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.

9. Chapter 9

My entire body was numb. My mind even felt a little numb. Not just from the concussion. Boggs suddenly appeared at my side. I didn't even bother looking up at him. He got a firm lock on my arm, but I wasn't planning on running now. I didn't even think that I could manage getting to my feet. I looked over at the hospital - just in time to see the rest of the structure give way - and any remaining fight went out of me. All those people, the hundreds of wounded, the relatives, the medics from Thirteen, were no more.

All of those people who had loved and cared for me were dead. In the worst way possible. I knew what it felt like to have bones break as I was crushed. I knew what it was like to feel like your insides were being cooked. I was well-aware of what a burn felt like. My heart was slowly breaking at the sight of it all. All of those people who had spoken to me were now dead. There was no chance of survivors from that mess. Not now. Our only hope was that the propo would help the fight in the other Districts.

My words would start a fight. I was sure that they would. People would be horribly amazed at what the Capitol had done to Eight. I was sure that they would start fighting back, if they weren't already. I turned back to Boggs, my body slightly sore from all of the falls that I'd taken, and saw the swelling on his face left by Gale's boot. It had definitely been Boggs that Gale had kicked. I was no expert, but I was pretty sure that his nose was broken. His voice was more resigned than angry, though.

"Back to the landing strip."

Obviously he didn't like what had happened either. I had seen the stunned look on his face when I had been saying my words and when he had seen the wreckage. I obediently took a step forward and winced as I became aware of the pain behind my right knee. The adrenaline rush that overrode the sensation had passed and my body parts joined in a chorus of complaints. I was banged up and bloody and someone seemed to be hammering on my left temple from inside my skull.

Maybe the injuries weren't terrible - although I had a feeling that the one in my shin was actually a bad one - but something was definitely weighing down on me. Maybe it was the sight of the hospital now as a pile of rubble. Now that I saw just how bad things really were. My shin was throbbing as I tried to walk away from the hospital. My steps were almost impossible. I just couldn't manage to make myself walk off.

What had happened to me during the fight? I couldn't remember. I did remember getting injured during the initial blast and ignoring it. There was something lodged in the back of my shin. I could feel it moving around with each step that I took. My back was a little sore from what was likely a bullet wound - but the bullet hadn't pierced the vest. There was also a horrible spinning in my head. Maybe the concussion was getting worse again or maybe it was just from the exhaustion or overwhelming moments of panic.

My knees started to buckle slightly again. I wasn't sure that I could keep walking. Whether it was from the injuries or exhaustion, I wasn't quite sure. Boggs quickly examined my face, then scooped me up and jogged for the runway. I was glad that he had me in his arms and was strong enough to carry me. The others were jogging behind us. Halfway there, I puked on his bulletproof vest. It was hard to tell because he was short of breath, but I thought that he sighed.

There went the impression I made from the propo. "Sorry," I muttered.

"It's okay. Put this on your forehead," Boggs said.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw him reach down and grab something. I raised a brow when he handed me a small rag. For a moment I just stared at it, so he placed the rag down against my forehead. I hissed in pain slightly, realizing that there was blood there. It turned out that the side of my temple was cut open. Something had injured me. It was probably a piece of flying rock from one of the blasts. I tried to keep the rag there to mop up the excess blood.

Had I been bleeding for a long time? Was that why I felt so strange? Blood loss. I wasn't sure. I hadn't even felt whenever my temple had been sliced open. Although it just added to my injuries, I was sure that it would end up looking quite good in the propo. Proof that I was actually fighting back in this war. I wouldn't be made up. I would be dusty and dirty and bloody from the battle. I would look like a real soldier. Not the made-up one that Fulvia had originally wanted.

Finally Boggs stopped jogging and I instantly felt much better without the constant jostling. I was sure that I would be sick again at some point though. A small hovercraft, different from the one that transported us here, was waiting on the runway. The second that my entire team was on board, we took off. Likely before there could be another attack in Eight that we would be stuck in. There were no comfy seats and windows this time. We seemed to be in some sort of cargo craft.

It made sense. This was essentially an emergency evacuation. They would want me back in District 13, where it was safe and I wouldn't be injured any further. Boggs instantly started doing emergency first aid on people to hold them until we got back to Thirteen. I wanted to take off my vest, since I got a fair amount of vomit on it as well and it was slightly tight on my chest, but it was too cold to think about it. Instead I laid on the floor with my head in Gale's lap.

"You'll be alright," Gale said, running his fingers through my hair.

"Thanks for... for protecting me," I wheezed.

"Always, Aspen," Gale whispered.

"Hey, you're alright," Skye said, leaning over and pressing a hand against my arm. The uninjured one, which I really appreciated. Skye then looked at Boggs. "What's wrong with her?"

"Couple of things. Exhaustion. Blood loss. Concussion. Shock," Boggs said.

Definitely shock. That was all that I felt right now. "She'll be alright?" Julie asked.

"She'll be fine. She just needs rest," Boggs promised.

That was definitely something that I needed. It was just something that I could never get. Rest didn't seem to be something that I could get that easily. In the meantime, I could tell that everyone was kneeling down at my sides. Katniss looked like she got hit in the thigh and arm. I reached over to try and wrap a hand around her wrist. She had been injured. I didn't want her to be injured. Too many people had been injured because of me. She couldn't be on that list.

"You're hurt," I mumbled.

"I'm fine. You're hurt, but we're gonna take care of you," Katniss promised.

Judging by the sound of her voice, I could tell that Katniss was getting a little bit woozy too. The look of her wounds told me that she must have lost a lot of blood during the attack too. I assumed that she, like me, was probably suffering from shock of what had happened. It anyone else was really hurt by what had happened other than me, it would be Katniss. She didn't like watching people get hurt either. The two of us were both having a terrible time with this.

"Come on. Both of you, lay down. You don't look too good," Gale warned Katniss.

She didn't look good at all. She looked sick and like she was about to pass out. "Cat? Are you okay?" I asked.

"I'm fine," Katniss consoled me. "Are you?"

"I'll be okay," I muttered.

"Aspen... I'm sorry... We didn't know what was going to happen," Katniss muttered.

I couldn't figure out why she felt that it was her fault and she had to apologize. Of course, she, like me, always felt guilty about things that were out of her control. "I know. The hospital - How - How many people were in it?" I stuttered.

"It doesn't matter," Boggs said, instantly alerting me to the fact that there had been a lot of people in that hospital. "They're going to pick up and move on. Just get some rest."

"Hey... It's okay. You did well out there," Gale said, brushing my hair back.

"They were attacked," I muttered.

"That attack was premeditated. It's not your fault," Dean said.

At least he didn't look injured. "They knew that I was there. They waited until I left to start dropping the bombs to show them what would happen to them if they allied with me," I said.

"They didn't, Aspen. They didn't know that you were there," Julie said, cradling her foot.

"We'd have a bomber after us right now if they knew that you were in it. The sky's clear right now," Skye pointed out.

She was right about that. But... they had to have known that I was here. "Does anyone have water?" I asked.

Gale reached down and pulled out a canteen of water. "Here. Take as much as you need. Slow sips," Gale warned.

"Thanks." I tilted the canteen back and took a long drink of water, against Gale's advice, drinking until I had almost drained the entire thing. "I'm gonna be sick," I muttered.

"Close your eyes. We'll be there soon," Gale said.

"They - They..."

My thought was never finished. I didn't instantly pass out. I was just unable to speak any longer. I was unable to keep talking. I didn't know what to say or how to say it. My head was spinning rapidly and the ceiling of the hovercraft seemed to have been undulating. I could feel myself getting extremely exhausted as the moments passed. The adrenaline had completely left my system. The last thing that I remembered was Boggs spreading a couple of burlap sacks over me.

Things were very fuzzy in my mind when my eyes slowly pried themselves open. I wasn't quite sure what had happened to me. All I knew was that I still felt like I was going to be sick. I wasn't sure where I was at first. Nothing looked familiar. Then I realized where I was and why my head was spinning. I was high up in a tree. Confused as to how I got up there and where I was, I stood from my crouched position and hopped down. I hit the grass just moments before someone appeared from around the corner.

"How are you feeling?"

My head was spinning even more right now. Because I knew exactly who was standing in front of me. One of my best friends in the world and the most important people to me. I just wished that he was still really here. Not around to only appear when I had been injured and needed so desperately for someone to speak to me. Peeta was standing just a few feet away from me. I so desperately wanted to go and hug him, but I was still unsure if I could walk without falling.

"Terrible. I got shot," I finally said.

"You didn't get shot. You caught a bit of shrapnel in the back of the calf. You'll be fine. You've had worse," Peeta said.

"I suppose."

"You look good."

"No, I don't. But thank you anyways."

"You're welcome. You do look good. You look like a soldier. You've actually been shot and you have a bloody head. It'll look good in those propos."

"Once they get over the fact that a hospital full of innocent people was blown up."

Peeta shook his head and started circling me. "Those people were fighting for you. It's okay. You made the Capitol look like the villains. They'll know that the Capitol was at fault for what happened," Peeta said.

"But they were still killed because of me," I growled.

"They were killed because the Capitol has no limits to its cruelty. You know that."

"I guess I do know that."

"You're going to be okay, Aspen."

"I used to tell myself that all the time. But now I'm not so sure."

"I promise that you're going to be okay," Peeta said.

"What about after all this? What happens then?" I asked.

"You forget. You try and move on."

Forgetting everything that had happened... That went back to the day that I was born. I wanted to forget all of that. "I don't want to forget everything. I don't want to forget you," I said honestly.

There were others that I wanted to remember. Rue, Wiress, Finch, Thresh, and Cecilia. Many others. "Seems to me like you're not forgetting me anytime soon," Peeta said teasingly.

"No. I suppose that's true. You stick with me. Usually in the worst of times."

"You're trying to cope with what's happened. You imagine me whenever you can't handle what's happening in your life. I take you back to a simpler time."

"Making sure my family wouldn't starve," I said slowly.

Peeta smiled. "Yes."

"I never thanked you for that."

"I always knew."

"But I should have said something a long time ago. I should have told you that you were the reason that I lived through that winter. The reason that I made it here. Started all of this," I said, waving around us.

Peeta shook his head, taking my hand and having me walk with him. "This was always going to happen," Peeta said.

"Johanna said that once," I reasoned.

"She was right. We were always going to end up here. Aspen, this might be a nightmare right now, but you're going to save thousands of families from losing their children to the Hunger Games."

"Instead they'll lose their children to the rebellion," I said gloomily.

"Better a good cause than something worthless," Peeta said.

My head snapped over to him. He was right about that. He had always been right. I knew that people were dying for something good. But that didn't change the fact that I didn't want anyone to die. But he was saying the truth. These people were dying for something that was worth it. It just didn't change the guilt that I carried with me. I shifted awkwardly in the middle of the woods before noticing that I wasn't wearing the Mockingjay costume. I was back in my original Tribute outfit.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"You know where we are," Peeta said.

Of course. We were back in the original arena. "I hate this place," I growled.

"So do I," Peeta said.

There was no way that he actually ended up here. "This is where you're resting?" I asked.

"No. I thought you needed to see it again."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Say that this war never started... Say that the Hunger Games continued," Peeta said. I nodded blankly at him. "Not counting the Third Quarter Quell, think about the next few years. If the Hundredth Hunger Games still only had twenty-four Tributes, if every subsequent year only had one Victor, it would be another five hundred and seventy-five dead kids. For nothing."

"Thousands are dying now," I pointed out.

"For something important. To ensure that no one else ever dies somewhere like this again."

"I don't want anyone else to die at all. Except for maybe Snow."

"Still determined to get to him?"

"Yes."

"Be careful out there, Aspen. You're very reckless," Peeta said, not completely unkindly.

"You know what, I am reckless," I admitted.

"It was one of the things that I always liked about you. I think that it's one of the reasons that Cato was so attracted to you in the first place."

"That sounds about right." The two of us stared at each other for a moment. "I miss you."

"I miss you too, Aspen. But I'll see you again one day."

"Yes. You will."

That would be a good day. I wanted to see Peeta again. Not in a stress-induced hallucination. "Not for a long time, okay?" Peeta added.

"I'll try my hardest. But people don't seem to like me too much."

"But you are very hard to kill."

"So it seems." No matter how hard people tried, I never died. Even when I wanted to. "What am I going to do, Peeta?"

"You're going to fight. You're going to be the Mockingjay. You're going to win this war and move forward with your life. Then you get to settle down. With Cato. Go and live somewhere. Forget about the rest of the world. Get to have the family that you've never had," Peeta said.

"I'm going to try," I whispered.

A family... An actual life... It seemed almost impossible. "You'll succeed." Peeta glanced up and smiled. "I think it's time for you to go back now. They need you," Peeta said.

"They need me too much."

"Unfortunately. I'll come back and visit soon."

"I wish you could always be here," I said sadly.

"I am. Right here."

Peeta moved in towards me just slightly closer. He extended his hand and patted me very softly over the heart. I wasn't in pain like I had been before. I smiled softly at the sight of him. At the feel of him again. The world began to spin very slightly as Peeta finally released me. Then it got faster. It felt just like the spinning Cornucopia from back in the Quarter Quell. Clearly the head trauma was really affecting me from the constant impacts of the bombings earlier.

When I really woke up - not in the arena or with Peeta at my side - I was warm and patched up in my old bed in the hospital. Of course I had somehow ended up here. I seemed to always be here. They might as well have given me my own wing. As I glanced around I realized that Peeta really wasn't here. They had taken care of me the moment that we had gotten back to Thirteen. Peeta had only been a dream. Ms. Everdeen was there, checking my vital signs. She didn't even look at me.

"How do you feel?" Ms. Everdeen asked.

"A little beat-up, but all right," I said.

"No one even told us you were going until you were gone."

Had I really not told anyone? I tried to think back to... yesterday, I was guessing. Of course. I hadn't even thought to say anything to my family. Katniss and I had just left. Without saying anything... To Prim or Ms. Everdeen. I hadn't said anything to Cato's family either and I was relatively sure that Dean, Skye, and Julie hadn't said anything. I felt a pang of guilt. When your family has had to send you off twice to the Hunger Games, that really wasn't the kind of detail you should overlook.

"I'm sorry. They weren't expecting the attack. I was just supposed to be visiting the patients," I explained. "Next time, I'll have them clear it with you."

"Aspen, no one clears anything with me," Ms. Everdeen said.

My stomach lurched painfully again. She was right. When had I ever cleared anything with her? Not the day that I had moved into the little shack that had once been my parents'. Not anything that had happened since going into the Games. Not my engagement or wedding in the Capitol. Not that those were really my choice. But it didn't matter. What she had said was completely true. I was particularly the case. I never cleared things with her. No one did. Not since Mr. Everdeen died. Why pretend?

"Well, I'll have them... notify you anyway," I said awkwardly. One of these days I would have to speak to her about what had happened after Mr. Everdeen's death. "How's Katniss?"

"She's fine. She was cleared to leave earlier," Ms. Everdeen said.

"What happened to her?" I asked.

"Piece of shrapnel in her arm and thigh. She's a little sore but she's fine."

It was her doctor's voice. She was cold, but it was just because Katniss was healthy. "Anyone else hurt?" I asked.

"Skye was cut up in the face by a few rocks during one of the explosions and Julie broke a toe during a fall. They'll both be okay."

That was a slightly larger injury than I had been expecting. "What about Julie's foot?"

"She'll be able to walk on it faster than you think."

"As for Dean?"

"He's fine. Tired, but fine."

At least someone had gotten out of this thing without being injured. "Good," I muttered dumbly. "Sorry we didn't tell you. I didn't think about it."

"It's okay, Aspen. I'm just glad that the two of you are okay," Ms. Everdeen said.

"We are too."

We were deeply glad that we were okay. Things could have been very bad if someone had been seriously injured or killed. On the bedside table was a piece of shrapnel they removed from my leg. My head was patched up from whatever had sliced it open. The doctors were more concerned with the damage that my brain might have suffered from the explosions, since my concussion hadn't fully healed to begin with. But I didn't have double vision or anything and I could think clearly enough.

Not that I really wanted to be thinking right now. Every time I started thinking, I would make myself upset about everything that I had been through. It turned out that I was right about having not been awake since yesterday. I had slept right through the late afternoon and night, and I was starving now that I was awake. But my breakfast was disappointingly small. Just a few cubes of bread soaking in warm milk. It reminded me of food for a prisoner. Which, in my own way, I was.

It took a long time for me to be released from the hospital. It didn't really bother me. I knew that they would want to talk about what had happened in Eight once I was released, and I didn't want to face that. So I spoke to the doctors and only complained minimally when they poked and prodded me. They kept asking me about what was happening and how I was feeling. They had me play their old game again, which was fine, since I was actually feeling a tiny bit better. About Cato. Not what happened in Eight.

Unfortunately I could only delay the inevitable for so long. I had been called down to an early morning meeting at Command. I started to get up and then realized that they planned to roll my hospital bed directly there. I wanted to walk, but that was out, so I negotiated my way into a wheelchair. I was not getting wheeled in there. I felt fine, really. Except for my head, and my leg, and the soreness from the bruises, and the nausea that hit a couple minutes after I ate. Maybe the wheelchair was a good idea.

It didn't stop me from insisting a few times that I could walk. Although once I fell - hurting my tailbone in the process - I finally conceded to the wheelchair. I had been called to the Collective before the meeting in Command. I was a little embarrassed to have to be wheeled in after such an 'impressive' performance in District 8, but I figured that falling on my ass again would be even more embarrassing. I would just keep my injured leg turned towards the people who were staring.

Of course, that was everyone, as it usually was. Now they were even more interested in what was happening with me. They all knew that the first real propo had been filmed. I knew that Coin was planning on showing all of the footage that they took back in Eight to the people of Thirteen. It had to have been before they had done any editing to it. They hadn't had time. Did they? It had to have just been something to show the people so that they knew that I was really doing something out there.

The man who had been pushing my wheelchair moved me up to the same perch that I normally stood on whenever Coin made some big announcement - with the exception of when I had asked for Cato's immunity. I watched in stone silence as the people of Thirteen filled into every empty space of the Collective. Coin quickly joined me with some others. The crowd down below almost immediately quieted to see why they had all been called to gather here.

At first Coin made some introductory remarks. Like usual, she was never one to waste words. She talked about how I had been sent to District 8 to rally the troops so that they could start making propos. She then continued with how the attack went awry, telling the lie that Boggs must have fed her about how we hadn't run off. I simply listened, never faltering in my face, even when she told a lie. I assumed that she either didn't know or didn't want to tell them the truth of what had really happened.

After all, she wouldn't care how Boggs had broken his nose. He didn't have to tell her that Gale had done it. Finally the footage was played. It started with the moment that I saw the burning hospital. Cressida's voice had been edited out. But I could see myself running to it, Gale catching me around the waist, keeping me back from it. Then Cressida asked what I was seeing. The cameras panned back to show only me. The crowd was deathly silent as they waited for me to start speaking.

Even now I could feel the anticipation burning in the air. None of them had seen it. But they did want to see what their Mockingjay could really do. Instantly my words started to play. I could hear the hisses of discontent as I explained what had happened. I could hear the waver in my voice as I commented that there would be no survivors. I got to my feet and watched the screen wearily. The doctor was standing with the wheelchair close behind me, but I had no intention of falling.

"Because you know who they are and what they do! This is who they are! This is what they do! And we must fight back!" I shouted on the screen.

Instantly I looked away. Looking at myself onscreen had never been something that I liked. Not even after the Games with Cato, when they had played the recap. What was really interesting was seeing myself the way that I was. I had seen myself react harshly and without thinking before. After Rue's death, when Prim was Reaped, before the Death Match, both of my individual training routines, and a few other times. But I had never been quite that angry or severe before. It almost scared me.

"You can torture us and bomb us and burn our Districts to the ground," I continued.

"Plutarch and Seneca's faith in you wasn't misplaced," Coin said, standing at my shoulder.

I looked over at her. "Thank you."

"I can see why they're so fond of you," Coin continued.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? It had to mean something. But what? Coin was still watching me closely, so I just nodded blankly, unsure if I was really supposed to say anything else back to her. I certainly couldn't think or anything else that I should say. It was another one of her hints to me that made me think that maybe there was a chance that Coin knew about my past with Seneca. So I merely looked back at the screen and tried not to make a face.

"But do you see that? Fire is catching," I continued on the screen.

"Come up with me for the beginning," Coin said.

That would be wonderful. Standing up there so that the rest of the District could see me. They would know that I was uncomfortable with all of the attention the moment that they saw me. And I didn't want that. I was supposed to be the strong Mockingjay that they had designated me as. The footage was still rolling in the background as we walked up towards the stand that Coin would make her announcements on. The doctor from the hospital was still following me closely with the wheelchair.

"And if we burn, you burn with us!" I shouted on the screen.

On the screen it cut to my final shot on the hovercraft that was heading straight to the hospital. Not that it mattered. It was still too late. I hadn't realized that anyone had been standing that close to see my shot. At the end of the propo, when the hovercraft burst into flames, the emblem of a burning Mockingjay took over with the words 'Join The Mockingjay' across it. The four-note whistle Rue taught me back in the first Games sounded before the words 'Join The Fight' flashed across.

There was a loud drum-like beat with the video as it finally came to an end. The audience almost immediately burst into applause like I had never heard before. Even more than every other applause that I had heard them give combined. It was very strange but somewhat encouraging. Although I did find myself nervous as I stood at Coin's side. I was very woozy from what had happened, but I knew that I had to push through it. I had to be around when Coin addressed everyone else.

"There is no progress without compromise; no victory without sacrifice. But I stand here with the Mockingjay to announce that our moment has arrived," Coin announced.

As the 'Join the Fight' logo was still smeared across the screens with the burning Mockingjay in the background, Coin reached over and grabbed my hand. I was almost surprised when she did the same thing that Caesar Flickerman had once done. She grabbed my hair and raised it into the air. Of course, Peeta had once done it too. It only helped confuse my feelings about Coin. Once Coin released my hand, I turned back and headed to stand with my propo team again, placing myself next to Finnick.

"Beetee has increased our use of the airwaves tenfold. We will broadcast this message to all the Districts tonight. The Mockingjay's words inspiring everyone to join the rebellion. Together we will become an alliance to be reckoned with," Coin continued.

To my right, Prim, Katniss, and Ms. Everdeen were watching Coin closely. None of them seemed to even be blinking. Not that I could have been surprised. They hadn't seen this yet. Boggs, Beetee, and Gale were across the platform from us. They were all watching with soldier's stances. It was almost strange to see Gale that way. I wished that we could be back that day of the Reaping that had sent me into the first Games. Laughing and having as much fun as we could possibly have.

"Hoorah! Hoorah! Hoorah! Hoorah! Hoorah!" the crowd chanted.

It was the happiest that I had ever seen anyone in District 13, which wasn't a very happy place. I was instantly uncomfortable with all of the applause and cheers for me. Because I didn't deserve them. My words had been thought out and would definitely end up making an impact somewhere. We had gotten some really good footage to show to the Districts too. But how many people had ended up losing their lives to make that happen?

"You don't like hearing a fight song at a funeral, huh?" Finnick asked, leaning over.

"Good analogy," I said lowly.

"The more people on our side, the closer we are to Cato and Annie," Finnick pointed out.

"Yeah," I said blankly, looking back out into the crowd.

"You okay?" Finnick asked.

"Not overly-fond of what happened out there."

"Looked bad."

"It was."

"You gave them hope."

"Before I killed them," I said hopelessly.

Finnick laid a hand on my shoulder. "It wasn't you. It was a premeditated strike. And even if it wasn't... you can't do that to yourself. You can't take the weight of all of these people on your shoulders," Finnick said.

"Well I have the weight of the rebellion on them. Why should this be any different?" I asked.

Finnick and I stared at each other for a moment before his wrist started beeping. He turned over his communicuff and nodded at me. "Come on. They want to see us in Command. They're showing the finished product," Finnick said.

"This isn't the finished product?" I asked, pointing to the screen.

"It's the shortened one. There's another - more impressive - one that'll air through the Districts first. Messalla is finishing up on it now," Finnick explained.

"Okay. Let's go."

Patting Prim on the shoulder and smiling at Ms. Everdeen, Finnick and I headed off with everyone else. As much as I would have loved to prove myself and walk to Command, I was ordered by the doctor to use the wheelchair. I felt rather stupid being wheeled around, but I knew that arguing with them wouldn't work. I was lucky that I was in the wheelchair and not the bed. So I just let Finnick walk at my side and tried to ignore the smiles that were being sent my way. Because of what I did. For those dead people...

In the back of my mind, I couldn't help but to wonder what Cato would think of the propo film if he ever got the chance to see it. He would, at least, when he got to Thirteen. But I wanted to know if he would be proud of me? He had always known that I was strong. He had always known that I was brave. He would likely be impressed and think that it was amazing of me to do what I had done. And he would know just what to say to console me about the hospital.

For right now, I just had to wait patiently for Cato's rescue and go about my own business as the Mockingjay. Right now, we were heading towards Command. I wasn't really sure what they wanted me there for. Coin had already shown the footage to everyone and it had gone over swimmingly. Now I just wanted to go back to bed. I wasn't really interested in what people thought about me or my performance. I just wanted to go to bed and take a nap. Maybe for the next year.

As they wheeled me down the hallways, I began to get uneasy about what I would face. Gale, Katniss, and I directly disobeyed orders yesterday, and Boggs had the injury to prove it. So did Dean, Skye, and Julie, now that I thought about it. They had followed us, after all. Surely, there would be repercussions, but would they go so far as Coin annulling our agreement for the Victors' immunity? Had I stripped Cato of what little protection I could give him?

My stomach was suddenly threatening to empty the remains of the tiny breakfast from the morning. I was going to be sick. I was sure of it. How could I have been so thoughtless with my actions yesterday? I had been in the zone. That was why. I had reverted to my age-old react before I got the chance to realize what I was doing routine. But had I essentially doomed Cato for just a moment of heroism? Maybe the cubes of bread in milk was a good idea, after all.

When I got to Command, the only ones who had arrived were Cressida, Messalla, and the insects. Messalla beamed and said, "There's our little star!"

The others were smiling so genuinely that I couldn't help but smile in return. "Thanks," I said softly.

The people whom I'd thought were just Capitol citizens pretending to be rebels had impressed me in Eight, following me onto the roof during the bombing, making Plutarch back off so they could get the footage they wanted. They more than did their work, they took pride in it. Like Cinna. They were right to be happy. They were the only reason that people even knew what had happened. I had a strange thought that if we were in the arena together, I would pick them as allies. Cressida, Messalla, Pollux, and Castor.

"I have to stop calling you 'the insects,'" I blurted out to the cameramen. They were back in their domed cameras. "Which one of you is which? I can't tell when you're like that."

Immediately feeling very rude for what I had said, I launched into the explanation of how I did know their names, but their suits suggested the shelled creatures. The comparison didn't seem to bother them. They actually thought that it was rather funny. I also commented about how I couldn't tell which one of them were which whenever they were with their cameras, so I referred to them as a collective unit. Standing side-by-side without the cameras, I noticed how strongly they resembled each other.

Same sandy hair, red beards, and blue eyes. They looked just alike. I had a feeling that Castor was slightly older. As I walked around them, I noticed that Castor had close-bitten nails. It was a little hard for me to not look over Pollux and see the Avox in him. It was the position of his lips and the extra effort he took to swallow - I would have known if they hadn't told me that he was an Avox. I so desperately wanted to know what he had done, but I knew that was far too rude to say.

They had cut out his tongue and he would never speak again. That was why he had been signing yesterday. The thing that I had been so determined to learn. I still wanted to learn so that we could talk to each other and not through someone else. I wanted to know if Pollux knew Darius, Clio, or Lavinia, but I knew that it would have been wrong of me to ask. But I really did want to know. At least I no longer had to wonder what made him risk everything to help bring down the Capitol.

We were sitting together at the table for a few minutes when Seneca entered the room. More and more people were slowly flooding the room, but Seneca was the first one to take a seat beside me. It was something that I appreciated. I noticed that a few people were sending the two of us long looks. They would always be surprised that I could get along with Seneca after everything that he had done to me. If only they knew the entire truth... But now I actually enjoyed having Seneca with me.

"What's happening now?" I asked, knowing that he would know.

"We'll be observing your footage," Seneca explained.

"Didn't we already watch this?" I groaned.

"They want to discuss it away from the rest of the people."

"Haven't I done enough for them?"

"Quiet," Seneca hissed. "How's the leg?"

"Fine," I lied, despite the constant throbbing that was going through the back of my calf. "They keep putting me in the wheelchair."

I had refused to sit in it for the meeting. Instead I was sitting at a chair with the wheelchair behind me. "They're concerned about the concussion. All of those explosions that you faced in Eight didn't help," Seneca explained.

"Well I'm alive. I suppose that I don't have much to complain about," I muttered.

"I'm sorry about the hospital," Seneca said.

"Was it premeditated?" I asked suddenly.

I had to know. I had to know if they had planned it. "What?" Seneca asked.

Swallowing a lump in my throat, I tried to force out the words. "The attack on the hospital. Was it premeditated? Or did they attack it because I was there?" I asked slowly.

Seneca let out a slow breath before placing a hand on my knee, not putting too much pressure on it. "We still believe that they were intending to attack the hospital again. However it's a great coincidence that the attack would happen just after you set foot in District 8 and the hovercrafts had evacuated, unable to safely retrieve you," Seneca reasoned.

"I thought so."

"We didn't know that they were planning that."

"I believe you. Was it worth it?"

"That might be an answer that you don't want to hear. Remember, Aspen, I was a Head Gamemaker. I think of the greater picture, not the individual wins and losses. For me, this was a win," Seneca explained.

That was it. That was when I saw just who Seneca Crane really was. He was a good man. I genuinely believed that. The only problem was that he was still a Gamemaker and still from the Capitol. He would never really care about the little losses like the hospital. And that was what it was. Those were all injured people. They weren't fighters or useful with their injuries. As much as I liked Seneca these days, I still had to remember just how different the two of us were.

"Thank you for telling me the truth," I finally said.

"You're welcome," Seneca said softly.

As the room filled with others, I braced myself for a less congenial reception. But the only people who registered any kind of negativity were Haymitch, who was always out of sorts, and a sour-faced Fulvia Cardew. Boggs wore a flesh-colored plastic mask from his upper lip to his brow - I was right about the broken nose - so his expression was hard to read. Coin and Gale were in the midst of some exchange that seemed positively chummy.

Most of the people in the building seemed very happy to see us. All of Cato's family were seated at the table across from me. Even Carrie was here today, which was odd, considering she usually wasn't present at our meetings. But I quickly realized why. Dean must have taken a hard fall at some point. It looked like he was limping and Carrie had been helping him here. Damien and Alana were seated next to each other. Skye looked pretty banged up and Julie seemed to be cradling her foot.

As usual, Aidan and Marley weren't present. I had a feeling that someone was taking care of them. Even Felix and Marcus were here. I smiled at them as they sat with the Hadley's. Finnick was two down from me and I glanced past him to see someone else who was only present about half of the time. Brutus was actually here. I knew that he regularly worked with the rebels but he normally avoided the meetings. He didn't like talking things out, unless it was to continuously insult me.

When Gale slid into the open seat on my other side, I said, "Making new friends?"

His eyes flickered to the president and back. "Well, one of us has to be accessible."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked sharply.

"You know exactly what I mean," Gale said slowly.

"I guess so," I growled, rolling my eyes.

A moment later, Katniss dropped onto our other side. She didn't speak at first. She simply sidled into the chair and rolled her wrists. I could see that she was tired. She had dark bruises underneath her eyes. She must have been having nightmares about the hospital burning down - just the way that I had. I looked at her and gave a weak smile. She grinned weakly back at me before looking down at the table and not saying another word. Not to me or Gale.

Gale touched my temple gently. "How do you feel?"

Twitching slightly, Gale instantly released me. Whatever he had done when he had touched me, it had caused some issue. Now my head was spinning and I was sure that I was going to be sick all over again. They must have served stewed garlic and squash for the breakfast vegetable. The more people who gathered, the stronger the fumes were. It was horrible. At least Boggs was on the other end of the room today. My stomach turned and the lights suddenly seemed too bright.

"Kind of rocky. How are you?" I asked.

"Fine. They dug out a couple of pieces of shrapnel. No big deal," Gale said.

"Me too," I said, about the shrapnel.

"I know. I visited you," Gale said.

"You didn't have to."

But Gale would have always come to check on me. Just the way that I would have checked on Gale if it had happened to him. "I know. Just wanted to see how you were," Gale said.

"Thank you," I said softly.

"You okay?" Gale asked.

"I don't like watching the footage," I said.

"Why? You did wonderfully," Gale said.

My jaws tightened slightly. "Because I see the bodies of five hundred people burning behind me. That's what it took to bring that out of me. I don't know if it's worth it," I said slowly.

"If it helps us win the war?" Gale asked.

"That's not the way that I wanted to win," I said.

"It's war, Aspen. There's no room for chivalry."

"I know. I was in the Hunger Games. Remember?"

The two of us stared at each other for a moment. Gale looked like he was about ready to yell at me. Instead, he just said, "Trust me, I've never forgotten."

We stared at each other until Coin called the meeting to order. "Our Airtime Assault has officially launched. For any of you who missed yesterday's twenty-hundred broadcast of our first propo - or the seventeen reruns Beetee has managed to air since - we will begin by replaying it," Coin said.

Replaying it? They had already managed to run it through the Districts? I had thought that they just finished it. I didn't think that they had managed to send it out to the Districts yet. It turned out that they had managed to get usable footage, place it in more than one propo film, and they had already managed to air it repeatedly after slapping multiple ones together. My palms grew moist in anticipation of seeing myself once again on television.

"Didn't we just watch it?" I asked.

Coin's head turned towards me slowly. "That is a shortened version. We're showing the full version," Coin explained.

"Oh... Okay," I muttered dumbly.

It really wasn't something that I wanted to see again. What if they were using a different piece of my performance for this propo? What if I was still awful? What if I was as stiff and pointless as I was in the studio and they had just given up on getting anything better? I knew that the other one they had shot was good, but I definitely doubted my own abilities as a speaker. Individual screens slid up from the table, the lights dimmed slightly, and a hush fell over the room.

At first, my screen was black. I stared at it blankly. Then a tiny spark flickered in the center. It blossomed, spread, silently eating up the blackness until the entire frame was ablaze with a fire so real and intense, I imagined that I felt the heat emanating from it. It reminded me of the way that Cinna had made my Quarter Quell Tribute Parade costume. The image of my Mockingjay pin emerged, glowing red-gold. The deep, resonant voice that haunted my dreams began to speak.

Claudius Templesmith, the official announcer of the Hunger Games, said, "Aspen Antaeus, the girl who was on fire, burns on."

My head snapped even closer towards the screen. It was Claudius Templesmith. He had always seemed like such a Capitol man. There was no way that he was on our side. Was he? He had always seemed to love the Games so much. He had to have been angry about all of this. There was no way that he was working for the rebels. Was there? Suddenly I was distracted, because there I was, replacing the Mockingjay, standing before the real flames and smoke of District 8.

"I want the rebels to know that I am alive. That I'm right here in District Eight, where the Capitol just bombed a hospital full of unarmed men, women, and children! There will be no survivors!"

They hadn't done anything to my voice, which I was somewhat happy about. My voice had been wavering and choking slightly from the smoke, but my words were easy enough to understand. It helped show that I was really there. Really hurting, along with the rest of District 8. The screen cut to the hospital collapsing in on itself, the desperation of the onlookers, my dash to help them with Gale catching me around the waist, as I continued in voice-over.

"If you think for one second that the Capitol will ever treat us fairly if there's a cease-fire, you are lying yourself! Because you know who they are and what they do!"

This was already much more impressive than the one that they had shown back in the Collective. This was something that might really encourage the fighting in the Districts who still weren't one hundred percent onboard with the whole rebellion thing. Maybe this would even convince the people in the Capitol. That was what I really wanted. The cameras were back to me now, with my hands lifting up to indicate the outrage around me.

"This is who they are! This is what they do! And we must fight back!"

Now came a truly fantastic montage of the battle. I really hadn't even noticed that they were filming during it. The initial bombs falling were first. I could see myself being covered before jumping up and moving on. Sprinting through the building. Barely missing the outdoor bomb and later the falling tower. I noticed that they cut out the portion where we made it clear that Gale, Katniss, Dean, Julie, and Skye had followed my movement to blatantly disregard orders and head up to the roof.

More than once, I saw us being blown to the ground. Even up on the roof when I had stopped us twice for getting into the firing range of the Capitol hoverplanes. At one point, there was a close-up of my wound, which looked good and bloody - scaling the roof, diving into the nests, and then some amazing shots of the rebels, Gale, Katniss, Julie, Skye, Dean, and mostly me, me, me knocking those planes out of the sky. The best one came at the very end, the last shot that I had made.

My arrow went straight up towards the sky. The music was playing heavily in the background, dramatic and increasing in pitch and volume. The bullets were coming closer to where Gale, Katniss, and I were standing. My arrow tipped upwards before I released it. The bullets were mere inches from my feet when I hit it. With a small explosion, the cameras followed the planes being knocked out of the sky - smashing into another pillar and an abandoned warehouse. Smash-cut back to me moving in on the camera.

"President Snow says he's sending us a message? Well, I have a message for President Snow. You can torture us and bomb us and burn our Districts to the ground, but do you see that?"

Now the cameras moved again. No more of my face, which I was happier about. But I did realize that we could see my wounds. Blood was running down the side of my head, mixing into my hair. It looked much better. We were now back with the camera, tracking to the planes burning on the roof of the warehouse. Tight in on the Capitol seal on a wing, which melted back into the image of my face, shouting at the president.

"Fire is catching! And if we burn, you burn with us!"

Flames engulfed the screen again. They mixed in on the flames with the Capitol hoverplane. I was glad that they didn't use the flames from the hospital. That was the last thing that I wanted them to use. The horror of what had happened to the hospital after the initial wave of bombs. Superimposed on the now burning black background, in black, solid letters were the words:

IF WE BURN
YOU BURN WITH US.

The music that was playing in the background hit a crescendo. It stayed that way for a few moments before the music finished its flourish. I knew that my face was slightly reddened from what I was seeing. It was one of the most impressive things that I had ever seen, and it wasn't even over yet. The words that had been on the screen caught fire and the whole screen burned to blackness before the propo clip finally ended.

There was a moment of silent relish, at which point I almost thought that I would get yelled at for a terrible performance, but then there was a round of applause followed by demands to see it again. Coin indulgently hit the replay button, and this time, since I knew what would happen, I tried to pretend that I was watching this on my television at home in the Seam. An anti-Capitol statement. There had never been anything like it on television. Not in my lifetime, anyway.

My stomach was churning in knots. I couldn't believe that the first time that there had ever been a statement like this made on national television, I was the star. All I had wanted was to go into the Hunger Games, win them, and become a mediocre Victor. Someone that had been good enough to win, but boring enough to never want to bother again. But that wasn't what had happened. I had merely lit a spark and ignited it with each one of my movements, even the ones that had been meant to quell it.

So many accidents that had happened because of me. All of this, because of me. As I stared at the screen, I tried to see that it was me on the screen. But I couldn't believe it. It didn't look like me. Either way, I was sure that nothing like this had ever been played before. Likely not even during the First Rebellion. It made me just the slightest bit hopeful that we might actually be able to win this war. Maybe in time, we would really be able to abolish the Hunger Games.

As the video continued to play, I looked around the table. They ended up playing the propo at least three times. It didn't bother me. At least I didn't have to speak while they played it. It just seemed that everyone was thrilled to see that I wasn't completely useless. I was also happy to see that I wasn't completely useless. Maybe I was in the studio, but not out there. I could work out there. It was an absolute nightmare, what had happened in District 8, but I knew that we had gotten vital footage.

My gaze slowly turned towards the other direction to see who might have looked a little upset. Not surprisingly at all, it was Katniss. She looked greatly disturbed by the footage. She was the only one. I glanced over and nodded at her. We had done the right thing. We both knew that. It might have been a nightmare being there, but it was the right thing to do. Katniss reached past Gale and grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly. We would be okay. We both would.

The moment that I let go of Katniss's hand, I looked at everyone else. Gale was smiling. He looked over at me and nudged my shoulder. He was proud. I could tell. Cato's family also looked thrilled. Not at my injury, but at my performance. Although I realized that I had never said goodbye to them either. I didn't think to say goodbye to anyone. At least they looked extremely proud. Like they would have of their own child. Seneca turned towards me and nodded slowly, a small smile gracing his face.

By the time the screen burned to black a fifth time, I needed to know more. "Did it play all over Panem? Did they see it in the Capitol?" I asked.

"Not in the Capitol. We couldn't override their system, although Beetee's working on it. But in all the Districts. We even got it on in Two, which may be more valuable than the Capitol at this point in the game," Plutarch explained.

All of the Hadley's were nodding blankly. "That's good. Anything for them to realize that I'm trying to help them," I said.

"I'm working with Lyme -" Brutus started.

"The Victor?" I interrupted.

Brutus's head snapped over towards me. "Who else? Yes, the Victor," Brutus snapped. I rolled my eyes. "She's the lead of the rebel forces in District Two. I'm trying to work with her to enlarge the rebel forces out there."

"What about...?"

My voice dropped when I trailed off, realizing that I didn't know Skye's sister's name. I turned to look at her and realized with a jolt of horror that Skye was shaking her head. "No."

It wasn't the time to push her. So I tried to change the subject. "Is Claudius Templesmith with us?" I asked.

That gave Plutarch a good laugh. "Only his voice. But that's ours for the taking. We didn't even have to do any special editing. He said that actual line in your first Games," Plutarch said.

"When?" I asked curiously.

"When you survived the firestorm," Plutarch said.

"Did you send that after me?" I snapped.

"Is that really important right now?" Plutarch asked.

That was reasonably enough to tell me that Plutarch was the one who had sent the firestorm after me. It hadn't been Seneca. Plutarch had already been on the side of the rebels. Seneca had still been loyal to the Capitol. Of course, it made complete sense. Plutarch was a Head Gamemaker. He always had been. He had already known what would happen. Always playing three steps ahead of everyone else. Plutarch then slapped his hand on the table.

"What say we give another round of applause to Cressida, her amazing team, and, of course, our on-camera talent!" Plutarch cried, interrupting my train of thought.

Everyone burst out into a thunderous round of applause. I was clapping, too, until I realized that I was the on-camera talent and maybe it was obnoxious that I was applauding for myself, but no one was paying attention. Either way, I almost instantly stopped clapping. I couldn't help but to notice the strain on Fulvia's face, though. I thought about how hard it must have been for her, watching Haymitch's idea succeed under Cressida's direction, when Fulvia's studio approach was such a flop.

But they should have known. Anyone who knew me, knew that I wasn't good in front of cameras. Cato was the person who had made me look so impressive in front of the cameras. I was only good by myself when I ended up forgetting that cameras were there and what I was supposed to be doing. That was when I managed to make myself a little more impressive. The applause was still going when Coin seemed to have reached the end of her tolerance for self-congratulation.

"Yes, well deserved. The result is more than we had hoped for. But I do have to question the wide margin of risk that you were willing to operate within. I know the raid was unforeseen. However, given the circumstances, I think we should discuss the decision to send Aspen into actual combat," Coin said.

The decision? To send me into combat? My jaws flapped for a moment before I managed to stop myself. That would have been a terrible thing to say. She didn't know about what had happened out there. Not really. Boggs must have been keeping our secret. It would have been easy enough to just say that he took a nasty fall and broke his nose. Still, she didn't know that I flagrantly disregarded orders, ripped out my earpiece, and gave my bodyguards the slip? What else were they keeping from her?

"It was a tough call," Plutarch said, furrowing his brow. "But the general consensus was that we weren't going to get anything worth using if we locked her in a bunker somewhere every time a gun went off."

"And you're all right with that?" Coin asked.

Alright with being put in combat? I would have loved that, but, like usual, it wasn't my choice. It was never my choice. Everyone just determined what I was going to do and then let me know about it. I was used to it by now. It had been well over a year. Most of my life had been just like that. The table was oddly silent though. Maybe they hadn't come to a consensus about putting me in battle. But when Gale had to kick me under the table, I realized that she was actually talking to me.

"Oh! Yeah, I'm completely all right with that. It felt good. Doing something for a change," I said determinedly.

"Well, let's be just a little more judicious with her exposure. Especially now that the Capitol knows what she can do," Coin said.

There was a rumble of assent from around the table. I sat awkwardly back in my seat. I would have thought that I was used to it by now. I should have been used to all of the attention. But it wasn't something that I could get used to. I hated it. So I pulled at a few threads on the jumpsuit that I was wearing as people started chattering back and forth. Talking about me, what to do with me, how to best use me. But never involving me in the conversation.

"Didn't they already know?" I finally asked Seneca, referring to Coin's earlier statement.

Seneca shook his head. "A few misplaced arrows and knives are nothing compared to this. Not just the explosive arrows that Beetee designed. Your words. They know what their actions will inspire," he explained.

"Right," I said dumbly.

My thoughts were still on what had happened before. The fact that no one had ratted out Gale, Katniss, and me. Even Dean, Skye, and Julie's choices had been kept secret. It was probably a good thing. We would have been in a ton of trouble. But no one looked upset by the fact that we had ignored our warnings. Not Plutarch, whose authority we ignored. Not Boggs with his broken nose. Not the insects we led into fire. Not Haymitch - no, wait a minute.

Haymitch was giving me a deadly smile and saying sweetly, "Yeah, we wouldn't want to lose our little Mockingjay when she's finally begun to sing."

The look on his face was the same look that he had given me so many times before. The same look that I knew that he had given me when I had rushed into the Cornucopia, saved Cato in the Bloodbath, taken on Rue as an ally, managed to trap myself in a tree underneath the Careers, and so many other times. Yes, he wasn't happy with me at all. I made a note to myself not to end up alone in a room with him, because he was clearly having vengeful thoughts over that stupid earpiece.

"So, what else do you have planned?" Coin asked.

Plutarch nodded to Cressida, who consulted a clipboard. "We have some terrific footage of Aspen at the hospital in Eight. There should be another propo in that with the theme 'Because you know who they are and what they do.' We'll focus on Aspen interacting with the patients, particularly the children, the bombing of the hospital, and the wreckage. That song that you sang, too. That can probably play over the top of the interactions.

"Messalla's cutting that together. We're also thinking about a Mockingjay piece. Highlight some of Aspen's best moments inter-cut with scenes of rebel uprisings and war footage. Good thing is, I caught a lot of her interactions in the Capitol the first time around. Things that the rest of the cameras never saw. It'll help remind them of just the simple girl from District 12. We call that one 'Fire is catching.' And then Fulvia came up with a really brilliant idea."

My stomach was roiling around. What had Cressida managed to capture the first time that I was in the Capitol? Things that I had talked about to Cato? A discussion between Peeta and me? My stupid individual training routine? I would be curious to see what was going to be in that propo. What, exactly, it was that Cressida had managed to capture. Fulvia's mouthful-of-sour-grapes expression was startled right off her face by Cressida's mention, but she recovered.

"Well, I don't know how brilliant it is, but I was thinking we could do a series of propos called We Remember. In each one, we would feature one of the dead Tributes. Little Rue from Eleven or old Mags from Four. Aspen's friend, Peeta. The idea being that we could target each District with a very personal piece," Fulvia explained.

No one had told me about that one. I was glad that they didn't. A sound must have escaped from my throat, because Gale reached over and grabbed my hand. Hearing their names, knowing that they would have a tribute to themselves, was like a punch in the stomach. I wanted them to be remembered and loved, but it was strange to know that they were going to be used as causes for the rebellion. At least they could be of some use, even after their deaths.

Who did I even know that they could use? Glimmer? Yeah, right. She hated me. Not Marvel or Clove or Coral. They were Careers. Thresh, likely enough. Finch, too. They were my friends. People who had hated the Games and refused to play them on anyone's terms but their own. Maybe Wiress from the Quell. The Morphlings, who had risked their lives to save me and Cato. Maybe all of the Tributes who had risked their lives to save ours.

"A tribute to your Tributes, as it were," Plutarch said, interrupting my train of thought.

"That is brilliant, Fulvia. It's the perfect way to remind people why they're fighting," I said sincerely.

"I think it could work. I thought we might use Finnick to intro and narrate the spots. If there was interest in them," Fulvia said.

That was a good idea. Finnick knew most of them, anyways. "Frankly, I don't see how we could have too many We Remember propos. Can you start producing them today?" Coin asked.

"Of course," Fulvia said, obviously mollified by the response to her idea.

It was the first time that I had really felt that I might have liked Fulvia. Beforehand she had reminded me of an even worse version of Effie, whom I actually liked. Cressida had managed to smooth everything over in the creative department with her gesture. Praised Fulvia for what was, in fact, a really good idea, and cleared the way to continue her own on-air depiction of the Mockingjay. Everyone was suddenly feeling much better and no one was fighting. Of course, Haymitch would likely soon change that with me.

What was really interesting was that Plutarch seemed to have no need to share in the credit. All he wanted was for the Airtime Assault to work. I remembered that Plutarch was a Head Gamemaker, not a member of the crew. Not a piece in the Games. Just like Seneca had been. They would never take credit. Therefore, their worth was not defined by a single element, but by the overall success of the production. If we won the war, that was when Plutarch will take his bow. And expect his reward.

The president sent everyone off to get to work, so Gale and Katniss wheeled me back to the hospital. We laughed a little about the cover-up. Gale said that no one wanted to look bad by admitting they couldn't control us. Katniss said that Boggs likely didn't want to admit that Gale could break his nose. I was kinder, saying they probably didn't want to jeopardize the chance of taking us out again now that they had gotten some decent footage. They were all probably true.

After chatting with them for a little while about what had happened, I realized that it was for the best that we hadn't told anyone the truth of what had happened in Eight. It was a good choice. Coin would have realized that I was fighting for myself, for what I needed. That would have been breaching my contract with Coin. Leaving my fate - and more importantly, Cato's - to Thirteen. Gale and Katniss eventually had to go meet Beetee down in Special Weaponry, so I dozed off.

Just as I was so used to, I was back in my same hospital bed. Likely going to have a nightmare again, as I so usually did. But, to my surprise, I didn't have a nightmare. Instead I managed to sleep through at least a few hours before finally waking up again. Seneca was standing right over the bed. It looked like he had recently walked into the room. I jumped slightly and placed a hand over my chest. I was a little irritable that he didn't even both to say anything to me.

"Say something next time. You scared me," I growled.

"I'm sorry," Seneca said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I think there's something you should see."

"Okay," I said.

"Cato's family would like to speak with you afterwards," Seneca said.

"It looked like they did earlier. Dean, Skye, and Julie are okay?" I asked.

I had seen them in the meeting, but I wasn't sure exactly how mentally fit they were from what had happened in Eight. "They're fine. A little banged up and tired, but otherwise healthy," Seneca said.

"Good. Is Haymitch angry about the headpiece?"

"Yes."

"I figured."

There was no way that I was getting out of being yelled at for that. "That was a foolish thing that you did. Taking the earpiece out. You could have been hurt. We warned you not to," Seneca said. For some reason, I actually felt a little badly for not listening to him. Maybe because I knew how much he was trying to help me. "But you did anyways. Just as you so often did. I am very glad to say that I was wrong. You were right to do what you did."

A small smile tilted up on the corners of my lips. Finally someone else was in the wrong. "Thank you, Seneca," I said slowly.

"You did wonderfully out there," Seneca said.

"I needed to see it. I needed to see just what I meant to these people."

"You mean the world to them. To all of us. As much more than the Mockingjay."

"That hospital -"

"Stop blaming yourself for it. It would have been destroyed soon enough. It was going to happen regardless. At least we made something good out of it," Seneca said truthfully.

"You're right. As you so often are. Stop being right," I snapped.

Seneca grinned softly. "I'll try my hardest."

As we strode down the hallway, I turned to look at Seneca. "Where are we going?" I asked.

"My compartment," Seneca answered nonchalantly.

"Oh?" I asked teasingly.

"Don't get excited," Seneca shot back.

His voice was so nonchalant that it almost surprised me. Actually, all of his words surprised me. My head shot towards him as the two of us hesitated in the hallway. The two of us stared at each other blankly for a moment. Seneca's face quickly turned into one of horror. It was obvious that he was terrified by what he had said to me, given our past together. Given those kisses and nights together that had always turned me into a complete blubbering mess.

The last time that Seneca and I had been in a bedroom together, things hadn't ended well. Things were different now. It wouldn't happen. Not anymore. This time I really didn't think that it was that insulting and I knew that it hadn't been meant like that. It was almost relieving. I liked hearing him tease me. It made me think that he was a real person. Plus, for whatever reason, I had gotten over what happened those nights. So I merely laughed. Seneca looked very concerned for a moment before laughing himself.

"I'm surprised that you laughed," Seneca said, once we had both calmed down.

"Something funny about it, I suppose. I've gotten over that night," I said honestly.

"I'm very glad to hear that. It's something that I'll always feel guilty about," Seneca said.

"Maybe it's good that you carry around some guilt. That you weren't able to just forget about it. Shows that you're human, you have some remorse. But I forgive you, Seneca," I said, grabbing his hand.

Seneca smiled, giving my hand a tight squeeze. "Good. I'm on your side."

"I know."

It was nice to know that someone was on my side. We walked into Seneca's compartment a moment later and the door slid closed behind me. I looked around, quickly realizing that it looked nothing like the one in the Capitol. There were no colors in here. It was all grey and white. He only seemed to have a few personal things with him. It was also slightly larger than the compartment that I was in now, but this one had no windows. It must have been reserved for higher-ups.

"It's nicer than mine," I commented.

"Is it?" Seneca asked curiously.

"Yeah."

"It's quite small."

Snorting under my breath, I shook my head and stepped into the room. "Compared to your old apartment in the Capitol? Yes. This is small. But it's larger than the one Katniss, Prim, Ms. Everdeen, and I live in," I said.

"They'd probably give you a bigger one if you asked," Seneca reasoned.

"No need. I'm in the hospital more often anyways."

Seneca smiled. "We'll have to work on that."

"Good luck." The two of us snorted at each other. "What did you want to show me?" I asked curiously.

Seneca pulled something out of his pocket that I stared at. What was that supposed to be? "This was captured on security footage from District Seven just a few hours ago," Seneca explained.

"Seven?" I asked dumbly.

"Watch."

After what had happened in District 8, I wasn't so sure that I wanted to see what had happened in District 7. I didn't want to see more death. Seneca pushed me towards the television as I stepped back and perched myself on the edge of Seneca's bed to watch what had happened. It had been... maybe half a day since they put out the footage that Messalla had done. It had been about two days since the first one was released. What could have happened in such a short span of time?

The screen popped up and I raised a brow. I had only seen District 7 once before. This clearly wasn't anywhere near the Town Square that I had seen during the Victory Tour. There was a group of almost fifty lumberjacks heading out towards the forest with axes slung over their shoulders. I assumed that they were heading to cut down the trees. They were being escorted by at least twenty Peacekeepers, and the logs of wood on their sides were being defended by even more, armed, Peacekeepers.

Things were really that bad that they needed all of those Peacekeepers just for some simple lumberjacks. They were all being kept apart from each other, likely to ensure that no one was speaking to each other. All of the Peacekeepers - who were following the lumberjacks - had their guns pointed to the people's backs. How could they have possibly fought back against them? They were outnumbered and literally outgunned. As I looked over at Seneca, he motioned for me to look back at the screen.

"By order of President Snow daily production quotas have been increased. All work shifts will be extended by an extra two hours. Failure to meet these quotas will not be tolerated," a voice on a speaker called out.

The screen went dark for just a moment and I raised a brow. What was that supposed to have shown me? That things were bad in the other Districts? I knew that. But the screen lit up again and I nodded. The men and women were now walking through the woods, the Peacekeepers still following closely behind them. I still didn't understand why Seneca wanted me to see this, but I decided to humor him and keep watching quietly.

"By order of President Snow daily production quotas have been increased," the voice repeated.

They were walking in silence for a few moments as my hands wrung together. I was getting nervous now. Something was going to happen. I knew it. That was when it happened. I saw a dark-skinned man glance up slightly, his eyes locking on something in the distance. I moved in closer to the screen to see what it was. A Mockingjay... My Mockingjay was carved into a tree that they were all walking past. Who the hell had managed to put that there? I guessed that wasn't too important.

Suddenly that same man let out the three-note whistle that Rue had taught me in the arena. I didn't get a chance to be slightly hurt by the sound of it. Without warning the lumberjacks started sprinting forward, screaming at the tops of their lungs. I gasped softly, placing a hand over my mouth. The Peacekeepers stopped walking, getting down into shooting positions, firing round after round. I cringed as I watched men and women collapse to the ground, most of them dead.

But most of them managed to get away. I couldn't understand what they were doing at first, but then I saw it. They were scaling the trees just the way that I had done. As the surviving lumberjacks made their way into the trees, the Peacekeepers stopped below them, firing upwards. A few more fell before they vanished and the Peacekeepers stopped firing, watching the trees closely. There were still some firing in the distance, but it was otherwise eerily silent.

Then it came. A voice from far off. "If we burn, you burn with us!"

It was a lumberjack hiding up in the trees. Repeating the same words that I had said in the propo. I had actually managed to convince them to fight back. Right as he finished shouting, a number of mines exploded. I jumped slightly, startled by what had happened, as the lumberjacks started to cheer. They were all smiling and laughing, giving each other thumbs up. There wasn't a single Peacekeeper left alive after the mines had all exploded. It was a small victory, but one nonetheless.

The screen went silent after a few seconds of the lumberjacks cheering. As Seneca turned the television off, I leaned down onto my hands and knees. That had really happened. They were really fighting back like that. I was astounded. They had actually managed to win a small fight. I stayed silent for a long time after watching the video, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. A lot of people had died for that one small victory. To take out the hoard of Peacekeepers.

But they thought that it was worth it. And maybe it was. Maybe there was a chance that it had all been worth it. Because at least now they were all able to fight freely. They didn't have nearly the number of Peacekeepers in the area anymore. They could kill the rest of them. For the first time I really realized that this whole war wasn't just for me. It was for all of us. Those four million people who had been beaten down for the past seventy-five years and long before that.

Even though I had just seen it, I still couldn't believe that my words had really managed to force people to do something. At least, I had inspired them to do something. People who were repeating my words to the people that they were fighting against. I almost asked Seneca to play it again, I was so surprised at the turn of events in District 7. It was fascinating to see how hard they were fighting for me and what they believed in. I was almost pleased. Maybe not pleased... impressed.

Their deaths would likely still haunt me - as they always did - but I found myself nodding along, impressed by their actions. They had been far braver than I could have ever credited them with. I knew that fighting back would mean their deaths. We wouldn't ever have a win without suffering some losses. But they didn't care. They were determined to make things better. Just like I was. As I continued nodding at the screen, I found myself almost smiling.

"They're fighting back even harder now," I commented.

"Because of you. Coin thought that it would be pointless to show you this footage. But I knew that you needed to see it. You need to see just what you do for the people," Seneca said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Thank you. You're right. I needed to see this," I said, looking at him. "These people really do have faith in me. Even better, they have faith in each other."

"All because of you. They're finally able to stand up for themselves."

"Are those all of the Peacekeepers in Seven?"

"No. But that was a good number of them. They can fight back against the rest."

It was just what I had been thinking. "This is happening all over Panem?" I asked.

Seneca nodded, making me feel a slight jolt of excitement. "It is. Some are smaller victories, we're still suffering some losses, but we're moving forward. We will continue to move forward. Even in our smallest actions," Seneca said.

It made an old comment come to mind. "Those loyal to you will always be loyal. Even in their smallest actions."

Seneca raised a brow. "Who said that?"

"Cinna."

"He was right."

"He was. I really appreciate you showing me that. I think I needed to see it."

"That's why I showed you."

The two of us sat in silence for a while. I was fiddling at the laces on my boots. "Will you get in trouble for showing me?" I asked.

Seneca shrugged, like he could care less. Maybe he couldn't. "Maybe a little talking-to. But after Snow confronting me as many times as he did during your Games, I find myself a little less susceptible to threats," Seneca explained.

How many times had Seneca gotten a talking-to during my Games? "That's a fair point," I muttered.

"The Hadley's would still like to speak with you," Seneca said.

"I know. I'm trying to put it off."

Seneca grinned. "Why is that?"

"Because they're going to ask me how I am, just like everyone else has been doing. I know that it's the right thing to do, telling them the truth about what happened..." I said, realizing that they didn't know exactly what had happened in Eight, unless the others had told them. "I guess I just don't want even more people concerned about me."

"They care."

"They're some of the few."

"We all care about you, Aspen," Seneca said, placing a hand on my knee.

"Thank you," I said, forcing a smile on my lips. "I should go and speak to them, shouldn't I?"

Seneca nodded, giving me a hand back to my feet. I was still slightly dizzy. "You should. They want to see you. But you can stay for a while if you would like," Seneca offered.

"If I stay, I'll start snooping through your things," I said truthfully.

"You're more than welcome. I didn't get a chance to bring many of my things with me."

"They've probably destroyed most of your things by now," I said, realizing too late that it was probably rude.

"Yes, they probably have," Seneca sighed.

"Does that bother you?" I asked.

Seneca was silent for a moment before shaking his head. "Not particularly. There aren't many things that I have that mean much to me," he finally admitted.

"So what means something to you?" I asked curiously.

"This does," Seneca said, motioning between the two of us.

The two of us smiled at each other for a moment. "I should go. See the Hadley's."

"Enjoy."

We exchanged a quick hug as I turned towards the door. "Are the Hadley's in their compartment?"

"I believe so."

"I guess I've stalled on talking to them long enough. I'll talk to you soon."

"Have a good night," Seneca called.

"You too!" I called back.

As I walked out the door, I listened to it hiss shut behind me. Odd, the way that things had changed. Not long ago, I had shot out of Seneca's room in tears. Now I was leaving it as a friend. I walked out of the hallway and back down the one where I used to live. My steps were slightly staggered, but I managed to get to the Hadley's compartment relatively unscathed. I walked up to the door, watched it open, and stepped inside to find the entire family sitting around and chatting.

"Hi," I greeted.

"Aspen, dear. Come in," Alana said brightly.

She darted over to me and gave me a small hug. "Thanks," I said, pulling away from her slightly. I turned towards Skye and smiled. The cuts were much smaller. "Your face is looking better, Skye."

"Just a few cuts and scrapes. Nothing that I can't handle," Skye said carelessly.

"What about your foot, Julie?" I asked.

Julie shrugged her shoulders. She was perched up on one of the beds and had her foot in a kind of cast. "I might be laid up on the next outing, but it'll be back to normal soon. The doctors were telling us that it isn't that big of a deal. A broken toe. I might ignore them and go out anyways," Julie said, making me smile.

"You most certainly will not," Alana said sharply.

It was clear enough that Alana was like a mother to all of us. Julie flushed slightly and muttered, "Sorry."

Deciding that I should step forward and save the argument, I moved into the center of the room. "Don't worry, Julie. I'm sure by the time that they're ready to let me out on the next mission, your foot will be healed," I said hopefully.

"They're going to start being very careful about where they send you. District Eight was dangerous enough," Dean said.

He was right about that. It had been dangerous out there. "Did anyone tell you that we were headed there?" I asked carefully, knowing that Alana wouldn't be happy if they hadn't.

"No," Alana said sharply.

"They told us after you were gone," Damien said.

It was like what I imagined apologizing to my birth mother and father would have been like. "I'm sorry. We should have said something," I said awkwardly.

Dean stepped in, knowing how uncomfortable I was. "It wasn't supposed to be an active situation. We were just supposed to be taking Aspen in to do some propos. But the Capitol launched a surprise attack," Dean said.

That was when I spotted how disheveled Alana looked. She moved forward, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Please, Dean, I've... I've already lost two children. I'd like to not lose another. Any one of the four of you. I know that it wasn't supposed to be active. But... next time... just think a little bit," Alana said, her voice weaker than normal.

Guilt. A horrible guilt wracked through me. She made a good point. "We will, Alana. We're sorry," I said sincerely.

"It's okay. Just say something next time," Alana whispered.

Each one of us nodded. There was no way that we wouldn't tell them next time. It wasn't fair for me to have left. Not without telling Prim or Ms. Everdeen. Not the Hadley's either. As I turned around the room, I noticed that Carrie had some tears in her eyes. She must not have gotten a goodbye from Dean either. I suddenly felt extremely guilty. We should have all said something to the people that we loved. It was a mistake on all of our parts.

"We won't do it again. Sorry, Mom. Everyone," Dean promised.

"We're just glad that you were all okay. It got dangerous out there," Carrie muttered, her voice cracking.

But they also needed to hear the truth of what was out there. "It's dangerous everywhere, I'm afraid. No matter where we go out, we'll be facing something. I know that I shouldn't say that, but it's the truth. Maybe things will be different one day. Not today," I said, hoping that I wasn't making things worse.

"You're right. Things won't change until this war is over. That could be a while," Damien agreed.

"Yes," I whispered.

"How are you doing, Aspen?" Alana asked.

"I'm alive. I'll live," I answered.

The room was tensely silent for a moment. "You did wonderfully in that propo that they shot," Carrie finally said.

"I suppose. I just... I just said what came to mind," I said dumbly.

In all honesty, I was shocked that it had come to mind. "Haymitch is wrong for telling you that you're not a good public speaker," Carrie said.

Waving her off, I shook my head. "No, he's right," I said, hating to admit that Haymitch was right about anything. "Just look at what it takes to bring out a genuine performance from me."

"It's a start," Alana said.

"You were great out there. Those hoverplanes that you brought down... That was incredible," Julie said.

"I should have taken them all down. We should have taken them all down," I said bitterly.

If they had all come down, maybe there was a chance that the hospital would still be there. "We tried. We were close. There's nothing wrong with what happened out there. Nothing that was your fault, anyways. It was all planned out by the Capitol. We couldn't have changed anything. You couldn't have," Skye said.

"Doesn't change the fact that I'll always feel guilty for it," I mumbled.

"We're sorry, Aspen. We genuinely are," Alana said, moving forward and grabbing my arm.

The entire family smiled at me. Except Julie, who was still grimacing because of her foot. "Cato will be proud when he sees what you did out there," Damien said.

That was what kept me going. "I think you're right," I said honestly.

"We'll get to hear that he thinks about all of this soon enough," Alana said brightly.

"Soon," I promised, grabbing her hand. "As soon as we possibly can."

"Good. We miss him," Aidan said sadly.

Of course Aidan would be upset. Cato was his big brother and his best friend. "I know. I miss him too. I promise that we're going to let you all know before we leave next time," I said determinedly.

"We appreciate that," Alana said sweetly.

We all smiled at each other as I let out a deep breath. My head was starting to spin again and my legs were growing weak again. "As much as I would love to stay and chat for a little while, I'm really tired. Concussion is still getting to me. I think I'm going to go back and get some rest at the hospital," I said.

"Enjoy your nap. Get some rest," Alana said.

"It was a long trip. You earned it," Dean said.

"Thank you. I'll see you all soon."

"Goodnight," Damien called.

Before I could leave, Alana stepped forward. "All four of you - warn us next time that you're planning on leaving for a mission. No matter what the mission is supposed to be," she warned.

"Of course," I said.

"We will," Dean promised.

"Yes, Alana," Skye said guiltily.

"Sorry," Julie muttered.

"See you all tomorrow," I called.

Everyone smiled and gave me hugs as I turned to leave. I definitely had to get out of here before my legs collapsed and I hit the ground. I wished that I had the wheelchair back for now. But it was in the hospital, the place that I wasn't allowed to leave quite yet, which was very unfortunate. I almost missed living in the compartment. There were too many horrible memories of myself in this place. And I missed being around Katniss and Prim all the time. But the moment my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light.

It seemed like I had only shut my eyes for a few minutes, but when I opened them, I flinched at the sight of Haymitch sitting in a chair a couple of feet from my bed. Waiting. He didn't look bothered, simply bored. Of course he was here. I thought about opening my mouth to scream. But he wasn't going to hurt me. He must have been here for a while. Possibly for several hours if the clock was right. I was still thinking about hollering for a witness, but I was going to have to face him sooner or later.

The two of us stared at each other for a few moments. Neither one of us knew how to start the conversation. Actually, Haymitch probably knew what to say, so I was just waiting for him to start the argument. Haymitch finally leaned forward and dangled something on a thin white wire in front of my nose. For a moment I thought that he was going to whack me with it. It was hard to focus on, but I was pretty sure what it was. He dropped it to the sheets.

"Damn. I almost thought this was a nightmare," I groaned.

"Oh, it is, sweetheart," Haymitch warned. "That is your earpiece. I will give you exactly one more chance to wear it. If you remove it from your ear again, I'll have you fitted with this."

It wasn't just a threat. I was no fool. I knew that Haymitch would go through with whatever threat he wanted to deliver to me. It made my stomach churn nervously. Whatever it was that he was going to show me, it wasn't something that I would want. I was able to figure that out easily. Haymitch held up some sort of metal headgear that I instantly named the head shackle. It looked like some sort of Capitol torture device, an image I quickly started to beat back as Cato came into my imagination.

"It's an alternative audio unit that locks around your skull and under your chin until it's opened with a key. And I'll have the only key. If for some reason you're clever enough to disable it," Haymitch dumped the head shackle on the bed and whipped out a tiny silver chip, "I'll authorize them to surgically implant this transmitter into your ear so that I may speak to you twenty-four hours a day."

Haymitch in my head full-time. Horrifying. Definitely not something that I could deal with. "I'll keep the earpiece in," I muttered.

"Excuse me?" Haymitch asked.

"I'll keep the earpiece in!" I yelled, loudly enough to wake up half the hospital.

"You sure? Because I'm equally happy with any of the three options," Haymitch said.

"I'm sure," I said.

The thought of having to listen to Haymitch all the time gave me a horrible feeling in my gut. He was a pain in my ass. The last thing that I wanted was for him to be able to wake me up at three in the morning with some complaint about me. I scrunched up the earpiece wire protectively in my fist and flung the head shackle back in Haymitch's face with my free hand, but he caught it easily. Probably was expecting me to throw it. He was good with expecting my movements, just like that day on the hovercraft.

"Anything else?" I finally asked.

Haymitch rose to his feet to leave. "While I was waiting... I ate your lunch."

My eyes took in the empty stew bowl and tray on my bed table. "I'm going to report you," I mumbled into my pillow.

"You do that, sweetheart."

Haymitch went out, safe in the knowledge that I wasn't the reporting kind. I honestly didn't really care that he ate my dinner. I wasn't hungry and I really didn't like the food that they served in Thirteen anyways. Plus I was still thinking about what had happened in Seven. Those thoughts and images constantly running through my mind was enough to make me sick and not at all hungry. I would just eat later and be miserable right now. At least, miserable for a long time.

Laying on my stomach, I tried to force myself to close my eyes. I really wanted to go back to sleep, but I was restless. Images from yesterday - or was it the day before? - began to flood into the present. The bombing, the fiery plane crashes, the faces of the wounded who no longer existed. I imagined death from all sides. I was also seeing everything that had happened in Seven. Those people who had been shot dead. The bombs that had destroyed the squadron of Peacekeepers.

That was when my nightmare delved back into what had happened in Eight. The last moment before seeing a shell hit the ground, feeling the wing blown from my plane and the dizzying nosedive into oblivion, the warehouse roof fell down towards me while I was pinned helplessly to my cot. They were all things that I saw, in person or on the tape. Things I caused with a pull of my bowstring. Things I would never be able to erase from my memory.

It was only about an hour that I attempted to sleep. There was no way that I could sleep right now. No way that I would be able to sleep for a long time. Not with all of the thoughts in my mind. So I sat up and reached down my shirt. I pulled out the chain that was hanging there and started twirling Cato's wedding ring around my fingers. I tried to almost always have something of his on me. It made me feel like he was still here with me. Not hundreds of miles away.

As I tried to fit it on my thumb - the only finger it fit on - Gale walked into the room. I tucked the ring back into my jumpsuit. "Hey," I said, smiling at him.

"Hey. I got good news," Gale said happily.

"What?" I asked.

"Coin agreed to let us hunt above ground," Gale said.

Weren't we already allowed to hunt above ground? That was when the answer dawned on me. "Today?" I asked.

"Today," Gale confirmed.

A small smile broke across my face. "Is Katniss coming?" I asked.

"She's still a little sore from the trip to Eight," Gale said.

"She's okay?"

"She's fine. Been sleeping a lot. I think she got a little bit of a concussion from one of the blasts."

"I know how she feels."

Gale smiled softly. "Ready to go?" Gale asked.

"Let's do it," I confirmed.

In the back of my mind, I knew that it was the wrong thing to do. My head was still spinning slightly from the concussion. But I wanted to get out of Thirteen for a while. So the two of us headed out towards the fence that would lead us into the woods. We stopped long enough to get the trackers fitted onto our ankles and have them warn us to be careful with me - considering that I now had two back-to-back concussions to deal with.

Once we had everything together, we left to get our bows and arrows. Once the two of us had grabbed our weapons, we headed back towards the security fence. Together the two of us made our way out into the woods. We were moving slightly slower than usual, as I figured that Gale wanted to keep me safe from an accident. I did find myself at peace with the way that we didn't actually speak. We just hunted together. Just like the old days.

It was easily the most effective hunting trip that we had had since I had gone into the first Games. Before that, we had been unstoppable. After that, there had been a number of issues. Right now, things were almost back to normal. It did help that the animals were easy to bring down, as they weren't at all suspicious. Gale was working easily with me, not saying a word about the odd relationship that we had found ourselves in lately. It was nice. Normal.

After a while, Gale and I found ourselves playing an old game that we used to play all the time. Trying to beat each other out for the most catches. My first arrow was blind and I was surprised when a squirrel fell directly in front of me. I had only gotten the foot, which wasn't a kill shot, but I'd still hit it. I bent down and slit the throat. Standing back up, I tossed it in the game bag and turned to Gale with a sly grin. It was a lucky shot, but I still made it, and I had made sure not to let the surprise show on my face.

Afterwards Gale had gotten a rabbit. After that had been a few more squirrels, Gale had gotten one and I'd gotten two. Then there had been two quails, Gale had gotten both. Another squirrel had gone to me after that, and we'd been tied again. We had then decided to turn back, making a wide arc to clear a new section of the woods. On the way back I had immediately caught two squirrels, and then Gale had caught another two. We were now starting to head to the river with a tie on our hands.

Moving back and forth, the two of us searched and searched for another animal. That was when I spotted it. There was a deer not far away. As much as I wanted to rush for it, I didn't want to startle the deer. So I hesitated and nodded to Gale. We could share this shot. Gale pulled apart the bushes so that I could kneel down on a knee and raise my bow. I had an arrow aimed straight at its head when the deer looked at us. It didn't even move. It didn't sense the obvious danger that it was in.

"It's not even afraid of us," I said, a little bothered.

"It's cause they've never been hunted before. It's almost not fair," Gale said.

Lowering the bow, I decided not to shoot the deer. I didn't really want to have to carry the deer back anyways. Gale and I headed out to the river to sunbathe, just as we had the other day. We were still sitting in silence. It was the way that we had always been. There were a number of things that we needed to say, but nothing that he wanted to. So we perched ourselves on the rocks and I leaned my head against Gale's shoulder. A long time passed that we sat in silence before Gale's communicuff started to ring.

I sat up and watched as Gale read the message. "They want us back," Gale said.

"For?" I asked.

"Not sure," Gale said.

There was something about the moment that didn't sit quite right with me. They had just spoken to us not that long ago. What could they have possibly wanted right now? I guessed that we would find out later. So Gale and I headed back to Thirteen. I was getting a little lightheaded anyways. Gale had his game bag and I had mine. I felt a little more unnerved than normal. I never had liked being brought anywhere in Thirteen. I always felt like they were ready to execute me over the smallest things.

Eventually we made our way back into District 13. They removed the trackers from our ankles and the two of us headed towards the kitchen. We had to drop off our bows and arrows and the game bags before heading to wherever it was that they wanted us. We walked into the elevator together and stood back against the metal walls.

"They asked us to head for Command," Gale said.

"Alright. I gotta drop these off, then my jacket," I said, motioning to my father's hunting jacket.

"Okay," Gale said.

The two of us walked through the kitchen and into the cooking section. The two of us tossed our catches at Greasy Sae and stopped to talk to her for a few minutes. Once we were done, we headed back to my compartment to return my jacket. I didn't want to destroy it. I also wanted to take as much time as possible to make sure that I had some time to calm down before heading off to Command, where they likely wanted to talk more about what had happened in Eight.

To my surprised, when we walked into my compartment, someone was already there. But it wasn't Katniss, Prim, or Ms. Everdeen. Instead it was Finnick. Considering that it was dinnertime, it seemed that Finnick had brought his tray to my bed so that we could watch the newest propo together on television. He was assigned a quarters on my old floor, but he had so many mental relapses, he still basically lived in the hospital. Of course, it seemed that way for me too sometimes.

The rebels aired the 'Because you know who they are and what they do' propo that Messalla edited. The footage was intercut with short studio clips of Gale, Katniss, Boggs, and Cressida describing the incident. It was hard to watch my reception in the hospital in Eight since I knew what was coming. When the bombs rained down on the roof, I buried my face in my pillow and Gale's shoulder, looking up again at a brief clip of me at the end, after all the victims were dead.

At least Finnick didn't applaud or act all happy when it was done. He just said, "People should know that happened. And now they do."

"Let's turn it off, Finnick, before they run it again," I urged him. But as Finnick's hand moved toward the remote control, I cried, "Wait!"

It was the moment that I saw it. The picture of the Capitol seal. I had to know... It might have been... The Capitol was introducing a special segment and something about it looked familiar. I knew exactly what this was going to be. The moment of silence was far too long. But, yes, it was Caesar Flickerman. And I could guess who his guest was going to be. As the screen faded in and I saw Caesar, I realized that he was in a floral suit this time, looking even more somber than he had been in his first interview with Cato.

"She was arguably our favorite Tribute. And I think that's what we all find most astonishing, is that this girl was adored in the Capitol. And I think for you, Cato, it must be particularly painful," Caesar prompted.

The camera wasn't facing Cato. It was still on Caesar. I was so desperate to see him. So desperate to know what was happening to him while I couldn't see him. Not in person, at least. Finally the camera moved to the other side of the table to show Cato. Or, actually, it was showing his legs. He was clearly wearing a black suit, different from the white one that he had been in the first interview. As it trailed up his body, I saw that he was holding a white rose in his hand. It sent a chill up my spine.

"I wish I could give this rose to you, Aspen," Cato muttered.

That was when the camera finally went up to his face. Cato's physical transformation shocked me. My hand slapped itself over my mouth. Finnick and Gale's heads shot to me. The healthy, clear-eyed boy I saw a few days ago had lost at least fifteen pounds and developed a nervous tremor in his hands. They still had him groomed. But underneath the paint that couldn't cover the bags under his eyes, and the fine clothes that couldn't conceal the pain he felt when he moves, was a person badly damaged.

No... No... That couldn't be Cato. They were doing something to him. It had to be something done by the Capitol computers to make me think that they were hurting him. He just - He didn't even look like himself. His hands were twitching against the chair. His leg was bouncing. His face looked slightly bruised, definitely discolored, like he hadn't slept in a long time. His eyes didn't even look like his. They were twitching slightly as he stared down at the ground.

My mind reeled, trying to make sense of it. I just saw him! Four - no, five - I thought it was five days ago. How had he deteriorated so rapidly? What could they possibly have done to him in such a short time? Then it hit me. I replayed in my mind as much as I could of his first interview with Caesar, searching for anything that would place it in time. There was nothing. They could have taped that interview a day or two after I blew up the arena, then done whatever they wanted to do to him ever since.

"Oh, Cato..." I whispered.

Neither Gale nor Finnick reached out to touch me. I didn't want them to. My hand went up to the screen but dropped before I could touch it. How could I have been so stupid to think that they actually hadn't hurt him? They were likely torturing him in the worst possible way. He looked like he didn't even know his own name. His words didn't have the same spark and life that they normally did. No anger, no sorrow, no nothing. Just a... blankness that didn't match with him.

"He's changed so much already. What are they doing to him?" I asked desperately.

"A sweet gesture for a girl who has inspired such violence. You must love her very much to be able to forgive her," Caesar said.

"He's shaking," I sobbed.

What had they done to him? What the hell were they doing to my husband? "I don't think that I could. Unless, of course, Cato, you think that perhaps she's being forced into saying things that she doesn't even understand," Caesar said.

Cato finally looked up. "Yeah. Yeah, that's exactly what I think," Cato said, sounding careless.

"Even his voice is different," I said, unable to hear any emotion in his voice.

"They're using her, obviously. I think they're using her to whip up the rebels. I doubt she even knows what's happening and what's really at stake," Cato continued.

"Now, Cato, I doubt that the rebels will ever let her see this. But if they do, what would you say to her? To Aspen Antaeus, the once sweet Aspen Antaeus. What would you say?" Caesar asked.

"I would... I would tell her to think for herself," Cato said.

"Yes," Caesar prompted

There was a brief silence on Cato's part. Cato looked into the camera before turning away and then looking back at the camera. It felt like he was looking right at me. It felt like he was speaking directly to me. My heart skipped a beat. We had to get him back. I needed him back here. He was going to die there. He already looked terrible. Without missing a beat, a tear slipped out of Cato's eyes. My hands were shaking against my knees.

"Don't be a fool, Aspen. Think for yourself. They've turned you into a weapon that could be instrumental in the destruction of humanity. I know you never wanted the rebellion. The things that you did in the Games were never intended to start all of this. The rebels have made you into something that you're not, something that could destroy all of us. So if you have any power or any say in what they do or how they use you; please, please, urge them to stop this war before it's too late, and ask yourself, can you trust the people you're working with? Do you know what they really want? And if you don't... find out," Cato said.

A tear slipped out of Cato's eyes as I wiped away the corner of my own. "We need to respond," Gale said, barely acknowledging what we had just seen.

"Thank you, Cato Hadley, for these revelations about the real Mockingjay," Caesar said.

Black screen. Seal of Panem. Show over. I turned back to Gale with tightened jaws. In the meantime, Finnick pressed the button on the remote that killed the power. In a minute, people would be here to do damage control on Cato's condition and the words that came out of his mouth. I would need to repudiate them. But the truth was, I didn't trust the rebels or Plutarch or Coin. I wasn't confident that they told me the truth. I wouldn't be able to conceal this. Footsteps were approaching.

Finnick gripped me hard by the arms. "We didn't see it."

"What?" I asked.

"We didn't see Cato. Only the propo on Eight. Then we turned the set off because the images upset you. Got it?" Finnick asked. I nodded. "Finish your dinner."

But something that Gale had said was still bothering me. "But did you see what he looks like?" I asked Gale, turning to him.

"I saw a coward," Gale said.

"You don't have any idea what he's going through," I snapped.

"I don't care!" Gale shouted. "I would never say what he just said. Not if they tortured me, not with a gun to my head."

Finnick was watching us closely. "You've never been in the Capitol before, Gale. You have no idea if he even has any choice in the words that he's saying. I know just how terrible these people are. He - He's..." I trailed off, unable to say exactly what was happening to him.

"A coward," Gale finished.

As per usual, it was one step forward and two steps back with us. We could only get along so well for a while before something happened - normally with Cato - that made me angry. So I reached out and slapped Gale before I could think better of it. I had never hit him before. Not really. I could see the hesitance in Gale's face when he finally managed to look back at me. Finnick was in a slightly defensive position for what might happen. But I knew that Gale wouldn't hit me back.

For a moment I thought about apologizing to him. But something much different came out. "That is the same Cato that defended you after the whipping post. That's the same Cato that asked you to take care of me after he was gone. He's always defended you, despite everything that's happened," I snarled.

"No, it's not. Now he's only defending himself," Gale said. We stared at each other before Gale's phone rang. "Coin's called a meeting, we need to respond."

Gale turned away and started to walk off. "When did 'we' become you and Coin?" I asked, disgusted by the thought.

Gale turned back to me with a slight snarl on his mouth. "Everyone has a choice. How can he sit there in the Capitol and defend the people who destroyed his wife's home, tore apart his, and murdered part of his family?" Gale asked.

That was when it dawned on me. What was going to have to happen once Beetee got through the Capitol's airwaves. "He doesn't know. How could he? Nobody's seen what the Capitol did to Twelve. He doesn't know about the martial law in Two. He doesn't know about Leah. I have to show them," I said determinedly.

The footsteps were growing louder. "Quiet. Now. We can all talk about this later. Don't mention Cato," Finnick warned.

Gale and I stared at each other for a moment. Neither one of us would mention the slap again. Gale clearly felt guilty about what he said. Like everything else, we would brush this off. I pulled myself together enough so that when Plutarch and Fulvia entered, I had a mouthful of bread and cabbage. Finnick was talking about how well Gale came across on camera. We congratulated them on the propo. Made it clear it was so powerful, we tuned out right afterward. They looked relieved. They believed us.

No one mentioned Cato.

A/N: Here's another new chapter! I hope you guys liked this one. I wanted to include the District 7 attack scene because I really loved that about the movie, showing what was happening outside of Katniss's perspective. The scene at the end, showing Cato's second interview, is cut from both the book and film. Thanks for the follows and favorites! Please review! Until next time -A

JToshiro: Thanks so much for reading! I'm glad that it was one of your favorites. I hope you liked this one too!

melliemoo: Haymitch will definitely start helping Aspen again, once the two of them can get back to normal. It'll be a little bit of a road. I promise that Haymitch's secret will come out soon enough, just not quite yet. Gale and Aspen will be very much back and forth, friends one moment and enemies the next. Their friendship is tense right now, but they do still love each other. I hope you liked this one!