My heavy eyelids creak open, revealing yet another dimly lit room. Eyes scanning the ceiling, I attempt to lift my head, but it's a struggle. All my limbs feel heavy. A shot of terror rushes through me. What if I'm strapped down to a table right now? What if they're about to cut my tongue out? What if they already did?

No. No, I'm not in the Capitol, or at least not in Snow's hands. Somebody came and took us. Hopefully somebody with less sadistic designs on my life. Managing to turn my head a little, I see tubes in my left arm stemming from multiple IV bags. One of them is definitely some kind of painkiller. There's pressure and pulsing in my head, yes, but no pain. I feel warm and light, kind of like I'm pleasantly buzzed, only nicer. Whoever took us, I like them already.

"Johanna." A familiar female voice swims through my hazy consciousness. Head lolling to the right now, I let my eyes float over to take in the blurry figure looming over me. Her features fade in and out of focus as her fingers slip around my palm and give it a squeeze. Blonde hair pulled up into a bun. Striking blue eyes with creases feathering off to the sides. "Johanna, hey," she says. "You're safe now."

Squinting hard, I manage to get her entire face into focus. "Mrs. Everdeen?" She nods, her shoulders relaxing at my lucid response. "Where's Katniss?"

"She's here too," she says, sweeping her thumb back and forth over the back of my hand. "She's just in another room."

My brow furrows. "Where is here?"

"The hospital, in District Thirteen."

"Thirteen?" My eyelids flutter as I attempt to process this. "Thirteen's a radioactive wasteland."

Mrs. Everdeen smiles ironically. "That's what we thought too."

My left temple throbs harder and I dig my fingertips into it with a grimace. "Where's Prim?"

"She's with Katniss."

"Of course," I say, eyes rolling at my own stupidity. Then they narrow. "Why aren't you?"

"You're our family too. I didn't think you should wake up alone." Now her smile is genuine, if a little strained. Her thumb starts doing that motherly rubbing thing again. "Peeta and Gale and Madge, they're all with Katniss too. Finnick's with Annie Cresta, she was taken hostage after the Quell but they got her out too."

That's a lot to process. For the moment I just account for the names. "What about Scar Caskey?"

"I'll send her down after the doctors finish looking her over."

"What?" Suddenly up on my elbows, my eyes widen in alarm. "She was in prison with us? They left her behind too?"

"She split from the group after you left," says Mrs. Everdeen. "Didn't leave them much choice."

My shoulders slump. It's my fault for leaving. I was her only link to the group, she must have thought she would be first on their kill list if the trap took out the competition. "Fuck."

"Don't worry, she's fine. Annie and Katniss, they're fine. It's you you should be worrying about. You're the only one who…"

"Was tortured?" Mrs. Everdeen twitches her mouth and I grunt inwardly. "Well, there was good reason for that."

"They used you to force Katniss into speaking for them. I know, she told me."

"I was gonna say because I'm a traitor," I huff. "'Force' is a strong word." Swivelling on my ass, I start to swing my legs over the edge of the bed. "I need to go see her."

"Katniss?"

"Scarlett."

Eyes flickering, Mrs. Everdeen rests a concerned hand on my shoulder. "Johanna, you need to rest," she tells me. "You've had some serious head trauma and that takes time to heal."

"I'm f-" The world spins as I fully sit up, making me wince and grab the side of the bed. "Okay."

Mrs. Everdeen gives me a sympathetic smile and shoulder squeeze. "Sleep, now." Helping me lie back down, she pulls the blankets up over my shoulders. Normally I'd scowl at someone tucking me in, but these are extraordinary circumstances. Instead my eyes fall shut with a contented sigh.

The next time I wake, my head is clearing a bit and I feel stronger. When Mrs. Everdeen brings me a tray of breakfast, she explains the improvement is because there's nutrients in my IV bags as well as the painkillers. She also gives me explicit instructions to rest. But now that I'm more lucid and starting to feel better, it's harder. I fidget, toss and turn in the confines of my bed. Eventually I decide this is bullshit and take my IV pole for a roll around the room, stretch my legs a little.

This walk is harder than I expected. It seems the floor is shifting under my feet, slowing my progress. Each step takes concentration, and pressure starts growing in my skull. I only walk for a minute or two before a stabbing pain in my head sends me back to bed. More disoriented and nauseated with each step, I barely make it, dragging myself back up onto the mattress. I'm breathing heavily as I lie back, and not just from the exertion. My hands tremble and I squeeze them together to still them, try to take calming breaths as I learned in combat training. I'm hurt, but I'll get better. I'll get better.

Sometime after a lunch I'm really not in the mood for, Scarlett shows up. "What took you so long?" I ask.

"I came to see you last night, but you were passed out. Mrs. Everdeen said to let you sleep."

"She's my jailer." As Scar comes closer, I notice a tracker clamped around her ankle. "What's with the fancy anklet?"

Scar shrugs half-heartedly. "Have to keep tabs on me, in case I'm a spy or something."

"You helped save Peeta and Katniss," I say.

"Yes, but I was only the muscle," she points out. "I didn't know about the plot. Same reason the Capitol went easy on me. They knew I didn't know anything. Didn't even bother torturing me for information, just gave me a bunch of lectures about loyalty and falling in with the wrong crowd."

I snort. "Maybe I'm the one who got off easy."

Smiling tightly, Scar brushes her fingers through my hair. "You're so brave."

Grabbing her hand from where it trails down my cheek, I give it an urgent squeeze and catch her eye. "I'm gonna tell them you're good. I won't let them hurt you just because you're from Two."

"Peeta took care of that," says Scar. "He demanded amnesty for all of us."

"What?"

"After that second interview with Katniss, he told them she was only saying those things because they were torturing you. He could tell. He knows how she gets when someone she loves is in danger."

My face scrunches up as I try to connect those two pieces of information. "Okay…"

"They want him to be their spokesman," clarifies Scar. "Apparently he wasn't super keen on it, he wasn't sold on the war either. But he said he'd do it if they rescued us and promised to give all of us amnesty. He was worried they'd try Katniss as a war criminal. What she said really hurt the rebel cause."

"Shit." I set my jaw. "I was afraid of that. I was so mad at her."

Scar shrugs. "She just wanted to save you."

My eyes flash up to hers. "You've talked to her?"

"Briefly. She's on bedrest too, has a whole bunch of chest wounds." Right. The footage no doubt cut out as soon as the forcefield blew out, no one would have seen how Katniss got her second stab wound or surgical incisions. That's comforting, actually. "She can handle more visitors, though," adds Scar. "They're being really strict on how much stimulation you can have. With your head and all."

My lip drags between my teeth. "Scar, Mrs. Everdeen said Gale and Madge were here? Katniss's friends?"

"Yeah."

"Well, what are they doing here? Why aren't they in Twelve?" My brow furrows at a memory. "Gale… Gale was part of the rescue. He was done up like a soldier."

"He is a soldier, he's in Thirteen's military," she explains. "They've been here a few weeks. After…" Scar pauses, eyes flitting away. Swallowing faintly, she exhales and slowly drags her eyes back up to mine. "A few days after the Quell, Peeta demanded they all be evacuated. His family, Katniss's, their friends and their friends' families. He was afraid the Capitol might target them. They'd already captured Annie Cresta and taken her prisoner, Finnick was losing his shit."

My eyelids flutter. That's the second offhand mention of Finnick and the reclusive victor. "Is… she like his girlfriend or something?"

Scar laughs, a little too hard. "Oh, honey," she says, playfully shaking my knee. "You've missed out on all the victors' drama."

"Is that a yes?"

"Very. They were making out in the hospital, it was fucking gross."

A quiet knock interrupts us. "Caskey, time," murmurs a male voice from the hallway.

Next thing I know, I'm clutching her wrist. "Don't leave me here. I'm bored out of my skull."

"I think that's the idea," she says. My other hand snaps out and latches onto hers. I'm too proud to say how lonely I am, but I know my desperation is evident in my eyes. Just like in the Capitol, agony paired with boredom is unbearable. This is a different kind of agony, psychological rather than physical, but it's still very real. Scar pats my cheek with her free hand. "I'll come back soon. I promise."

And she does, though not until after dinner. "They said I could come back, as long as we didn't talk," she whispers. I nod and she slips into my bed and pulls me in close. After all the hours of isolation I've spent here and in the facility, this simple act makes tears well up in my eyes. I squeeze her arm that's wrapped around me, this reminder that I'm not alone.

I am alone when I wake up the next morning, and it sends a chill through my bones. Every time I have no one here to ground me, I fear I've woken up back in the facility. I press my call button until a nurse shows up with my breakfast, calming my nerves a little. My next visitor comes a few hours later, unexpected but most welcome. Seeing her enter the room pulls me up into a sitting position. "Prim, hi," I say, squinting against the discomfort caused by my head's sudden change of position.

"Hey." She walks across the floor and into my arms, squeezing me gently. She's gotten taller, that's for sure. When she steps back, I see another change too. There's something about her eyes. They look less bright, somehow, matching her deadened expression. She seems about five years older, and we haven't even been apart for one.

My brow furrows and I grip her arm. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," she says. "Why do you ask?"

"You look like you've been through the wars."

"I have." Prim's eyes flick away. "Things got rough in Twelve after you left. I'm sure you can imagine."

"I can," I say, squinting in concern. "I'm sorry."

"Never mind," says Prim, forcing a smile. "I'm not here to talk about all that."

"What are you here for, then?"

"It's been nearly a week since your last head trauma. The doctors say you need to start moving around and using your brain a bit more. So it doesn't get used to doing nothing."

"You work here," I gather, noting the white jumpsuit. Her mom has been wearing one too, it's got to be a medical thing.

"Yeah. When they pulled us out of Twelve, they gave us the option to join Thirteen's society until we can safely return," says Prim. "Usually they don't join the military or hospital staff until they're fourteen, but Mom convinced them to let me work here too, when I don't have classes. I needed to do something to help."

That's just like Prim. I smile. "I'm glad you're safe."

"Me too. Things were getting worse, the Peacekeepers were harassing everyone after the Quell, especially us. I don't know what would've happened if they'd left us there." She blinks away with a frown. "But I feel bad for everyone else still there, especially now with Mom gone. Most people in Twelve can't afford real doctors."

"I know, Prim. I lived there for a year," I snark.

She gives me a look but otherwise ignores my attitude. "Okay, let's get you up and moving."

I pull my arm from her grip in protest. "Last time I tried I started feeling sick after like a minute."

"So we walk for two minutes," she reasons. "Gradually increase your tolerance."

"Prim-"

"Johanna. Trust me. Trust the doctors."

I'm not much inclined to trust any doctors, but Prim is another story. And if she trusts their judgement, maybe I should too. So I let her help me off the bed and begin shuffling around the room under her direction. Standing beside her with her arm around me, it's clear she's at least an inch taller than me now, and it's very disconcerting. Leave a teenager for eight months and they shoot up like a bean sprout. When she doesn't spontaneously start a conversation as usual, I do. "So, how's Katniss? Is she still on bedrest?"

"When she's not doing physical therapy. Kind of like you." Prim's eyes snap up and I think I see a spark of enthusiasm in them once more. "Do you want to see her? I might be able to swing it."

I shake my head, averting my gaze. "No." As much as I hate to disappoint Prim, I'm not ready to talk to Katniss yet. At least not about what she will surely want to discuss.

"She didn't think you would," mumbles Prim. "You're angry about the things she said." She squeezes my upper arm with an earnest "Johanna, she was only trying to protect you."

My head cants to the side. "I know why she did it, Prim. I was there."

Prim blinks away, focusing on the wall ahead of us. "Would you have let them hurt her if it was the other way around?"

"I don't know," I admit.

"The people we love can die anytime, Hanna," she says, voice hollow and distant as her gaze. "Life is too short for this. Don't waste it being mad at her."

I squint up at her. "You're sure being cryptic as fuck. What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing," she mutters.

That becomes my new routine. A rather unpleasant one, but at least it's something to look forward to amidst my discomfort and boredom. Prim comes one, then two, then three times a day to take me for walks and have me work on puzzles in small doses. My balance improves quickly, but if I walk too long or too fast I get a splitting headache and have to rest. The puzzles are taxing and make my head hurt, and I get frustrated easily. I end up throwing things across the room a couple times early on, but as the days pass my moods stabilize a bit.

Doctors come by every few days and inquire about my symptoms, probe my neck and skull, make me do weird things like stand with my eyes closed or slap their hands a bunch of times. They say I'm making progress. Gradually I'm allowed more visitors, and a steady stream of them appear. Peeta. Finnick and Mags. Beetee. Even Gale. Even Madge. I guess they all feel bad for me because I was tortured. None of them talk about it, though. I almost wish they would.

I've spent about two weeks in Thirteen before the doctors issue me a standard gray jumpsuit and say I can leave the room on my own. It's started to feel like yet another prison cell, but also a safe place. The rest of the hospital has bright, loud lights that hurt my head and remind me of the facility. Cabin fever wins out anyway and I decide to take advantage of my newfound freedom. I consider making a visit to Katniss's hospital room, but my gut starts churning in a combination of nerves and resentment on my way there, so I change my mind. Instead I go explore the rest of Thirteen.

I've only been out of the hospital twice, when Prim walked me to her family compartment on the top floor to visit Buttercup for a little creature comfort. Still, it was enough to get some idea how the place is laid out. Scar's been a frequent visitor and she told me her compartment number, so I decide to pop in on her. By the time I get there, I've planned where I want to go next. When her sliding door cracks open and one hazel eye peeks through the gap, my bright smile is there to meet it. "Wanna go outside?"

The door slides open the rest of the way and Scar slumps against the frame with a sigh. "I can't."

"Sure you can," I counter with a light punch to her shoulder. "You don't have anywhere else to be. You don't have a schedule."

She shakes her head glumly. "I go outside or into any military areas, my tracker alerts the guards and I get arrested."

My mouth falls open. "That's bullshit. Grade A, first class bullshit."

"It is what it is," mutters Scar. I squint up at her and she rolls her eyes. "Haven't you noticed? I'm a glorified prisoner. A tracker, no schedule, no military training. They don't know what to do with me. Only reason I'm not locked up is 'cause of Peeta." She toes the ground and grunts, "Never mind that I was on their side in the arena."

Jaw tightening, I growl, "Okay then, I'm gonna go tell that little pipsqueak he needs to demand better."

Scar grabs my forearm before I can turn to leave. "Peeta already did everything he could. People aren't happy about the demands he made and the president made it very clear he has to play by her rules or the deal's off and we'll all be locked up." As my shoulders fall, she makes a feeble attempt at a smile. "Just go without me. God knows you need some sunshine. You look like a ghost."

That's very true. I'm looking whiter than Peeta these days. Scar's treatment irks me but I can't come up with any solution on the spot, so I agree. I continue to sulk over it on my way to the surface, though, pondering possible solutions. But all my conscious thoughts melt away when I push through the door and bound out into the fresh air. My head tips back and eyes fall closed as I breathe in deeply through my nostrils. A slight wind cools my face, bringing a huge smile to my lips. Freedom.

Moments pass before I open my eyes, then they immediately squeeze shut again as a flash of pain fills my head. The second time I open them, I wisely shield them and squint out at the soldiers drilling on the field before me. There's some woods a little ways away, but the boundary fence blocks them off. Kind of like in Twelve. It's not much of an outdoors, but I'll take it. Fatigue is already starting to catch up with me, so I find a shady spot out of view of the soldiers and slide down the bunker wall until my butt's resting on the soft earth.

As comforting as the scenery is, the outdoors is a sensory nightmare for my tender brain. The sun is too bright even when it's not in my eyes, and the frequent bird calls make me wince. I'm determined to stay out here, though, take advantage of not having a schedule for as long as I can. Digging in my pocket, I find my bottle of morphling pills and swallow a tablet dry. I've been mostly weaned off the painkiller now but the doctors gave me a supply to use at my discretion when headaches spring up. Before long, that warm fuzzy feeling overtakes my consciousness and I smile up at the sky, savouring the brush of the wind on my cheeks.

I must doze off, because next thing I know I'm being poked in the shoulder. "Miss Mason." Unable to wake as quickly as usual under the influence of the drugs, I groan and force my leaden eyelids open. Then I'm suddenly very awake, startling at the pair of soldiers looming over me. Making myself take in a calm, deep breath, I note the gray of their uniforms and slump back against the wall, exhaling heavily. The man leaning over me shares a look of confusion with his female counterpart, then speaks again. "Miss Mason, we've been looking for you. President Coin wants to speak with you."

Judging from the stiffness of my joints, I've been out here several hours. The soldiers help me to my feet and escort me down an elevator and through a series of halls to a door marked 'Command.' The man knocks once, then they usher me inside and swiftly close the door between us. I gulp and survey the room. There's a few large screens on the walls and a long conference table in the middle of the room. Looking closer, I spot a control panel inlaid in the glass surface that appears to be lit from beneath.

A woman with a sheet of shoulder-length gray hair approaches me and extends a hand. "Miss Mason, it's an honor to meet you," she says in tone that, while warm, feels just a little bit patronizing.

"Uh, thanks," I reply, tentatively shaking her hand. There's something about her weirdly pale eyes that is extremely unsettling, but I can't help staring. "You too."

There's a slight waver in her expression, but she recovers quickly enough. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Alma Coin, President of District 13."

"Hi." My eyes shift around, noting the large but silent military-looking dudes standing at the other end of the room. "Am I in some kind of trouble?"

"No, not at all," she assures me. "Please, sit down." As we each take a seat, Coin rests an elbow on the table and clasps her hands, leaning in. "I wanted to thank you in person for your dedication, for the sacrifices you've made to ensure the rebellion's success. You will forever be remembered a hero once we topple this corrupt government and establish a new democratic republic."

Feeling my cheeks begin to flush, I tip my chin down into my collar. "Thanks." I wasn't sure what to expect coming here, but a parade of compliments didn't even cross my mind. And I need some advance notice if I'm going to pretend to be humble.

"No, thank you," Coin insists. "You showed other Peacekeepers they have a choice in who they fight for, or whether they fight at all. I don't know if you know this, but hundreds of Peacekeepers have deserted since the Quarter Quell. We've even had thirty-seven defect to the rebels, and that's just in the five districts we've established regular contact with. There's surely more in the others."

That reminds me of why I came in here so defensive. Crossing my arms, I tip my head with as much attitude as I think I can get away with. "How do you know they're really on your side?" Coin opens her mouth but I cut her off. "I'm just wondering 'cause I noticed my friend Scar Caskey is still wearing an ankle tracker and hasn't been offered any military training yet."

Coin raises her eyebrows. "She didn't come to us of her own volition, nor has she asked to be trained. She was rescued with the other victors as per our agreement with Soldier Mellark, but we can't be sure of her allegiances."

"You can trust Scar," I tell her, holding contact with those creepy ass eyes to convey my sincerity. "She suffered at the hands of the Capitol. The fact that she's from District Two shouldn't count against her. If Peacekeepers can defect, so can she."

"All defectors are treated with suspicion until they prove themselves. Your friend is no different." Coin pauses a moment, then offers, "If she wants to join our military, she can come talk to me and I'll decide if she's trustworthy. I'm sure Plutarch Heavensbee would be thrilled to have her on camera in a rebel uniform."

I purse my lips. "Scar's not just a pretty face, you know. She's a damn good fighter, too."

"True," admits Coin. "However, it's likely to be mostly gunfire on the front lines."

"Well, then it's a good thing you have me," I boast, sitting back with a grin.

Coin's face brightens. "As I hoped. You wish to join our military?"

"Fuck yeah. I want to destroy those bastards as much as anyone. When do I get to start?"

Her smile turns wry but sympathetic. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but you need to pass a medical exam before you can train, let alone fight. And trust me, you're a long way off." When my face falls, she adds, "In the meantime, however, we could use your intelligence. Here, in Command."

My brow furrows. "Intelligence? I didn't even finish school."

Coin tips her head down, expression completely devoid of any amusement. "Military intelligence, Mason."

"Oh. Right."

"Any information you can contribute to the war effort, we would gladly take."

My eyes narrow. "So why aren't I being treated with suspicion, like the other Peacekeepers?"

"You're the only one here, in Thirteen. And we trust you're not a spy or feeding us false information." Coin gives me a nod of approval. "You've proven yourself, Soldier Mason."

I cock an eyebrow. "By saving my girlfriend in the Quell?"

"By not cracking when you were tortured," says Coin. "You didn't even crack when your loved ones were threatened. That shows some serious commitment to the cause. Much more than Miss Everdeen has displayed."

My mouth twitches sheepishly. "To be fair, Katniss loves me a lot more than I love my parents."

Coin gives me a tight smile. "That may be so."

Scratching my head, I inquire, "So how is the war going, anyway? Are the rebels making any headway?"

Her lips purse. "They've had some minor victories, but the Capitol is still ruling the main towns of every district. Soldier Mellark's propaganda shorts seem to be bolstering morale, but there's still a lot of district citizens who are too afraid to fight." One eyebrow crawls up her forehead. "Or who think they shouldn't."

My eyes drop. "I'm sorry about the things Katniss said."

"That isn't your fault," says Coin.

"It is, though," I insist. "She wasn't going to say anything to help the Capitol until she saw them torturing me. She does have reservations about the war, same as Peeta. But she's not on their side."

"Her behavior on tour-"

"That was because of me, too. Snow had already threatened me then," I tell Coin. "Everything she's done, she's done to try to keep the people she loves safe. That's just who she is. Now that everyone's out of Snow's reach, I think she can be talked into helping the rebels." The president appears unmoved, so I lean in and make my case earnestly. "Look, if she goes on air and explains why she said what she did and that she didn't mean it, that could be huge."

"Her credibility has been destroyed," says Coin, stressing every word. "She hasn't been honest about anything, and changing sides once more isn't going to make people believe her now."

"If what she said is keeping some people from joining the rebels, clearly she still has some influence," I argue. "Give it a chance. Let me talk to her."

Coin appraises me with a look of vague amusement. "You can talk to her any time you want, Soldier. No one's been stopping you but you."

Feeling another wave of heat in my cheeks, I direct my gaze to the floor. "This is important."

When I manage to regain eye contact, Coin gives me a single nod. "Mr. Heavensbee still believes Miss Everdeen could be useful, but he hasn't had much luck convincing her to go on camera again. Maybe you can do better."

"Oh, if I'm good at anything, it's convincing Katniss," I assure her as I stand. "And I'm good at a lot of things."

***o***

Confidence in my persuasive abilities aside, my stomach is queasy as I take the last few steps to Katniss's hospital room. I couldn't name all the emotions plaguing me even if I tried. Peeking around the doorframe, I spy Finnick's mess of bronze curls and just a sliver of a dark brown braid behind it. My feet want to turn and flee but I know I have to face her eventually, so I step into plain sight before I can change my mind.

The sight of Katniss's face brings on a new wave of nausea and something that feels like a punch to the gut, making my breath catch. Despite those unpleasant sensations and my body's sudden rigidity, the corners of my mouth start to curl upward. I force them back down just in time as her eyes flit my way and go wide.

Finnick turns to investigate and smirks when he sees me standing in the doorway. "I'll come back." Patting Katniss's knee, he stands to leave. Winking as he closes in on me, he exits the room and whistles innocently as he retreats.

My eyes roll and land back on Katniss, who's staring at me wordlessly. Shifting my weight, I give her a stiff nod. "Hey." My greeting comes out gravelly and I swallow, resisting the urge to roll my eyes again, this time at myself.

"Hi," Katniss replies, a hopeful smile sprouting on her lips. "Mom told me they were gonna clear you today. Thought it would be earlier, though."

"Yeah, it was a little after lunch." That smile slides right off her face, but I don't react. Easing myself closer to the bed, I say, "Katniss, I'm sure you know this, but you're in deep shit. We need to fix it, before you end up dead."

Eyes falling to the blankets, she snorts under her breath. "Oh, that's why you're here."

"Why else would I be here?" I ask, tone as flat as my lips. Katniss's mouth slips open and I get a slight sense of satisfaction, until the hurt in her eyes forces mine away and makes me grimace. Toeing the floor, I tell her, "Peeta may have officially negotiated for our amnesty, but that's not going to stop someone who thinks you're a threat from going rogue."

Katniss gives me a doubtful look. "People actually think that?"

Scoffing hard, I roll my eyes. "Jeez, I wonder what could have given them that idea."

"Don't start," she snaps, voice and eyes gone dark.

Combing fingers through my hair, I sigh and get back on topic. "Look, if you do a propo for them you can undo the damage. Turn the tide of the war and get back on their good side."

Katniss blinks vacantly. "So Plutarch sent you."

The accusation makes me bristle. "No one sent me. This was my idea, I didn't even know Plutarch wanted you on TV."

"Yeah, it's more of the same shit," Katniss grumbles to the blankets. Sighing, she catches my eye again. "I'm sick of being used as a propaganda monkey. I don't even know who these people are or if I trust them. Besides, they left us behind once. Clearly they think I'm useless."

I shake my head without even having to think about it. "You're not useless."

"I am when it comes to this." Her shoulders slump in resignation. "Peeta's the one who's good at convincing people to do things, that's why they rescued him in the first place. They wanted someone inspirational to stir shit up, and that's his deal."

"That's not true." Sitting down in the vacated chair, I meet her gaze intently. "Words aren't your thing, sure, but you're the inspirational one. You inspired the rebellion. You inspired me."

Katniss raises an eyebrow half-heartedly. "Inspired you to get locked up and tortured? Halfway starved to death?"

My stomach turns, but I don't let it show on my face. "That was my decision," I state. "They offered me my job back if I'd go on air and renounce the things I said and did, but I said no." Katniss's expression wavers, throat bobbing slightly. "I thought you were dead and I still wanted to be the person you made me, not the person they wanted me to be."

She ducks her head, voice straining as she says, "That's still my fault."

"You didn't do anything wrong."

"You almost died because of me." Her voice finally cracks, eyes spilling over as she meets my gaze again. "So many people are dying because of me, because of what I inspired them to do." Sniffling, she swallows hard. "And not all of them had a choice. It's not just armed rebels. They're gunning down unarmed protestors in the streets. I saw it."

I sit back to view her at a distance, taking in Katniss in all her idiocy. "If the war ends now, things will only get worse. Maybe less people will die in combat, but they'll still suffer. Snow will crack down even harder. You know that, right? Even you aren't that stupid."

"Yes, I get that," she snaps. "And I want the rebels to win. Now that I'm out and I know District Thirteen is involved in the war effort, I can see the point of fighting. I could even see the point back when we were locked up. You remember I refused to say anything for Snow until they threatened you, right?" I roll my eyes and she tosses a hand in exasperation. "What did you expect me to do, Johanna, let them turn my girlfriend into an Avox?"

An impassive blink later, I surmise, "So you sold out so you could keep getting head."

This has the intended effect. Katniss shakes her head sharply, cheeks flushing red. "That's not what this was about."

"Are you sure?" I ask, tilting my head. "I know how good I am. Rave reviews, from boys and girls."

"Oh, grow up," huffs Katniss.

"Says the girl without the stones to withstand torture."

"It's not like they were torturing me," she protests. Leaning in, she grips my wrist earnestly. "Hanna, I couldn't let them hurt you. That's just who I am. Even if they were torturing someone I didn't know, I would've cracked. I can't stand seeing innocent people suffer, especially when I can stop it."

"I wasn't innocent," I counter. "I'd done lots to bring on their beatings before you even saw me. They didn't do anything worse to me in front of you than they did before."

"They were gonna cut your tongue out," she says.

"And I deserved that. The only reason they hadn't already was so they could make you feel like it was your fault if they did." Katniss's throat bobs again as she blinks away and I automatically cover her hand with mine. "Nothing that happened to me there was your fault."

Katniss meets my eyes, hers shining with unshed tears. "It sure felt like it," she all but whispers.

Her words make my throat ache, but I swallow it down. Drawing my hands back, I sit up straight. "All you're accountable for is what you said. And if you can convince people it was only because of me, hopefully the country will move past it."

"Will you?" she asks pointedly. I avert my eyes, unable to answer. Katniss sighs, and her voice sounds so small when she says, "I don't understand why you won't forgive me."

My fingers and jaw are starting to tremble and I squeeze them tight. "You know what I went through," I force through clenched teeth. "I refused to give in for weeks, because I believe in this movement. And then you went and undercut that by helping our enemies. It made my sacrifices worth nothing."

"That's not true. They were trying to use you to get to the Peacekeepers, me to get to the district citizens." Tipping her head, she reasons, "If you'd given in, maybe we'd have less defectors on our side."

"You were still working against me, Katniss!" Her emotionless attempts at logic are even more infuriating than usual. "You betrayed me, betrayed all I was suffering for. Do you know how many times I almost gave in, just to make it stop?"

"They wouldn't have let you," mutters Katniss.

My eyes narrow in a combination of irritation and curiosity. "What makes you say that?"

She shrugs. "They stopped trying to persuade you after a few days."

It strikes me as odd that she knows this, but I don't remark on it. "They knew there was no point." Crossing my arms, I sit back with a haughty sneer. "Unlike some people, I'm hard to break."

Her eyes flash with anger, cheeks going taut. "Your word was worthless to them," snaps Katniss. "They burned that bridge when they killed your parents. After that, nobody would have believed anything you said in their favor."

A head rush washes over me and I almost fall forward out of my chair. I get a grip on the arm just in time to save myself another head injury. Staring mutely at Katniss, I'm aware of my jaw and eyes going slack and wide, but I can't control it. Finally I manage a "What?"

For a second I think I see a flicker of regret in her expression, until it hardens into resolve. "They didn't want anyone to tell you yet, didn't think you could handle it. But you're a big girl."

"Did you just…" Mouth still hanging open, I scoff in disbelief. "Did you just use my parents' deaths to win an argument?"

Katniss stares at me blankly for a couple seconds. "I never said I was perfect. How else am I supposed to win an argument with you?"

"You're unbelievable." Head shaking slowly, I push myself to my feet. "You've always been insensitive, but that's a new low, even for you," I say as I turn to leave.

"Yeah, walk away," she calls at my back. "That's what you do."

Turning back for only a moment, I laugh lowly. Dangerously. "Trust me, you don't want me to stay." Then I spin on my heel and storm back to Command.

I'm positively fuming when I burst through that door, interrupting a meeting between Coin and a half dozen of her underlings. "Just when were you planning on telling me?"

"Soldier Mason-" begins Coin.

"Don't you 'Soldier Mason' me," I snap. "You've got some nerve. After everything I've been through, you go and take my autonomy too? Why does everyone assume I can't handle things, can't make decisions on my own? I'm an adult, I'm almost twenty fucking years old for fuck's sake!"

Shocked silence fills the room. Coin is the only one who appears unruffled. Calmly looking up at the delegation, she orders them, "Leave us. I'll send out an alert when we can resume the meeting." They begin to shuffle out, murmuring amongst themselves and throwing a variety of looks my way, none of them flattering. One of the guys from earlier hangs back, looking at me with concern, but Coin raises an authoritative eyebrow and he exits with the rest of them.

When we're finally alone, Coin nods to the seat beside her. "Johanna, sit down." I cross my arms and she motions toward it again. "Please." Edging closer, I plunk down with a scowl. "I'm sorry. I advocated for the doctors to tell you from the beginning, but they insisted it would be too much for you in your fragile condition. It's not my area of expertise, so I acquiesced."

My eyes roll back in my skull. "So I should go yell at the doctors and leave you the fuck alone, is what you're saying."

"No." That unexpected word snaps my eyes right back to Coin. Leaning in, she continues, "I am ultimately responsible for everything that goes on here. I could have overruled them, and I wish I had." She gives me a firm nod of acknowledgment. "After all you've done for the revolution, you deserve the basic respect of being informed. I'll make sure that from now on, you'll be kept up to speed."

"Thank you," I say emphatically. "The way everyone else has been acting, you'd think that was some extraordinary request."

Coin's mouth quirks in a half smile as she straightens up. "Not to me. You're not a victim, Soldier Mason, nor a mere piece of collateral. You're a war hero." My lips twitch, wanting to mirror hers, but they ultimately fall flat. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I just…" Eyelids fluttering, I swallow and take a steadying breath. "What happened to my parents? I mean, how did they die?"

Coin presses some buttons on the console before her, making a Panem TV video clip pop up on the large screen across from us. Just seeing that first freeze frame, my stomach starts sinking into my asshole. My mother and father are knelt on the ground in front of my childhood home, hands tied, flanked by two walls of Peacekeepers in full combat armor. The timestamp reads July 14, 18:28. Mere hours after I thought I'd called Snow's bluff.

"You said you want to be fully informed. I can respect that," says Coin. "But would you rather I tell you what happens?"

One slow blink later, I throw her some side eye. "And spoil the surprise?" Returning my gaze to the screen, I steel myself with a deep breath. This is something I deserve to watch. Something I need to. I owe them that.

As the clip plays, two Peacekeepers step forward and ready their guns. My father glares down the gun barrel and then into the camera. "Let the record show that we're ashamed of our daughter." He lifts his chin defiantly. "Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever."

The cracks in his false bravado show. There's a tremor in his hands and an undisguisable terror in his eyes. My mother, always the quieter one, says one single word. "John." His head turns and a shaky breath escapes him as he meets her steady gaze. He's still looking into her eyes when the bullet slices through his head.

My mom cringes at the gunshot, her eyes falling with her husband. A muffled sob bursts from her lips, a single tear rolling down her cheek as she turns her face from him. She glares up at the second Peacekeeper and gives them a nod. They fulfill that last request, ending her pain with a shot between the eyes.

For all their faults, nobody could ever say my parents didn't love each other.

The screen goes dark, but my eyes stay glued to it. It takes me a moment to dislodge the words and emotions clogging up my throat. "Is the rest of my family okay?" My voice sounds strange and robotic. Disembodied.

"As far as we know," Coin assures me tentatively. "District Two is still firmly in Capitol control, so all we know is what they've aired, plus bits of information from the rebel underground. They've only managed to make contact a few times."

"My hometown is remote," I mumble. "They wouldn't know anything about my family."

"No harm in asking," says Coin.

"No," I concur. "Thanks." Standing from my chair, I only drag my eyes from the screen as I turn to exit.

Coin's voice rises up behind me. "Where are you going?"

Deflating with a sigh, I make listless eye contact over my shoulder. "Does it matter?"

"You're looking rather faint." She squints in concern. "Do you need someone to walk you to the hospital?"

"I'd rather be alone."

Trudging through the halls of Thirteen, I keep my head and eyes down. My anger is long gone, given way to emptiness and disorientation. My head is buzzing, or maybe that's just the fluorescent lights. Though I know I can find solitude and quiet in my hospital room, that's the last place I want to go right now. So I meander around, nearly stumbling into a number of strangers on my quest for… I don't know what.

Eventually I come upon a janitorial closet and shut myself in there. Sliding down the wall next to a shelf of chemicals, I wring my fingers through my hair and rest my forehead in my palms. I'm already short of breath and slightly dizzy from the sustained exercise, but the longer I sit there the shallower my breaths get. My heart beats wildly, echoing in my head, and I dig my fingernails into my forehead in an attempt to ground myself. It doesn't work, only adding to the pain and pressure building up in my skull. Fumbling in my pockets, my shaky hands find the bottle of morphling and struggle against the childproof mechanism. Sighing in relief as it pops open, I toss a couple of pills into the back of my throat and swallow hard, willing them to unstick.

The aftertaste is bad, but it's worth it. Within minutes the pain begins to fade, and with it the anxiety. My breathing slows and muscles relax. Letting my head loll back against the stone wall, I stare into the darkness. The distant chorus of feet heading to the dining hall lulls me into a trance, pulling a stupid smile onto my lips. My last thought as I fade out of consciousness is that I should start carrying a water bottle.

***o***

Knees pulled into my chest, I watch like a hawk as the invader helps himself to the chair beside my bed. I recognize the young man from my team of doctors. He was always in the room with the others but never spoke, only observed. I thought he was there to learn and that's why he took all those notes, but apparently he's a head doctor. Doctor Boyd. After a custodian found me passed out in that closet last night, the team decided I needed to meet with this guy every day. Because there isn't already enough to worry about when it comes to my head.

Resting one ankle on his opposite knee, Boyd reclines in the chair with a smile. "So, Soldier Mason, how are you feeling today?"

"I'm feeling like this is a waste of my time." Boyd absorbs this impassively, keeping his expression receptive and pencil ready. My eyes narrow. "What am I even supposed to talk to you about? My feelings?"

"We could talk about the breakdown you had yesterday after learning what happened to your parents," he suggests.

"I'd hardly call that a breakdown. I didn't even break anything," I crack. "It was more of a 'run away and hide' down."

"Or a 'knock yourself out with drugs' down."

Hugging my knees tighter, I scowl down at my shoes. "I had a headache."

Boyd nods as though this is reasonable. "I'm sure you did. It was a stressful incident. This is why we've been trying to keep your stress levels low."

"By making everyone lie to me?"

"By omission," shrugs Boyd. "I know you feel betrayed, but we felt that keeping your mental health as stable as possible was important in the early stages of recovery."

Growling in frustration, I toss a hand in the air. "There's no point trying to lower my stress levels, okay? I've destroyed my life and I'm a wanted criminal. I killed a man in the arena. I killed a woman, too, but the Capitol doctors revived her just so she could betray me." My jaw tightens. "The rebels are losing the war and it's because my girlfriend couldn't handle seeing me suffer. You could say I have a lot to be stressed over."

"The rebels are losing the war because they lack technology and weapons. That's why w-"

"And morale. And numbers," I interject. "You can't deny Katniss caused problems."

"She did," concedes Boyd. "But they're not the only problems." His eyes are kind but I can't help feeling like they're seeing right through me. It's impossible not to look away. "You have a lot on your shoulders without taking on extra guilt, Johanna."

"That's 'Soldier Mason' to you," I retort. But I can't help scoffing at my own assertion. "Not that I'm much of a soldier," I mutter, picking at my nails. "I'm fucking useless, I can't even train yet."

"And that bothers you?" probes Boyd.

"Of course it bothers me! I'm a fighter. I've always been a fighter. If I can't fight, if I can't defend myself, I don't even know who I am."

The spilled words cause me to frown as I watch Boyd scribble on his stupid clipboard. After a moment, he meets my eyes with a satisfied smile. "For now, you can let us worry about defending you. It's more important to take the time to heal properly." He raises his eyebrows. "You know you're totally safe here, right?"

"Am I?" I scoff. "What if the Capitol bombs us? What if there's another pox outbreak?" Gesturing upward, I snark, "What if this fucking light falls on my head, huh?" When he fails to answer, I drive the point home. "Everyone dies, Dr. Boyd, even in this rabbit's warren. There's no such thing as totally safe."

Despite my protests, the doctors insist these visits are necessary. After the pointless first session I neglect to show up the next day and am promptly informed in no uncertain terms that I won't be cleared to train unless I cooperate. Then I comply, though with a scowl and as few words as possible.

I'm headed to the hospital for my third session with Boyd when I next cross paths with Katniss. I'm on my way out of the residential area after a visit with Scar when I see her trudging toward me, head down and seemingly lost in thought. The sight of her gives me that gut punch sensation again and I consider walking by without drawing attention to myself. But then I see the bruising around her eye and the dirt and blood smudged on her face. Jaw dropping, my feet root into the floor. "What the hell happened to you?"

"What?" Katniss blinks and looks up. After a second of confusion she touches the bruise self-consciously. "Oh. It's stage makeup." She rolls her eyes. "I was with Cinna and Effie and Haymitch, working on my look for the propos."

My eyes bulge and I squint to compensate, probably not fast enough if Katniss's expression is any indication. Tipping my head, I hook my thumbs through my belt loops. "Plutarch got to you, huh?"

"No, you did." Katniss's gaze is unwavering, but this time I give nothing away. Eyes finally falling, she shifts and scratches at the fake blood on her cheek. "Thanks for reminding me. I'll wash it off when I get home."

Raising a cheeky eyebrow, I nod in the direction she came from. "The hospital's that way."

"I've been released. Moved in with Mom and Prim."

"Oh." Allowing myself a small smile, I tease her, "Buttercup must be thrilled."

"Ecstatic." Biting her lip, Katniss shifts her weight and shoves her hands in her hip pockets. "You're headed back there?" she asks, eyebrows arched inquisitively. The attempt at looking casual is so bad and so cute I almost laugh in her face.

"Have to," I huff. "Appointment with my head doctor. Guy's a complete idiot. He comes around every day now since they dragged me out of the mop closet, highlight of my day."

Her eyes fall, teeth nibbling the inside of her cheek. "Hanna, I'm sorry about how I told-"

"Don't worry about it, Everdeen," I say flatly. "I'm over it."

Peering at me closely, she remarks, "You don't seem over it."

A humorless chuckle passes my lips. "There are many things I'm not over, but that's not one of them. At least you had the decency to be honest with me, even if it was a dick move."

A shy smile tugs at her lips and her eyes briefly drop, until she clears her throat and meets my gaze again. "Hey, can you handle the noise in the dining hall now? I'm just asking because, well, there's room at our table. If you want to eat with us."

That vague nauseous sensation is back, my gut constricting in protest. Besides, I'm not ready to let her off the hook yet. "I don't think I'm up to it."

"The dining hall?"

"Eating with you," I say, watching with narrowed eyes as her face falls.

Katniss either can't or won't speak, just stares at me. As I start to walk away, she finally calls out, "You did in the facility."

I turn just long enough to retort, "Yeah, not by choice." Then I head for the hospital without looking back. Once there, I take advantage of the otherwise useless appointment by hassling Boyd about getting me released too. I'll be damned if Katniss is roaming free and helping the rebels while I'm stuck several steps behind. Boyd is surprised by my sudden insistence on being an outpatient and tries unsuccessfully to tease out my motives, but as he's leaving he says he'll take it up with the team.

The next day, the doctors inform me that they aren't comfortable with me living unsupervised just yet. However, they say I can move out if I can find someone to live with who can keep an eye on me, as long as I show up on time for all my physical therapy and head doctor appointments. They suggest Haymitch, which makes me laugh so hard my stomach hurts. When I've calmed down enough to talk, I tell them I have a better idea. And by that afternoon, I'm officially bunking with my buddy from District Two. Scar took no convincing. She's got training now to help stave off the boredom, but I think she's lonely. And I'm nothing if not company and entertainment value.

A few days later, I'm called in for another meeting with President Coin. We've met only once since the day I interrupted her meeting, to discuss Peacekeeper strategies and armor weaknesses. I can only hope this means I'm going to be called upon to be useful again. When I arrive, Coin ushers me to the table and inquires about how I'm feeling. "The doctors say your recovery is going well, that you'll be cleared to attend non-strenuous training within the next few days."

"Non-strenuous training?" I repeat, one eyebrow cocked. "Isn't that an oxymoron?"

"Things that take mental effort. Tactics classes and the like," clarifies Coin. "Probably much of it will be a review for you, but at least it's a start."

"A review?" I snort. "I could do that shit in my sleep."

"Our tactics and strategies aren't identical to those used in the Peacekeeping Corps," she points out. "Keep an open mind, Soldier Mason. You may learn something new."

Mulling this over, I snark, "Well, it's better than the big fat nothing I've been doing."

Coin swivels slightly in her chair, now facing me completely. "That's about to change," she declares with a nod. "In fact, we're going to need you now more than ever."

"Oh, really?" Unenthused, I slouch back into my seat.

Coin is not amused. There's an edge in her voice as she informs me, "This is why I've called you here, Soldier. You know how things work in Twelve, from a military standpoint. Posts and patrol areas, shift changes, how to access key locations like the armory and the barracks."

"What does that matter? Twelve's not at war with the Capitol." Only they and District Two haven't revolted, much to my disappointment.

"Not because they don't want to be. They have the smallest population and the least resources. It would be difficult for them to mount an offensive on their own," says Coin. "The refugees we extracted from Twelve have been on our backs about this for weeks. They don't feel it was fair that they were rescued and everyone else was left behind to suffer under Commander Thread." Holding my gaze intently, she concludes, "So, we've decided to lend a hand. We can film something new to inspire the districts and mollify our guests, kill two birds with one stone."

As her words sink in, I straighten up, eyes wide and bright. "You're going to drive the Peacekeepers out?"

Coin smiles with a determined nod. "Yes. We're going to liberate District Twelve."

A/N: Thanks to D7P for the beta read and encouraging words. :)