of my life trying to find my way out – my way back to Peeta. I know without a doubt I'll turn into my mother; I'll become a husk – a shadow of a person they'll drag out for propaganda, and all the while I'll be screaming Peeta's name over and over again inside my head without any chance of a reply.

I recognize that my thoughts are quickly spiraling out of control, but there's nothing I can do to rein them in. This is too much – I can't do this! I can't

Peeta must sense the change in my body – my muscles are tensing, and my breathing is becoming erratic. "Katniss," he murmurs. His words are gentle, but firm. He places a hand flat on my back, holding my body against his, the pressure of it is solid and soothing. "Here – breathe in and out, with me," he instructs. It takes a few tries, but I match my breathing to his and begin to feel my body coming down from my panic.

Eventually, I ask him, "Where did you learn that?" My self-consciousness returns as I realize my hands are dug into his chest, leaving little half-moons from my worn-down fingernails.

"You aren't the only one seeing the head doctor," he explains tenderly. "I asked him how I can help you, and he gave me a few pointers."

I'm touched once again by Peeta's kindness. It comes so easily to him, this consideration for the well-being of others. He is finding ways to take care of me even when I'm not there.

And now I could lose that too.

"You're leaving," I complain. My words sound petty and childish even to my own ears, but I can't help it. I'm saying goodbye to Peeta Mellark, just as I have learned how much I can share with him.

I still haven't worked up the courage to meet his gaze, but I can feel him nod, his chin brushing up against the top of my head. "I don't have a choice, Katniss," he entreats, the words whispering across my scalp.

"I'll come with you!" I offer up heedlessly.

"No!" his reply is more of a command, a sharp tone I've rarely heard him use before. "If I have to do this, I need to know you're safe," he continues. "I can't do that if you're with me in 2, where you'll be vulnerable to Snow. I can't protect Enobaria or Gale or myself if I'm thinking about protecting you. You are my priority, always. If you're there with me, even if you're away from the front lines, any decision I make will be colored by my desire to keep you safe – more than my own life. Do you understand?"

Finally, finally, I tilt my head to look up at his face. His mouth is swollen and red from my kisses, his jaw tensed and stubborn – so reminiscent of an expression I'm told I wear more often than not. His eyes though…. His eyes are pleading with me like they were at the beach in the Quell. Like he needs me to hear what he's saying, to accept what he's offering; before it was his life for mine, now it is my safety for his.

I nod shakily, agreeing to his terms even though it kills me.

He moves his head closer to mine, bringing his mouth right up against the shell of my ear. "Besides," he whispers, his lips brushing my skin. The heat of his breath warms the icy cold fear that grips my heart. "I need someone to come back to. And I don't know about you, but I feel confident that after tonight you and I could be trusted to come up with some pretty creative ways to welcome me home after all my heroic deeds."

I sputter out a laugh and the expression of mock-incredulousness on Peeta's face only serves to spur me on into a fit of giggles that is so entirely unlike me, it almost has me pausing to evaluate what this boy – this man – has done to change me.

Almost.

Instead, I let my laughter settle and take in the fond smirk that forms on his face as he watches me. The affection in his eyes is overwhelming to me, because what have I ever done to deserve it? Like Haymitch once told me, I could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve Peeta Mellark.

But I'd like to try.


After more kisses and touches that leave us both sweaty and trembling and gasping for breath, Peeta and I help each other dress so we can return to my hospital room. By his watch we only have a couple hours left before he's due at the hovercraft hanger to ship out, and he still needs to pack. I pay attention to the turns of the hallway as we leave, determined to make it back to the room with the hidden forest – Peeta's Katniss Room – while I remain here in 13.

We come to a stop just outside the doorway to my room, Peeta having insisted he walk me the whole way, even though he'll have to double-back to get to his own compartment, because if I don't get to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you Katniss, at least let me have this. What was I supposed to say to that? I grumbled out an acquiescence and of course he just laughed at my surliness.

There's a moment, where everything that hurts falls away, and it's just Peeta and I. There is no 13, there are no firebombs, no war. He's not a soldier, leaving to spearhead a revolution. I'm not a broken girl, forced to stay behind even though my place should be at his side. I stand on my toes and press my lips to his, trying to use my actions instead of my inarticulate words to tell him just how much I care, how much I'll miss him. It must work, because he when he eventually pulls back, he smiles at me and murmurs, "Me too."

His words break the spell, and he squeezes my hips just once before stepping away. "I'll see you in a bit," he tells me softly, knowing I'll be there to see him off. Once he turns the corner and is no longer in my sight, I cross the threshold into my room, only to be shocked by who's waiting for me.

Gale.

His presence is so unexpected that I involuntarily let out a squeak of surprise, one the old me probably would have scorned as some sort of betrayal to my hunter's instincts, chiding that I should always be aware of my surroundings. I scowl at myself, because I should have thought to check my room before entering it, before leaving myself and Peeta exposed like that. The old Katniss never would have let that happen.

Gale must have just woken up; his eyes are bloodshot and puffy with fatigue as they connect with mine. Or maybe, like me, he never made it to bed.

Neither of us say anything, both of us too stubborn for our own good. He's the one who stormed out weeks ago and hasn't made one move until now to even speak to me, ignoring my notes and stomping away whenever my name comes up. So why should I be the one to break first? I want to slap myself, because although I'm sure he's thinking something similar in regard to me, now is not the time for pettiness. Not when there's only enough time to say goodbye.

Fine. I'll bite. "Gale," I offer, and cross my arms in front of me.

"Catnip," he replies. At least he hasn't regressed to "Katniss"; his use of my nickname means he's here to attempt some sort of truce.

After a few beats of silence, I ask, "Enjoy the wedding?"

He nods. Nothing else.

Ugh. Alright, then.

"I'd like to shower, if you're not going to say anything to me," I grouse. Honestly, I don't have pleasant manners on a good day, let alone when I'm exhausted out of my mind and worried sick over the departure of four of my allies.

He pushes himself to his feet and stretches up to his full height. He stands much taller than me, taller than even Peeta, who himself has at least a head on me. To his credit, Gale has never used the physical difference between us to intimidate me before, and I don't get the feeling he is now either. He feels stripped raw, like he has run out of coal and is surviving on dust. I know this feeling well – it's what I felt day-in and day-out while I was held in the Capitol.

"I'm going to 2," he states, his voice lifeless. His eyes search my appearance, no doubt taking in the fact that I'm still wearing my dress from the wedding and my short hair is tangled from Peeta's fingers; I'm also fairly certain I have a series of bruises from Peeta's lips and teeth trailing up one side of my neck.

"I know," I murmur. And as annoyed as I am with my best friend, I understand I need to make it right, somehow. He is leaving, and there's a possibility I may never see him again no matter how hard he fights or how strong my will to survive is; sometimes, the odds just are not in our favor. "Gale…. Gale, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I'm so sorry my actions hurt you."

For a moment, my words seem to crack his stony façade and I can see bits of my best friend peeking through. But with my clarification, his mask slips back into place. Can I ever do anything right with Gale anymore? No matter what, I only seem to hurt him more.

"I wish I could go with you all," I continue, knowing my words are a poor substitute for what he truly wants from me.

"Who says you can't?" he snaps back petulantly. "Mellark?"

I answer with a few tremulous nods. "Among others," I add. "Coin forced Peeta to go, because I'm not ready, however much I want to be."

Gale's looking at me curiously. "Mellark's going too?" he asks.

"Yes; Enobaria and Jo too."

"Fucking fantastic," he mutters as he rolls his eyes.

"I know…. I know you don't owe me anything," I beseech him, and he scoffs at my words. "But please, please look out for them. You may hate me, but please don't let them get hurt. Don't let Snow take them."

"You want me to promise to protect your boyfriend? How? Act as his fucking human shield?" His voice is rising the more he gets worked up, but it's not just anger, it's hurt as well. When it comes to Peeta, I will always wound Gale with my choice.

"I want you to protect all of them. And yourself. I need all of you to come back," I plead with him. I need Gale to agree to this one thing before he walks away.

He shakes his head but bites out, "Fine. Anything else?"

"Please watch your back," I pause for a moment to look around my room. I know there are microphones in here, and even with the assistance of Haymitch's paranoid mind, we haven't been able to figure out where they are. I step closer to my friend and tentatively wrap my arms around his waist. He freezes, letting his arms hang in midair for a few awkward moments until he brings them to rest around my shoulders. He bends his head down to burrow his nose in my hair, and while I want to allow him this kindness, I can't help the slight flinch of my body when I feel him inhale my scent. So, I hastily continue with what I want to tell him, speaking softly into his chest. "I don't trust them, Gale; I wouldn't put it above 13 to use soldiers from the other districts to serve as cannon fodder." When I feel him start to pull away, I grimace and hurry my words along. "I know you don't like my opinion," I say. "Just…be careful."

This time, I let him go and take my own step back to restore the space between us.

"The next time I see you, it'll be a different world," he tells me, as though I could ever forget.

"Mmmm," I hum out in agreement, and step to the side as my best friend walks away.

He's right, of course. No matter what happens in 2, it will be a different world. Either Snow dies, and the tyranny of the Games end, or my allies die, and my world will implode, dragging me down with it.


A/N: The song used in this chapter is "From Now On" from the film The Greatest Showman. While I absolutely love the original version, the Zac Brown Band's rendition is a bit more fiddle-heavy, and served as my inspiration for the wedding dance scene.

Also, a big warm thank you to everyone who takes the time to read, review, favorite, and follow this story, your enthusiasm for this story makes me want to ugly cry with gratitude.