Ablaze

by awalkerlifeforme

Aspen Antaeus has escaped the Hunger Games twice. She has become the face of the rebellion against the Capitol. But there is one thing stopping her from assuming her role as the Mockingjay. Her husband, Cato Hadley, was left in the arena to die. But when Aspen is given proof that he lives on, she joins the fight. And she will not stop. Not until every inch of the Capitol is ablaze.

6. Chapter 6

So it turned out that Coin was just another force to contend with. Not that I hadn't known that before, but now I knew the magnitude of how much she was genuinely willing to do to keep me working along with her plans. She was just another power player who had decided to use me as a piece in her games, although things never seemed to go according to plan. They never did and they likely never would. It wasn't like using my life as a gambling piece was something new.

It was something that I had always been used to. It was something that I would always be used to. Although now it seemed to be even more serious. First there were the Gamemakers last year, making me their star. Everything from the fire-ridden costumes that coined the name Girl on Fire, to the perfect score, to making me the most wanted and loved Tribute of those Games. Of course, it had all blown up in their faces when they had been forced to scramble to recover from those two stupid daggers.

It hadn't ended there. That had only been the beginning of people using me as a piece in their own games. Then it had been President Snow, trying to use me to put out the flames of rebellion, only to have my every move become inflammatory. Those speeches in the Districts that only angered the people. The engagement to Cato that seemed to bind us together and ignite the revolution. Cato's shocking revelation that I was pregnant and the way that I used it to my advantage in the arena.

Next, it was the rebels ensnaring me in the metal claw that lifted me from the arena. These people who had brought me here with the intent to have me work with them - without argument and without flaw. They had already designated me to be their Mockingjay, and then they had been forced to recover from the shock that I might not want the wings. They had been forced to bring me back from the verge of suicide, something that no one had been prepared to handle.

And now it was Coin, with her fistful of precious nukes and her well-oiled machine of a District, finding that it was even harder to groom a Mockingjay than to catch one. Mostly because I didn't want it. And I would not just roll over and die for her. I had already done that too much over the past year and a half. She must have seen it in my eyes, because she was the quickest to determine that I had an agenda of my own and was therefore not to be trusted. She had been the first to publicly brand me as a threat.

Clearly Katniss noticed it. The scathing glare from Coin up on the perch. The angered looks of the beaten-down residents of District 13. Katniss laid a hand on my arm and gently started pushing me away. She was probably right to have me get out of the area. I was public enemy number one right now, just the way that she had told me that I would be. Not that it shocked me. Now not only was I a threat, I was a liability and enemy to the cause with my requests.

"Leave. They're looking to you," Katniss whispered.

"See you guys later," I muttered.

There were a few goodbyes said to me, but no one said anything to make us even more easily noticed. It was a little difficult to slip through the crowd, as so many people were trying to stop me to ask why the hell I had requested something like that. I was very grateful when Damien and Dean walked up behind me, removing the rest of the crowd and allowing me slightly easier access out of the Collective. For a while I needed to be by myself and stew in my own thoughts, as I so often did.

Starting to wander through the lower levels of District 13, I realized that it wasn't just the people who were in the Collective. The announcement must have been broadcast everywhere. Because even the workers around the rest of the District were glaring at me. It was the wrong time for me to be lingering around here. I needed to get somewhere private. Especially after I had just essentially made the announcement that I was going to try and save the people who now looked to be Capitol loyalists.

So I turned and left the populated area. I wanted to be far away from here. Far away from the lingering and angry crowd of the Collective. It was going to be dinnertime soon. I knew that. It was just about twenty minutes until it was time for me to head back to the dining hall. But I really didn't want to sit in there with everyone else. I knew that no one wanted to see me right now. They were all angry with me. And, to be honest, I was angry at them too. How did they not understand that I needed to do this?

How could these people have not understood that I needed to go and save Cato? He was my husband, no matter what had happened. No matter how we had been forced into it. I had to save him. After a while I ended up heading straight back to our compartment. I assumed that it was the only safe place for me to be right now. I collapsed on the bed and wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, taking a few deep breaths that I so desperately needed, attempting to find out what came next for me.

What did come next for me? Becoming the Mockingjay? Yes. That was about it. That was the next thing that I needed to do. But there was something that I needed even more. To get Cato back. That was the one thing that I really needed. But how much longer would it be before I could get him back? I hoped that it wouldn't be too long. I wanted him to be back with me. I missed him so desperately. Every piece of me missed hum more than I had ever thought was possible.

Just as I started thinking about being with Cato again, I realized something that I hadn't really thought about before. It was something that I had known would happen, but I hadn't thought about. I was going to have to ask Coin when she intended for the rescue mission for Cato and the other Victors would be. In the meantime, I would need to do everything that she wanted and be perfect as the Mockingjay. It was the only way to guarantee everyone's safety. My own included.

Cato's P.O.V.

The moment that he woke up, Cato cringed. A pain shot through his arms. The same spot that he had so often felt something stab him in. He couldn't have said what time or day it was. Time had lost all meaning in the terrible haze that he had been in. Waiting for the surely horrific torture that was to come, he opened his bleary eyes. He was very vague on what was happening. He didn't even know what his last truly real memory had been. Everything had started melding together.

He didn't know how long he had been wherever he was. He didn't even know where he was. Somewhere white. Painful. Small. He had no idea what was real and what wasn't. He wasn't even sure if this place was real. Everything was so hard to place in its correct spot. Real and not real. He couldn't tell anymore. He barely remembered being able to sleep. It was just a haze where memories were a little blurrier. He didn't even know when was the last time that he really gotten to sleep was.

The only thing that he could do to try and hang onto his sanity was remember Aspen. As frequently as he could. But it was almost impossible. It seemed that each time he tried to remember her, he started seeing some horrible thing that she did to him. He tried to blink away the images - telling himself that they weren't real - but it was almost impossible. He kept trying to remind himself that she is his wife and he loves her, but it's becoming harder and harder. He couldn't see himself with her, happy and in love, anymore.

Why not? He couldn't figure it out. As Cato rolled over, determined to remember her the way that he had always known her, he realized that he was in a bed. For once they had taken him off of the metal table. It was the only form of comfort that he had had in a long time. He groaned as the florescent lights flooded his eyes. But that was also the same moment that he realized that he wasn't in the bed by himself. Someone else was there. It was Aspen.

She was right in the bed next to him. Cato jerked slightly, startled to see her there. She hadn't been with him in... months? Weeks? Years? The Quarter Quell? Was that the last time that they had been together? He couldn't remember when it had really been the last time that he had seen her. And he couldn't really tell if she had loved or hated him when he had seen her last. Aspen's face spread into a small smile as she looked him over. Cato tensed up again, trying to force himself to relax.

She was just his wife. Everything that he had seen before was a lie. Everything that they had shown him wasn't real. She was his wife and loved him. But Cato couldn't stop from staring at her blankly for a moment, just waiting to see what she would do. What she might turn into. What horrible monster was he about to see? Real or not real? Who knew? But after a moment he realized that she wasn't a monster this time. It was her. It was really his wife. She was no monster. She was really his wife...

His entire body relaxed as he stared at her. She wasn't going to hurt him. She was really here and her normal self. Cato looked her over slowly before realizing that she wasn't wearing clothes. The sheet was thrown over her body. Just like that morning before the Quell. The sheet was tangled around her legs and waist, hiked up just over her chest. He almost managed to smile at her, but the pain radiating through his body was horrible. But seeing her the way that he loved her was worth it.

Just like everything that he had done for her before, it was worth it. She had always been worth it. Everything that had ever happened to him. Cato slowly leaned forward and pressed the hair back off of her forehead. It was tangled slightly and she giggled - a sound that he had always loved. She smiled softly and turned into the palm of his hand, placing a small kiss there. She was the love of his life. And she was finally back with him. He leaned forward and kissed her gently, so happy to be with her.

As he broke away from her, Cato started to look around. They were in an unfamiliar room. What had happened since the last time that he was really aware of himself? "Where are we?" Cato asked.

"Home," Aspen said sweetly.

"Where's home?" Cato asked.

Was home District 2? His own home. Maybe District 12? Her home. Either way, he had to make sure that they were safe. "With me," Aspen said, taking her hand and putting it on his stomach.

Cato smiled, gently running his hand over her soft skin. "Are we in the Capitol?" Cato asked quickly.

"You're with me," Aspen teased.

As much as he liked seeing the playful part of her personality again, he needed to make sure that they were okay. "Aspen... Where are we? Are we safe?" Cato asked desperately.

"You'll always be safe with me," Aspen whispered.

"I know," Cato said truthfully.

That was the way that they had always been. They protected each other. They always would. "I've missed your smile," Aspen said, running her hand along his chest.

Cato smiled and pressed a kiss into her clavicle. "I've missed yours, too. I've missed everything about you," Cato said truthfully. He couldn't even describe how wonderful it was to see her smile again. "How did you get here? How long have you been here?"

"So many questions," Aspen teased.

"Aspen... This is serious. Where are we?" Cato asked.

"I already told you. We're home, Cato," Aspen said.

But where was home? "Are we in District 2? District 12?" Cato asked.

They had to be somewhere safe. They couldn't linger in the Capitol. "District 12 is gone," Aspen said, as if it didn't bother her.

Cato's jaw almost dropped. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Her home was gone? She would have lost her mind if her home had been destroyed. As awful as District 12 could be at times, he knew that it meant the world to her. It was the only place that she had ever known. It was the place that her parents had grown up. It was the place that she was from. It couldn't have been gone? What could have even happened to it?

"I destroyed it," Aspen continued.

No... No... She wouldn't have done something like that. She couldn't have done something like that. That was something that the Capitol would have done. Not Aspen. "What are you talking about?" Cato asked slowly.

Aspen smiled brightly, her smile having lost the warmth it had before. "After the Games... After the Quell... When I shot that arrow up into the dome I started something. They dropped firebombs on District 12. Just like I wanted them to. It's gone. So is almost everyone else. All of those people who thought that they were my friends and family. Gone. Just like that," Aspen said coldly.

Cato's heart skipped a beat. What the hell did she mean? What was she talking about? That couldn't have happened. They hadn't done anything to District 12. Not that Cato knew. He hadn't been outside in a number of months. But he knew one thing. They hadn't destroyed it. They couldn't have done something like that. She hadn't done something like that. She loved her home. She would never let something like that happen to it. She would never let the people she loved die. She had always protected them.

"What -?" Cato breathed out.

"Peeta's family is dead, too," Aspen interrupted. Cato's stomach jolted painfully, and it wasn't from the torture this time. His family was dead? It was bad enough that he had died? His family deserved to live. "At least they're together."

Her voice held something of a laugh. Cruel. Something that he had never heard her sound like before. "You're lying," Cato whispered.

His wife wasn't cruel. She was loving. She loved everyone. "No... No, I've never lied to you, Cato. It's gone. All of it. Just ask everyone here," Aspen teased, sitting up in the bed.

Cato shook his head. "Those are your friends... your family... you couldn't have wanted them dead," he said slowly.

"But I did. Just like I want you dead," she said.

Aspen's hand reached over. Despite the teasing look in her eyes, she was as hard as stone right now. It wasn't the way that he had ever known her. She was sweet and kind and laughed at everything. She was a good woman. Not this creature. Not this thing that the Capitol kept dangling in his face. Cato's heart was pounding as Aspen laid her hand on his chest, pressing into the bruises that were littered there. Cato cringed and tried to roll away, but he was too weak.

She had been doing so well. She had been back to normal. Not that he could remember what normal was. There were only little bits and pieces of her that he could remember before he had come here. Everything was so different now. He kept seeing someone who had wanted him dead. Not his wife. Some Capitol muttation, maybe. But now she was back to that horrible creature that had him convinced that maybe Aspen had never really existed.

"Aspen - Stop - Not this again," Cato begged, trying to pull her hands away from him. But she was latched on. "I can't... keep doing this..."

Aspen smiled again, moving to sit over Cato's waist. "Keep doing what, Cato? You know who I am. You know what I've done. You know the type of person that I am. Don't you?" Aspen teased. Did he? He couldn't even remember who she was even more, as much as he wanted to. "Stop lying to yourself."

"You're my wife. This isn't you," Cato begged, placing his hands on her hips, trying to remove her.

"Yes, it is, Cato. You know that it is."

Cato's head pushed back into the pillows. He wanted her gone. He couldn't keep doing this. He couldn't keep trying to remember her one way - his loving wife - only to see this horrible monster. Someone who didn't love him. Someone who wanted him dead. Someone who was willing to destroy everything, just for the pleasure of watching people get hurt. He could barely remember the woman that he had once loved. This was the only thing that existed in his mind anymore, and he needed her gone.

"Why -?" Cato's voice cracked painfully. Aspen's head tilted, painfully teasing. "Why is this happening to you? Why can't I remember you the way that you were?" Cato asked weakly.

"This is the only way that I've ever been," Aspen smiled.

"No, it isn't," Cato said, no longer really convinced of that.

"It is. Don't you remember?" Aspen asked.

Of course he remembered her stabbing him, ripping out his own throat with her teeth, and transforming into that horrible wolf muttation to try and rip him limb from limb. He tried to blink back those memories. He tried to remember her the way that he had thought that she was. That night of their wedding. They had been married, hadn't they? But he couldn't remember it. Where were their nights staying up talking and laughing? Where was any memory of her where he genuinely loved her and she loved him?

"Don't do this," Cato muttered.

"You know that they started enforcing a martial law on District 2?" Cato's head snapped up. "After the Quell ended? I have to say, I wanted something a little more. Maybe like the firebombs in District 12. Now that was a show!" Aspen chirped, laughing cruelly. Cato cringed. "But you take what you can get in this life. Still... It's too bad that their aim wasn't quite right. I would have been rooting for the little one."

His head was spinning. This time it wasn't from the concussions that he had gotten from the endless hours of torture. It wasn't from the lack of food or water. It wasn't from anything like that. He knew exactly what it was from. Confusion. He didn't understand what she was saying. The Capitol loved District 2. They would have never done anything like that. A martial law. And aim? What was that supposed to mean? The little one... Who was the little one? A kid?

"What are you talking about?" Cato asked slowly.

Aspen's smile turned even more. Something that had once made his stomach flutter with excitement now made it clench with nerves. "Want to see your sister?" Aspen asked.

Leah? That was the only sister he had. Unless she was counting Carrie. "Excuse me?" Cato asked dumbly.

"Here's Leah," Aspen hissed.

How had Leah gotten here? It wasn't safe for her to be here. He had to get his little sister out of here. Keep her safe. Clearly Aspen wasn't going to be of help. Aspen jumped off of Cato's lap and leaned over the side of the bed. Cato stared curiously. She reached down for something and Cato jolted when Aspen pulled up a body. A corpse. With a bullet hole straight through the middle of the forehead. It was Leah. His seven-year-old sister. Cato shouted hoarsely, stumbling back and collapsing out of the bed.

His body was throbbing from the fall, but he didn't care. That was his sister. His dead sister. "Leah..." Cato whispered, his voice weaker than he had ever heard it. "Leah!"

Cato pulled himself back to his feet to shake Leah, but it was too late. She had clearly been dead for quite some time. But Cato couldn't stop. He needed her to be alive. That was his baby sister. The one person that he had sworn that he would always protect. But he hadn't. Because she was dead. Aspen had helped kill her. Her skin was a faint gray and her lips were icy blue. Her eyes were slightly reddened. She was dead... She was really dead. A tear slipped out of Cato's eyes as he leaned over his sister.

"She's gone, Cato," Aspen said softly, perched on the edge of the bed.

"Who did this?" Cato asked, his voice shaking.

He would kill whoever did this. "A Peacekeeper with terrible aim?" Aspen offered, cruelly teasing. "Your father, who didn't hold her quite the right way. You, for ever talking to me in the first place. President Snow, for placing the martial law. Me... My arrow."

"You..." Cato tried. Could she have really done it? Was there really none of Cato's wife left? "You wouldn't have done this."

Aspen laughed softly, brushing the hair off of Leah's forehead. Cato instantly slapped her hand away. She didn't seem bothered. "Sure I did. Because I don't care about you, Cato. Not you or your family," Aspen laughed.

"You... You hurt her... My sister..." Cato breathed slowly.

She had really done it. "Yes. And you're next," Aspen said brightly.

That time Cato couldn't stop himself. Damn the way that he was feeling. It didn't matter how his entire body was shaking from pain and how his head was spinning from the lack of food and water. It didn't matter that he had lost almost all of his muscle mass. All that mattered was that he got some revenge for what had happened to Leah. He might not have been able to save her, but he would be able to do something to the person who had ended her life.

As much as Cato so desperately wanted to love Aspen, as much as he wanted to remember her the way that he thought that he could remember her, it was all impossible. He couldn't remember that Aspen anyways. Maybe all of his memories really were fake. So Cato got up from his knees and immediately went to attack her. That wasn't his wife. It was something so much worse. So he launched himself towards her and tried to strangle her.

His hands were almost around her throat when she took out a throwing knife that he hadn't seen before. Instantly she reared back and thrust the knife out. It slashed straight through his forehead, opening up the skin there and causing it to sag down slightly. Blood instantly pooling into his eyes, Cato fell back. Pain was radiating through his forehead as he tried to manage to get back to his feet. Aspen was giving a bored look down to the knife, cleaning his blood off on Leah's shirt.

"Like brother like sister," Aspen sighed.

Cato managed to push himself up onto his hands. "How could you do this?" Cato asked weakly.

"Because I hate you. You will always be weak and pathetic. I can't believe that you ever thought that I would love you. Gale and Seneca Crane... They're the real men in my life. You're nothing," Aspen said.

This was really her. There hadn't ever been a real Aspen Antaeus. She was just a monster. Always had been. "I'll kill you," Cato warned, his teeth clenched together.

Aspen waved him off carelessly. "I'm sure. I'll be going now. But I'll leave her." She motioned back to Leah's rotting corpse. "Just in case you get bored. Someone to talk to, right? Since no one else wants to hear what you have to say. Goodnight, husband," Aspen teased, making to leave the white room.

"I'll kill you!" Cato yelled.

The blood was making it almost impossible to see her. But he felt her lap briefly fall over him. He felt his hands getting pulled back and heard some type of clicking. A binding. It was locked firmly around her wrists and Cato started to scream, desperately trying to fight back against them. He had to get up and kill her. He had to do it for Leah. He had to at least kill the thing that had killed her. It was the last thing that he could do for his sister.

But the bindings that she had placed on his wrists were a little too strong. He couldn't fight back against them. It didn't help that he was finding himself getting a little dizzy from the loss of blood. But it didn't matter. He was going to kill her. Because she did that to his little sister. His favorite person on the planet. His lovely little Leah. The one person that he could remember once loving Aspen. Calling her the pretty girl on the television. How could Aspen have done something like that to her?

It turned out that Aspen Antaeus genuinely was a monster. Not his wife. Never his wife. Never someone that he loved. She was the exact person that the Capitol had been trying to show him that she was. They had actually been trying to help remind him of what she truly was. He couldn't believe that they were telling him the truth about her. His wife was nothing more than another person who made him a piece in her games. It didn't matter what it took. He would kill her for what she had done.

Aspen's P.O.V.

How long had passed? I wasn't quite sure. There was a clock ticking away in the corner but I hadn't bothered looking at it. I liked just sitting here and getting lost in my own mind - trying not to think about what was coming for me. I was pawing at a few crackers that Prim had brought me earlier, just after Coin's announcement in the Collective. I found myself not very hungry, as I hadn't been so frequently, instead thinking about everything that Coin had said. I really should have seen that one coming.

In the back of my mind I knew that I had been a fool for ever hoping to believe that this place was better. I was right all along. Things were no different here than they were in the Capitol. I was still just a piece in someone's games. Just as I had always been. Things weren't going to change. They never would. Not with Thirteen, at least. Maybe Coin didn't want the Games the way that the Capitol had them, but I couldn't believe that things were going to get any better with Thirteen or Coin in control.

But I just had to work with Coin, because she was the only person who had the capability to help me save Cato. And Annie, who I needed to get out for Finnick. I guessed Johanna, too. After all, she had risked her own life to save mine. Not that she had wanted to. But it didn't matter. She was suffering in the Capitol and I couldn't just leave her there. We had almost bonded in the arena, after all. As for Enobaria, I couldn't really care less about what happened to her. But it was only fair to save her too.

Although I was going to hit her as hard as I humanly could whenever I saw her for the first time. For stabbing me. Suddenly my mind turned back to Coin. Was there a chance that she would actually kill me if I deviated from what she wanted me to do as the Mockingjay? Probably. Coin wanted what she wanted and nothing was going to stop her. I supposed that I couldn't say anything again that. I had felt the same way many times before. Suddenly a knock came at the door, interrupting my thoughts.

"Come in," I called. The door opened and Seneca Crane slowly strolled in, closing it behind him. I placed the crackers down on the bedside table. "Hey."

"You should eat those," Seneca said, motioning to the crackers.

"They taste like cardboard."

"Yes. The food here in Thirteen isn't the best."

"Must be even tougher, coming from the Capitol. At least I'm used to the food in District 12, which, honestly, wasn't much better than the food here."

"It's definitely a change. But it's a good one. I like it here better. Less stress," Seneca said.

"Seriously?"

"In a way."

"I think I'm just as stressed here as I was in the Capitol. In District 12. Just in a different way," I said.

"I understand that. You really should eat those. Sooner or later they're going to have you start your Mockingjay duties. I'm not sure what they will consist of, but you'll need to have your strength," Seneca said.

"To stand in front of a screen?" I asked blandly.

"You might get to see some action," Seneca said, grinning slightly.

"You're petitioning to get me out on the field," I put together.

"It's not going well, but I'm working on it."

"Thank you for trying."

"I didn't think you liked sitting here and waiting."

"You're right about that."

He was right. I didn't like sitting here and waiting for word on what to do. I didn't like the idea of being the Mockingjay and only standing in front of computer monitors, reciting rehearsed lines, while people fought and died for me out on the battlefields. I had started this, and now I was in hiding, like a coward. I wanted to leave and be out there with them. I wasn't a politician. I was a terrible speaker. The one thing that I was good at was being a fighter. I was more useful out there.

"How are you?" Seneca asked after a beat of silence.

"Somehow thrown for a loop again," I said, laughing under my breath.

Seneca smiled and nodded. He took a seat next to me on the bed, propping his legs up on the bed frame. "Yes. I imagined that President Coin's words would surprise you," Seneca said.

"Did you know?" I asked, raising my brows.

Seneca immediately shook his head. "No. But I had a feeling that she would say something like that," he admitted.

At least he hadn't known. I would have been a little upset if he had and hadn't even bothered to tell me. "I'm not sure if I was expecting it or not. I guess that I should have expected it," I muttered truthfully.

"She needs a scapegoat if this doesn't work out," Seneca said.

My eyebrows raised. I hadn't even thought about that. It wasn't necessarily about her keeping me in line with what she wanted. It was also about having someone to blame if we didn't win. Someone to blame so that District 13 could go back to living its solitary life. They were hoping that I would be executed and Coin could blame everything that she had done on a little girl with far too much power. I just had to keep remembering that. No one here wanted to help me. I was almost on my own.

"Who better than the person that started this all?" Seneca continued.

"I suppose that's a good point. If I work for my own wants and desires for one second - if it deviates from her own motivations for even a moment - I'm giving up my own life to her. Not that she doesn't already have it," I growled irritably.

Someone always seemed to have complete control of my life. "Just play to her rules for a while longer," Seneca consoled me quietly.

"Rules... Always playing to someone's rules," I laughed.

"Just for a little while longer. If you help us win the revolution, you'll be done," Seneca said. It felt like this would never be done with though. "I can talk to President Coin. Allow you to go -"

"Back to District 12?" I interrupted.

Seneca's face flushed with embarrassment. "I'm deeply sorry," he muttered.

Shrugging my shoulders, I leaned back against the headboard. "That's okay. I forget about it sometimes, too. I'm not sure where I would even go," I said slowly.

"You could always stay here." I scoffed at the thought of living in District 13. "Or in the Capitol. We can try and find you a place to be re-situated," Seneca offered."

That would have been even worse than living in District 13. That was the last place that I could imagine living. "No offense, Seneca, but after everything that's happened to me in the Capitol, I think the last thing that I want is to live there. Too many bad memories," I said slowly.

"I understand. Perhaps District 2."

That wouldn't be a terrible idea. But even that had its own problems. "I'm not sure that would work either. When Cato comes back, he's going to find out about what happened to Leah," I said, cringing at the thought of Cato finding out that his little sister was dead. "I don't think that he'll want to go back to the place that she died. Even if it is his home."

"That's understandable, too. I don't think that I'll want to go back to the Capitol once this is all over," Seneca admitted.

My eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"Yes. Too many bad memories there."

He must have been talking about the constant death threats that he had suffered from Snow over the past year. "Trust me when I say that I understand. Where will you go?" I asked curiously.

Seneca seemed to think on it for a while. "District 4, maybe," he finally said.

"Four?"

As far as I had been thinking, only Finnick and Annie would go back to District 4. "I've always thought that it was the prettiest of the Districts. All of the water. The ocean. It might be a nice place to be," Seneca said.

For a moment I thought back to the Victory Tour. We had just been in District 4 for a day, but it had been lovely. I remembered thinking that it was a nice place. All of the water surrounding it. The smell of the ocean when the breeze would blow, whipping your hair around you. The lovely sun constantly beating down. Being able to swim whenever you wanted. Having enough money to be comfortable but not overly-wealthy. Enough food to never be hungry but not opulence.

Yes. It seemed that District 4 could be a good place to build a life. "It could be a good place to live. I guess I'll just have to think about it," I said, for the first time, really thinking about my future.

I had always been so in the now - thinking that I would die any day - that I had never really thought about the future before. "You could even rebuild District 12," Seneca offered.

"Yeah... That kind of seems like the only place that I could ever live and even have some semblance of happiness," I muttered.

Happiness. When was the last time that I had felt that? There were lots of relatively recent memories that I had of some semblance of happiness. The day that I had found out that Cato was alive. Hunting with Gale, Katniss, and later Dean. The wedding back in the Capitol. That day on the rooftop garden before the Quell. A few moments during the Quell. But the last time that I had been genuinely happy? I couldn't even remember. Probably never. Not with the constant threat of starvation and the Hunger Games.

"I found something," Seneca said, probably trying to distract me.

I appreciated it. I didn't want to think about how genuinely unhappy my life had been. "Oh?" I asked curiously.

"I think you should have it," Seneca said.

He dug his hand down into the pocket of his jumpsuit before pulling out something that looked eerily like the video that Finnick had once handed me of my father's Death Match. My stomach immediately turned in knots. I wasn't so sure that I wanted to watch this. Not if it was my mother's. I could handle seeing my father die. It had been absolutely horrible and had torn me apart, but I had always pictured him as so strong. My mother had seemed so much more emotional. I wasn't sure that I could handle hers.

"What is this?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"Come with me," Seneca goaded.

"Okay."

But I really didn't want to go. I didn't want to see what it was. I didn't want to possibly watch my mother die. Her death could remain a secret to me. The only thing that I knew was what Mr. Everdeen had told me. She had died during the Death Match when she had been caught in an opening by the male from District 2. There had been a little bit of a fight but my mother had been easily outweighed by him. In the end, it hadn't been much of a fight. She simply hadn't been strong enough.

It had been mostly luck that I had been strong enough. And Cato. Cato had definitely helped. Seneca placed a hand on the small of my back and gently pushed me from the compartment. The gesture that had once terrified me and sent uncomfortable chills up my spine was now something that was a form of comfort. He was one of the few people that I now allowed to be so close to me. In fact, I trusted Seneca right now more than I trusted Haymitch. It just went to show how awful my judge of character was.

Of course, the same could be said for anyone who talked to me. I wasn't nearly as good as I liked to pretend to be sometimes. As we walked to the War Room, I noticed a number of people staring at me. Just like always. I knew that Seneca greatly unsettled a number of people in District 13, but they were slowly getting acclimated to having him around. Especially now that his beard had grown in at all parts. He was slowly starting to look more like someone from the Districts. He looked much better these days.

As a matter of fact, if things had gone differently and I had never ended up with Cato - and Gale had been out of the picture - I would have been attracted to him. But that would have been in another, nonexistent, life. As we walked into the War Room, Seneca ordered everyone out. I sat down at the table as Seneca popped the tape into the recording device. I stared at the screen curiously. Then an image formed. It was the Tribute Interview stage and Caesar Flickerman was in the center.

He looked like he always had, but he was wearing a bright pink suit. "What is this?" I asked, turning to Caesar.

"Watch," Seneca goaded.

"Ladies and gentleman," Caesar started, "please give a warm round of applause for Emilia Antaeus!"

My mother... This was her Tribute Interview. "Seneca -" I started.

"Watch. You should watch this," Seneca interrupted.

At the same time, a woman walked onto the stage. Not even a woman. An eighteen-year-old girl. My mother. Whom I was now two years older than. Two years older than she ever got to be. My heart twisted strangely in my chest as she walked onto the stage to a loud round of applause. Her Stylist didn't seem to have been too outlandish but they definitely didn't have the flare that Cinna had. Her dress was a simple black gown that hit the floor, swaying around her feet, with silver sparkles that made the light dance.

As she walked onto the stage, I noticed that she looked much more confident than I had at my own Interview. The first time around, at least. I had almost fallen. She was walking with a confident swagger in her step. I couldn't believe her. How had I come from that confident and smiling woman? She looked like she was having the time of her life. I had seen videos of my own Interview. I had been shaking, I'd been constantly looking to the audience for help, and I had been wobbling in my heels.

But not my mother. Perhaps I'd taken more of my personality and 'charms' from my father. My mother clearly hadn't had enough to eat. I could see the boniness in her body. But, like me, she had clearly made use of living off of the land. She had some muscle mass to her. Her hair was long and blonde - just like mine. She looked like she might have been a little bit taller than me and she definitely had brighter eyes. Hers were a brilliant blue. We did have the same nose. Right now we could have been sisters.

"Welcome, Emilia," Caesar greeted as my mother took his hand and her seat.

"Thank you, Caesar," my mother said sweetly.

"You look absolutely lovely tonight," Caesar said.

"Oh, thank you. I don't think that I've ever worn something quite this lovely. I owe it all to my wonderful Prep Team and Head Stylist. They've really taken everything that I was comfortable with into consideration," my mother said, moving the skirt of her dress around her legs.

It was the same thing that I had done with my flame dress. Caesar smiled, placing a hand over hers. "A charmer you are! Isn't that right? Isn't it?" Caesar asked. The entire crowd started to cheer loudly. Already working the crowd. "It's been an exciting past few days, hasn't it?"

My mother smiled. "They've been busy. But I'm used to busy days," she joked.

The audience laughed again. "Of course! Your lovely daughter, if I'm correct?" Caesar asked.

Did you ever imagine that in just seventeen years you would be speaking to me? "Yes. Aspen," my mother said fondly. Did you imagine that I would be there, mother?

Caesar shifted a bit and waited for the audience to cease their cooing. "Might I ask about your late husband?" he asked carefully.

At least he had been somewhat respectful for that question. "Of course," my mother said.

Not that she would have had much of a choice. "We here in the Capitol remember him well." I could see my mother swallow a lump in her throat. They killed him. They killed you, too. But they will not kill me. "But I do recall during his Death Match that one of the final things he said was that he loved your daughter, calling her Aspen. Was that his decision?" Caesar asked.

For a moment I was grateful for Caesar. Not that I had ever really hated him that much in the first place. The only reason that I didn't actually like him was because of the Games. But I knew that he had been raised on them. He likely would have been quite the good person had he been raised in the Districts. Of course, he likely hated me right now. For everything that I had done to ruin his caliber of life. But I remembered my father. He had looked right into the camera and told me he loved me.

"We talked about what to name our daughter before his Reaping. We had come down to a few final choices. Aspen was one of them. When he was Reaped, we didn't even think about what to name her. My concern was making sure that our final few moments were talking about her. Protecting her. Making a plan. Before he died... that was his final request, I assume. Naming her. So that's her name. Aspen... My Aspen..." my mother said.

Her voice became very weak. It cracked as she trailed off. Her eyes were becoming slightly misty. I wanted to reach through the television and grab her hand. But I couldn't. She was long since dead. Seneca seemed to sense my need. He grabbed my hand and allowed me to squeeze his own tightly. I had wondered if that had been his final request or if they had already named me. At least I knew now. My mother's eyes became slightly misty as Caesar laid a hand on her shoulder.

"It's a lovely name and the right choice. A good final request," Caesar whispered.

"Yes. It was," my mother said, her voice even quieter.

The entire audience was silent. You could have heard a pin drop. "Might I ask where Aspen is now?" Caesar asked.

"Being watched over by my childhood best friend and her husband. They're going to take care of her... just in case," my mother tried off.

Don't worry, mother, they took care of me. I put myself here. "I believe that I speak for everyone when I tell you that I sincerely hope that you get to see your daughter again," Caesar said.

The audience erupted into soft cheers. No, you don't. You were perfectly happy to watch her die. "Thank you. So do I," my mother said softly.

"When she watches this in a number of years, no matter what the outcome of the Games are, what would you like to tell her? In this moment, what does Emilia Antaeus want to say to Aspen Antaeus?" Caesar asked.

Maybe that was why Seneca had shown me this. Because my mother had always wanted me to see this. "That I will be proud of her... no matter what she does. There is nothing that she could do to ever make me love her any less. No matter what happens in the Games, I will always love her. No matter where I end up. She will do wonderful things with her life. I genuinely believe that. With her father's temper. My determination. She'll be strong. I know that she will. She's going to make me so proud one day.

"She already has. Being this young... she'll have already experienced so many things that no one her age should. Losing her father, maybe losing me; no one deserves that. But she'll manage herself. I've left her in the care of the people who I know best. They'll take care of her. And if things go wrong, one day - long from now - I'll see her again," my mother whispered.

Had I really made her proud? Was this something that she had thought would happen? Was this what she wanted from me? She probably would have liked me attempting to end the Hunger Games. That much I was sure of. But she likely hadn't liked this. Everything that I had done to make it this far. What about destroying District 12? Of course, it had been an accident. I hadn't actually done it. But she definitely wouldn't have liked that. I didn't, either.

"You are marvelously well-spoken, Emilia. And I wish you all of the luck in the world. We here in the Capitol are praying with you that you'll get to see Aspen again," Caesar said.

Maybe he was being honest about wanting her to have seen me. But it didn't matter. She hadn't. "Me too," my mother whispered.

"Are you ready for the Games?" Caesar asked.

My mother's face turned up into a smile as she blinked back her tears. "Well there's no turning back now," she joked.

There was a large bit of laughter from both Caesar and the audience. "No, there isn't. With an eight in training, it seems that you're ready to compete," Caesar said brightly.

Not bad, mother. "Oh, I think an eight is an understatement," my mother said slyly.

So that's where my big head comes from. Caesar and the rest of the audience started laughing as he clapped his hands together. "Ha-ha! Well done! Ladies and gentlemen, Emilia Antaeus!" Caesar called, pulling my mother to her feet and raising her arms - just as he had done with me seventeen years later. "Best of luck."

"Thank you," my mother said.

With that, she walked off the stage. Some of the last free moments of her life. Some of the last moments before she went into the arena that she died in. My stomach churned in knots as the screen faded and kicked the tape back out. Seneca finally released my hand. He walked over and took the tape, slipping it back into his pocket. The two of us stared at each other for a little while. It took me a few moments too long to realize that I was crying.

Seneca reached over and brushed the tears out of my eyes. It was a gesture that I normally wouldn't tolerate from anyone but Cato. But he wasn't here right now. And until he got here, I needed someone to be here for me. So I allowed him the moment before squeezing my eyes shut, trying to stop the flow of tears. I had cried so much lately for so many horrible things. To cry over hearing how much my mother had loved me - how much faith she had in me - seemed silly.

"Why show me that?" I asked, my voice wavering.

"You needed to see it. You needed to know that it isn't just us who believe in you. Your mother believed in you." She had at the time. But she had believed that I could grow up and marry a good guy. A coal miner from District 12. Not a vicious Career from District 2. "Right now, looking down on you, she believes in you," Seneca continued.

"She wasn't expecting that I would do all of this," I said, motioning around us.

"Maybe not, but if she were here, she would believe in you. Just the way that I do," Seneca said.

Normally I would have smiled, but right now I felt a little sick. Seneca placed a hand behind my back and started leading me from the War Room. I wanted to get out of District 13 for a while, but I knew that it was the wrong time. I couldn't get out at nighttime. They had already told me that it wasn't safe. And I wouldn't be able to get outside tomorrow either. That was when I would start my Mockingjay duties. Surely something that I would be terrible at.

"Why do you believe in me so much?" I asked Seneca.

"Because I'm from the Capitol," Seneca said. I raised my brows, unsure of what he was talking about. "We cling for something to believe in. President Snow, the Hunger Games, the Tributes, the new Victors... Now I need something new to believe in." Seneca placed a hand on my shoulder. "I found one. The Mockingjay."

A little scowl fell over my face. "It always comes back to the Mockingjay," I snarled.

Always the Mockingjay. Never Aspen. Not for a long time. Volunteer, Tribute, Victor, Mockingjay. It had been so long since I had just heard my own name. "Not just the Mockingjay. Aspen Antaeus. That's who I'm betting on," Seneca said.

A little jolt went through my stomach. It was the same thing that Cinna had said to me a number of times. "You spoke to Cinna before he died, didn't you?" I asked weakly.

"Many of us did. But, yes, I spoke to him shortly before he died," Seneca said.

I wished that I had gotten more of a chance to speak to him before he had died. It had all been so fast. I had been launched into the arena and had never even gotten a chance to say all of the many things that I had wanted to say. I had complimented the dress. I had told him what he meant to me. But he had stopped me - as had the counter for the launch time - before I could say everything on my mind. He had told me that I was his family, though. And I would keep trying to make him proud.

As I walked through the halls towards my own compartment again, I glanced up at the metal walls. "I hate this place," I groaned. "I keep wondering if I'm really just the Mockingjay to these people or if I'm something more. Do they even know my name? Do they even care?"

"To be completely honest, no," Seneca said. I nodded, appreciating the honesty. "I doubt that most of them care. But the way that I see it, there are a number of people who do care."

"Cato's family. My family," I muttered.

Just a few people. Far too few. "Haymitch, Finnick, Brutus, and me," Seneca continued.

"Brutus hates me. Finnick, probably. Haymitch is dead to me," I snarled.

There was no chance that I would ever forgive Haymitch. Not for what he had done to me. "You should really speak with Haymitch at some point. Aspen, the two of you were once extremely close to each other," Seneca goaded.

"Before he betrayed me. He sold me out. He landed Cato in the Capitol," I hissed.

He had helped make true everything that I had feared so greatly. "And he wasn't happy with himself for doing it. It wasn't easy for Haymitch to tell them to collect you first. To go back on his word. But you mean a great deal to him. He wouldn't have been able to leave you," Seneca reasoned.

"He should have told me to stay with Cato. He could have brought us back together," I said weakly.

"Yes, he should have. But he knew that the two of you would leave. Run away. We had to keep the two of you with people who knew what was happening. We had to have people around who could overpower you. Dig out the tracker," Seneca said.

"I know that. But I have to be angry with someone. Haymitch just seems like the easiest person to be angry with," I said.

"He's always been an easy person to be angry with. Aspen, these things happen during rebellions. People must forget their promises and start doing what is best for the cause," Seneca explained.

It was so cold. So cruel. Something that sounded just like what someone from the Capitol would say. But I knew that it wasn't it. I knew that it was just something that happened with war and rebellion. People started to forget their original promises. I had long since forgotten about my promise to only take a life if necessary. How many people had I killed? How many people had I gotten killed? I had married the man that I had sworn that I would kill. But I still wasn't doing what was right for the cause.

I was doing what was right for me. I likely always would. "Rebellion sucks," I said very childishly.

Thankfully Seneca didn't comment on it. He merely smiled, walking down the hallway towards my compartment with me. "Yes, it does. Rebellion has never been something that we loved, but it was time," Seneca said.

Shocking, coming from someone who had once been a Head Gamemaker. Someone who had once loved the Games so much. "Talk about something else. I'm sick of talking about the rebellion," I muttered.

But that was really all that we could talk about. It was all anyone ever talked about. "They're preparing you for Mockingjay duties tomorrow," Seneca commented.

"Yes. Remaking me, just the way that they did for the Games. Joy," I growled.

"You would think that you would be used to it," Seneca teased.

"I doubt that I would ever get used to being poked and prodded and made up for their amusement," I said.

"I hear you've never been cooperative with it."

Had he ever heard about the moment that Cato and I had met each other? I certainly hoped not. It was still a little embarrassing. But it was definitely funny when I thought back on it. I snorted under my breath, shaking my head when Seneca sent me a fond and slightly confused look. No one really needed to know that I had been so uncooperative that I had shouted when having my legs waxed, drawing Cato and his Stylist into the room. The beginning of our once-vile relationship.

"Never," I said, still repulsed by the idea of having my legs waxed again, at a time like this. "But I might have to learn to manage if it means that they're going to go into the Capitol and rescue Cato. I can't keep fighting them on everything." We were silent for a few moments. "When do you think that they'll do it?"

"As soon as they can. They can't risk you getting upset and taking back your Mockingjay duties," Seneca reasoned.

Was there even a way for me to back out of them? "It doesn't seem like I'll have the choice to go back on them now," I said, remembering Coin's words up on that stage.

"Why's that?" Seneca asked.

"You heard what Coin said. If I fail to falter in them..."

"I won't let her hurt you."

He pressed a hand against my forehead, brushing back the loose strands of hair that hung there. "Thank you," I whispered.

"You deserve a happy life," Seneca said slowly.

"I don't think happiness is in the cards for me," I said honestly. It looked like Seneca might have wanted to say something else to me, but he was cut off the moment that we walked back into my room. Someone was already there. "Gale."

He was perched on the edge of my bed, clearly having been waiting for me. "I wouldn't bet on that. Have a wonderful night, Aspen," Seneca said, giving me a quick hug. "Good to see you, Mr. Hawthorne."

"Goodnight, Seneca," I said.

"Night," Gale said blandly.

There was definitely no way that Gale was ever going to like Seneca. No matter how many times I told him that we had moved past what had happened during the Victory Tour. Seneca gave us both respectful nods before turning to leave the compartment. At least Seneca wasn't rude about it. And each time that Seneca and I were together, we found ourselves a little more at ease with each other. We were starting to trust each other more and more. I dropped onto the bed with Gale, who brought out a plate of food.

"Is this your dinner?" I asked curiously.

He would get into a ton of trouble if he was going to hand me a plate of his food. "No. It's yours." I raised a brow. That was against the rules, bringing someone their food. They had to get it themselves. "Katniss caused a distraction in the kitchen so that I could get an extra plate for you," Gale explained, making me snort. "We didn't think that you would want to eat out there tonight."

"You were both right. Thanks for this," I said, taking the less-than-appetizing looking food.

"Our pleasure," Gale said.

He let me eat in silence for a little while. It didn't take me long to eat the dinner. Today it was beef stew with potatoes, onions, and turnips. It was all rather disgusting. It tasted very mealy and didn't have much of an actual flavor. There was even some pea soup. Too bad that I didn't like peas. I wished that we had some bread or something of the likes, but they really didn't have any in District 13. It was one of those moments that I genuinely missed the Capitol. At least they had good food.

"What did Katniss do?" I finally asked.

"I'm not sure, but there was a lot of banging and crashing," Gale said.

We both laughed. I could imagine that Katniss had caused quite the scene. She was fast enough that she would be long gone before they could catch her. "You'll get in trouble for that," I said.

"It was worth it."

"Just think... you might never get that communicuff back," I teased, wrapping my hand around his wrist.

"A truly terrible punishment," Gale said.

Suddenly my thoughts were turned back to Katniss. I hoped that she hadn't gotten in trouble with District 13 for bringing me my dinner. "Where is Katniss?" I asked.

"She had to run and take the long way around. She should be here soon," Gale said.

"Okay."

But it wasn't just a few minutes that passed before Katniss showed up. In fact, it was a number of hours that had passed before Katniss managed to show up in the compartment again. I wished that she would have been here hours ago. She was now the one that was good for defusing the fights between Gale and myself. Just the way that it used to be me who diffused the fights between the two of them. Things had changed greatly since the first Games.

Especially now that I argued with Gale a lot more than I used to. Not that we had always been the nicest to each other. We used to constantly fight with each other. But it had always been little bickering and we would be over it the next day. It wasn't like that anymore. Now when we fought, they were pretty nasty arguments. We wouldn't talk for days and even when we did talk again, they were always very tense conversations, almost like we were walking on eggshells.

When Katniss finally managed to arrive back in the compartment, I noticed that she looked absolutely exhausted. Clearly she had been on the run for a while. It must have been harder than we had originally thought for her to get back here. She must have been running from security for the past few hours. At least it wasn't me. I was always winded these days. I could only hope that the remaining effects from the concussion and electrocution would be gone soon.

Katniss strode into the compartment and instantly dropped down onto the bed. I smiled weakly at her and tossed a pillow over for her to lay down on. As much as I wanted to laugh at her, I was now in a sour mood, just as I always seemed to be. Today it was from the way that my earlier conversation with Gale had gone. It had quickly turned very nasty after our few moments with a joking attitude. Katniss almost instantly took notice that Gale was no longer with me.

"Where's Gale?" Katniss asked.

"Gone," I answered dully.

Katniss scoffed and looked around the compartment. I saw her eyes roll. "Seriously?" she asked. I nodded at her. "What happened this time?"

"Nothing. We just don't see eye-to-eye on a lot of things," I grumbled, not wanting to think about what had just happened.

"And here I thought that you two might have finally been working things out," Katniss muttered.

"We were. Until he opened his mouth," I growled.

"What did he say?"

As much as I loved Gale, he had always been a terrible person to try and have console you. That wasn't the kind of person he was. He said what he felt. "Doesn't matter. I'm sure he'll complain to you later about what I did or said to piss him off," I commented.

The three of us had always complained to each other when one of us had gotten on the other's nerves. Then they would help to get us talking again. It was a constant back-and-forth with us. "He'll get over it. He's not going to start complaining to me. He doesn't want to fight with you. Not right now. Not while you're the way that you are," Katniss said.

"The way that I am?" I asked sharply.

"Stressed. In pain," Katniss said, quickly rectifying her mistake.

Those were two feelings that I had been experiencing for quite some time. They were actually quite different these days. "Believe it or not, I'm not as stressed as I used to be. I mean, I still am. But things have calmed down a little bit. Especially now that I know that Cato is still alive," I said, running the chain with our wedding rings on it between my fingers.

"And you're going to get him back," Katniss said, placing a hand on my knee.

"Yeah," I muttered.

That was the one thing that I couldn't wait for. To have him back with me. Katniss smiled and stood from the bed. "You should go to bed. It's gonna be a long day tomorrow," she said.

"Okay. Where are Mom and Prim?" I asked, laying back.

I hadn't seen them since the announcement in the Collective, and it had been a number of hours. "Mom's in the hospital with Prim. They're taking care of your Prep Team. Making sure that they're going to be healthy enough to help you get yourself together tomorrow," Katniss explained.

"They coming back tonight?" I asked.

They had looked so awful earlier that I couldn't believe they would be able to get over it and come back to help me tomorrow. "Maybe," Katniss said.

"Are you staying?" I asked, tucking myself under my sheets.

"I'm gonna go hunt down Gale. See if I can get him to tell me what happened," Katniss said.

"And?" I asked.

There was no way that this one was my fault. This one was all on Gale. "And I'll reason with him. Honestly, you two are like little kids," Katniss said, rolling her eyes.

"Thanks, Cat," I called teasingly after her.

"Sure thing. Get some rest," she said, turning back to me with a smile.

"Night," I chirped.

"Goodnight."

The door to the compartment closed just a second later. I assumed that I would be alone for most of the night. Which was fine by me. I wanted to steam in my own fury for a little while. Gale could be a major pain in the ass. I really wanted to slap him sometimes. It was clear that we saw so many things on completely different sides. But we had been through so many different things. I had been through the Hunger Games. I had been in the Capitol. Gale never had.

It was the one thing that Cato and I shared that Gale and I never could. I laid down on the bed and closed my eyes, feeling the familiar headache forming at my temples. I was exhausted from the day, even though I really hadn't done that much. It was just the constant stress on my mind, wondering if Cato was alive and still doing alright. I needed to know if they were hurting him or if they were just using his presence to try and get to me. Either way, he was constantly on my mind, even as I went to sleep.

When the next morning dawned, I was only able to get out of bed when Katniss threw a pillow at me to wake me up. Prim and Ms. Everdeen were still gone, likely still in the hospital, taking care of the Prep Team. I quickly changed jumpsuits - not that there was anything different about this one - after hopping out of the shower. Not that I really had a reason to shower. They would likely get me all hosed down again before putting me into the Mockingjay armor for the first time.

Once I was ready for the day, not bothering to put up my hair, I nodded at Katniss that I was ready to go. Not that I was ready. I would never be ready to become the Mockingjay for real. I headed out into the dining hall with Katniss, Gale meeting up with us about halfway. He said hello - and Katniss responded - but I ignored him. As we walked in I noticed a strangely familiar sight. At one of the far tables sat Effie Trinket. My former Escort. I was too interested to see Effie to tell Gale to leave me alone for a while.

"Effie?" I asked.

Dashing over to the table, I carelessly dropped my tray. Effie turned back and smiled happily. "Oh! Well," Effie half-sobbed.

Never in my entire life had I thought that I would be so happy to see Effie Trinket. Gale and Katniss followed, staying just a few strides behind me. As I leaned down, I brought Effie into a lingering hug. It was a little strange to see her. She was slightly more tanned than I had thought that she was without her makeup. And her hair was hidden by some type of scarf. Maybe I would never know what the real color was. I smiled confusedly as we pulled apart and I sat in front of her. Gale and Katniss were behind me.

"I thought that you were still in the Capitol!" I cried, taking her hand in mine. Effie had a hand laid on my shoulder. "I thought that they had to leave you there when it was time to come to Thirteen. What are you doing here?"

"I'm a political refugee," Effie said.

"I'm so glad that you're alright," I said truthfully.

In all honesty, I had thought that Effie would be killed in the Capitol for her association with me. I was very grateful that she was here. "So am I," Effie said.

"I was worried about you. Plutarch rescued you?" I asked.

"Rescued, yes, that's what he calls it," Effie half-laughed. "You and I were both in the dark. Now I'm condemned to this life of jumpsuits."

"Well you still look good in the jumpsuit," I said.

She really did. I just wished that she would take off the makeup and let me see what her real hair looked like. "Thank you, my dear," Effie said fondly.

She finally released me and looked past at Gale and Katniss. Gale had never been too fond of her. He thought that she was a strange Capitol woman, which she was. Katniss had originally hated her, but had learned to have some fondness for her. Effie leaned over and hugged Katniss. She was clearly happy to see her, too. On the other hand, Gale didn't go for a hug, but he did take Effie's outstretched hand and hold it for a moment.

"It is wonderful to see you again," Effie told Gale and Katniss.

"We're happy you're okay," Katniss said.

Effie picked up her water cup. "Can you believe this place? I miss coffee." She slammed it back on the table. "I never knew any place could be so strict. I mean, I thought at least in the higher ranks there'd be some side action. I miss my wigs." Effie gently touched her head scarf, making me smile. "Luckily, I remembered that this was all the rage when I was coming up. You know, everything old can be made new again, like democracy," Effie said, her face falling slightly. "Which brings me to this."

At the same moment, she slid over a folder. The same black folder that they had given me yesterday. It was the same folder that Plutarch had given me yesterday. It was the folder that held all of Cinna's designs. I had only looked through it for a brief moment before the others had taken it back and we had started getting to work. I had really wanted to look through it for a while, though. I wanted to see what Cinna had really wanted for me. Not that he had wanted all of this. Maybe the ends. Not the means.

"Cinna," I whispered, opening the folder. "I didn't really get a chance to look through these."

"He made Plutarch promise not to show you this until you'd decided to be the Mockingjay on your own. He knew the risks, as we all do," Effie said reassuringly.

Instantly I started going through the pages. It almost made me smile. I could see the bits of Cinna in every drawing. His writing, his loops, his favorite colors. And mine. The Mockingjay emblem was on the inside of the front cover. On the first page were color choices, grey and blue and black, and a drawing of my back with what looked to be tactical, decorative, wings. There were even sketches of feathers. On the next page was me in my armor, holding a loaded and drawn bow.

The next page held an extremely detailed sketch of what I assumed was supposed to be my arm guard. It was much more impressive than any that I had used before. I hadn't even used one in either Hunger Games. There was another drawing of me with the detailed padding that would protect me from bullets and knives. On the last page - with a detailed drawing of the chest piece - my hand lingered over his note. The whole book must have taken months. For Cinna...

"He really did have faith in me," I whispered.

"Yes, he did. He believed in this revolution. He believed in you," Effie said.

"They're beautiful," I said softly.

"They have it. They have the Mockingjay outfit," Effie said. I nodded, having already known that. "There's not much of a Prep Team here in Thirteen, but we will make you the best-dressed rebel in history."

Did she not know that my Prep Team was here? Or was she referring to the fact that they were obviously traumatized by living here? It didn't matter. "Let's get to it," I said.

"Come along, dear," Effie said.

Something struck me a little funny about the way that she had said that I would be the best dressed rebel in history. Once a Capitol woman, always a Capitol woman. It didn't matter. I loved Effie in my own way. I was extremely glad that she was safe. Ignoring my breakfast - strangely eager to get to work - I pushed the plate back and stood from the table. Gale went straight to work (I made sure to ignore him) and Katniss left for training with a promise that she would check on me soon.

In the meantime, Effie and I headed off to get to work. A full day of poking and prodding at me, just the way that they had done to me before the first Hunger Games. We headed deep into the underground of District 13. It was a place that I had never been before. I assumed that it was where the entire process would be done to make me look like a proper Mockingjay. I was going to start looking a little bit more like the Capitol darling that I had once been so used to looking like.

We walked deep into some underground tunnel and into a gray room. I stared at it blankly. It looked like one of the rooms in the hospital. Instantly I stripped off my clothing, much to Effie's pleasure. I was just used to it. It turned out that my Prep Team wasn't coming to help me. Not yet, apparently. There were two unfamiliar faces - both of whom seemed to be Capitol refugees. I wasn't sure exactly who they were, but they were much quieter than my own Prep Team. They didn't speak to me. They just worked.

As they worked, Effie walked off to see what else was happening. I was sure that she was checking in with Plutarch and Fulvia about whether or not they were ready for me later. I had noticed that Effie wasn't overly fond of Fulvia. As the two strangers worked I found myself almost missing the constant chattering of my Prep Team. But I could tell that they weren't quite ready to face me just yet. Not that I could really blame them. I wouldn't have wanted to see me either if I was in their shoes.

"Remake her to Beauty Base Zero. We'll work from there," Fulvia had ordered first thing in the morning.

That was when I had noticed it on Effie's face. Her annoyance that someone else was dictating my every move. "You'll look lovely," Effie had reassured me.

"Thanks, Effie. Don't worry. I like you much more," I had whispered. And just like that, there had been some reemergence of the old Effie Trinket with her flashing smile.

Beauty Base Zero turned out to be what a person would look like if they stepped out of bed looking flawless but natural. It was what I imagined that I might have looked like had I been raised in one of the Career Districts. But even they hadn't looked that good upon arrival in the Capitol. Their beauty definition now meant that my nails were perfectly shaped but not polished. My hair was soft and shiny but not styled. My skin was finally smooth and clear again, but not painted. That had been the longest process.

Afterwards they had waxed the body hair and erased the dark circles under my eyes, but they didn't make any noticeable enhancements. That was something that I had appreciated. I supposed that Cinna had given the rebels the same instructions that he had the first day I arrived as a Tribute in the Capitol. Only that was different, since I was a contestant. As a rebel, I had thought that I would get to look more like myself. But it seemed that a televised rebel had her own standards to live up to.

That meant that I had to look like I had the first time that I had been shown off at the Tribute Parade. Effie crossed back into the room a few hours later to track the progress. Not that they had managed to make one. Right now it was all about finishing erasing the marks that had been left behind from my second trip into the arena. There were quite a number. Especially since I had been subjected to a few more brutalities in the Quell than I had in my first Games.

They had been forced to bring in another few Capitol refugees - and Effie - to help erase the scars that had been left behind. Those that had been left behind from the trees and bushes that I had run into. Some of the char marks from the electrocution. The horrible burn across my stomach. The bruises and stab wounds. Not to mention the burned and singed hair from the fire and the fog. It had to be completely redone to appear like it hadn't been half-burned off.

At least it was now back to length that it used to be. Just a few inches shorter. I was back in the bath when Effie returned to check on me again. I was slowly running my fingers through the thick layer of bubbles in my tub. Cleaning me up was just the preliminary step to determining my new look. With my previously acid-damaged hair, sunburned skin, and ugly scars, the new prep team would have to spend hours making me pretty only to then damage, burn, and scar me in a more attractive way.

"How's the Prep Team?" I asked Effie as she came back to my side.

"They're doing better," Effie said, placing herself on the edge of the tub. "Plutarch isn't quite sure that they're ready to work. We're using a few others to try and help you get ready."

"Not the Prep Team, then?" I asked.

"Not today. They need a few more days."

"Who will do it?"

"Plutarch says that they have a team that can make do. The two who were in here first."

"Okay."

They hadn't seemed overly-fond of me, but I supposed that most people weren't. At least there was someone here to help me. Not that I really cared what I looked like. But evidently the rest of Panem and the rebels would. Although I thought that I should look burned and wounded. It would make me look like a real warrior and fighter. It would make it look like I wasn't being pampered while people were out there, losing their lives for me. My idea had been quickly shot down.

Apparently I was too ugly to even consider that idea. Eventually I was led out of the bathtub. As Fulvia said, I looked at least human again. I was sat in a chair with a fabric draped over my chest as they started to make me up. The two people from the Capitol were back with me and standing at either side, wearing the same uniform I normally did. I closed my eyes at the sight of the makeup brushes and felt them moving heavily across my face. It was obvious enough that they had never done their own.

Suddenly Effie burst into the room. "Stop! What are you savages doing?" Effie howled. She snatched the makeup brushes from them. They stepped back as Effie grabbed my face. "This is the face of a revolution!" I tried speaking but Effie spoke over me. "Not some cave painting. Well scoot." The two workers left as Effie called after them, "Have you even ever met rouge?"

"Thank you," I called somewhat awkwardly after the two.

At least they had tried. I closed my eyes a moment later as Effie started to wipe off my makeup. "Don't worry, Aspen. We're going to make this work. For you, for me, and for Cinna. Once I fix this mess," Effie promised.

"Okay," I said, my voice cracking.

For Cinna, I would get over this. Effie started to bring out her own makeup before clearly getting frustrated with the level of work that I required. "This isn't working. Get the Prep Team! Tell them it's an emergency," Effie shouted.

There was a loud thunder of feet as people tried to get the Prep Team down into the room. Evidently I really needed that much work. I wasn't sure if I was offended or if I thought that it was funny. I was stuck in silence by myself as I waited for the Prep Team to arrive. They came in after almost twenty minutes, looking shaken and nervous, but a lot healthier. I smiled and got to my feet, going to hug them. They looked a little terrified of me, but returned the hugs anyways.

"How are you feeling?" I asked them.

"Ready to work," Venia said, sounding stronger than she had yesterday.

"Me too. I promise I won't be a whiner," I gently teased.

For the first time in a long time, I saw my entire Prep Team smile. It was something that was just the slightest bit reassuring to see. It was the same thing that Flavius had told me before my first Games. He had mentioned that it was the one thing that they couldn't stand. At the time it had filled me with fury. Now it was funny. They led me back over to the bathtub and started redoing what the two Capitol refugees had been working on before. Clearly they had done everything wrong.

After I rinsed the lather from my body, I turned to find Octavia waiting with a towel. She was so altered from the woman I knew in the Capitol, stripped of the gaudy clothing, the heavy makeup, the dyes and jewelry and knickknacks she adorned her hair with. I remembered how one day she showed up with bright pink tresses studded with blinking colored lights shaped like mice. She told me that she had several mice at home as pets.

The thought repulsed me at the time, since we considered mice vermin, unless cooked. Most of the animals that they used as pets in the Capitol were used for a meal in District 12. Except dogs. Although I had seen people get a little desperate from time to time. I wasn't sure that I would have ever been that desperate. But perhaps Octavia liked her mice because they were small, soft, and squeaky. Like her. It almost made me smile. As she patted me dry, I tried to become acquainted with the District 13 Octavia.

Her real hair turned out to be a nice auburn. Her face was ordinary but had an undeniable sweetness. She was younger than I thought. Maybe early twenties. Almost my age. It made me sick. Devoid of the three-inch decorative nails, her fingers appeared almost stubby, and they couldn't stop trembling. I wanted to tell her that it was okay, that I would see that Coin never hurt her again. But the multicolored bruises flowering under her green skin only reminded me of how impotent I was.

Flavius, too, appeared washed out without his purple lipstick and bright clothes. He had managed to get his orange ringlets back in some sort of order, though. It was Venia who was the least changed. Her aqua hair laid flat instead of in spikes and you could see the roots growing in gray. She was definitely older. However, the tattoos were always her most striking characteristic, and they were as golden and shocking as ever. She came and took the towel from Octavia's hands.

"Aspen is not going to hurt us. Aspen did not even know we were here. Things will be better now," Venia said quietly but firmly to Octavia.

"You're the only ones who can make me look human again, after all," I teased gently.

Anything to get them to stop looking at me like I was about to hit them. Octavia initially gave a slight nod but didn't dare look me in the eye. Although my comment eventually settled in. They all gave me small smiles. But I noticed that they still weren't looking me right in the eyes. Not that I could be surprised. But I had tried. It was just another of their comments that had once made me want to hate them. After they had prepared me for the Tribute Parade, Flavius had told me that I looked almost human.

"Very good," Effie said, walking back behind me.

"I don't like them hating me," I muttered.

"They don't hate you. They're just afraid. None of us hate you," Effie said determinedly.

"Doubtful," Katniss said, appearing from behind.

"I hate you. Why are you here?" I asked sharply.

"Food time. I'll feed you while they work," Katniss said.

"Thanks," I said.

Skipping breakfast had done me no favor. I was starving from having not eaten all day. Sitting around and being beautified was slightly more difficult than I had expected. Katniss did her job well, feeding me while the Prep Team worked. And she did a good job trying to get them to chat while they worked. Which was good, because it was no simple job getting me back to Beauty Base Zero, even with the elaborate arsenal of products, tools, and gadgets Plutarch had the foresight to bring from the Capitol.

My Prep Team was doing pretty well until they tried to address the spot on my arm where Johanna dug out the tracker. None of the medical team was focusing on looks when they patched up the gaping hole. Now I had a lumpy, jagged scar that rippled out over a space the size of an apple. Usually, my sleeve covered it, but the way that Cinna's Mockingjay costume was designed, the sleeves stopped just above the elbow. It would be seen by everyone if I was on camera the moment that I aimed my bow.

It was such a concern with the Prep Team that Fulvia and Plutarch were called in to discuss it. Katniss was immediately sent out since she came very close to exploding on them about how unimportant the scar was. Of course, I was about to react no better. I could have sworn, the sight of the scar triggered Fulvia's gag reflex. For someone who worked with a Gamemaker, she was awfully sensitive. But I guessed that she was used to seeing unpleasant things only on a screen.

Even Seneca had appeared to discuss the scar. "You would think with all of the injuries that you've seen in the Hunger Games, you would be used to seeing something like this," I commented.

"We're trying to make you pretty!" Fulvia cried.

"Yes, a scar that I received whilst fighting for my life really detracts from my beauty," I growled.

Fulvia's head whipped towards me. "What is that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"You might be a rebel, but you still radiate Capitol. Blind and ignorant to the real problems. Those people out there, fighting for me, will have far worse injuries than a scar on their arms. They'll be missing limbs and eyes and burned down to the bone. This is nothing," I snarled, making sure to shove the scar at her face.

She looked like she was turning slightly green as she looked away from my arm. "You're the symbol of the revolution. We're supposed to be making you look stronger than them. Bulletproof," Fulvia said.

"I don't want to be stronger than them. I want to be down there. With them," I snapped.

"You're perfectly useful right here. Down there is too dangerous," Fulvia argued.

Finally Seneca seemed to think that it was time to interrupt the conversation. "Aspen makes a point. There's no need to cover up the scar. It's almost unnoticeable," he said, pointing to my arm.

But that wasn't the truth either. "Seriously?" I asked him.

"Shut up," Seneca said, shoving my back.

"Everyone knows I have a scar here," I said sullenly.

"Knowing it and seeing it are two different things. It's positively repulsive. Plutarch and I will think of something during lunch," Fulvia said.

"It'll be fine. Maybe an armband or something," Plutarch said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

How could they possibly have said something like that? With a war raging, they were concerned about something like a little scar on my arm. It didn't even bother me. I doubted that it would bother the rebels. They would probably like it. For once I wouldn't look like the Capitol's perfect dress-up doll. But they were still from the Capitol and they were concerned about the way that I looked. Disgusted, I got dressed so that I could head to the dining hall. My Prep Team huddled in a little group by the door.

"Are they bringing your food here?" I asked.

"No. We're supposed to go to a dining hall," Venia said.

Wonderful... That meant that I would have to take them there to show them around. They obviously hadn't seen much of District 13 and clearly hadn't learned their way around the District quite yet. I sighed inwardly as I imagined walking into the dining hall, trailed by those three. I didn't dare sigh out loud. I knew that they felt bad enough right now. I supposed that it didn't really matter. People always stared at me anyway. This would just be more of the same.

"I'll show you where it is. Come on," I said.

The covert glances and quiet murmurs I usually evoked were nothing compared to the reaction brought on by the sight of my bizarre-looking Prep Team. They were even worse than the Capitol rebels. At least they didn't have too many physical alterations. They could manage to blend in. The Prep Team couldn't even begin to manage to blend in. And it didn't help that everyone knew who they were. The gaping mouths, the finger pointing, and the exclamations were awful.

"Just ignore them," I told my Prep Team.

Not that they really looked at me. They were embarrassed and probably still a little fearful of me. Maybe one day they would manage to get over it. With their eyes downcast, and with mechanical movements, they followed me through the food line, accepting bowls of grayish fish and okra stew and cups of water. It looked disgusting but it was something. At least they wouldn't be starving anymore. I assumed that they hadn't been eating much. I could see that they were losing weight.

We took the seats at my table, beside a group from the Seam. They showed a little more restraint than the people from Thirteen did, although it might have just been from embarrassment. No one really wanted to be sitting with them. Leevy, who was Katniss's - and mine, at one point - neighbor back in Twelve, gave a cautious hello to the preps, and Gale's mother, Hazelle, who must have known about their imprisonment, held up a spoonful of the stew.

"Don't worry. Tastes better than it looks," she said.

We were sitting together for about five minutes as the conversation awkwardly dwindled. No one really knew what to say with the Prep Team. But they were trying to talk to them. I appreciated the efforts. Suddenly the rest of the Hadley's came over. They weren't supposed to be over at my table - as it wasn't designated for them - but I appreciated them coming over. Obviously they were trying to help comfort the Prep Team. Even Felix and Marcus joined us, trying to get into the conversation.

"You did well with Aspen," Dean commended the Prep Team.

"Thank you," Octavia whispered.

"She's beautiful anyways," Venia said softly.

It might have been the nicest thing that she had ever said to me. "Thank you, Venia," I said.

"I like the braid that you did. Was that you, Flavius?" Alana asked.

"Yes," Flavius muttered.

"It's lovely," Carrie said.

"Thank you," Flavius whispered.

Everyone had been trying and it had worked reasonably well. They hadn't said anything terrible. But the Prep Team was obviously still incredibly uncomfortable and didn't know quite what to say. We tried to keep talking, but nothing really helped. It was finally Posy, Gale's sweet and adorable five-year-old sister, who helped the most. She scooted along the bench to Octavia and touched her skin with a tentative finger. Thankfully Octavia didn't shy away.

"You're green. Are you sick?" Posy asked.

"It's a fashion thing, Posy. Like wearing lipstick," I said.

"It's meant to be pretty," Octavia whispered, and I could see the tears threatening to spill over her lashes.

Posy considered that and said matter-of-factly, "I think you'd be pretty in any color."

The tiniest of smiles formed on Octavia's lips. "Thank you," she said.

"If you really want to impress Posy, you'll have to dye yourself bright pink," Gale said, thumping his tray down beside me. "That's her favorite color." Posy giggled and slid back down to her mother. I almost smiled. Gale nodded at Flavius's bowl. "I wouldn't let that get cold. It doesn't improve the consistency."

Everyone got down to eating after that. I was grateful for the food. Mostly because I really didn't want to talk to anyone else. Not the Prep Team. Not when I was now thinking about the Mockingjay duties and what was about to happen. And I really didn't want to talk to Gale. Even though I could tell that he wanted me to talk to him. The stew didn't taste bad, but there was a certain sliminess that was hard to get around. Like you had to swallow every bite three times before it really went down.

Gale, who wasn't usually much of a talker during meals, made an effort to keep the conversation going, asking about the makeover. Something that I knew he would never have asked about before. He didn't care. And he normally thought that they were just 'prettying me up for slaughter.' I knew that it was his attempt at smoothing things over. We argued last night after he suggested I had left Coin no choice but to counter my demand for the Victors' safety with one of her own.

"Aspen, she's running this District. She can't do it if it seems like she's caving in to your will."

"You mean she can't stand any dissent, even if it's fair," I'd countered.

"I mean you put her in a bad position. Making her give Cato and the others immunity when we don't even know what sort of damage they might cause," Gale had said.

"So I should've just gone with the program and let the other Tributes take their chances? Not that it matters, because that's what we're all doing anyway!"

That was when I had gotten to my feet, pulled him off of the bed with me, shoved him back outside of the compartment, and slammed the door in his face. I hadn't sat with him at breakfast - only to briefly say hello to Effie - and when Plutarch had sent him down to training this morning, I had let him go without a word. There was nothing that I wanted to speak to him about right now. I knew that he only spoke out of concern for me, but I really needed him to be on my side, not Coin's. How could he not know that?

Thankfully the lunch finally came to an end. It was one of the longest meals that I had ever had to endure. I was so grateful when it was finally time to leave. As everyone got back to their work and the Prep Team headed back to try and prepare the costume for my return to the bottom levels of District 13, I looked down at my schedule. After lunch, Gale, Katniss, and I were scheduled to go down to Special Defense to meet Beetee. I didn't want to be stuck with Gale right now, but I had to get over it.

As we rode the elevator downstairs, Gale finally said, "You're still angry."

"And you're still not sorry," I replied.

"I still stand by what I said. Do you want me to lie about it?" Gale asked.

"No, I want you to rethink it and come up with the right opinion," I told him.

There was a chance that it could have been taken as a joke, but it really wasn't. I meant everything that I had said. He was wrong about this one. I was the one in the right. Everything that I was going to do for District 13 and the rest of the Districts, and Coin couldn't do that one thing for me? Unfortunately my words just made him laugh. I knew that I would have to let it go. There was no point in trying to dictate what Gale thought. Which, if I was honest, was one reason I trusted him.

"Gale, stop laughing," Katniss said.

"What?" Gale asked, looking over at her and smiling. "It's funny."

"And you're not," I barked.

That silenced us all over again. Another day and another fight. I really wished that we could all start getting along again, but it was clear that we were just so different right now. They hadn't been through the Hunger Games. I had. I knew what it was like to take a life. They didn't. I had seen the Capitol and experienced its horror up-close. They hadn't. We were three very different people. The Special Defense level was situated almost as far down as the dungeons where we found the Prep Team.

It was one of the many places of District 13 that I had never seen before. I couldn't imagine how anyone walked around down here. I would have easily managed to get lost. Everything looked exactly the same. It was a beehive of rooms full of computers, labs, research equipment, and testing ranges. When we asked one of the guards for Beetee, we were directed through the never-ending maze until we reached an enormous plate-glass window.

Inside was the first beautiful thing I had seen in the District 13 compound: a replication of a meadow, filled with real trees and flowering plants, and alive with hummingbirds. Beetee sat motionless in a wheelchair at the center of the meadow, watching a spring-green bird hover in midair as it sipped nectar from a large orange blossom. His eyes followed the bird as it darted away, and he caught sight of us. He gave a friendly wave for us to join him inside.

"This is pretty," I said as we walked inside.

"Looks almost like the Meadow back home," Gale commented.

"It used to," I said sullenly. "Wonder why they built it here."

"Growing something, maybe," Katniss suggested.

"Those are all upstairs," I said.

All of the artificial plants and vegetation chambers were upstairs. I wasn't sure what this place was for. But it had to have had a use. District 13 didn't waste space. The air was cool and breathable, not humid and muggy as I had expected. From all sides came the whir of tiny wings, which I used to confuse with the sound of insects in our woods at home. It was almost like being back home, for just a moment. I had to wonder what sort of fluke allowed such a pleasing place to be built here.

This place had no happiness involved. I couldn't imagine why this place had been built. A place of comfort maybe? I doubted that Coin would have been okay with that. Everyone that she had here was for some use. Nothing was wasteful. Nothing was just for comfort. As we walked further into the room, I stared at Beetee. Beetee still had the pallor of someone in convalescence, but behind those ill-fitting glasses, his eyes were alight with excitement.

"Aren't they magnificent? Thirteen has been studying their aerodynamics here for years. Forward and backward flight, and speeds up to sixty miles per hour. If only I could build you wings like these, Aspen!" Beetee cried.

"Doubt I could manage them, Beetee," I laughed.

Definitely I would have flown right into the ground. "Here one second, gone the next. Can you bring a hummingbird down with an arrow?" Beetee asked.

"I've never tried. Not much meat on them," I answered.

"No. And you're not one to kill for sport," Beetee said.

No. I've already done that. Wasn't a fan. "No. I think I've proven that. I bet they'd be hard to shoot, though," I commented, trying not to think of the Games.

"You could snare them maybe," Gale said. His face took on that distant look it wore when he was working something out. "Take a net with a very fine mesh. Enclose an area and leave a mouth of a couple square feet. Bait the inside with nectar flowers. While they're feeding, snap the mouth shut. They'd fly away from the noise but only encounter the far side of the net."

"Would that work?" Beetee asked.

"I don't know. Just an idea. They might outsmart it," Gale said.

"They're fast and small. That would be the biggest problem," Katniss said.

"They might. But you're playing on their natural instincts to flee danger. Thinking like your prey... that's where you find their vulnerabilities," Beetee said.

That was something that Beetee would know about. I remembered something that I didn't like to think about. In preparation for the Quell, and in my childhood, I saw a tape where Beetee, who was still a boy, connected two wires that electrocuted a pack of kids who were hunting him. The convulsing bodies, the grotesque expressions. Beetee, in the moments that led up to his victory in those long-ago Hunger Games, watched the others die. Not his fault. Only self-defense. We were all acting only in self-defense...

Suddenly, I wanted to leave the hummingbird room before somebody started setting up a snare. "Beetee, Plutarch said you had something for me," I said.

"Right. I do. Your new bow," Beetee said.

"New one? What about the one from the Quell?" I asked.

"Katniss will be using that one. With a few modifications from me," Beetee said.

Despite everything that she hated about the Games, I knew that she was excited for that one. Her face broke out into a small smile. "Sweet," Katniss said excitably.

He pressed a hand control on the arm of the chair and wheeled out of the room. I was impressed with his wheelchair and the way that he handled it. I had never been that good with technology. Proof of which had been my first visit to the Capitol during my first Games. I would have slammed right into the wall or ridden off the walkway if I was using it. As we followed him through the twists and turns of Special Defense, he explained about the chair.

"I can walk a little now. It's just that I tire so quickly. It's easier for me to get around this way. How's Finnick doing?" Beetee asked.

"He's... He's having concentration problems," I answered. I didn't want to say he had a complete mental meltdown.

"Concentration problems, eh?" Beetee smiled grimly. "If you knew what Finnick's been through the last few years, you'd know how remarkable it is he's still with us at all." I didn't bother mentioning that I knew exactly what he had been through. I'd been there myself. "Tell him I've been working on a new trident for him, though, will you? Something to distract him a little."

Distraction seemed to be the last thing Finnick needed, but I promised to pass on the message. I noticed Katniss and Gale giving me looks - probably wondering what Beetee was talking about - but I didn't look back at them. I didn't want to admit that what had happened to me, evidently happened all the time. Four soldiers guarded the entrance to the hall marked Special Weaponry. Checking the schedules printed on our forearms was just a preliminary step.

There must have been something quite magnificent in there. Because we also had fingerprint, retinal, and DNA scans, and had to step through special metal detectors. Beetee had to leave his wheelchair outside, although they provided him with another once we were through security. I found the whole thing bizarre because I couldn't imagine anyone raised in District 13 being a threat the government would have to guard against. Had those precautions been put in place because of the recent influx of immigrants?

At the door of the armory, we encountered a second round of identification checks - as if my DNA might have changed in the time it took to walk twenty yards down the hallway - and were finally allowed to enter the weapons collection. Now I understood why they had so many guards and so many precautions to keep people from entering the room. Even I had to admit that the arsenal took my breath away. Row upon row of firearms, launchers, explosives, and armored vehicles.

"Of course, the Airborne Division is housed separately," Beetee told us.

"Of course," I said, as if that would be self-evident.

Most of the weapons in here I couldn't even begin to understand how to use. I had never seen that many guns. Just the ones that Peacekeepers used. There had never been battles before this. There had never been any reason to use weapons like this. I couldn't know where a simple bow and arrow could possibly find a place in all of that high-tech equipment, but then we came upon a wall of deadly archery weapons. Nothing that I had ever seen before.

The bow and arrow sets in the Capitol at the Training Center were nothing like the ones down here. Those were impressive, but not like this. I had played with a lot of the Capitol's weapons in training, particularly before the Quarter Quell, but none of them had been designed for military combat. They were more for show. Dangerous and evident. I focused my attention on a lethal-looking bow so loaded down with scopes and gadgetry, I was certain that I couldn't even lift it, let alone shoot it.

"Gale, maybe you'd like to try out a few of these," Beetee said.

"Seriously?" Gale asked.

"You'll be issued a gun eventually for battle, of course. But if you appear as part of Aspen's team in the propos, one of these would look a little showier. I thought you might like to find one that suits you," Beetee said.

"Yeah, I would," Gale said.

He looked quite excited. It almost made me smile. Almost. But I was still angry with him. Although I couldn't deny that it was nice that Gale was finally seeing something that might have made him a little more comfortable here in District 13. At least one of us could be comfortable. Gale's hands closed around the very bow that caught my attention a moment ago, and he hefted it onto his shoulder. He pointed it around the room, peering through the scope.

"That doesn't seem very fair to the deer," I said.

"Wouldn't be using it on deer, would I?" Gale answered.

"I'll be right back," Beetee said.

We watched him head off. I watched curiously to see what he was doing. I assumed that he was going to go and get the bow that I had used in the Quarter Quell for Katniss. I knew that she would love it. I had let her use it during our hunting trip the other day. But what about my new bow? I had to admit that I was excited about it. In the meantime, Gale was messing with his new bow. Beetee pressed a code into a panel, and a small doorway opened. I watched until he had disappeared and the door was shut.

"So, it'd be easy for you? Using that on people?" I asked.

"I didn't say that." Gale dropped the bow to his side. "But if I'd had a weapon that could've stopped what I saw happen in Twelve... if I'd had a weapon that could have kept you out of the arena... I'd have used it."

"Me, too," I admitted.

"I think we all would have," Katniss said.

We fell silent after that. For them, taking a life was speculative. It wasn't for me. I knew the truth. But I didn't know how to tell them about the aftermath of killing a person. About how they never truly left you. How you would hear their screams and relive their last moments, time and time again. Especially when they were innocent. Especially when you were forced into it. I didn't want to tell them about the eyes that still appeared in my nightmares and the screams that echoed in my memory.

Shaking off the memories of all of the people who had died - all of those lives that I had taken - I tried to think about anything else. How about the weapon that's sure to help you kill even more people? Nope, that wasn't it either. But that was the only thing on my mind at the moment. A few minutes later, Beetee wheeled back in with a two tall, black rectangular cases awkwardly positioned between his footrest and his shoulder. He came to a halt and tilted it towards us.

"For you two. Katniss's is on top," Beetee said.

She slowly opened hers, revealing the black bow that I had used in the Quell. "It's amazing," Katniss said fondly.

"Treat it well. That thing saved my life," I said.

"Absolutely," Katniss said.

"Now yours, Aspen," Beetee said.

He tilted the other case towards me and I took it. It was just a tiny bit larger than the one that Katniss had just taken. I couldn't imagine that it would get much bigger. The one that I had used inside the arena was already almost too large for me. I wasn't that large of a person. I set the case flat on the floor and undid the latches along one side. The top opened on silent hinges. Inside the case, on a bed of crushed maroon velvet, laid a stunning black bow, somewhat similar to the one that Katniss now had.

"Oh," I whispered in admiration.

Slowly I lifted it carefully into the air to admire the exquisite balance, the elegant design, and the curve of the limbs that somehow suggested the wings of a bird extended in flight. Beetee must have worked with Cinna on it. It was a recurve bow, perfectly molded to my stance and height. There was something else, too. I had to hold very still to make sure that I wasn't imagining it. No, the bow was alive in my hands. I pressed it against my cheek and felt the slight hum travel through the bones of my face.

"What's it doing?" I asked.

"Saying hello," Beetee explained with a grin.

"Hello?" Katniss asked, speaking before I could.

"It heard your voice," Beetee said.

"It recognizes my voice?" I asked.

"Only your voice," Beetee explained. "You see, they wanted me to design a bow based purely on looks. As part of your costume, you know? But I kept thinking, what a waste. I mean, what if you do need it sometime? As more than a fashion accessory? So I left the outside simple, and left the inside to my imagination. Best explained in practice, though. Want to try those out?"

"Hell yeah, I do," I said excitedly.

"Katniss, I've taken the same liberties with Aspen's bow from the Quarter Quell. A little less flashy, but no less impressive," Beetee told her.

"Thank you," Katniss said happily.

So we went to practice. I knew that each of us were more excited to practice with the bows than we had been in a long time. This was one of the most fun times that I had had in a long time. A target range had already been prepared for us. It was extremely long and seemed to have stone walls. Enough to make sure that we couldn't destroy the area. It made me laugh. They had definitely taken enough precautions with me here. I had been known to destroy things from time to time.

The arrows that Beetee designed were no less remarkable than the bow. Between the two, all three of us could shoot with accuracy over one hundred yards. It was the furthest that we had ever been able to shoot. The variety of arrows - razor sharp, incendiary, explosive - turned the bow into a multipurpose weapon. Each one was recognizable by a distinctive colored shaft. I had the option of voice override at any time, but had no idea why I would use it.

To deactivate the bow's special properties, I needed only tell it, 'Good night.' Then it would go to sleep until the sound of my voice woke it again. Katniss and I stayed for a few extra minutes to play with the arrows. The incendiary arrows could easily melt targets made out of the strongest synthetic materials and burn through metal. The explosive arrows could trigger what appeared to be a small bomb, particularly if Katniss and I shot two to the same place at the same time. We both laughed at that.

For the first time in a while, I was in good spirits by the time I got back to the Prep Team, leaving Beetee, Gale, and Katniss behind. I wanted her with me, but she had her own training to attend to. I sat patiently through the rest of the paint job and donned my costume, which now included a bloody bandage over the scar on my arm to indicate I had been in recent combat. I thought that it was pathetic and cruel to the real fighters, but I lost the argument against it. Venia affixed my Mockingjay pin over my heart.

It stood out starkly against the all-black suit. The entire thing was incredible. My hair was in a fancier braid than it had been in a long time. It was very pretty and had delicately curled pieces falling out, like I had just gone for a run. My makeup was subtle but dark enough to tell that something had been done. The costume itself had all of the lines of a Mockingjay's body. The padding on the back was designed like Mockingjay wings but had a practical purpose. It was armor to protect a shot to my spine.

The entire costume reminded me that it was like I was going to be heading straight into war. People were really going to be trying to kill me. Far more than just twenty-three people. I took up my bow and the sheath of normal arrows that Beetee made, knowing they would never let me walk around with the loaded ones. Which was probably a good idea, since I didn't have the best temper in the world. I was also holding some weird pole, which would apparently simulate a Panem flag.

Then we were out on the sound stage, where I seemed to stand for hours while they adjusted makeup and lighting and smoke levels. I really wanted to be back out on the practice range. Eventually, the commands coming via intercom from the invisible people in the mysterious glassed-in booth became fewer and fewer. Fulvia and Plutarch spent more time studying and less time adjusting me. Finally, there was quiet on the set. For a full five minutes I was simply considered, feeling very awkward.

Then Plutarch said, "I think that does it."

Effie beckoned over to a monitor. They played back the last few minutes of taping and I watched the woman on the screen. Her body seemed larger in stature, more imposing than mine. Her face was smudged but sexy. Her brows were a deep blonde and drawn in an angle of defiance. Wisps of smoke - suggesting that she had either just been extinguished or was about to burst into flames - rose from her clothes. I didn't know who that person was. Effie walked over towards me.

"Cinna's final touch," she said, pinning a pure black Mockingjay pin on my shoulder strap. I smiled.

Finnick, who had been wandering around the set for a few hours, came up behind me and said with a hint of his old humor, "They'll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you."

"My thoughts, exactly," Effie chirped.

"I'm not so sure that's reassuring," I teased.

Everyone was so excited and so pleased with their work. It was rather impressive. I looked much better than I had in a number of weeks. Since before the Games had started. It was nearly time to break for dinner, but they insisted that we continued. Tomorrow we would focus on speeches and interviews and have me pretend to be in rebel battles - which I hated. Today they wanted just one slogan, just one line that they could work into a short propo to show to Coin.

"People of Panem, we fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice!"

That was the line. I could tell by the way that they presented it to me that they had spent months, maybe years, working it out and were really proud of it. That was the only reason that I didn't laugh at it. It seemed like a mouthful to me, though. And stiff. I couldn't imagine actually saying it in real life - unless I was using a Capitol accent and making fun of it. Like when Gale, Katniss, and I used to imitate Effie Trinket's 'May the odds be ever in your favor!'

But Fulvia was right in my face, describing a battle that I had just been in, and how my comrades-in-arms were all lying dead around me, and how, to rally the living, I must turn to the camera and shout out the line. But I couldn't imagine doing that. It was going to be mortifying. But it didn't matter. I was hustled back to my place by Effie, and the smoke machine kicked in. Blue lights were surrounding me up on the platform, but that was it. Nothing else for me to work with.

"Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Okay, let's bring up the setting," Plutarch said over the speakers.

Effie suddenly darted off of the set. I could see Plutarch, Fulvia, Finnick, and a few others watching from behind the glass booth. Funnily enough, I felt more on display right now than I ever had during the Hunger Games or my time in the Capitol. The lights all darkened and I could hear some electrical whirring. I knew that the images were coming up on their own computers. It must have looked impressive. I could see them all smiling at each other.

"Huh," Plutarch muttered. I tried to look behind me, but all I saw were the blue lights. I accidentally banged the pole on the ground and jumped slightly. "A little wind." The wind machines were turned on and I almost stumbled back. It felt strange. Artificial. "Okay, Aspen, we're gonna start you down on one knee."

"Okay," I said.

"And as you rise up, you're gonna hold your flag in the air and deliver your line." At the same time, I rose the pole into the air before lowering it again. "And remember you've just stormed the outskirts of the Capitol arm-in-arm with your brothers and sisters," Plutarch instructed.

The whole thing seemed strange and awkward to me, but I nodded anyways. "Okay," I muttered, getting down onto one knee.

Do it for Cato. "Whenever you're ready," Plutarch said.

Someone else called for quiet, the cameras started rolling, and I heard, "Action!"

Thankfully Plutarch was giving me a moment to regain myself, because the call of action made me jump slightly. At least in the Capitol I was allowed to say what I was thinking. Sort of. They had all come at least somewhat from my own mind. The premeditated line seemed to stiff to me that I knew I would look like a fool delivering it. But I was determined to try. So I rose to my feet and thrust the flagpole into the air. It didn't help that I stumbled slightly getting up.

"People of Panem, we fight, we dare, we..."

Instantly I knew that I sounded like a complete fool. My words were stiff and I was stumbling over myself. I wasn't looking into the camera and my feet were shuffling slightly. There were too many repeats of the word 'we' in the sentence. It was confusing. And it didn't sound like anything that anyone in reality would say or accept. People would hate me if I said that. Then I forgot the rest of the line and simply resorted to staring blankly into the camera. What the hell was it?

"Does she know the line?" Plutarch asked.

"I know. I know it. I got it. I'm sorry," I said quickly.

"Okay. Alright. Let's do it again," Plutarch said.

"She's warming up," Effie told Plutarch.

Slowly I got back down onto one knee again. "Alright. Okay," Plutarch said, not sounding at all convinced. I wasn't either. "With energy. Go."

Instantly I rose back to my feet again. "People of Panem, we fight! We dare to end this hunger for justice!" I shouted.

The moment that the words escaped my mouth, I knew that they came off as unnatural and awkward again. "You've just been in battle!" Plutarch shouted. I jumped slightly, having not expected that reaction. "I'm sorry. Excuse my outburst. You've just been in battle. Let's try it again. Whenever you're ready."

So once more I got back into position, hesitated a moment, and got back to my feet. "People of Panem, we fight! We dare to end this hunger for justice!" I shouted, mustering up as much anger as I could.

In the distance I could hear Effie give somewhat of a groan. I could see Plutarch's disappointed face. I knew that I had come off as awkward and unconvincing, yet again. I would keep doing it over and over again. Cato was the actor. Not me. No one yelled at me this time. Instead there was a dead silence on the set. It went on. And on. Finally there was an acerbic laughter that I was all too familiar with. Haymitch had entered the room and was slowly and teasingly clapping his hands together. I lowered the flagpole.

Haymitch managed to contain himself just long enough to say, "And that, my friends, is how a revolution dies."

A/N: Here's another one! Haymitch is finally back. He only made a small appearance in this chapter, but he will be around much more in the next one. Thanks for the follows and favorites! Please review! Until next time -A

xLaBellaVita: Thank you so much! Hopefully this one didn't take too long. Cato was definitely in it! Although it might not have been what you really wanted to see.

EBB - Sonnet 43: Thank you! Hope you liked this one!

melliemoo: I'm really glad that you like the relationship that's forming between Aspen and Seneca. I have a lot of fun writing their developing relationship. From the very beginning of Revenge to now. I had to have a cute sisterly moment for Katniss and Aspen, so I'm glad that you liked it. Aspen definitely loved getting outside. That's her place of comfort. I know Haymitch wasn't in this one much, but he will in the next one. As for what Seneca told her that she needed to hear, that might take a few chapters before we actually get there.