A/N: Hoo boy, I am SO sorry for the massive delay on this chapter. Six months is way longer than usual and it probably won't happen again. There were a lot of things that happened at once that kept me from working on this fic: a) I was working on three rather elaborate cosplays and that ate up literally hundreds of hours this winter, b) my meds were out of whack and my energy for creative stuff went way down, c) my work schedule changed drastically, and d) I fell into the black hole of She-Ra and had a lot of feelings to get out in the forms of fic and vids (speaking of which, if you like that show, you can find that content on my author's page and YouTube page (same alias).

But, yes! I am now back to working on this fic, among several others. I recently updated my Joniss babysitter au and But I'm a Lumberjack will be getting an update or two this summer. Hopefully this one will get another chapter too, before too long. But I am also still working on She-Ra stuff, so we shall see how all the chips fall. Thanks for your patience in waiting for this chapter, and for your continued patience in advance. I still care about this story and want to finish it, it will just be slower going than it was early on.

Forgiving myself would be a lot easier if anyone else forgave me, for anything.

After my meltdown, I'm relegated to inpatient status so the doctors can keep an eye on me. The doctor I assaulted is taken off my team and I never get the chance to apologize, though to be honest I wasn't looking forward to it anyway. Boyd is the only doctor who doesn't give me some kind of dirty look whenever we meet, not that I care.

More hurtful is the dearth of visitors I get. None of the Everdeens come by, not even Prim, who I admittedly hoped would be more merciful than her mother. Scar doesn't come to visit either, which actually surprises me considering she's known me much longer than anyone else in this dump.

"What did I even do to her?" I grumble to Boyd one afternoon. "I didn't want her advice about Katniss, but it's not like it was anything personal."

"Maybe she thinks you want space," he says. "Push people away enough, eventually they stop coming back."

I can't help thinking he's not just talking about Scar.

The one upside to my current situation is the step up in my physical training. There are always guards nearby in case I have another meltdown, but at least I can start feeling like myself again. I get to work out and spend time on the shooting range and, even better, Boyd convinces them to let me do some light hand-to-hand. Nothing with blows to the head, but grappling and wrestling and the like. None of this brings me the same high and relaxation as morphling, but these small things, they boost my mood enough to make the withdrawal tolerable.

After a couple weeks of slow but steady improvement on all fronts, the doctors agree to let me join regular training sessions with other soldiers. But the morning I'm due to report, my arm is stamped with a meeting at Command instead. I frown at the broken promise but go anyway. Coin is waiting for me when I arrive, alone but for her right-hand dude looming in the back of the room. Boggs, I think his name is.

"Good morning, Soldier Mason," Coin greets me. "How have you been?"

I respond with a wary squint. "As if you don't know everything that goes on within your district."

"Not everything, but point taken," she admits. "Please, have a seat." Once I've obeyed, she continues, "I've had updates on your medical condition and combat capabilities, but that's not all I'm curious about. What I meant was, how are you holding up? Mentally?"

"That could mean a lot of things. Are you talking about the morphling, my parents, my- Katniss?"

"Any or all of the above."

The continued lack of explanation for my presence is irksome, especially when I have better things to do. Eyes narrowing, I remark, "I'm sure Doctor Boyd could fill you in."

"If I wanted to ask him, I would have," says Coin. Expression softening slightly, she tells me, "Believe it or not, I understand at least some of what you're going through."

Oh, right. I remember this story. "You lost your family in the pox epidemic. Prim told me." Mouth twitching, I spare her a little nod of sympathy. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you. I'm sorry for your loss too." Her eyes float away, turning pensive. "You know, I spent many months berating myself over all the things I could have done differently. I wasn't President yet, but I had a lot of influence. I could have pushed to enact quarantine faster, but I didn't realize how serious the situation was until it was too late. None of us did." Her brow creases. "And I wondered, what if I'd washed my hands more often? What if I'd stayed away from the hospital instead of visiting to boost morale among the suffering? Turns out I was immune, but I could have been a carrier." Meeting my gaze again, she presumes, "I think you're struggling with similar questions. Doing the right thing comes at a cost."

My eyebrows arch slightly. "So you think I did the right thing?" This wouldn't be a huge surprise given her previous remarks about my heroic actions, but it's still nice to hear it. Especially since I'm not so sure about that anymore.

"That's not up to me to say," Coin answers carefully. "But I found your actions admirable."

"So you do." That allows me to breathe a little easier, sink back in my chair. I give her a reassuring smile with just a hint of cheekiness. "Doesn't that also mean you did the right thing, trying to help the masses at the risk of yourself and your family?"

Coin's face is unreadable. "The situations are different, Soldier Mason. Me visiting the hospital didn't stop the epidemic. You standing your ground altered the course of the war, whether we win or lose in the end."

"That's true," I admit.

"But it doesn't make it easier," commiserates Coin. I can't help but look away, frowning to myself. My eyes only come back to Coin when I feel her leaning in slightly. Her expression is serious, but not severe. "How would you like to exert a little more of your influence?"

My brow furrows. "I'm already doing propos."

"Yes. And television can be a great way to spread messages, but an in-person approach tends to be better at changing hearts and minds," says Coin. "I want to send you to District Two for a time, have you tour the rebel-held areas and try to solidify support for the rebels among the civilians. Many of them have mixed feelings about the takeover, and we're concerned the Capitol will try to manipulate them into causing trouble."

"And you think I, the infamous traitor, can convince them to cooperate with the army that just conquered their land?" Her gaze hardens at the sass and I roll my eyes. "Look, I know some people are happy about the takeover, but 'mixed feelings' is putting it nicely. Lots of them won't need any more manipulation from the Capitol to fight back. We're fed that shit our whole lives."

"Some may see you as a traitor, but you are one of them, Soldier Mason. You can convince them this is better for everyone, including them."

"Is it?" I ask, completely serious. "District 2 has always been favored. Things aren't amazing there, at least not for the common tradespeople, but going from being the favorite to being the pariah doesn't sound like a great trade, you know?"

"Fair enough. But we have lots to offer as well. No more reapings. Ample food from the farming districts, not just the Capitol's leftovers. Freedom to move within and between the districts, freedom to choose their profession, their life course. Freedom in general."

Humming pensively, I tap my fingers on the table as I mull this over. Freedom can indeed be a very powerful motivator. Powerful enough to change allegiances so drastically, though? When it comes down to it, a lot of people will choose safety over freedom. It's how Panem has operated the way it has for so long. But now fighting against the occupying force is the dangerous choice, so maybe they can be convinced to go along with it. Just like they went along with the Capitol.

Coin grabs my attention by leaning into my sightline. When I blink back up, she concludes, "If you can help them see they are under the Capitol's thumb… and, sorry to bring this up, but after what President Snow did to your parents it won't be hard to convince them that they are expendable to the Capitol, that they aren't safe."

"That's a good point," I concede.

"So you'll go?" Coin never has much emotion in her voice, but she sounds vaguely hopeful. "I know you're busy training for the invasion, but I think you will be of more use in Two right now."

The thought of being useful again is too good to pass up. "Well, I can't drill with the troops on the road," I muse, "but I can still work out and study. And if I can do more there… I mean, I want to help in any way I can."

"I thought you would." There's a hint of pride in Coin's smile that warms my cheeks and insides. Unfortunately, that smile lasts all of two seconds. "I have to warn you, it will be dangerous," she cautions. "As you rightly assumed, there are still staunch loyalists in areas the rebels have conquered. You could be hunted down, assassinated. Captured and tortured."

I shrug. "Been there, done that."

Surprisingly, she chuckles under her breath. "I suppose so. Of course, we'll do everything we can to protect you so that doesn't happen again. Cinna's already designing a suit of armor for you, and you'll have bodyguards."

Scoffing hard, I cross my arms and lean back in my chair. "I don't need bodyguards."

"I don't care how good a fighter you are. You're a valuable asset in this war, and we do everything in our power to protect our assets. The bodyguards are not optional," she asserts. "You're not going into hostile territory without them."

"Fine, whatever," I sigh. "When do I go?"

"As soon as you're ready," says Coin. "As early as this afternoon, unless you have reason to stay longer."

Nibbling on my lip, I take a moment to consider this. All my relationships are in shambles, here and in Two, but at least there I might be able to do something about it. Meanwhile, the more I talk to Katniss the more we fuck things up. It's probably best to leave that be for now.

"No," I conclude. "I really don't."

***o***

I lied, kind of. There's one person I do think engaging with could be helpful, and leaving without saying goodbye would only further fracture our relationship. Following Boyd's implied advice, after lunch I swing by the compartment I used to share with Scar. The door is open when I arrive and find her digging all her uniforms out of her drawers.

"Massive laundry day?" I joke from the doorway.

Scar meets my gaze over her shoulder, holds it a moment before eventually smiling. "Turning them in. I was about to come find you, say goodbye. I'm going home today, my village has been liberated."

Easing myself into the room, I ask, "Aren't your family living in the Victor's Village?"

"Only my mom," shrugs Scar. "My brothers stayed behind, they're not about that city life."

"Fair." Sidling up to her as she stacks the uniforms neatly on the mattress, I give her arm a little nudge with my shoulder. "I was coming to find you for the same reason, actually. Guess we'll be on the same transport."

She frowns in thought. "Didn't think they'd made any progress in your region yet. Too close to Glenwood."

"Yeah, no, they haven't, but soon. Coin wants me to do a tour in the areas they do have, shore up support for the rebels."

Scar snorts. "Good luck with that."

"That's what I said, but… there's not much else for me to do here, you know?" Shrugging, I shove my hands in my hip pockets. "Might as well give it a shot."

"And hope you don't get shot," she cracks.

"Yeah, just about," I chuckle. Fingertips drumming against my thigh, I take in an anxious breath and blurt out the words I came to say. "Look, Scar, I'm sorry about the last time we talked. I know you were just trying to help."

Scar turns slightly and tips her head, making droll eye contact. "I know you're sorry. I am too. I was right, but I was kind of a dick about it." Poking my shin with one of her boots, she adds, "And I don't like fighting with you."

"Neither do I." Releasing the breath I'd been holding, I boost myself up onto her mattress, taking a seat beside her uniforms. My legs start to swing a little and she rolls her eyes, but there's a fondness in the way she snorts at my antics. "And for the record," I say, "I know you didn't say all that just because you have a thing for my ex."

"I don't really, not as much as you think," Scar informs me, crossing her arms. "Yeah I think she's hot, but you made it into this huge thing it wasn't. Plus, she didn't exactly make the greatest first impressions in person."

A smile creeps onto my lips as my eyes flick away. "She didn't for me either, but I still liked her."

Scar chuckles. "You have it so bad for her."

"Shut up."

A quiet moment passes before she asks, "Why do you have to be so stubborn?"

Narrowing my eyes, I deflect, "In my defense, she's just as bad."

"Yeah, and nothing's going to be solved until one of you cuts the shit," she says.

"I think some time apart might be just what we need," I muse, brow furrowing. "Besides, it'll be nice to be home, haven't been back since the mass transfer and reindoctrination bullshit."

Squinting slightly, Scar asks, "You haven't been back to Meredith, have you?"

"Nah, not since I enlisted. Haven't had a chance." Nibbling on my cheek, I frown at the floor. "I think I will, though, when they take it. Go see my family. Or, you know, what's left of it."

"You think that's a good idea?"

"Probably not," I admit. "But I feel like I should, I dunno, pay my respects to my folks or whatever." Snorting quietly, I remark, "Didn't respect them much when they were alive, after all."

"Well, from what I've heard," Scar says, giving my shoulder a little squeeze, "it sounds like they didn't really deserve it."

Meeting her gaze, I state, "They didn't deserve to be murdered either."

Scar's eyes fall with a solemn nod. She can't argue with that.

***o***

The wave the rebels have been riding since the Mockingjay burst onto the scene continues to roll, and they work quickly. Just over a week later, they control almost every district and I'm back in Meredith. Coin wasn't thrilled by the idea of me returning to my hometown after the atrocity committed here because of me, but I made it very clear that she owed me for doing this stupid tour for her.

I mean, the tour hasn't completely sucked, but I never got any more than a lukewarm welcome in any town. Even the rebel sympathizers are wary of me, or maybe they're just afraid of outing themselves as rebels and getting attacked by loyalists. The situation in the district is still rather tenuous, carrying the air of a civil war.

Convincing the bodyguards to give me a little space is a bit harder, but I tell them me coming back with armored guards will only make it look worse, so they agree to keep their distance and blend in with the rest of the occupying force. Thank god. Even without them by my side, the reaction is far from positive. A few people give me sympathetic looks, but most turn away and whisper among themselves at the sight of me. Everyone knows everyone here, I couldn't blend in even if I wasn't wearing this stupid armor.

"Johanna."

My head turns at the voice, a familiar one that I can't place right away. When I see the man standing there, my stomach turns. "Mr. Kentwell."

Clove's father steps closer, crossing his arms. "Quite the show you put on, this summer."

"Thanks," I say flatly.

"That wasn't a compliment."

My eyes roll. Hasn't this fucker ever heard of sarcasm? Wait, he definitely has. Clove gave me a run for my money in that department. I can't help smiling at the thought, despite how wildly inappropriate it is for the circumstances. It's easy enough to wipe off my face, though, remembering what they did to me.

"You can thank your daughter for that," I remark. "If it weren't for that stunt you made her pull, me or Katniss would've died last year." My head tilts slightly. "How's it feel, knowing you helped the rebels?"

He takes another step toward me, but I hold my ground. "If I could do it over I'd kill you with my bare hands before you ever left this town," he says, eyes narrowing dangerously.

"I'd like to see you try."

He looks primed to say more, if not take a swing at me, but right then one of my bodyguards ambles closer, cocking an eyebrow. Mr. Kentwell steps back but continues to glare. "Your father was ashamed of you."

"I know," I remark nonchalantly. "I saw the tape."

"And still you had the nerve to come back here," he says before walking away. My shoulders slump as I watch his retreating form. Of course I couldn't come back here without being reminded of her. Last time I was here, she was all I could think about. Mostly how I wanted to slice her to pieces with her own knives, but still.

Continuing to slink through the streets, I make it to my childhood home. The sight of it makes my stomach gurgle and sink. Some of my fondest memories were made in this house, but it wasn't exactly a place where I felt safe. Not as long as my dad or Uncle Leo were around, anyway. Or Jordan, for that matter. You know things are great when half of your immediate family will deck you at the drop of a hat.

Inside, I find dishes that are dirty but not crusty, not yet attracting any pests. By the door, a couple pairs of small work boots are sprinkled with fresh stone dust. So, Jordan still lives here. Thankfully, she doesn't appear to be home. I wander around and tour the rooms like I did in the barracks, waiting to feel something, but all I feel is fatigue and a gnawing emptiness. It's hard to mourn when you're not sad. When you're not anything.

Maybe ghosts do nothing for me. Maybe I need real live people. Before I know it, I'm knocking on the door of a house I've never been to before. I know the address from an envelope of pictures I received back when I was in Seven. It included a short note from Josh, saying he hoped I was well. But that was before all this.

The door opens, and my brother's mouth falls open in shock.

"Hi, Josh," I say haltingly.

His face twists with a mix of emotions, and for a second I think he's going to slam the door in my face, or worse. Instead a shuddering sigh exits his body and he pulls me into a tight hug. I squeeze back for all I'm worth, tears of relief stinging my eyes. "Hey, Hanna."

Sighing into the embrace, I murmur, "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Same to you, kiddo." Eyes roaming over my fancy suit of armor as he pulls back, Josh deadpans, "Nice outfit."

"Oh, yeah," I mutter. "Thirteen's making me wear it, I'm not exactly popular around here."

"You don't say." Forcing a smile, he pokes my non-existent belly. "You're so skinny. Aren't they feeding you in Thirteen?"

"They didn't in the Capitol. Still catching up from that."

His head shakes sharply. "Sorry, wasn't thinking."

"It's fine," I say, shoving my hands in my pockets. "You're not the one who should be sorry."

He raises an eyebrow. I'm not exactly known for my apologies. "Are you sorry?"

Shrugging, I answer honestly. "I'm sorry I caused our family so much pain. Or, that I didn't stop it from happening. But I'm not sure if I'd do anything differently." My face falls when Josh makes a noise that sounds vaguely like a snort under his breath.

"You've always been a rebel," he says.

My shoulders clench reflexively. "If you want to yell at me, just yell at me. I can take it." Honestly, I kind of wish he would. Then I maybe I could feel something.

Of course, I don't get off that easy.

"I don't want to yell," says Josh. Gesturing for me to follow him into the house, he asks, "You want some tea?"

"Sure."

Once I'm seated at the kitchen table and he's filling the kettle, I venture, "So, how've things been?"

He makes fleeting eye contact over his shoulder before setting the kettle down on the stove. "Since I saw you in Glenwood, or since they died?" he asks, conveniently fiddling with the burner.

Guilt sits heavy in my stomach as I recall our last meeting. How I lashed out at him and said I wanted nothing to do with the family. "Either or."

Josh shrugs as he sits down across from me. "I assume you got the pictures I mailed you."

"Yeah. Elliot's cute."

"Of course he is." Finally I spy a trace of a genuine smile on his lips. "He looks like his mom."

Fingers drumming anxiously on the tabletop, I tell him, "Look, the reason I didn't call at all was because I was really depressed after Katniss and I got separated. It wasn't because I was mad at you. I mean, I was, but I got over it."

He waves this off with a shrug. "I know you can be an angry drunk, and you never called that often anyway. I didn't take it too seriously." His eyes narrow, falling to his hands. "Not until you let them die."

"I didn't know," I say immediately. "I mean, Snow made the threat, but I thought he was full of shit."

Josh squints. "Why would you think that?"

"Because we're District 2. They were loyalists, Dad was a veteran," I reason. "Those aren't people the Capitol should risk pissing off."

"Desperate times," he says dryly.

"Yeah," I mutter, averting my gaze. This is almost worse than yelling, this distant and awkward behavior. If this is how I was making Katniss feel in Thirteen, I can appreciate her need to change things.

After a long moment, Josh sighs. "Just, tell me you've learned your lesson."

"What do you mean?"

"Do we need to go running off into hiding?" he asks. "You're here working for the rebels, right? That's why you're in Two?"

Teeth playing at my lip, I shift in my seat. "That's part of it."

"Even that's dangerous for us." Josh leans in, planting his hands on the table. "How long until you make another big moral stand, Hanna? How long until you get more of us killed?"

"You're in rebel territory," I remind him.

"You think they can't sneak assassins in, or turn our neighbors on us? You think they don't have missiles?"

"You're being paranoid."

"We both know that's not true." His eyes float away, clouding over. "You weren't there," he says, his voice suddenly tight. He swallows. "You weren't there, watching from the shadows, with your child hidden away."

My shoulders fall at the sight of my brother in pain. Pain I caused. I can't even imagine the terror he must have felt, fearing for his child's life. Before I can even think it through, I'm proposing, "Would you relocate if I could get the rebels to agree to it?"

Josh's eyes narrow. "I don't trust them any more than the Capitol. Civilians were injured when they took this village. Civilians died."

"It's war. I'm sure they didn't mean for that to happen."

"I'm not."

We fall into something of a staring contest, broken only by the whistle of the kettle. Josh gets up and makes the tea in silence, letting me sit with his statement of distrust. As he finally sets a mug down in front of me, he admits, "We've been talking about relocating on our own."

Nodding as I catch his drift, I mutter, "Running away." I don't mean for it to come out sounding so bitter. Really, I don't.

"We're targets," he tells me. "Some of our victors have mysteriously died recently. Being related to one can't be safe."

"Technically, I'm not a victor," I joke.

"No, you're a traitor," he says flatly.

That kicks the air from my lungs. My shoulders droop but I do my best to keep my voice steady as I ask, "Is that really what you think of me?"

"I don't know what I think, Hanna." Josh frowns down at his tea. "I think I don't know you anymore."

After a moment of reflection, I kick his foot under the table. "Hey." He looks up. "Look, I know a lot has changed. I'm different now because I've seen things… done things. But I'm still your sister."

Josh regards me silently for a moment, his only response a blink. Finally he asks, "Why are you here? Are you looking for forgiveness?"

"I don't-"

A loud knock on the door makes me jump and nearly spill my tea. Josh watches curiously as I breathe out slowly to settle my nerves. "I'll get it," he says.

As he walks to the door I shake my head at myself. I miss not feeling like a coward.

"Is she here?" Jordan's voice echoes down the hall, and I get to my feet. I force myself to do it slowly, confidently, and put a blank expression on my face. When she storms into the kitchen and attempts to slap me, I easily block it. She glares down at me. "You have some nerve, showing your face here."

"Nice to see you too, Jordie," I say flatly.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Visiting my brother, what does it look like?"

"Oh, so now you care about family," she snarks. My face flushes and I open my mouth to respond, but she cuts me off. "You know, I always knew you didn't give a shit about anybody but yourself, but this is a new low, even for you."

Scowling up at her, I shoot back, "If all I cared about was myself, I wouldn't have let the Capitol starve and torture me for weeks."

"For what?" scoffs Jordan. "Your girlfriend's stupid war?"

"My girlfriend didn't want anything to do with the war, I thought she made that pretty clear," I snap. "It wasn't about her, I thought she was dead. I wanted to make a stand for what I believed in."

Her eyes roll. "Right, so you can be immortalized for all eternity. That's what you always wanted, right? Live a hero or die a martyr?"

Fists clenching at my sides, I take a dangerous step closer. "What exactly are you saying?"

"It's fine you have these wet dreams of fame and power, whatever," she remarks dismissively, "but if you're gonna pull stupid shit to feed your ego, the least you could do is keep us out of it. It's not our fault you're so insecure."

A dark chuckle bursts from my lips. "Oh, you wanna bet?"

Groaning emphatically, Josh grinds the heel of his hand into his forehead. "Guys, can we not?"

"Not what?" she snaps. "Not hold her accountable?"

Tilting my head with a smirk, I tell her, "He means stop being such a cunt for no reason, Jordan."

"It's not for no reason, and you're the cunt."

"Guys!" shouts Josh. "Stop it. We are not going to do this, not right now."

"Shut up, Joshua," Jordan says coldly, keeping her glare firmly on me. "We aren't kids anymore. You are not in charge."

A wail rises up from down the hall, the distinct sound of a baby crying. Rolling his eyes, Josh snatches Jordan's arm, demanding her attention. "I am, actually. This is my house."

Jordan jerks her arm from his grip with a glower. Noticing me smirking at her, she snaps, "What are you looking at, twerp?"

"Nothing, assface."

"Wow. Seriously?" Josh looks between the two of us with disbelief. "Mom and Dad are dead, and all you want to do is fight each other, destroy the family even more?" Both of us scowl and avoid his penetrating gaze. "I'm getting Elliot," he finally says, pointedly pushing us apart. "Try not to kill each other before I get back."

So there we stand, arms crossed, glaring at each other from a safe distance. "Do you even care?" Jordan asks, sounding more tired than angry.

I blink. "About what?"

"That they're dead."

My jaw slips open slightly. "Of course I care."

Jordan scoffs at the floor. "Excuse me for wondering."

"I didn't think Snow would actually do it," I say before I can stop myself. Jordan looks up and I sigh. "I didn't think about how it would affect you guys if he did, though. I'm sorry for that."

Her eyebrows arch. "You're sorry for being inconsiderate? Guess the rumors are true about you being brain damaged."

"Me, inconsiderate?" I narrow my eyes, stepping closer. "When did you ever more than tolerate me, Jordan? You were a terrible sibling. Josh at least tried."

Jordan looks me up and down with a sneer. "You think it was easy for me, dealing with you?"

"Look, I'm sorry I replaced you or whatever," I retort with a patronizing head tilt. "Must be tough, losing the mantle of baby princess. If it makes you feel any better, they still paid way more attention to you." I snort. "Positive attention, anyway."

She shakes her head sharply. "That's not true. That's just how you saw shit because everything always had to be about you. Hanna Hanna Hanna. 'Mommy, Daddy, look at meeeee!'"

"That was the only way I got anything from them," I protest, my face heating up. "Why would anyone look twice at me? Not everyone can be perfect like you!"

"Oh, please," scoffs Jordan. "You were happy to be the black sheep."

"It's not like I ever had the chance to be anything else," I grumble.

"Boo hoo." My eyes snap up and find hers just as emotionless as her delivery. "Was your life so terrible that you had to go and ruin the whole country so you could feel better about yourself?"

"That is not what happened! I got caught up in something I wasn't expecting to. But guess what, maybe the country could have used a little ruining."

"You're psychotic," she huffs with a dismissive wave.

My fists clench. "Look, you haven't been out in the districts. You don't know what it's like out there, the kinds of things they forced us to do to keep people in line. It was wrong. The way they were running the country was wrong. I couldn't act like I didn't know that."

I can see an argument forming in Jordan's head, but Josh picks that moment to come walking in, cradling Elliot in one of his large arms. "No casualties? Good."

"Hello, sleepyhead," Jordan cooes at the baby, with a softness I can never remember being directed at me. I roll my eyes. Of course now she learns how to treat a small child. "Does my big boy need a change?"

"Just checked," says Josh. "He's fine. Should probably get him a bottle, though, before he starts screaming again."

Josh turns toward her as they continue to talk baby stuff, and I find myself creeping closer to peek around his shoulder, get another glimpse of my nephew. He's grown a lot in the few months since I got the pictures. He spots me and stares in wonder, and my siblings soon follow his gaze, going quiet.

Swallowing with everyone's eyes on me, I ask, "Can I hold him?"

"Not a chance," scoffs Jordan.

"Not your call," I shoot back.

Josh tilts his head, thoroughly unimpressed. "If you can reign in your hostility for five fucking minutes, then yes, you can hold my child."

"She's the one-" Josh cuts me off with a very no nonsense look and I sigh. "Fine."

Josh passes him off to me as Jordan rolls her eyes and goes to make a bottle. "Make sure you support his head. Yeah, like that."

Cradling the tiny bundle of life, I put on a bright smile and greet him enthusiastically. "Hi, Elliot. I'm your Auntie Hanna. Hi, hi!" He gurgles with mirth as I make some funny faces, and I hear Josh chuckle beside me before he nudges my shoulder.

"You're a natural," he says. I can't help the huge smile on my face as I look up at him and then back down at the baby. He gives my hair a little ruffle and walks off.

I offer a finger to Elliot and he grabs it, staring up at me with wide brown eyes. My heart just about melts. "Don't you worry, little one," I whisper. "I'm gonna keep you safe."

***o***

I don't stay in town very long, not that I stay anywhere for more than a day. Constant movement makes it harder for anyone to plan an attack on me, and besides, no one wants to house me for long, even if they're paid generously. Everyone knows traitors are hazardous to their health.

The reason I move on from Meredith, however, is that the rebels have gotten a foothold in the main town of Glenwood. There's still a few pockets of resistance in the outlying villages, but they want to focus most of their attention there, as it's literally the gateway to the Capitol. I'm not sure why they need me there, given I'm not cleared for combat, but I don't complain. It'll be nice to take a break from this touring bullshit.

When I arrive with my bodyguards at the old hotel the rebels are using as a makeshift barracks and command center, there's no one to meet us and explain exactly what it is I'm doing here. Wandering up to the information desk, I ding the annoying little bell. Despite the fact that it hurts my ears, which are still a bit sensitive, I hit it again and again in quick succession. I'm in a particularly pesky mood, for some reason. Starting to feel like myself again, I suppose.

When a haggard soldier finally comes to the desk, wearing an incredibly annoyed expression, I give him my sweetest smile. "Johanna Mason, at your service."

"Hello, Soldier Mason," he replies humorlessly. "We heard you were coming. We've got rooms for you and your detail…" His brow furrows. "Oh, actually, it says they can be dismissed back to Thirteen's ranks now that you're in a safe place."

"Thank fucking god," I drawl, opting not to sass him about how a warzone is hardly a safer place than rebel territory. I'm too happy to get rid of these wet blankets. "You hear that, boys?" I say, turning to them. "You're free to go. Have a beer or something." The man at the desk clears his throat and I turn back to him with a sparkling smile. "Yes?"

"Your room assignments," he says, handing me a key card for each of us.

"Why thank you, kind sir," I say, tipping an imaginary hat and passing on the keys. The soldiers wander toward the elevator, and I'm about to follow when I turn back with a thought. "Hey, is Lyme around?" Desk Guy seems surprised at the casualness of the question, so I explain, "We go way back. Volunteer training and all."

"Right," he says, the realization visibly clicking in his mind.

"I assume she has a job for me?" I dig. "There must be some reason I'm here."

"It's Colonel Ellis who asked for you to be sent here, actually," he tells me. "She's requested your presence in the war room, once you've settled in."

My eyelids flutter in surprise. "They want me in the war room?"

"Yes, something about Peacekeeper intel."

"Oh, right," I say, rolling my eyes at my own stupidity.

"It's just through there," he says, pointing down one of the halls. "Second door on the left. Go drop your things off first, though. Lyme and Ellis both hate clutter in their work spaces."

"They sound like fun bosses," I deadpan, turning to follow my former bodyguards.

When I return downstairs in a fresh change of clothes several minutes later, I find the war room easily. It's buzzing with activity easily heard from the hall. Several soldiers are sorting through stacks of paper at desks, while more are clustered around a large table covered in maps and blueprints. So much for uncluttered work spaces.

I'm approaching the table, trying to suss out who is in charge, when one soldier peels away from the table and leaves me staring straight at her. She's conversing with a few of her underlings, leaning on the table peering down at a map with piercing green eyes.

"Holy shit," I say, stopping dead in my tracks. Apparently I was loud enough for everyone to hear over all the chatter, because the room goes all but silent.

Looking up from her work, Purnia flashes me a knowing smile. "Hey, Mason."

"Stark," I say numbly. My brow furrows. "Wait. Ellis?" My eyes flick around the room in search of someone even more in charge.

"Carry on," Purnia orders the gaping onlookers. "I'll be back in a few." Then she heads for the hall, nodding for me to follow.

Once we're alone, I ask, "Is it you I'm supposed to be meeting?"

"Yeah, sorry about that," she chuckles. "I remarried Paul a few months ago. Changed my name back."

"Oh. Uh, then I guess congratulations are in order," I say awkwardly, but with a smile. I hold out a hand for her to shake, which she accepts.

"Thanks, Johanna," she smiles back.

The familiar tone allows me to relax a little. Eyeing her up and down, I admit, "It's good to see you, Purnia. I was kinda worried, with everything you said about… you know."

"What they do to traitors?" she infers. I nod, and she frowns. "Are you okay?"

Shrugging casually, I ruminate, "I mean, I have a nagging head injury and I've lost most of my muscle, but I'm alive and talking so I guess I'm alright, considering." Eager to redirect, I inquire, "Your family's safe?"

"Yeah, they're in hiding. The rebel underground agreed to squirrel them away in exchange for my help."

Brows twitching lamely, my eyes fall to the floor. "You were smart, to take that threat seriously."

Her mouth quirks sympathetically. "I'm sorry about your folks."

"Yeah, me too." A thought pops into my head and my eyes snap up. "Hey, do you think they would do that for me?"

"What?"

"Hide my family somewhere. I'm just kind of worried, you know, about the rest of them."

Purnia hums, brow creasing in thought. "I don't see why not," she says. "But you'll have to talk to Lyme about it, when she gets back. She's out training with the troops for another couple hours."

"Okay." Relieved and grateful, I can't help but smile. "Thanks."

Smiling in return, she gives my shoulder a pat and squeeze. "How's Katniss?"

I cock a sassy eyebrow. "You see her on TV, don't you?"

"Sure," chuckles Purnia. "I also saw her make out with that poor blonde kid a bunch, back in the day. Doesn't say much."

"She's been better," I admit, jamming my hands in my hip pockets. "Her girlfriend was a dick and made her feel guilty for betraying the rebellion to save her life. Eventually she got fed up and broke up with her."

Squinting in confusion, Purnia checks, "To be clear, this girlfriend is you, right?" I nod. "So you're admitting that you were a dick?" She puts the back of her hand to my forehead. "You feeling okay?"

"Oh, shut up," I grumble, swatting her hand away playfully. "I am capable of self-reflection, you know."

Purnia grins. "Glad to see my girl's growing up."

My cheeks tingle with an oncoming blush. Subtly clearing my throat, I dip my head and murmur, "That's on the down low, by the way. The breakup, I mean. Don't want to dissipate morale when we're the story of hope for the masses."

"That's rotten."

"It is what it is." I shrug. "But hey, at least one of our love lives is doing well." Smirking wickedly, I waggle my eyebrows. "You still getting it on the regs, or has the second honeymoon worn off?"

"Johanna," she admonishes me with a half-hearted glare. I chuckle, and her lips turn up slightly despite her efforts. "I'm glad to be fighting with you again. On the right side of the war."

Raising my eyebrows, I say, "Speaking of which, they said you wanted my help?"

"Absolutely." She gestures back toward the war room. "Follow me."

While reclaiming the city is definitely on the rebels' agenda, their biggest concern at the moment is finding a way to take over Central Defense, the large military base housed in a cavernous mountain not far from the city limits. Even with her high-level officer's knowledge, Purnia hasn't been able to come up with any brilliant plans, so I'm not sure why she thinks a mere Agent could. The attack I spearheaded on Twelve was only such a success because of all my insider knowledge, and I've never been to Central Defense. I promise my help anyway because it's Purnia, and I owe her.

Bright ideas, it turns out, are hard to come by. Lyme and her troops secure about half of the city within days, but falter in their quest to conquer the mountain. They try a few plans that involve storming one or more of the large hangar bay doors, but they're basically fish in a barrel. Troops and morale fall at a staggering rate over the course of the first week of attempts.

Eventually Thirteen brings in the big guns. Or big brains, as it were. At Lyme's request, Coin agrees to send a strategy team of their best and brightest. The hovercraft touches down that evening in the Victor's Village, and Purnia brings me along as part of the welcoming committee. The only two brains I know by name are Beetee and Boggs, though I recognize several of them from a few meetings I sat in on in Command. But the last two people down the hovercraft ramp give me pause.

Stiffening beside Purnia, I ask her, "What are they doing here?"

"I assume propo stuff, like you," she says with a shrug. "This is the only active combat zone right now." When I continue to stare, unmoving, she reminds me, "You said the breakup was on the down low, right?"

"Ah, shit. Fine." Wiping the scowl off my face, I square my shoulders and emerge from the shadows, crossing the clearing to meet Katniss and Peeta halfway. Neither of them reacts much to my approach. Peeta gives me a half-hearted smile, while Katniss's expression remains neutral. So if they knew I was here, why didn't anyone warn me to expect them?

"Hey, Johanna," Peeta says as I get close.

"Hey, guys." Determined not to appear thrown, I give each of them a quick hug before offering to take Katniss's bag. It's a chivalrous gesture that can appear coupley without us having to do anything awkward. Katniss had enough fake kisses with Peeta, and besides, I don't want any of ours to be fake.

As we make it to the rest of the group, Purnia steps forward. "Hello, Katniss."

Katniss's eyes narrow momentarily before popping open in surprise. "Oh, Purnia, hi," she stammers. "Wow. It's been a while." After a second she remembers to extend a hand and Purnia gives it a solid shake.

"It certainly has," she says. "I'm second to Commander Lyme in the district. I'm here to escort you to our headquarters, help you settle in for the night."

As we begin to head out, Katniss turns to Purnia again. "When did you change sides?"

"When I was dishonorably discharged," she says in that emotionless way of hers. Katniss blinks. "Long story. Soldier Mason can fill you in, I'm sure." Katniss scowls in my direction and doesn't bring it up again.

Despite the frosty welcome, being in Katniss's presence again is a peculiar kind of relief, and I find myself immediately craving more. Once all the newcomers have been assigned rooms, I pop in on her. She's got her bag on the bed, unpacking it as I lean against her door frame and give it a tiny knock. "Hey."

Katniss casts me a sidelong glance before returning to her bag. "I see you've got your hot boss back," she remarks. "Nice."

"The rebellion has its perks," I say dryly, and Katniss rolls her eyes. Willing my hands not to fidget, I push the door shut behind me and start into the room.

She looks up again as I approach, now fully glaring. "What?"

Keeping my face neutral, I raise a single eyebrow. "Can we talk?"

"Oh, now you wanna talk?"

"Katniss," I say with a warning undertone.

"Johanna," she replies much the same.

Sinking down onto the bed with a sigh, I meet her heated gaze. "How've you been?"

"Awesome. You know how I love being the face of the rebellion," she snarks. When I don't react, she rolls her eyes and admits, "The combat training's a lot of fun, actually. They were all shocked when they realized I already knew how to shoot a gun." By the end of that sentence, she's wearing the start of a proud grin.

I chuckle. "That was a good day."

Her grin softens into a smile. "Yeah. It was." I can't help but wonder if her mind's going where mine is, spiraling into the gutter with memories of me backing her up against a fallen tree and sinking to my knees. The way she averts her eyes with a slight blush makes me think so. "So much for it being a once in a lifetime experience," she jokes, clearing her throat subtly.

"To be fair, I didn't know you were gonna go starting a war," I crack. Katniss glares at me and I drop my eyes. "Sorry." Wow, I'm really fucking stupid. Scratching my flushing neck, I try to get back on topic. "How's the rest of it going? They put you in the Block yet?"

"Uh, they were about to, but then I got sent here." She shrugs.

"You couldn't have said no?" I ask, eyebrows arching slightly. Coin gave me a choice on whether or not to come, and she let Gale stay in Twelve. She doesn't seem the type to force things on people who aren't really her soldiers.

"Coin wouldn't have been happy," says Katniss.

That makes me squint. "Since when do you care what Coin thinks?" She shrugs again, so I relent and drop it. "Here to do propos?"

"Yeah," snorts Katniss, "What else do they use me for?" For once I sense her hostility is not aimed at me, which is a relief. Katniss being pissed at other people, I can work with.

"Well, they're stupid," I tell her. "You're one of the best warriors in the country, you've proven that twice now."

Katniss eyes me warily. "What are you doing?"

"I, uh…" My eyes fall to my lap as I scratch my burning neck again. "I'm trying to apologize."

"'Trying' being the operative word."

Eyebrows twitching with an ironic chuckle, I mutter, "I deserve that." Meeting her eyes, I issue a challenge. "Are you gonna let me try?"

She crosses her arms, eyes rolling before locking onto me expectantly. "Whatever, Johanna."

That's not promising, but it's something. Taking a deep breath, I gather my thoughts.

"Look, you asked me in Thirteen if I would have done the same as you, if the roles had been reversed. It took me a long time, but I know the answer now," I tell her. "I love you, Katniss, and I would have protected you. I just didn't think I was worth protecting. But being willing to sacrifice yourself and willing to sacrifice someone you love are two different things. I had no right to get on a high horse over it."

"You sure as fuck didn't," she says, but it lacks hostility. She sets her jaw, eyes roaming me curiously. "What prompted this brilliant epiphany?"

"My head doctor kinda helped me realize I was avoiding my guilt over my parents by taking a hard stance on prioritizing the greater good over personal needs," I admit. "And… uh, this is gonna sound stupid." Katniss raises an eyebrow, prompting me to continue. "I went home last week. Saw my siblings, met my baby nephew. His name's Elliot." My lips turn up at the memory. "When I held him for the first time, I realized… some people are worth compromising your morals for, you know?"

"I have Prim. You think I don't know?" Katniss drops her tough front with a sigh. "It's not stupid, Johanna. You've just never thought about it that way before because you've never been close to anyone who needed your protection."

My eyes drop with an ironic snort. "It's all I've ever wanted, for someone to count on me, need me. First chance I got, I fucked it up out of pride."

Katniss watches in silence for a moment before easing herself down beside me. "Look, I understand it was a hard choice. I know it's not so black and white, and I shouldn't have judged you so harshly either." When I look up in surprise, she continues, "It's easy to say what we think we would've done, but we don't really know unless we've been there."

"You would've saved your family," I declare without hesitation.

"I love my family, and my family needs me. They always need me," she says. "I don't understand what it's like to be you."

There's a genuine quality in her gaze that makes me feel truly seen. We may never fully understand each other, but if we can at least try, we have a chance.

Twitching my mouth guiltily, I tell her, "I really am sorry."

"I know."

My eyebrows arch. "You do?"

"Yeah, I can tell." A small smile pulls at her lips. "For the record, I accept your apology."

A huge burden slides off my shoulders, and I grin stupidly. Perhaps even more stupidly, I slide my hand across both our laps to try to take one of hers. When her fingers shy away from the contact, a wave of nausea hits my gut. Pulling my hand back, I try to meet her gaze, but she's not looking anywhere near me. Pursing my lips, I fold my hands and lean forward on my knees.

After a long moment, I break the silence. "Look, you said to come back when I was ready," I remind her gently. Looking her way again, I declare, "I'm ready. I am."

"I'm not," she mumbles. When she finally turns her head, I spy tears pooling in her eyes. "You really hurt me, Hanna. And if we have such different values, like you said, maybe we shouldn't be together."

"But… I just told you," I push through my swelling throat. "I can see now. Why you did what you did."

"And I can't see how you could be so cruel to someone you claim to love." There's a kind of resigned anger in her voice that doesn't translate on her face.

My anger, it definitely translates. Eyes narrowing, I demand, "So now you're gonna do the same thing to me?"

"I'm not punishing you," she protests. Eyes falling again, she mumbles, "I just don't want to get hurt again."

"Katniss-"

"Don't make promises you won't keep," she says flatly.

If I thought the nausea was bad, that's like a suckerpunch to the gut, literally knocking the wind out of me. Her eyes flick back up and her face softens a little when she sees how wrecked I am. She sighs, running fingers through her hair. "I need time, okay? I can't jump right back into the way things were."

A flicker of hope sparks in my chest. "But… eventually?"

Katniss gnaws on her lip. "I don't wanna make promises either," she falters. "But I miss you."

"Is that why you came?" I ask. She doesn't answer, which is all the answer I need. "Can I hug you?"

"Yeah."

Turning into her embrace, I loop my arms around her shoulders and hold her close. Breathe her deep. It's been so long. "I'm sorry."

Katniss nuzzles into my shoulder, and I feel more than hear her reply.

"Me too."

A/N: Thanks to District 7 Profanity for continuing to beta these updates, despite their weirdly inconsistent timing lol.

Also, I have a Ko-fi now! If anyone's enjoying this work and feeling particularly generous, feel free to go drop me a few bucks on my page (URL: johannas_motivational_insults). I can also give previews of upcoming chapters in exchange for support. If you don't have anything to spare, no worries at all, the next best thing is to recommend this fic or to leave a review saying what you enjoy about/are getting out of this story. Any feedback waters my crops and motivates me to work more on this piece.