CHAPTER 3

PART I

"Grandpa?"

Coriolanus Snow looked up from the document that he had been reading, an expression of annoyance briefly flitting across his face, only to be quickly replaced by a warm, genuine smile.

"Yes, Andromeda?"

The girl stood in the doorway to Snow's personal study, fidgeting slightly. "I'm sorry to bother you...I know you've told me before to never bother you in here, but -"

"It's quite all right, Andromeda." Snow lays his pen down on his ornately carved mahogany desk and deliberately closes the file cover of the document that he had been reading. Wearily, he rubs his fingers over his eyes, and then sits back in his high-backed chair. "Come in, my dear." He beckoned her in with one hand. "Your timing is perfect. I need a break from my daily minutiae -" he patted the folder as he said this "- so I will overlook your entering my inner sanctum." He said this last with another smile. "Is something troubling you, child?" Snow added.

Andromeda Snow slipped into the room, sliding into a straight-backed chair in front of Snow's desk. "It...it's about the Games, Grandpa."

Snow slowly and deliberately steepled his fingers, resting his chin on their tips as he gazed at his granddaughter. "What about the Games, Andromeda?"

Andromeda shifted around uncomfortably in the hard chair before speaking again. "I've heard that they...well, that they were cancelled this year. Is that true?"

Snow hesitated before replying to Andromeda's question. "The Games are merely delayed, Andromeda. They will be rescheduled to a later date."

"When?"

Another look of annoyance crossed Snow's face. "Andromeda, that's not a question that I can answer right now," he replied sharply, and then immediately regretted his tone when he saw the look of dismay flicker across his granddaughter's face. "There have been some problems in the districts," he went on in a much softer tone. "But once the districts are calmer and these issues have been...settled...then we'll work on rescheduling the Games."

Andromeda's eyes dropped to her lap as she asked in a soft voice, "Does that mean that Peeta and Katniss will be coming here as Mentors?"

Mentors to what? Snow thought. District Twelve is dead. But, if my suspicions are correct, and the Reaping Day Uprising was, in fact, orchestrated by District Thirteen, rather than merely supported by those separatists, then perhaps it's time that Thirteen be assimilated back into Panem...once this ill-advised Rebellion has been crushed once and for all. Snow nodded slightly in satisfaction. And I can think of no greater punishment than to force Katniss Everdeen to Mentor her own beloved sister...after, of course, she witnesses the executions of Haymitch Abernathy and Peeta Mellark.

"Of course, Andromeda," Snow finally replied with another smile. "After all, what would the Games be without Victors returning here to Mentor their newest Tributes?"

Andromeda's eyes light up as a relieved smile crossed her face. "So they will be coming here?"

"I can guarantee it," Snow said reassuringly. Oh, yes. Those three traitors will appear before me, securely shackled as prisoners, as enemies of the Republic. I know they're alive and well in District Thirteen. Our operatives there have confirmed that. Snow glanced at Andromeda's hopeful face and he gives her a reassuring smile. It's a pity that I must disappoint Andromeda by executing the Mellark boy. In time she will understand that being President of Panem bears great responsibility.

"Thank you, Grandpa!" Andromeda leapt from her chair and she skipped around the massive desk to hug Snow tightly. Snow awkwardly returned the gesture, patting his granddaughter lightly on her back.

"You're quite welcome, Andromeda," Snow said warmly, gently disengaging himself from the girl's embrace. "We'll talk later. Run along, now, and let me return to my duties."

Snow watched fondly as Andromeda skipped out of his study. That girl is the one true light in my life, he thought, as his eyes dropped to the folder on his desk. He sighed softly, picking up his pen and opening the folder, and quickly re-reads the document. In large, bold letters across the top, the words ORDER OF EXECUTION leaped off the page. Snow quickly scanned the remainder of the document, nodding in satisfaction, and then signs his name with a flourish at the bottom.

Perhaps, Snow thought as he carefully closed the folder, watching the televised execution of Peeta Mellark's Stylist and Prep Team will shake up the Blood-Soaked Lovers of District Twelve just a bit.

"Well, that's not what I heard."

Andromeda sighed impatiently as she glared at Sperantia Blackstone. She and Sperantia had been best friends for as long as Andromeda could remember. Sperantia's father was the Minister of Security in her Grandpa's cabinet, so Grandpa considered her to be an "appropriate" friend for Andromeda to have. Andromeda, however, had no interest in politics. All she knew was that she was closer to Sperantia than she was to her own father...closer, in fact, to anyone with the exception of her Grandpa.

"Go on, Speri," Andromeda urged her friend. "What did you hear?"

The two girls were sitting cross-legged on Andromeda's massive bed. Sperantia leaned forward, tucking a stray lock of her jet-black hair behind one ear, and said conspiratorially, "I overheard my father talking on the phone the night that it happened. Twelve is gone, Meda! My father personally ordered the hovercraft to bomb it!"

"I don't believe you," Andromeda replied lamely. District Twelve just couldn't be gone. Of course, Andromeda knew about the news blackouts following the Reaping Day Uprising, but, in spite of ugly rumors that she had heard, she had found it impossible to believe that Katniss Everdeen or Peeta Mellark had anything to do with the problems there, even though she had personally heard Katniss's speech that ignited the Uprising in Twelve.

Sperantia sighed in disgust. "Oh, Meda. You are such a child sometimes! I'm telling you, my father ordered the attack, on the orders of your grandfather!"

Andromeda said nothing. Could it be true? Grandpa acted like the Uprisings that had taken place in District Twelve, and continued to take place in other districts, were nothing more than a minor, ill-timed annoyance. He had said that the Games were just delayed, and he all but promised that Katniss and Peeta would be coming to the Capitol to Mentor the latest batch of Tributes from Twelve.

But...what if what Sperantia was saying was the truth? What if Twelve had been bombed? There hadn't been any news out of Twelve since the Reaping Day Uprising. And, in spite of Grandpa's reassurances, Andromeda had noticed that he had been working much longer hours than normal, and that there was a steady stream of high-ranking government officials coming in and out of the Palace...including Sperantia's father, Minister Blackstone.

It wouldn't be the first time that things were kept from me, she thought. I'm so sick of being treated like a child! "Suppose you're right," Andromeda said slowly. "What happened to Katniss and Peeta?"

Sperantia leaned forward again, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. "I overheard my father say that they probably got away. A lot of Twelves got away, and some people from Capitol Liaison also. They had help." Sperantia pauses for a moment. "People with guns."

"Guns?" That made no sense to Andromeda. Peacekeepers had guns. Grandpa's security had guns. But just regular people didn't have guns. It was against the law. Possession of any sort of weapon was punishable by death. "Where could they get guns?"

Sperantia shrugged. "Who knows? I overheard my father say that they had help from some traitor Peacekeepers. But others had guns there too." Sperantia's face softened. "Meda, I know how close you are to your grandfather. But he's not telling you everything. There won't be any Games this year. This is more serious than what the Holo broadcasts are saying. I'm only telling you this because you're my best friend."

"I know, Speri." Andromeda leans forward, hugging her friend tightly. "Thanks for being my friend."

"Well, someone has to!" Sperantia smiled warmly at the other girl. "Hey, enough talk about Uprisings and Rebellions and shit. Check this out." Sperantia pulled her black hair away from the side of her throat, exposing an ornate flowered tattoo there. "I got this the day before yesterday. Awesome, huh?"

Andromeda examined the tattoo closely, complimenting her friend. But she couldn't stop thinking about Katniss and Peeta, and the rest of District Twelve. Grandpa always said that all the districts work together to support all of Panem. But if that's true, then why did the people in Twelve live in shacks, and why did they eat rats? Was that why they were angry? Was that why there was an Uprising? And why were Katniss and Peeta involved? They were Victors! They weren't poor or starving anymore!

And later, that night, long after Sperantia had gone home, when Andromeda was lying awake, staring up into the darkness, she came to the conclusion that someone was not telling her the truth about the way things really were in Panem. The only problem was, she didn't know who was lying. Was it Katniss and Peeta, or Sperantia?

Or was it her beloved grandfather?

PART II

"Wakey, wakey!"

I awakened instantly at the sound of the playful voice. I blinked my eyes several times, trying to clear the sleep from them as I looked around the dimly lit room in an attempt to locate the source of the voice.

The source, as it turned out, was perched on the end of my bed. I had risen up on one elbow while searching for the person that had spoken. Now I collapsed back onto the thin mattress with a groan.

"Hello, Gamma," I muttered. Shit. Part of me had hoped that I was through being visited by my former ally. And another part of me was glad that she was here.

"Well, nice to see you, too, asshole!" Gamma snapped. She stood up from her seat on the end of the bed, smoothing down her shapeless Community Home dress. "And here I thought you'd be glad to see me after all this time!"

"Give it up, Gamma," a new voice chimed in. Gale Hawthorne stepped out of the shadows, fixing me with an icy glare. "Can't you see he's less than thrilled that we're here?"

"Look," I sputtered, "I'm just surprised, that's all. We've been having a rough time of it here. Things...things aren't how I thought they'd be, that's all."

"Yeah, we figured," Gamma replied with a smirk. She quickly glanced around the room. "By the way, nice place you got here."

"I'll say," Gale added. "Much nicer than that musty old house in Victors' Village." He paused, crossing his arms over his chest. "Then again, that house is nothing but a pile of ash now."

I sat up all the way, swinging my legs off the bed. I reached down, fumbling for my prosthetic, finding it after a moment or two and then snapping it into place. "Look," I muttered, "if you came here to gloat and give me shit, you can leave now. I'm not in the mood."

"What's the matter, Mellark?" Gale smirked. "Not used to sleeping alone?"

Now it's my turn to glare at Gale. "As a matter of fact, Hawthorne -"

"That's enough!" Gamma shouted. "Townie, look," she went on in a softer voice, "we didn't come here to fight with you."

"Then maybe you should tell me why you are here," I snapped, as Gale and I continued to glare at each other.

"To give you news," Gamma replied quietly. "Your brother and his wife, and Cressida...even your mother...they all passed over, just like your father and Quinn did."

So much had happened recently that I scarcely had time to think about my family. My father and I had always been close, and I had learned that I could still love him even when I had been angry with him. And Quinn...I had never been especially close with either of my brothers, but Quinn and I had been the closest in age. His death had hit me hard...almost as hard as Poppa's.

But hearing Gamma talk about my mother and brother...that's when it really hit home. They were gone also. Gone in the inferno that had engulfed District Twelve. I felt tightness in my chest as a wave of emotion washed over me. I hadn't thought about what had happened in District Twelve...in fact, I hadn't allowed myself to think about it. And it wasn't just about my mother, brother, and my brother's wife. My Aunt Rooba, my father's older sister, who had run the butcher shop for as long as I could remember, along with her two sons and one daughter...my cousins...didn't make it out of the district before the bombs fell. I was the last surviving member of my family.

"Thanks," I muttered. The last. I was the last. I wish I could have cried. Instead, I just felt empty inside, like someone had opened me up and poured my feelings out. Was I becoming something that I never wanted to be? Was I getting so accustomed to death that even the deaths of family members don't move me anymore?

"There's something else," Gale said grudgingly.

I glanced up at Gale, fighting to keep my face a neutral mask. "What?"

"She's the key."

My brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"She's the key," Gale recited. "Look to the stars, and never lose Hope."

"That doesn't make any sense!" I snapped angrily.

"Hey, Mellark, don't get all pissy with me!" Gale glowered at me. "I'm just delivering a message here!"

"A message?" I parroted. "A message from who?"

"I don't know!"

"Well, who told you to say it?"

"I don't know!" Gale snapped. "Just 'She's the key. Look to the stars, and never lose Hope!'"

"'She's the key?' Is it about Katniss?" I asked.

"No," Gale replied, his voice suddenly subdued. "No, it's not about Katniss."

"We have to go, Townie," Gamma added. "Look, you're smart. You'll figure it out."

"It doesn't mean anything to me," I muttered. "And I'm supposed to just 'figure it out?'"

"You'll understand eventually," Gale said, and then added, "and look...sorry I gave you shit earlier. About Katniss, I mean. I know you're doing right by her."

"It's okay," I murmured. I realized then how hard it must be for Gale, sitting in his twilight world, not able to communicate with Katniss...or could he?

"Before you go, I have to ask you both something," I suddenly said.

Gamma, who had been examining the scheduler, pulled her arm from the recess in the wall and turned back toward me. "What?"

"Why me?" I asked.

"Why you, what?" Gale responded quizzically.

"Am I the only one that you two..." I left the rest unspoken.

"Haunt?" Gamma finished with a smirk. "As a matter of fact, yeah."

"But why just me?" I turned to Gale. "I would think that you would want to communicate with Katniss, and -"

"It don't work that way," Gale interrupted. "Look, don't you think I want to talk to her?"

I glanced first at Gale, then back at Gamma. "I don't understand. Why am I the only one?"

"Remember the end of your Games?" Gamma asked. "When the hovercraft picked you up? You almost died, Townie. In fact, you did die...at least for a few seconds. But that was enough."

"Enough? Enough for what?" I asked almost plaintively.

"You've been there. You've been to our side." Gale explained patiently. "Cressida, before she finally finished dying, she was like you. One foot with the living, the other with...us. She wanted to go back, but there was nothing we could do. She fought it. That's why she hung on to life as long as she did."

"But if she'd managed to go back, she'd be like you," Gamma added. "She'd be able to see us and talk to us just like you can."

"But you said that she 'passed over,' whatever that means," I pointed out. "Does that mean that she's somewhere else?"

"Yeah," Gale nodded, before adding wistfully, "Gamma and I will be there someday too. We're here because we have unfinished business."

"What kind of 'unfinished business?'" I asked.

Gamma smiled. "You and Katniss." She placed her hand on my forehead and pushed gently, forcing me back onto my narrow bed. "Go back to sleep, now, Townie. Remember what we told you. We'll stop by again soon."

The sound of the first call alarm jolted me awake. I forced my eyes open and stumbled out of bed, nearly falling flat on my face when I stood up, not realizing until that moment that I wasn't wearing my prosthetic. I could have sworn I put it on during Gale and Gamma's visit. I don't recall taking it off after they left. In fact, I don't remember them even leaving.

Almost angrily I shut off the first call alarm, before hopping back to the bed to snap my prosthetic in place. "'She's the key,'" I mumbled as I pulled my clothes on. "'Look to the stars, and never lose Hope.'" I shake my head angrily as I clomp over to the scheduler to get my daily schedule inked onto my forearm. "What the fuck does all that mean? And who is 'she' if not Katniss?"

I desperately wanted answers, but I knew that I wasn't going to get them today. According to my schedule, I have been summoned back to Command. It had been several days since Katniss and I had been virtually placed under "house arrest," our daily activities limited to meals...in our own separate mess halls...and mundane, make-work tasks designed, it seemed, more to keep us busy...and apart from each other...than anything else. I had been pulling kitchen duty since our blow up with President Coin. Snow only knows what Katniss had been assigned to do.

But all that was changing today. But first, as I slid my door shut behind me and headed off to my assigned mess hall, breakfast...with its inevitable stewed turnips...awaited me.

PART III

Jackson appeared at my breakfast table at exactly seven forty-five, just as I was mopping up the last of my stewed turnips with a slice of bread. As I chewed the tasteless offering, I lamented the fact that the cooks had refused to take any of my suggestions for improving the taste (or lack thereof) of any of their baked goods.

The mess hall was crowded, but I had a table to myself. Word of Katniss and I defying President Coin had spread, and no one wanted to be infected by actually sitting with one of the troublemakers. Jackson, apparently, had no such qualms. She marched up to my table; pulled out the chair opposite me, reversed it, and sat down, legs straddling the chair seat as she leaned forward, resting her arms on the chair back.

She nodded towards my tray. "How's breakfast?"

I drained the last of my water, setting the glass down carefully before answering. "Edible." I stand up, picking up my tray, along with my glass and utensils. "A little tea would be nice every now and then, though."

Jackson stood up as well, falling in step next to me as I carry the remains of my breakfast to the tray rack. "There's no nutritional value in tea. Same with coffee. We don't see either unless we're performing some task that may require a caffeine boost."

I slid my tray into the rack with a bang. "Like fighting a war, perhaps?"

Jackson doesn't reply. "Come on," she said flatly as we leave the mess hall. "I'm here to escort you to Command."

I said nothing until we're in the elevator and the car begins its descent to the Command Level. "I got my schedule this morning. I wasn't aware that I needed an escort."

"Perhaps," Jackson replied slowly, "you could try showing a little gratitude towards President Coin, instead of you and Katniss trying to subvert her authority at every turn."

"Is that what you think we're doing?" My hand slammed against the "STOP" button, and the elevator lurches to a halt between floors.

Jackson lunged forward, her hand reaching out for the "START" button, but I stepped to one side, effectively blocking her way. "Get out of the way," she ordered sharply.

"Listen to me first." I could see Jackson tense, and for a moment I'm afraid that I've overstepped my bounds. "Jackson. One minute. Please."

Jackson hesitated for a second or two before replying. "Talk." I watched as she slowly relaxes before speaking again.

"Don't think that we aren't grateful," I said quickly. "But you've known this way of life for, well, your entire life. You can't expect us to just accept it like you do. And it's all the shit that's been dumped on us...not wanting us to give Cressida a funeral, treating Effie, Cinna, and the rest like criminals...shit, even separating Katniss and I. We're not soldiers, Jackson. We never will be soldiers. We want the same thing that you, and Boggs, and even President Coin want...a free Panem. But there has to be some compromise!"

Jackson stood quietly the whole time I was talking, waiting until I was finished before she spoke. "Are you done?"

I nod as I stepped away from the elevator control panel. "Yeah."

Jackson punched the "START" button and the elevator lurched into motion again. "Don't think that I don't understand you," she said as we continue our descent. "I do, in a way that only Homes, Leeg, and Mitchell can relate to. But you need to understand us. And you never will if you, Katniss, and the rest keep fighting our system here. Compromise works two ways." The elevator sighed to a stop as we reach the Command Level and Jackson slides the doors open with a metallic clang. "And, just so you know," she added as we step out into the corridor, "I miss tea also."

I turned and glanced sharply at her, only to see her expression unchanged. "Come on," she said, beckoning me to follow. "We have a meeting to go to."

Jackson and I arrived in the Conference Room to find Katniss and Boggs already there. It didn't surprise me that Boggs had been sent to escort Katniss. And, even though it had been several days since Katniss and I had seen each other, we limited our greetings to smiles and whispered questions of "are you okay?" The significance of both of us being escorted to this meeting was not lost on either one of us. A clear message had been sent by President Coin to us both - "I'm in charge here."

We didn't have time for any small talk before the meeting. President Coin arrived seconds after Jackson and I, accompanied by her assistant, Henry Elliott, along with Plutarch Heavensbee, Plutarch's assistant Fulvia Cardew, and a fourth attendee...Haymitch Abernathy.

Haymitch really looks like shit, I thought as the quintet stepped to the table. Haymitch didn't say anything, but made eye contact with both Katniss and I, giving each of us a small, quick grin. Katniss and I acknowledge Haymitch with small nods as Coin pulls her chair out and sets her PADD and a small paper notebook and pen on the table to her front.

"Please be seated," she said quietly, lowering herself into her chair.

There's a brief scraping of chair legs on the concrete floor as we all quickly settled in to our assigned seats. I couldn't help but notice that Katniss had Boggs seated to her immediate right, while Jackson took the chair to my immediate left. Apparently, our escorts were there to ensure our best behavior.

I reach my right hand under the table and find Katniss's left hand. Her fingers immediately twine with mine as she gives my hand a strong, quick squeeze. It's the first direct contact that I've had with her since the day of our last meeting here. Her hand is warm in mine.

"Alright then," Coin said quietly. "Let's get started." She turned in her chair and faced Katniss and I. "We're faced with situations that we didn't anticipate." She paused for a moment, looking down at her notepad, before continuing. "After the events known in the districts as the Dark Days, we here in Thirteen were cut off from the rest of Panem. From the very beginning, we had to learn how to fend for ourselves for everything. And, against all odds, we survived. And discipline is the only reason why we survived. Discipline is ingrained in every resident of District Thirteen from birth."

Coin sat back in her chair and regarded Katniss and I solemnly. "When we decided that the time was right to re-ignite the Rebellion, we knew that we would need the support of all the other districts. But, as a result of our isolation from the rest of Panem, we weren't prepared for the issues that would arise from entering into alliances outside of our own, insulated world here...that is, until we were forced to assimilate two thousand refugees from District Twelve."

Coin paused for a moment, picking up a water glass that was set before her and taking a long swallow before continuing. "As President of District Thirteen, I'm accustomed to having my orders obeyed, without question and to the letter." She looked pointedly at Katniss and I as she said this. Oh, shit, I thought, here it comes.

"The residents of District Thirteen are, from birth, conditioned to discipline and immediate obedience to higher authority," she continued. "It's the only way that we have been able to survive all these many years as a completely autonomous district. You Twelves, however, have demonstrated a remarkable lack of discipline as well as an almost pathological distrust of authority."

As she spoke I could feel Katniss tense up next to me. I give her hand another squeeze in an attempt to both reassure her and to warn her at the same time. Not here, not now, Katniss. Let's hear her out.

"I make these points, not to be critical of the residents of the former District Twelve," Coin added, "but to reinforce the fact that there are differences between our two districts. Differences that the rest of the command staff and I did not adequately plan for. Add in the wild cards of the Capitol expatriates, as well as the Rebel Peacekeepers and the transportation specialists from District Six...well, you can see that we have a collision of worlds that we didn't anticipate."

As Coin paused again, Plutarch Heavensbee spoke up. "I'd like to add that the destruction of District Twelve was something that we never seriously planned for. We had anticipated a very strong response from President Snow...reprisals against the remaining populace, a virtual occupation of Twelve by Peacekeepers, and even a ground attack against the Rebel elements that escaped. We had known that there was a chance, of course, that Snow would order such an extreme response, but we thought that the chances of him actually ordering such a response were slim. We were wrong."

"Which brings me to another point," Coin added. "We had not anticipated that the refugee numbers would be as high as they are. This has caused a further strain on our resources here." I watched as Coin paused again and ran one hand over her eyes wearily. It was then that I noticed the heavy black circles under her eyes, and for a moment I almost felt sorry for her.

"Anyway," Coin continues, "back to the subject at hand. For the past several days, I have been in conference with both Colonel Boggs and Mr. Heavensbee, along with Mr. Abernathy -" she inclined her head towards Haymitch, who raised one hand laconically "- since yesterday, and we are all in agreement that, in light of our current circumstances and taking our inherent differences into account, that some compromise is in order." She turned toward Plutarch. "Mr. Heavensbee?"

Plutarch cleared his throat noisily before turning toward Katniss and I. "The Capitol expatriates, along with the Rebel Peacekeepers, shall be immediately released from re-education confinement for integration into District Thirteen." At this announcement Katniss and I both gasped audibly. This was a complete surprise to us both.

"They will be issued standard District Thirteen uniforms," Plutarch continued. "They will continue to wear their ankle bracelets with the stun feature disabled. Their movements within the district will continue to be monitored until further notice. If they should approach within three meters of any area off limits to them, their bracelet will emit a series of warning beeps that will cease once they have retreated from said off limits zone. If they should enter an off limits zone, a single continuous tone will sound that can only be turned off by an authorized member of District Security."

"Miss Everdeen," Coin adds. "Mr. Mellark. These Capitolites are on probation until further notice. Each of them will be instructed as to the various off limits zones so they don't inadvertently enter one in error. But, aside from their ankle bracelets, they will be treated like any other district resident. They will be expected to work; they will be allowed to participate in any leisure or recreational activities, and they will not be under armed supervision...as long as they don't violate the terms of their probation."

"What if they violate their probation?" Katniss asked.

Coin smiled unpleasantly. "The consequences will be immediate, and harsh. And there will be no second chance."

Katniss looked stubborn. "I want this in writing. And I want this to be announced to all of District Thirteen."

"Of course, Miss Everdeen," Coin replied smoothly. Once again, she turned to Plutarch. "Please continue, Mr. Heavensbee."

Plutarch glanced at both Katniss and I once again before he continued. "Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark will demonstrate their support for this compromise by consenting to participate in any and all propaganda recordings deemed necessary to bolster and reinforce the efforts of the Rebellion. Furthermore, Katniss Everdeen will consent to make both pre-recorded, as well as public, appearances as the Mockingjay...the living face of the Rebellion."

As Plutarch concluded his recitation, Coin turned to Henry Elliott. "The contracts, please."

Henry produced a set of documents from a portfolio that he had been carrying, which he wordlessly passed to Coin. As Coin quickly scribbled her signature on all three copies, she said, "As requested, Miss Everdeen. Everything in writing." She passed the stack to Katniss. "Please sign above your name on all three copies. And you as well, Mr. Mellark. Then return them to Soldier Elliott."

I watched as Katniss quickly signed her name as indicated. When she was finished she passed the stack to me. I picked up the top copy and read it thoroughly before signing. "If you don't mind," I said, "I would like to read this first."

"Of course," Coin replied smoothly. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Katniss shoot me a stricken look and I realized that she hadn't bothered to read what she had just signed. I gave her a quick, reassuring smile as I finished reading. I nod in satisfaction. Nothing was on the written page that hadn't been covered by Plutarch.

Satisfied, I signed my name with a flourish on all three copies, and then I slid the stack back to Henry, who quickly examines each copy, signing his own name to each, before taking two copies and passing them back to Katniss and I.

"Those are your copies," he explained.

"Thank you," Katniss and I both muttered.

"And this one is the archive copy," Coin said, tapping the paper with her pen. "As promised, I will read this at Mandatory Assembly this evening at nineteen hundred hours."

"What happens," Katniss began, "what happens if Peeta or I don't hold up our end of this contract?"

I already knew the answer to that. It was in the last line of the contract. "If you fail to discharge your duties as Mockingjay," Coin replied, her voice firm, "then the terms of this compromise will be null and void. The Capitol expatriates and the Rebel Peacekeepers will be immediately remanded back to re-education confinement...indefinitely."

"And," I added, glancing at Katniss, "so will you and I."

As I watched the color drain from Katniss's face, and saw the smug look on Coin's, I began to wonder if we somehow wouldn't have been better off making a deal with President Snow.

The rest of the meeting was devoted to two subjects - rescuing other Rebel Victors, and how Katniss and I would be used in the first propos.

Boggs updated us on the status of the efforts to pull the other Rebel Victors to District Thirteen. "First, the good news," he announced. "We've managed to establish contact with Finnick Odair."

Haymitch looked up sharply. "When? How?"

"Yesterday," Boggs replied. "It seems that the comm blackout was caused by some overzealous Rebels in District Four. They destroyed the main microwave complex as well as the Capitol communications exchange."

"How did you manage to contact him?" Haymitch asked.

Boggs smiled. "We didn't. He contacted us. By marine radio." Boggs looked down, consulting his PADD. "The broadcast was jammed after a minute or so, and the signal was weak, but he was able relay that he was okay and was heading to a predetermined rendezvous point on the northern coast."

"Colonel Boggs, please update us on retrieval plans," Coin ordered.

"Yes, Madam President." Boggs scrolled down his PADD screen. "Odair is on a deep sea fishing vessel, making its way up the coast. If he is able to maintain speed we will rendezvous with him tomorrow. We inserted a pick-up team earlier today. If Odair arrives on schedule, they'll signal us for pick-up. We have a stealth hovercraft standing by for that very purpose."

"What if he doesn't show up?" Haymitch asked pointedly.

Boggs turned and faced Haymitch, his face impassive. "The pick-up team will remain on station for forty-eight hours past the scheduled rendezvous time. If Odair fails to show they will exfiltrate back to District Thirteen using any means available."

"'Exfiltrate?'" I asked. "What exactly does that mean?"

"It means that they're on their own, kid," Haymitch replied grimly, glancing up at Boggs. "Ain't that right, Boggs?"

"Inserting the team was a calculated risk," Coin explained. "Retrieving Finnick Odair is an acceptable risk. However, if Odair doesn't show, we can't risk a stealth hovercraft simply to retrieve four soldiers."

"I don't believe this," Katniss muttered. "These are your people that you're talking about! And you would just leave them out there to die?"

"Miss Everdeen," Coin replied patiently, "first of all, this team is well trained in survival and evasion techniques. Number two; they are, perhaps, one week's march from here, on a section of coast that was actually part of the District Twelve territory originally. Finally, all four members of this team volunteered for this mission." She fixed Katniss with a baleful stare. "I don't waste people, Miss Everdeen...and, in light of our previous...encounters, I would appreciate your not presuming to lecture me on any matters pertaining to my soldiers. Am I clear?"

I felt Katniss stiffen and for a moment I was afraid that she was going to offer up some sort of sharp retort in response, but instead Katniss looked down and the table and mumbled, "Yes, ma'am. I apologize."

The ghost of a smile flits over Coin's face and I see her visibly relax. "Alright then. Let's continue. I believe Colonel Boggs has some further information regarding the plans for extracting Beetee Latier and Johanna Mason, and Mr. Heavensbee, along with Miss Cardew, want to share some ideas with regards to the propos that they wish to record." Coin turns back to Boggs. "Colonel?"

"Thank you, Madam President." Boggs taps his PADD screen. "Regarding the extraction of Beetee Latier. We -"

A loud buzzing noise emanates from the control pad set into the table between Coin and Henry Elliott. "One moment, Colonel," Coin said, visibly annoyed. One finger stabs a button on the recessed panel. "We're in conference. This had better be important."

"I'm sorry, President Coin," a voice replied. "Ma'am, Communications is picking up a broadcast from the Capitol. They thought that you should see it."

Coin sighed heavily. "Very well. Send it on through to the screen in here." Coin tapped another control and the main Holo-screen on the far wall of the conference room came to life.

I gasped audibly at the scene on the Holo. "That's City Circle," Katniss said quietly, the surprise evident in her voice.

"What the fuck is going on?" I heard Haymitch mutter. I wondered the same thing myself.

If I didn't know better, I would think that I was watching the Tribute Parade as, one by one, twelve chariots rumbled out of the Remake Center toward City Circle and the Presidential Palace. But there was something...different...with these chariots. Something sinister...even more so than the actual Games.

Each chariot carried two uniformed Peacekeepers, along with a third person. But, in contrast to the stark white of the Peacekeeper uniforms, the third occupant was dressed in a garish orange jumpsuit, and had a black hood pulled over their face. And, the third occupant was securely shackled.

There was a huge crowd assembled, exactly as there would be for the Tribute Parade, although there was an almost eerie quiet as the chariots made their way toward City Circle. In fact, we could distinctly hear the clop, clop of the horse's hooves on the pavement, as well as the dull rumbling of the chariot wheels.

"Is this a recorded broadcast?" I heard Coin ask.

"No," Plutarch replied. "It's live. It's happening now."

"Really," Haymitch muttered again. "Pretty fuckin' early in the day for Capitolites, then."

As we watched, the chariots entered City Circle and, one by one, stopped. And, just as if this was the actual Tribute Parade, we watched as President Snow stepped forward on the balcony overlooking City Circle, raising his gloved hands as though to quiet the already silent crowd.

"My fellow citizens," Snow intoned gravely, "normally, this would be a time of celebration as, once again, we gather to honor the Treaty of Treason that had given us seventy-five years of blissful, uninterrupted, peace." Snow paused, looking down at the chariots. "However, it is with a heavy heart that I must announce that the Treaty of Treason has been torn asunder...broken by radical elements within our very population."

A muttering rose from the crowd at this announcement. "I am here to assure each and every one of you that the Hunger Games has been delayed only, and they will resume once these minor uprisings in a handful of districts have been quelled." This announcement was greeted with enthusiastic applause and cheers from the assembled thousands. It was the first real noise that we had heard this crowd make. "In the meantime, I give you this." Snow paused and looked down at the chariots. "Bring the first four forward!"

Immediately, four shackled, orange-clad prisoners are roughly pushed from the four chariots closest to the balcony, stumbling but held upright by their Peacekeeper escort, and are marched into the center of the circle, where they are all forced to kneel. "These four radicals are not the first to face our justice, and they won't be the last. But you, the good, loyal, citizen of the Capitol, deserve to see the faces of those that betrayed us...that betrayed you."

On cue, a Peacekeeper standing to the right of each of the kneeling prisoners reached down and ripped off the black hoods, and I gasped audibly, as did Katniss, Haymitch, Plutarch, and Fulvia Cardew, when their faces were revealed. They are faces that I knew oh too well.

The kneeling prisoners are my Stylist, Portia, and my Prep Team.

"No," I choke, as Katniss's hand tightens on mine. "Not them. Not Portia!"

"The wheels of justice turn swiftly," Snow intoned, his voice solemn. "Let all citizens of Panem know that punishment for treason is swift, sure...and final."

As Snow spoke, a Peacekeeper standing directly behind each kneeling prisoner raised one arm. A pistol was clutched in each white-gloved hand. As I watched, Portia raised her head one final time and looked defiantly at the camera. Her lips seemed to be forming a word. What she wanted to say, however, will forever remain unspoken.

Because, when Snow said the word "final," all four pistols barked as one.

And I watched on the Holo as Portia's face exploded.