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.

10. Chapter 10

For a long time I merely wallowed in my own misery from what I had just seen. My hands were constantly shaking as I tried to blink back the images of Cato. Slowly getting worse and worse, looking like he was starving and slowly dying there. I had never been quite so disturbed by the sight of him. Not even back in the days that he was a ruthless Career. The broken and emotionless man that I saw in the Capitol propo was something completely different.

Nothing made me angrier than what I could imagine that the Capitol was doing to him. I couldn't even imagine what they were doing to him. Likely something cruel that would horrify me. It just made me realize that my nightmares were right. They really were treating him terribly. Much worse than I had thought. And the knowledge that they really were doing that to him was giving me even worse nightmares than before. The thought of everything that they were doing to him...

All I had been able to think about lately was Cato. I just needed to know what the hell they had been doing to him while he had been in the Capitol. How badly were they hurting him? How often was it happening? Likely it was terrible and happening often, much to my horror. It must have been a nightmare for him back there. Worse than anything that I had been having happen to me. Back in the Capitol and here in Thirteen. It made me feel a little guilty for complaining as much as I did.

It didn't help that I did feel a little guilty about what had just happened between Gale and me. That damned slap. I knew that I shouldn't have hit him. It was the first time that I ever had. But he had just been making me so angry and I refused to apologize for what I had done. Gale had completely deserved it. He had it coming. It was one of the last times that the two of us had interacted lately. Finnick didn't say anything about it either, so I just automatically assumed that he also felt like Gale deserved it.

Honestly I knew that the two of us should have been trying to make up, but I just couldn't. I was still so furious with what he had said to me and I was still heartbroken over what I knew was happening to Cato. So when I went to sleep, it was almost impossible to really find it. I finally stopped trying to sleep after my first few attempts were consistently interrupted by unspeakable nightmares. After that, I just laid still and did my perfected fake breathing whenever someone checked on me.

The constant trying to get me to sleep was driving me insane. It was one of the only things that they ever tried to get me to really do. Not even speak to other people or get up and move around. It was always sleep. If I didn't sleep, they just gave me pills or shots. Just like that night on the Tribute train on the Victory Tour. But those things just have me nightmares, so I usually just tried to pretend like I was asleep. My waking nightmares were bad enough.

When the morning finally dawned - after another night of restless sleep - I was almost immediately released from the hospital and instructed to take it easy. It suited me just fine. I didn't really want to have to do anything anyways. Cressida quickly brought me with her and asked me to record a few lines for a new Mockingjay propo. It was nothing that difficult. Without something to motivate me, though, I sounded just as stiff as I had the first time around.

As much as they loved what had happened after the hospital in Eight, I didn't care to repeat it anytime soon. So I tried to put as much life into my conversation as I could. But it didn't help much. Just enough to get them to leave me alone and keep me from doing anything more. At lunch, I kept waiting for people to bring up Cato's appearance with Caesar's interview, but no one ever did. No one even looked at me. Someone must have seen it besides Finnick, Gale, and me.

There was a chance that I knew exactly who else had seen it. One eye towards Seneca and I realized that he knew too. The two of us exchanged a brief nod and I knew that it meant a chat later. But I had training from the moment that we were free from lunch. Another day, it seemed. Or, at least, later in the day. Unfortunately Gale and Katniss were scheduled to work with Beetee on weapons or something, which meant no speaking to either one of them, so I got permission to take Finnick to the woods.

It was one of the first few times that I had seen him out of bed since everything had happened. I was glad to see that he was at least able to stand and walk around; albeit woozily. It was also the first chance that I had gotten to speak with someone other than Katniss, Gale, and Dean out in the woods. The moment that I figured out what I wanted to say to him, I knew that it would be worth it to get out here with him. I knew that he would tell me. Finnick had almost always been honest with me. Almost.

The two of us went out with our weapons and headed as far out from District 13 as we could. The last thing that I wanted right now was for anyone to hear what I wanted to say. If I even knew what I wanted to say. Either way, the two of us grabbed our weapons - a bow and set of arrows for me and a trident for Finnick - and walked out. We were a few miles away when I took Finnick down a new route. Clearly untouched by humans, as there were no disturbed branches or dirt piles.

There was a chance that we would start being watched a little more closely now. They would want to know if I actually had seen the footage and that meant watching me like a hawk. Just like they had done when I first got to District 13. Watching to see if I would do something stupid. Take my own life or try and escape and get back to the Capitol. That was probably what I was most likely to do. Go and get him back by myself. Ensure that no one else got hurt in the process.

Together Finnick and I wandered around aimlessly for a while and then ditched our communicators under a bush. It took a little while to get them off but we finally managed and then headed off. They would still be able to hear us. I had noticed on my second hunting trip that there was a microphone on them. I couldn't have them hearing what we were going to talk about. They couldn't know that I had seen Cato's propo. When we were a safe distance away, we finally sat and discussed Cato's broadcast.

"I haven't heard one word about it. No one's told you anything?" Finnick asked.

I shook my head. "No."

They weren't going to say anything to me with the knowledge that I might go after him. It wasn't even a might. It was a definite. I was going to go and hunt them down until I knew for a fact that he was dead. Right now I knew that he was still alive. He was still alive and they were slowly killing him. Everyone knew - with the likely exception of Cato's family - and no one was saying anything to me. Not even Katniss or Gale - both of whom I was positive knew. Especially since Gale was there.

Finnick paused for a moment before he asked, "Not even Gale?"

If only he had gone with Katniss the other day. If only he hadn't been there when the broadcast had aired. That had been where the entire day had gone to shit. Maybe if he hadn't been there, Gale wouldn't have seen the broadcast at all. That would have made things a lot easier. Unfortunately that wasn't the truth. Gale knew exactly what was happening. He knew that Cato was still alive and he knew that he was still my priority. I was sure that it would only be a matter of time before he told me as much.

"Not after yesterday. He hasn't said anything more about it," I finally said.

"Maybe he's trying to find a time to tell you privately."

"Maybe," I said.

Another few beats of silence passed as I twiddled my thumbs around the tip of my arrow. "No one else has said anything?" Finnick asked.

Earlier it looked like Seneca had wanted to say something. As usual, he would be the one to tell me something that he wasn't supposed to. "They haven't really gotten the chance. I don't think that anyone wants to be the one to bring it up. I've seen Katniss and Seneca giving me looks. They probably know. As for Cato's family..." I trailed off, unsure of where they stood.

"I very highly doubt that they've let Cato's family see it," Finnick said. I nodded blankly. I knew that they hadn't seen it. "They know what will start happening with Cato's family if they see what's become of their son."

"They should see it. They deserve to know," I mumbled.

If I hadn't seen it, would anyone even have blinked an eye at Cato's current state? "Of course. But they won't tell them. They don't want anyone encouraging a rescue prematurely," Finnick said.

"It wouldn't be prematurely," I growled.

There had never been a premature moment for rescue. From the moment that he had been taken, it had been too late. "Not for you, but for them," Finnick said. The two of us sat in silence for a long while before Finnick spoke again. "It's interesting that you've finally found yourself on speaking terms - good terms even - with Seneca Crane."

His words were drawn out and held a knowing tone. I knew that he was referring to our many conversations where I had expressed my once-fear of Seneca. "I know. Guess I just found a reason to trust him," I said awkwardly.

Finnick nodded blankly. For a moment I thought that he was going to tell me what a fool I was being, trying to be friends with Seneca. The truth was that Finnick had told me two very different things at two very different times. Both that Seneca was a good man and that he wasn't. No matter what, I honestly believed that he was a good man, now at least. I genuinely believed that he was one of the few people here that was as determined as I was to get Cato back.

"I'm glad," Finnick said, almost surprising me. "He's a good man. He just needed to get out of the Capitol."

"Yeah, I know," I muttered.

Another brief silence passed. "He cares very deeply for you," Finnick finally said.

Something struck me as strange about the way that he said it. "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked curiously, turning to Finnick.

His face was unreadable. "Nothing. It just means that he cares for your well-being. That means getting Cato back."

"And Annie," I added.

"And Annie," Finnick confirmed. "He'll be crucial to their rescue."

Their rescue... When was it coming? It had been... weeks? Months? I wasn't even sure anymore. "I just want him back," I whined.

"I know. I want Annie back, too."

There was nothing that either one of us could think to say after that. We had said everything that we could to each other right now. We knew that no one was going to tell us anything about Cato and the rescue was no much closer. Annie and Cato were as far away from us as they always had been. I wanted them both back - despite not knowing Annie that well - but it was still a while away. Maybe unless I said something to someone that I had seen Cato's propo.

Maybe having seen it, I could use him as leverage if they wanted me to continue being the Mockingjay. If I could push that a little bit, maybe I would be that much closer to having Cato back. He wouldn't be good when I saw him. I knew that much. He was clearly very sick and having a lot of problems there. It would take him some time to recover. But even if it meant living in the hospital wing and taking care of him, I would have been more than happy to do that, as long as it meant that I had him back.

Anything would have been better than sitting here wallowing in my own misery and waiting for Cato to arrive. It felt even worse wallowing in my pity while Cato went through absolute hell in the Capitol. The two of us stayed in silence for so long that a buck wandered into range. Somewhat carelessly, I took it down with an arrow. The hit was a little messy but good enough to put it out of its misery instantly. Finnick hauled it back to the fence.

In the hours after our trip out into the woods, I still didn't speak. By the time that dinner was served, I was sure that I had lost my voice for good. A few people tried to speak to me on the way downstairs, but I merely mumbled out tiny answers or nodded or shook my head. Most of the times I wasn't even sure what I was actually saying or motioning to them about. For a while I merely wandered around District 13 as a way for the time to pass.

When it was finally time for dinner, there was minced venison in the stew. It was much better than the junk that they normally had. A mix of tasteless vegetables and Greasy Sae's concoctions. It definitely wasn't easy to swallow it. Not when I thought about how long it had probably been since Cato had been able to eat a real meal. Eventually I gave Prim the rest of my food and listened to Katniss babble about how our nutrients weren't good enough as is, and I should have eaten what I did have.

Having had enough of Katniss's constant badgering, I left dinner early to try and get some sleep. Gale left dinner with me. He walked me back to Compartment E after we ate. When I asked him what had been going on, again there was no mention of Cato. He merely let me know about the way that the troops were moving, some traps that hadn't been working well against the Capitol troops, and the many other problems on the war front. We were slowly losing the momentum that we had gained.

Those thoughts were enough to keep me awake long into the night and not speaking with the others. In between whatever was happening to Cato, the way that it seemed that we were losing the war, and the fuzz in my brain from god-knows-what, sleep wasn't coming to me tonight. As soon as Ms. Everdeen, Prim, and Katniss were asleep, I slipped the pearl from the drawer and spent a second sleepless night clutching it in my hand, replaying Cato's words in my head.

"... 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."

Find out. What? From who? Maybe from Seneca. He was the only person that might tell me what was really going on. Even that was up in the air. He couldn't always tell me what was happening. Only when no one else could see that he was telling me the truth. And how could Cato know anything except what the Capitol told him? It was just a Capitol propo... More noise... But if Plutarch thought that it was just the Capitol line, why didn't he tell me about it? Why hadn't anyone let me or Finnick know?

Under that debate laid the real source of my distress: Cato. What had they done to him? And what were they doing to him right now? While I was sitting here, feeling all sorts of self-loathing and self-pity, my husband was going through complete hell. And knowing Cato, I knew that he would only be happy that I wasn't with him. Even now, he's still better than you. I tried to force my mind onto something else. Like how, clearly, Snow didn't buy the story that Cato and I knew nothing about the rebellion.

Unfortunately his suspicions had been reinforced, now that I had come out as the Mockingjay. Cato could only guess about the rebel tactics or make up things to tell his torturers. Lies, once discovered, would be severely punished. How abandoned by me he must feel right now. But I hadn't. I was trying so hard to continue protecting him. In his first interview, he tried to protect me from the Capitol and rebels alike, and not only had I failed to protect him, I had brought down more horrors upon him.

What a wonderful wife I was. Every day it seemed that I was only making more and more mistakes. From the day that we had first met. Getting us both to win the Games, the horror that was the Victory Tour, going back into the Games and destroying the dome, to every tiny moment in between. This entire time I was only making things worse for him and he still loved me. He still insisted that it was all worth it, just getting to know me. Did he still feel that way?

Come morning, I stuck my forearm in the wall and stared down groggily at the day's schedule. Immediately after breakfast, I was slated for Production. Wonderful... Another day to make things worse. In the dining hall, as I downed my hot grain and milk and mushy beets, I spotted a permanent communicuff on Gale's wrist, rather than the handheld one he had been using when we were out and giving back at the end of the day. A surefire sign that Coin trusted him.

"When did you get that back, Soldier Hawthorne?" I asked.

It was only halfway playful. I really did want to know. "Yesterday. They thought if I'm going to be in the field with you, it could be a backup system of communication," Gale said, not playfully at all.

He must have heard the slight edge in my voice. The two of us had both been unnaturally tense lately. Mostly because everything that we were dealing with were things that we weren't prepared for. Although I did wonder about something else. No one had ever offered me a communicuff. As far as I knew, they hadn't offered Katniss one either. I wondered, if I asked for one, would I get it? Would either one of us? Probably not. They didn't trust us. They just needed us.

"Well, I guess one of us has to be accessible," I said with an edge to my voice.

"What's that mean?" Gale asked sharply.

"Nothing. Just repeating what you said. And I totally agree that the accessible one should be you. I just hope I still have access to you as well," I told him.

We had both been speaking down into our trays. At my words, we both looked up. Our eyes locked, and I realized how furious I was with Gale. That I didn't believe for a second that he was not still angry about Cato's propo. That I felt completely betrayed that he didn't talk about it or tell me that it was okay. That he called out Cato for what he had to do. Perhaps it was because of the slap. We knew each other too well for him not to read my mood and guess what had caused it.

"Aspen -" Gale began. Already the admission of guilt was in his tone.

"Good morning," Katniss chirped, seating herself down on my other side. Without giving her a chance to say anything else, I got up and turned to leave the table. "Goodbye."

"You know what it is," Gale's voice floated behind me.

"Damn," Katniss hissed.

They both knew how furious I was about everything that had happened. They both knew how upset I was that no one would talk to me about what was happening with Cato. Unwilling to listen to them try and defend themselves, I grabbed my tray, crossed to the deposit area, and slammed the dishes onto the rack. It splattered everywhere. By the time that I was in the hallway, both Gale and Katniss had caught up with me.

"Why didn't you say something?" Gale asked, taking my arm.

"Why didn't I?" I jerked my arm free. Now I realized that Gale still had a slight red mark on his face from my slap. "Why didn't you, Gale? And I did, by the way, when I asked you last night about what had been going on!"

"I'm sorry. All right? I didn't know what to do. I wanted to tell you, but everyone was afraid that seeing Cato's propo would make you sick. I knew that it did. I saw how awful you looked."

"They were right. It did. But not quite as sick as you lying to me for Coin." At that moment, his communicuff started beeping. Unable to stop myself, I sneered, "There she is. Better run. You have things to tell her."

It was absolutely the wrong thing to say. Just like when I had slapped him yesterday, I knew that I should have told him that I was sorry and taken it back. But I couldn't. Because I did mean it and I was hurt that he treated being close with Coin as more important than acting like my best friend. For a moment, real hurt registered on his face. It was something that I hadn't seen often. Then a cold anger replaced it. That was more familiar to me. He turned on his heel and went.

A moment later Katniss appeared at my side. "Why don't you have one?" I asked her, noting the absence on her wrist.

"Are you kidding? They trust me to follow their orders about as much as they trust you," Katniss explained.

"I suppose that's true." The two of us stood in silence for a little while as I folded my arms over my chest. "Cat... What do you think they're doing to him?" I asked softly.

Katniss let out a little breath, my indication that the answer that she was going to give me was not going to be the one that I wanted. "Honestly, Aspen, I don't think that you want to know what I think they're doing to him," Katniss whispered.

"He's getting worse. They - They need to help him," I choked.

"Just keep working with them, Aspen. They're going to get him back. I promise," Katniss said, grabbing my hands.

"I just hate thinking about what he's going through there."

"He'll be okay."

But there was something about the way that she said it that made me nervous. Like she didn't even believe herself. "Are you so sure about that?" I asked sharply.

"He knows that you're alive. He's going to be fighting to get back to you," Katniss promised.

But there was something in his eyes that made me feel like he wasn't even fighting anymore. There was something in his eyes that told me that he barely even knew who I was. It was almost like he was reading off of one of those teleprompter things that they had in the Capitol. It seemed like he was being hypnotized. So desperately I wanted to be there, trying to tell him that I hadn't given up on him and that I was still getting him back. I had just hit another road block.

"Yeah. I suppose," I mumbled dumbly, wanting to think of anything else. "So you saw it?"

"Most of us saw it in Command," Katniss said. So most of them had seen it. I knew that they were lying to me. "They managed to get Cato's family out in time. They didn't want them to see what he looks like."

"I understand that," I muttered.

There was a good chance that Cato's family would have marched on the Capitol themselves if they'd seen what he looked like. "He doesn't look that horrible," Katniss tried.

"Are you serious?" I snapped.

"He's still alive, Aspen. That's just what you have to keep telling yourself," Katniss whispered.

"For how much longer?" I asked glumly.

"As long as they know that you're seeing him."

"They didn't want me to see him? The people in Command, did they?"

"No. They were too concerned that you would do something rash."

Snorting under my breath, I shook my head. They were wrong. I wasn't strong or healthy or sane enough to do something right now. Not with everything that was happening. Honestly I couldn't even walk for that long without getting lightheaded. I wasn't sure if it was still from the remnants of the concussion, the explosions in District 8, or if it was just because I was so overwhelmed with everything that had been happening. Maybe it was a little bit of everything.

"Well look at that. I've seen what he looks like and I haven't done anything rash yet," I growled.

Because you can barely think straight without passing out. "Because you know that you have to keep it a secret," Katniss reminded me. "Finnick was right to tell you to not say anything. They would only be inclined to realize that you were still working for your own motivations."

"They're right. I have to try and not say anything. For a while," I said weakly.

"Play your cards right," Katniss advised.

"Play my cards right," I repeated.

We were silent for a little while. "I'm so sorry that this happened to you," Katniss finally said.

It was the same thing that I had heard at least a hundred people tell me. "But it did. My only chance is to keep moving forward. I can't go back. I can't change having the rebels rescue me first, blowing out the force field, allowing Cato to volunteer, playing the suicide trick in the first Games, or volunteering for Prim. It took me a long time to realize that I can't change any of that. My only choice is to go forward and try and change the outcome," I explained slowly.

"Good. That's a good thing to realize," Katniss said, grabbing my hands. She pulled me into a hug for a moment before releasing me and stepping back. "Cato's family doesn't know about his latest broadcast. To keep their minds in the war, they want to keep it from them."

"I figured. Just like they wanted to do with me," I said lowly.

"Yes." Katniss glanced around and shook her head. "We shouldn't talk about this out here. It's not safe. Someone might hear us."

"Alright."

"We should get you to Remake," Katniss said.

Right... I had almost forgotten that I was supposed to go there today. "Doesn't seem right to go there," I said.

"I know. But we have to."

"Okay." The two of us started walking down the hallways. "Think Gale will get over it?" I asked after a beat.

Katniss looked almost surprised at my words. She let out a soft breath and shook her head. "After everything that's happened... I don't think that he'll ever just get over it," Katniss said. I nodded, glad that she had at least told me the truth. "But he's hurt at your insinuation that Coin's trust means more to him than yours does."

"That's what he makes it seem like sometimes," I scoffed.

Katniss let out a soft breathy laugh. "You two are too hotheaded for your own good," she said.

Yes, I was hotheaded. So was Gale. So was Cato. So was Katniss. So were all of the people in my life. But we all somehow worked together. "Would you believe that Cato balances me out?" I asked.

"A year and a half ago? No. Now? Yes."

A small smile popped up on both of our faces. "Thanks," I almost laughed.

"I'm only telling you the truth."

We walked in silence for a little longer. "Do you agree with me? About Gale?" I asked.

"We really shouldn't tell him about this. He'd never get over it," Katniss said.

"I'm not telling him," I said quickly.

Where it was concerned, I tried to keep Gale and Cato as far apart as I possibly could. "Gale's way too involved with the war. He's even more involved than you, and that's saying something considering that you're the Mockingjay. But he's willing to do anything to win it. Sacrifice anyone. Outside of our own families. That means Cato. You know that he loves you. Cato is another story," Katniss explained gently but truthfully.

And I knew that what she was saying was the truth. If it meant winning the war, Gale would easily let Cato die. "I wish they liked each other," I muttered.

"We'd be in a very different position right now if they did," Katniss explained.

If nothing else, at least we would probably have Cato back. "I know. This is the wrong thing to be talking about. My relationship status and the severity of hatred between the two men that mean the most to me in the world," I said.

"Sometimes we need some sense of normalcy to keep from going insane."

"When did you get smarter than me?" I teased.

We both laughed. It was the first time that I had laughed in a while. There was something nice about getting to laugh with Katniss. We didn't get to do it too often anymore. Together we walked over towards Remake. I didn't want to do anything today but I knew that I would have to, as it happened so often. On the way over there, as people were around and we couldn't discuss Gale or Cato, I thought back on a fonder memory. The night before the Quell.

Hours had passed since the two of us had said goodnight to each other. Neither one of us had actually gone to sleep, but we had barely said two words to each other. Despite that, I knew that Cato was awake, just the way that he likely knew that I was awake. We really needed to go to sleep, but neither one of us could bring ourselves to do just that. I didn't want to sleep through what would likely be the last few hours of my life. So I just laid awake and enjoyed the feel of Cato's fingers gently running over my bare leg.

It had to be closing in on three in the morning when I finally couldn't stand the silence any longer. "Cato?" I called into the darkness softly.

"It was nice while it lasted," Cato sighed.

"Stop," I snapped.

Cato smiled softly and leaned up on his elbows. I pulled the sheet a little tighter around my chest as Cato brushed my knotted hair off of my forehead. "What is it?" Cato asked.

"Were you sleeping?" I asked curiously.

"No. You know that I wasn't sleeping."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not going to sleep until you're asleep," Cato said bullheadedly.

"I can't sleep."

"Try."

"You need your sleep."

"So do you."

That was very true that I did need to sleep. We both really needed to sleep. There was a good chance that the morning would bring all sorts of horrors. In fact, I knew that the morning would bring new horrors. But that didn't mean that I could sleep. I was too busy thinking about everything else that was happening. I was too busy thinking about the kind of life that Cato would have now that I would finally be out of it.

"I'm not tired. I feel... antsy," I said slowly.

"For tomorrow?" Cato asked. I nodded. "I'd be surprised if you weren't." Even though I knew that he wanted me to go to sleep, I couldn't. "Alright, don't sleep tonight. You'll have plenty of time to catch up on sleep once you're back here."

"I hate you for volunteering," I muttered.

"I know," Cato sighed.

No matter what, I really did hate Cato for doing what he had. He was the single best person in my entire life. He was the person that meant the world to me. But that didn't mean that I didn't hate him for what he had done. Cato leaned up, pressing me down into the soft bed, and leaned down over me. I tried to push him back but he merely grabbed me, pulled me so that I was laying on his chest, and pressed a kiss against my forehead. A single tear from my eye fell down onto his bare chest.

"It's okay. I'll always be here," Cato whispered.

He pressed the heel of his palm against my upper chest, wrapping his fingers over my shoulder. "Promise?" I asked weakly.

"Promise."

The two of us laid in silence for a while as our legs knotted together. "When's the last time that you were happy?" I asked, falling onto his side and pressing a hand on his chest.

"Last time?" Cato repeated, thinking for a moment. "Right now. With you."

How could he be happy with everything that was happening? I didn't understand how he could possibly be happy. I wasn't completely happy. I couldn't even remember the last time that I was completely happy. I wasn't sure if I ever had been. But this was probably the closest that I had ever been to being happy. These moments, when I was alone with Cato. The moments that I was with my husband and not thinking about the future. I supposed that right now I was reasonably happy.

But that wouldn't last that long. "What do you think is going to happen in the arena?" I asked.

"Why all of the questions?" Cato shot back.

"I don't know. I like thinking about the Games. It keeps me from thinking about what comes after. Just focus on one thing at a time."

"I'll tell you what happens after the Games," Cato offered. I nodded for him to explain. "You get to go home. Be with your family. Love them and have the life with them that you haven't gotten to enjoy yet."

No... "What about -?"

"Go to bed," Cato ordered, leaving no room for argument. "We both need our rest for the morning."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything," I mumbled.

"Don't apologize," Cato said, running a hand back over the dip in my spine. "Never apologize for anything."

"Even for having you meet me?" I asked.

"That was the best moment of my life," Cato said.

The smile on his face told me that he wasn't kidding. He was completely serious. I let out a soft breath as I tucked myself a little further into Cato's chest and pressed a kiss against the bare skin there. These were the moments that I felt the safest. This was my happy place. I could feel Cato tightening his grip against me protectively. It was almost painful, but I said nothing. Because I couldn't be sure how much longer that I would get to do this with him.

The memory made me completely heartsick for Cato. Although most things made me pretty heartsick for Cato. Just living made me feel that way. I missed the days that the two of us could just be together. Those nights that we had spent together where we didn't need words. We just needed to know that we had each other. Just the way that I had once had that kind of bond with Gale. The bond that I so desperately missed. The one that constantly seemed to be on the rocks.

Maybe I had been too spiteful, not given him enough time to explain. Maybe everyone was just trying to protect me by lying to me. But I didn't care. I was sick of people lying to me for my own good. Because really it was mostly for their own good. Lie to Aspen about the rebellion so she doesn't do anything crazy. Send her into the arena without a clue so we can fish her out. Don't tell her about Cato's propo because it might make her sick, and it's hard enough to get a decent performance out of her as it is.

They were right about one thing. I did feel sick. This time it wasn't because of the concussion or injuries sustained in Eight. This was something much worse. Something that wouldn't heal with time. I was heartsick. And too tired for a day of production. But I was already at Remake with Katniss, so I went in. Today, I discovered, we would be returning to District 12. As if this day couldn't get any worse. Cressida wanted to do unscripted interviews with Gale, Katniss, and me throwing light on our demolished city.

"If you're all up for that," Cressida said, looking closely at my face.

"Count me in," I said.

It would have been better than standing here and pretending I hadn't seen Cato's propo. At least in Twelve I could get some distance. I stood, uncommunicative and stiff, a mannequin, as my Prep Team dressed me, did my hair, and dabbed makeup on my face. Not enough to show, only enough to take the edge off the circles under my sleepless eyes. It was not an easy task. It took my Prep Team at least twenty minutes to fix them. The hollowed cheeks and eyes were another thing entirely.

As per usual, no one spoke to me while I watched myself being dolled up again. No one ever really spoke to me unless it was to give me an order or tell me something that I was doing wrong. I was grateful that today Katniss was getting some makeup put on her too. If anyone had been sleeping as little as I had, it was her. She was clearly a great deal bothered by everything that had happened. She still felt the guilt from Prim being Reaped all that time ago.

Between the three of us, it really could be traced back to exactly the moment that the rebellion had first begun. That fateful moment that Prim's name had been pulled by Effie's gloved hand. The moment that I had fought Katniss so hard to go into the Games. How different would things be if she hadn't done that? I wasn't sure. Maybe nothing would have changed. As I exchanged a little glance with her, I could tell that she was thinking the same thing; the same thing that we so often thought of.

Once we were both done getting ourselves to look slightly more human, Boggs escorted the two of us down to the Hangar, but we didn't talk beyond a preliminary greeting. He never had really enjoyed speaking. Only to say what was absolutely necessary and then be silent. I was grateful to be spared another exchange about my disobedience in Eight, especially since his mask - from Gale's unfortunate broken nose incident - looked so uncomfortable.

At the last moment, I remembered to send a message to Ms. Everdeen and Alana about my leaving Thirteen, and stressed that it wouldn't be dangerous. Neither one of them looked very happy that we were leaving anyways. I knew that they didn't like the thought that I was leaving Thirteen for even a moment. They all knew that I was endangering my own life the moment that I left the little underground container. But, honestly, I didn't think that my life was worth all too much right now.

Either way, I had managed to convince them both that we would be safe during the trip. And it seemed that it really would be completely safe. We all headed away and boarded a hovercraft for the short ride to Twelve. I was directed to a seat at a table where Plutarch, Gale, Katniss, Dean, Skye, and Cressida were poring over a map. The rest of my team wasn't far away. Julie wasn't happy that she couldn't come to Twelve, but, just in case, we couldn't have someone with a broken foot with us.

Plutarch was brimming with satisfaction as he showed me the before/after effects of the first couple of propos. The rebels, who were barely maintaining a foothold in several Districts, had rallied. They had actually taken Three and Eleven - the latter so crucial since it was Panem's main food supplier - and had made inroads in several other Districts as well. Right now it seemed that Two was the only District that we hadn't made any headway with. That would take Cato to take them.

"Hopeful. Very hopeful indeed. Fulvia's going to have the first round of We Remember spots ready tonight, so we can target the individual Districts with their dead," Plutarch explained.

"Sending out the memoriams of the dead Tributes from each of the Districts?" I asked.

"Yes. Finnick's absolutely marvelous," Plutarch said.

"It's painful to watch, actually. He knew so many of them personally," Cressida said.

My stomach lurched painfully. Of course, this must have been terribly hard on him. "That's what makes it so effective. Straight from the heart. You're all doing beautifully. Coin could not be more pleased," Plutarch said.

"Glad to hear it," I said, feeling very close to spilling my guts.

But there was something else that was bothering me. Gale didn't tell them, then. I wasn't sure whether or not he was going to rat me out. I had a feeling that he wouldn't. At least, I had hoped that he wouldn't. I hoped that he was still my best friend. It seemed that he was. He was allowing my pretending not to see Cato and my anger at their cover-up. But I guessed that it was too little, too late, because I still couldn't let it go. It didn't matter. He wasn't speaking to me, either.

It was something that I would just have to get used to in the coming weeks. They were only going to speak to me when it was absolutely necessary. So I walked around the hovercraft aimlessly for a little while. I didn't want to sit still. I noticed that there were a few other people lingering around that I recognized from Thirteen. And I spotted Skye and Dean on the far end of the hovercraft. I was right before. Julie wasn't with them, probably because of her foot. I slowly walked up to them.

"No Julie?" I asked curiously.

Dean and Skye both turned to me, smiling slightly. "Foot isn't entirely healed. They asked her to sit today out so that she can go on the next real mission," Dean explained.

"I'll tell her about everything," Skye said.

"They'll see it, I'm sure. You're all coming along, then?" I asked.

Dean and Skye exchanged another look before nodding. "Let's see Cato's wife's home," Dean said.

"It's not really... home, anymore," I mumbled dumbly.

They both shook their heads as they walked back up to me. Dean grabbed my hands gently and tugged me into him. "It's always going to be home, Aspen. It might take some time to get it back to the way that it was, but it'll be your home again," Dean said softly. "If you're willing to make it that way."

"Maybe after everything is over," I muttered.

"Are you okay going back?" Skye asked.

Was I even okay to be alive? Not really. But it wasn't like I had much of a choice right now. I just had to do what they wanted. "Have to be. Would you be okay going back to Two?" I responded.

Skye and Dean exchanged a pained look. "I'll let you know if I ever go back," Skye said softly.

"You alright, Aspen?" Dean asked carefully.

"Alive," I said.

"Don't look too good," Dean said.

He reached out a hand to press it against my forehead to check my temperature, but I waved him off. "Haven't been sleeping that well," I explained.

"You could try getting some of that sleeping medicine from the hospital," Skye suggested.

That would have been worse than just dealing with the way that I felt. It was miserable. "No. If I do that they're going to make me start undergoing even more psychiatric evaluations. Plus those things give me nightmares and hallucinations. They're bad enough without them," I said flippantly.

"We understand," Dean said. The three of us were silent for a little while before he spoke again. "Is everything okay between you and Gale?"

"Not really. Things haven't been okay with us since..." I trailed off awkwardly, realizing that I was speaking to Cato's brother and best friend.

"Since Cato," Skye put together.

"Yeah. We'll get over it. We always do. I'll - uh - I'll see you when we get to Twelve," I stuttered.

"Try and sleep for a few minutes," Dean said, patting my shoulder.

"Sure," I mumbled.

Sleeping sounded pretty good. Actually, it sounded much better than talking to my husband's best friend and brother about my best friend and quasi-romance. What could I even count Gale as? A boyfriend? He had never really been that to me before. It was too late. Best friend? Always. A crush? There was a good chance that I had had a crush on him before. I just hadn't noticed. Mostly because Gale was always so nonchalant about things. Cato had always been so bold.

As I dropped back into the chair that I had been in before, I realized that I couldn't force myself to go to sleep, even though I had gotten less than five hours of sleep in the last few days. Instead I merely leaned on Katniss's shoulder. The two of us intertwined fingers as we sat pressed up against each other. It took me until we had almost arrived at District 12 to realize something. Katniss hadn't seen Twelve since it had been bombed. This might have been even worse for her.

The two of us sat with our hands linked for a long time, not speaking, as we so often did. We never needed to talk. There was just something about the way that we could look at each other and instantly know what the other was thinking. We both seemed to notice something else at the same moment. It wasn't until we landed in the Meadow that I realized that someone else was missing. Haymitch wasn't among our company.

When I asked Plutarch about his absence, he just shook his head and said, "He couldn't face it."

"Haymitch? Not able to face something? Wanted a day off, more likely," I said.

"I think his actual words were 'I couldn't face it without a bottle,'" Plutarch said.

Well that was exactly how I was feeling right now. I rolled my eyes, long out of patience with my Mentor, his weakness for drink, and what he can or can't confront. There were lots of things that I felt that I couldn't confront. Being back in Twelve for the first time, the hospital in Eight, and all of the other moments in between. But I had managed them all without a drink. Although I had needed sleeping medication for most of the time since the destruction of the arena.

But about five minutes after my return to Twelve, I was wishing that I had a bottle myself. Maybe I was no stronger than Haymitch. I thought that I had come to terms with Twelve's demise - heard of it, seen it from the air, and wandered through its ashes. So why did everything bring on a fresh pang of grief? Was I simply too out of it before to fully register the loss of my world? I couldn't be sure, but it was even worse being here all over again.

Or was it maybe the look on Gale's face as he took in the destruction on foot that made the atrocity feel brand-new? Maybe it was because this time I couldn't just push away my own thoughts. I had to watch the others. I saw how horrified both Gale and Katniss looked. They had watched it happen, but now they had to face the aftermath, just like I had. I saw the looks of pity that were being sent my way by Skye and Dean. They were finally seeing just how bad things were in my life.

More than once it seemed like one of them was going to reach out and touch me or maybe ask me if I was okay. But they didn't. Probably because they knew that I wouldn't appreciate that. We all just wandered through the ashes. I wondered how much Dean and Skye would tell the rest of the Hadley's and Julie. Cressida eventually directed the team to start with me at my old house. Dean and Skye stared at the little shack in surprise. Were they trying to imagine Cato and I living here? I was.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked blankly.

"Whatever you feel like," Cressida said.

Standing back in the kitchen, I didn't feel like doing anything. Actually, it wasn't much of a kitchen. The only thing that it contained was a little counter. I awkwardly wandered through the ruins of the old house, wishing so desperately that I was back here with Gale and Katniss, making fun of the Capitol. The only thing that I did was very briefly touch the hole in the wall where the hook that used to hold my father's hunting jacket had been knocked out by the firebombs.

The film that Cressida and the rest of the team would be dreadfully boring. But it would drive a point home. That even I - the Mockingjay - wasn't impervious to the pain of the rebellion. That I was, indeed, human. That there was a life that I missed. There was nothing that I felt like doing right now. I just wanted to stare off into space. So that was what I did. In fact, I found myself focusing up at the sky - the only roof left - because too many memories were drowning me.

After a while, Cressida said, "That's fine, Aspen. Let's move on."

That was all that I really wanted. I was sick of standing here and pretending that I wasn't affected by the presence of my own home. Trying to pretend that I wasn't imagining the future that could have been. The future where Cato and I could have lived together in District 12 for the rest of our lives. Where we could have had a family that wouldn't have been afraid to be Reaped into the Games. Maybe a daughter and son... The only person that I could have ever seen that kind of a future with.

Blinking back the vision of Cato and I with our make-believe children, our large group headed next door to Katniss's house. It was another place that I didn't want to be, and one that looked even more painful for her. It was the first time in a long time that I had genuinely seen her crying. For a while I held her hand and stood in the middle of her decrepit home. She merely tucked her head into my shoulder, wetting my District 13 uniform with her tears.

Almost half an hour passed before Katniss was able to pull herself together and tell everyone what had happened. She was asked by Cressida to do a quick recap of where certain rooms were. What had happened in each of them. She even recounted her movements from the morning of the Reaping that sent me into the first Games. I could tell that Cressida was trying to rush everything from Katniss to make it easier on her. Katniss herself could barely bring herself to speak.

Gale didn't get off so easily at his old address. Cressida filmed him in silence for a few minutes, just as she had done with us, but just as he pulled the one remnant of his previous life from the ashes - a twisted metal poker - she started to question him about his family, his job, and life in the Seam. She made him go back to the night of the firebombing and reenact it, starting at his house, working his way down across the Meadow and through the woods to the lake.

It wasn't easy, but Gale somehow managed it. I straggled behind the film crew and the bodyguards, feeling their presence to be a violation of my beloved woods. This was a private place, a sanctuary, already corrupted by the Capitol's evil. Even after we had left behind the charred stumps near the fence, we were still tripping over decomposing bodies. They had actually made it out here to die. My once safe-haven was their place of death. Did we have to record it for everyone to see?

After a little while, we turned the tables to Dean and Skye. Being District 2 citizens, they had never been in District 12 before. This was their first moment to see the place where Cato's wife had grown up. At least, what had become of it. I could tell that it was not easy for them to speak. They didn't want to speak poorly of the place where I had grown up but they also didn't want to downplay the horrors of what had happened here.

For a while Cressida had me walk them around District 12 and explain what everything was. It was not easy for me. I had an extremely hard time recounting where their best friend and brother's wife had grown up. But I managed to point out the places to them. Everything from the place where Peeta had saved Katniss and I from starving to death to the old school to the chain link fence where my parents' graves were marked. I was torn over whether or not I was happy to see that they were still there.

After a while we wandered back towards the Town Square. "So I wanna start with you in front of the Justice Building, okay?" Cressida asked. I nodded blankly. She then turned to Messalla, motioning to the destroyed Justice Building. "Bang. First shot."

The Justice Building... It was the place where so many things had changed for me. I had become a Tribute for the first time here. The real change in my life. Everyone hung back while I stumbled up to it. It was almost impossible to walk over the destroyed buildings, the bodies of those who had died during the firebombs, and simply dealing with the shaking of my knees. Cressida raised her camera and motioned for me to turn back to her. I did so, holding my bow dumbly.

"Aspen, tell us what happened here," Cressida called.

What had happened? I wasn't really sure. I tried not to listen. "I - I don't..." I muttered.

Gale, as usual, was the one who stepped in to save me from having to say anything. "We were all standing right here watching the Games when you fired that arrow," Gale started. We all stared at him, realizing that he was the one who would explain what had happened that day. It was the most that I had ever heard him speak in front of a camera. "The screens just went dark. Nobody had any idea what happened. Peacekeepers forced us back into our homes.

"For maybe an hour, the town was just dead quiet. Little past nine we heard their trucks pulling out. All of them, every single Peacekeeper. And I knew what that meant. Me and a couple of guys from the mines, we started pulling people from their houses and tried to get 'em to the fence line but a lot of people were scared of the forest. So they headed up onto the road. Make a break for it that way," Gale said, pointing off into the distance.

Cressida turned to Pollux as he was filming. "Stay with Gale," she whispered.

We all started moving slowly. I felt my stomach churn into knots as we continued walking. I had already heard this story. I had heard it from Gale and Katniss and I had heard it from some of the survivors. I didn't want to have to hear it again. Katniss's hand wrapped around mine as she slowly pulled me along with everyone else. Gale started walking through the rubble of District 12, while the rest of the team followed behind him.

"Nine hundred and fifteen of us made it to the fence," Gale mumbled. "Then we watched as bombers circled back towards the road. They firebombed them as they ran away."

That number echoed in my head for a long while. That was more than the people who had made it to District 13. There were only a little over eight hundred people from District 12 who had made it to Thirteen. What had happened to those nearly one hundred extra people? I could take a guess, but that wasn't something that I really wanted to think about. Enough people had died in the rebellion already, I didn't want to think of anyone else on top of that.

Our large group stopped at the sight of all of the corpses littering the road ahead of us. Gale continued speaking, not taking his eyes off of the dead friends. "Nine hundred and fifteen out of ten thousand. I should've grabbed people, I should've dragged them with me. Some of the kids I could've carried," Gale said.

Survivor's guilt. I knew the feeling. "You saved so many people, Gale. Without you, there would be no District 12. Not even the memory of it," Cressida told him. "You, too, Katniss."

"We could have done more," Katniss whispered.

They shouldn't have even been forced into that position. I was the one who should have done less. As the two of them exchanged a long glance I realized that this was the first time that I had really heard Gale speak about the day that Twelve was destroyed. Ms. Everdeen, some of the Capitol refugees, and Thirteen officials had mostly told me the stories. Gale and Katniss's explanations had only been brief. Since that day, Katniss couldn't even bring herself to speak about that day.

At some point we headed back to the woods. By the time that we reached the lake, hours later, Gale seemed to have lost his ability to speak. The way that Katniss seemed to have lost hers before we had even left Thirteen. Everyone was dripping in sweat - especially Castor and Pollux in their insect shells - and Cressida called for a break. I scooped up handfuls of water from the lake, wishing I could dive in and surface alone and naked and unobserved. I wandered around the perimeter for a while.

For a moment it felt like I was on watch and we were back in the Games. I supposed that, in a way, we had never really left the Games. Not since the first time around. I could hear the others chatting softly back by the rocks, but they didn't speak too loudly. No one wanted to shatter the relative peace around here. I fiddled with the ring that was hanging from the chain around my neck, wishing that Cato could be here. I had always wanted him to see our Meadow...

When I came back around to the little concrete house beside the lake, that I had met Bonnie and Twill in so long ago, I paused in the doorway and saw Gale propping the crooked poker he salvaged against the wall by the hearth. For a moment I had an image of a lone stranger, sometime far in the future, wandering lost in the wilderness and coming upon this small place of refuge, with the pile of split logs, the hearth, the poker. Wondering how it came to be.

Just the way that I had wondered time and time again who used to live here. Had they been just as unhappy and hurt as I was? Gale turned and met my eyes and I knew that he was thinking about our last meeting here. When we fought over whether or not to run away. If we had, would District 12 still be there? I thought that it would. But the Capitol would still be in control of Panem as well. And I wouldn't have even gotten a week of being Cato's wife, a selfish, but true high point of my life.

Cheese sandwiches were passed around at lunch and we ate them in the shade of the trees. I intentionally sat at the far edge of the group, next to Pollux, so I didn't have to talk. No one was talking much, really. Dean and Skye were talking a little bit with the others, who were mostly explaining what it was like to live in District 12. The only person who hadn't uttered so much as a word since we had left the Town Square was Katniss - save myself and Pollux.

In the relative quiet, the birds took back the woods. I nudged Pollux with my elbow and pointed out a small black bird with a crown. It had been a while since I had seen one of them. The bird hopped to a new branch, momentarily opening its wings, showing off its white patches. Just the way that the underside of my dress had once made me the same thing. Pollux gestured to my pin and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

I nodded, confirming it was a Mockingjay. "Yeah, that's a Mockingjay."

To my surprise, Pollux tilted his head upwards and let out something akin to a whistle. It was just ever-so-slightly garbled from his being an Avox. But I hadn't even thought that he was able to make noise. I thought that their tongues were cut out. Instead it seemed that it was just mutilated enough so that he couldn't speak. As the single Mockingjay and the rest of the flock began repeating the whistle, I realized that it was mimicking the three-note whistle that Rue had taught me during the first Games.

"Well, now they'll never shut up," Gale said.

The way that he spoke almost made me smile. It sounded just a touch like Gale was back to his normal self. But I knew that he was far from it. We all were. I turned back to Pollux and held up one finger to say 'Wait, I'll show you,' and whistled a bird call of my own. Something that didn't remind me of my dead friend. One of many... The Mockingjay, as usual, cocked its head to the side for a moment and then whistled the call right back at me.

Then, to my surprise, Pollux whistled a few more notes of his own. The bird answered him immediately. Pollux's face broke into an expression of delight and he had a series of melodic exchanges with the Mockingjay. My guess was that it was the first conversation that he had had in years. Music drew Mockingjay's like blossoms do bees, and in a short while he got half a dozen of them perched in the branches over our heads. He tapped me on the arm and used a twig to write a word in the dirt.

SING?

"You want me to sing?" I asked.

Pollux nodded with a small smile. Usually, I would have declined, but it was kind of impossible to say no to Pollux, given the circumstances. Besides, the Mockingjay's song voices were different from their whistles, and I would like him to hear them. So, before I actually thought about what I was doing, I sang Rue's four notes, the ones she used to signal the end of the workday in Eleven. Just the way that Pollux had just done. The notes that ended up as the background music to her murder.

The birds didn't know that. They picked up the simple phrase and bounced it back and forth between them in sweet harmony. The song was almost peaceful. Just like the day that I first showed Cato the whistle - the one that he thought was so clever that we used to draw the Careers out. The one that led to Rue's death. Just as they did in the Hunger Games before the muttations broke through the trees, chased us onto the Cornucopia, and slowly gnawed Coral to a bloody pulp.

"Want to hear them do a real song?" I burst out.

Anything to stop those memories. They were a nightmare. But not just a nightmare. This didn't end when I closed my eyes. The memories only got even worse when I closed my eyes. Everyone was now watching me as I moved with more of a purpose than I had in a long time. Pollux nodded gleefully. I was on my feet within the minute, moving back into the trees, resting my hand on the rough trunk of a maple where the birds were perched, staring down at me, waiting.

My voice was suddenly clogged in my throat. I hadn't sung 'The Hanging Tree' out loud for ten years, because it was forbidden, but I remembered every word. I prayed for just a moment that Snow might hear my words somehow. A memory of our dances. A memory of that first dance before the first Games with my warning. I can promise you a show. But don't say that I didn't warn you that you wouldn't like it. All to show him that his moves hadn't been lost on me, and mine wouldn't be lost on him.

Even now I could remember the look that Snow had given me that first dance. I remembered that the words weren't being played with the forbidden song. But they were echoing loudly in my head that time and for all of the dances afterwards. It was his warning to me and this would be my warning to him. That I remembered what he did and I didn't plan to ever forget. I began softly, sweetly, as Mr. Everdeen did.

"Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where they strung up a man they say murdered three.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree."

For a while, everything became silent. The Mockingjay's were suddenly aware that something new was coming. The wind blew through my hair softly as I stared at the lake. Pollux looked up into the sky and smiled as the Mockingjay's began to alter their songs as they became aware of my new offering. I very slowly turned towards Pollux and smiled back at him. On my other side, Cressida nudged Castor on the arm.

"Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where the dead man called out for his love to flee.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree."

Everyone was staring at me. Gale and Katniss were both giving me scrutinizing stares. Katniss's was longing. She was likely remembering her father singing this very song. My voice threatened to falter at all of the attention, but I knew that I couldn't stop with everyone listening to me. Besides everyone else, I had the birds' attention now. In one more verse, surely they would have completely captured the melody, as it was simple and repeated four times with little variation.

"Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where I told you to run, so we'd both be free.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree."

Dean and Skye were staring at me with sad eyes. Ultimately everyone dropped their eyes, unable to look at each other any longer. By now there was a hush in the trees. Just the rustle of leaves in the breeze. For a moment my voice almost faltered. It was silent. There were no birds, Mockingjay or other. Cato was right. They did fall silent when I sang. Just as they did for Mr. Everdeen and Katniss. Just as silent as that night on the roof.

"Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree."

The birds waited for me to continue. But that was it. Last verse. In the stillness I remembered the scene. I was home from a day in the woods with Mr. Everdeen and Katniss. Sitting on the floor with Prim, who was just a toddler, singing 'The Hanging Tree.' Making us necklaces out of scraps of old rope like it said in the song, not knowing the real meaning of the words. The tune was simple and easy to harmonize to, though, and back then I could memorize almost anything set to music after a round or two.

Suddenly, Ms. Everdeen snatched the rope necklaces away and was yelling at Mr. Everdeen. Katniss started to cry because Ms. Everdeen never yelled, and then Prim was wailing and Katniss ran outside to hide. I followed, trying to make sure that she didn't get hurt. As Katniss had exactly one hiding spot - in the Meadow under a honeysuckle bush - both Mr. Everdeen and I found her immediately. He helped me calm her down and told us everything was fine, only that we had better not sing that song anymore.

But we hadn't understood. And that was something that we had always wanted to understand. Ms. Everdeen had just wanted us to forget it. So, of course, every word was immediately, irrevocably branded into our brains. We didn't sing it anymore, Mr. Everdeen, Katniss, and I, or even speak of it. We had only written it down to ensure that we would never forget it. After he died, it used to come back to me a lot. Being older, I began to understand the lyrics.

At the beginning, it sounded like a guy was trying to get his girlfriend to secretly meet up with him at midnight. But it was an odd place for a tryst, a hanging tree, where a man was hung for murder. The murderer's lover must have had something to do with the killing, or maybe they were just going to punish her anyway, because his corpse called out for her to flee. That was weird obviously, the talking-corpse bit, but it wasn't until the third verse that 'The Hanging Tree' began to get unnerving.

You realized that the singer of the song was the dead murderer. He was still in the hanging tree. And even though he told his lover to flee, he kept asking if she was coming to meet him. The phrase 'Where I told you to run, so we'd both be free' was the most troubling because at first you thought that he was talking about when he told her to flee, presumably to safety. But then you wondered if he meant for her to run to him. To death.

It was something that I had frequently thought about in the early days of Cato's disappearance. Wondering whether or not death would be more peaceful. If the two of us could have been together at our own hanging tree. It was the first time that I had ever really thought that the murderer might have been in the right. In the final stanza, it was clear that having his lover come to him in death was what he was waiting for. His lover, with her rope necklace, hanging dead next to him in the tree.

Almost a peaceful thought... I used to think the murderer was the creepiest guy imaginable. Now, with a couple of trips to the Hunger Games under my belt, I decided not to judge him without knowing more details. Maybe his lover was already sentenced to death and he was trying to make it easier. To let her know that he would be waiting for her. Or maybe he thought that the place he was leaving her was really worse than death.

Didn't I want to kill Cato with that syringe to save him from the Capitol? It was the first thing that I had thought of. I had instantly jumped to the most violent conclusion that I could think of - as long as it meant that we could be together. Was that really my only option? Probably not, but I couldn't think of another at the time. Maybe there was a good chance that I was more like the murderer than I had ever thought. Maybe I was exactly like him.

At the end of the day I guessed that Ms. Everdeen thought that the whole thing was too twisted for a nine and seven-year-old, though. Especially the ones who made their own rope necklaces. It wasn't like hanging was something that only happened in a story. Plenty of people were executed that way in Twelve. You could bet that she didn't want us singing it in front of our music classes. She probably wouldn't have liked me doing it here for Pollux even, but at least I wasn't - wait, no, I was wrong.

As I glanced sideways, I saw that Castor had been taping me the entire time. Just as I had seen before, everyone was watching me intently. And Pollux had tears running down his cheeks, probably because no doubt my freaky song had dredged up some terrible incident in his life. Great. I sighed and leaned back against the trunk. That was when the Mockingjay's began their own rendition of 'The Hanging Tree,' much louder than I had. In their mouths, it was quite beautiful.

Conscious of being filmed, I stood quietly until I heard Cressida call, "Cut!"

Plutarch crossed to me, laughing. "Where do you come up with this stuff? No one would believe it if we made it up!" He threw an arm around me and kissed me on the top of my head with a loud smack. "You're golden!"

Trying to push back the thought of throwing his arm off of me, I merely said, "I wasn't doing it for the cameras."

And it was the truth. I had done it because Pollux had asked. "Lucky they were on, then. Come on, everybody, back to town!" Plutarch called out.

Just like that, the Mockingjay's dropped off. As we trudged back through the woods, we reached a boulder, and Katniss, Gale, and I turned our heads in the same direction, like a pack of dogs catching a scent on the wind. Cressida noticed and asked what laid that way. We admitted, without acknowledging any of the other, that it was our old hunting rendezvous place. She wanted to see it, even after we told her that it was nothing really. Nothing but a place where I was happy, I thought.

Our rock ledge overlooking the valley. Perhaps a little less green than usual, but the blackberry bushes hung heavy with fruit. Here began countless days of hunting and snaring, fishing and gathering, roaming together through the woods, unloading our thoughts while we filled our game bags. This was the doorway to both sustenance and sanity. And we were all each other's key. My hand very gently ran over the exact spot that Gale had tackled me after stealing his game.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see Gale watching me. We were both likely thinking of that same moment. The moment that we had realized that we didn't have to live alone. We could have each other. Who knew that in a little over a decade things would have been so different? What would we have thought if we could have seen where we would end up? Would the two of us have even been friends for all of the years that we were? My thoughts were overwhelming.

There was no District 12 to escape from now, no Peacekeepers to trick, no hungry mouths to feed. It was strange to be here without them. Nothing else to think about. The Capitol took away all of that, and I was on the verge of losing Gale as well. The glue of mutual need that bonded us so tightly together for all those years was melting away. Dark patches, not light, showed in the spaces between us. All because of Cato. Was he worth it? For just a brief moment, I wasn't sure.

How could it have been that today, in the face of Twelve's horrible demise, we were too angry to even speak to each other? How could I have been thinking about Cato right now? This didn't have anything to do with him. Although, I supposed that he had everything to do with it. Because Gale as good as lied to me about him. That was unacceptable, even if he was concerned about my well-being. His apology seemed genuine this morning, though.

And I threw it back in his face with an insult to make sure it stung. Two years ago I would have never thought of doing or saying something like that to Gale. And I would have never even dared to think about slapping Gale the way that I had. What was happening to us? Why were we always at odds now? It was all a muddle, but I somehow felt that if I went back to the root of our troubles, my actions would be at the heart of it. Did I really want to drive him away?

Of course I didn't. He was one of the most important people in my life. He always had been and always would be. I didn't want to lose him. Not now and not ever. My fingers encircled a blackberry and plucked it from its stem. At one point, this would have been the difference between life and death. Things were so different now. I rolled it gently between my thumb and forefinger. Suddenly, I turned to Gale and tossed it in his direction.

"And may the odds -" I said.

Without taking a moment to think about whether or not I might enjoy the answer that I would get from Gale, I threw it high so that he had plenty of time to decide whether to knock it aside or accept it. I knew which one I was hoping for, but I also knew which one was more likely. Gale's eyes trained on me, not the berry, but at the last moment, he opened his mouth and caught it. A small smile broke over my face.

He chewed, swallowed, and there was a long pause before he said "- be ever in your favor." But he did say it.

A little while later Cressida had us sit in the nook in the rocks, where it was impossible not to be touching, and coaxed us into talking about hunting. What drove us out into the woods, how we met, and our favorite moments. We thawed, began to laugh a little, as we related mishaps with bees and wild dogs and skunks. Katniss and I talked about the lost beehive from the bear. Gale talked about my stealing his game. We talked about why Katniss was afraid of spiders and I was afraid of snakes.

So many of the memories were fun. So many of them made the three of us laugh and smile, leaning on each other for support. It was something that I hadn't felt in a long time. Clearly Dean and Skye felt the same way. They were smiling at me, seeing Cato's happy wife for the first time in a long time. When the conversation finally turned to how it felt to translate our skill with weapons to the bombing in Eight, I stopped talking, unsure of what to say. Katniss's voice instantly died.

Gale just said, "Long overdue."

By the time that we reached the Town Square again, afternoon was now sinking into evening. We hadn't been here in hours. It looked just as dead as it did earlier. I took Cressida to the rubble of the bakery and asked her to film something. My stomach lurched painfully as I wondered if I would vomit. The last time that I had been here I had found the corpses of those of Peeta's family who remained. Right now the only emotion that I could muster was exhaustion.

"Cato, do you remember Peeta?" My voice broke slightly as I waited a moment to continue speaking. "From our first Games. He was my District partner. This is District 12 now. This is his home. Yours doesn't look much different. None of his family has been heard of since the bombing. Twelve is gone. Two is under a martial law. People are dying every day."

My voice lodged itself in my throat. This was the part that I had known that I would have to get around to. It was one thing for Cato to see what had happened to my home. If he was really as far gone as he looked to be in the last propo that he had been in, I had to say something to jar him back to reality. And I knew what it would take. The same thing that had taken me to wake up. The knowledge that something had happened to the people who meant the most to him.

"L - Leah... Leah was killed during your family's evacuation from Two," I said, my voice breaking painfully. I just had to keep going. "The rest of them are safe." There were a few sobs from Dean and Skye. "You're calling for a cease-fire?" I looked across the emptiness. "There's no one left to hear you."

And there wasn't anyone left to hear him. There was no one left to hear anyone. The only people who were left in District 12 were those who were back in District 13. They certainly weren't going to be calling for a cease-fire anytime soon. Not after what they had seen happen to their home. Eventually we all headed off away from the bakery and a little further into the Town Square. Very few things remained. Just death and destruction.

As we came to a stand before the lump of metal that was the gallows, Cressida asked if either of us had ever been tortured. In answer, Gale pulled off his shirt and turned his back to the camera. I stared at the lash marks, and again heard the whistling of the whip, seeing his bloody figure hanging unconscious by his wrists. At least when I was a kid, things seemed a little less serious for me. When Cressida asked me the same, I merely stared at her.

"Yes. But there's no proof," I said, thinking of where the skin had once been raised from the black bear. "They take away your scars after the Games. Something to mold you into what they want. A perfect doll. The only scars that are left are on the inside. Invisible. Hidden. Secret."

"What happened?" Cressida asked.

"I'm done," I announced suddenly. I didn't want to think about all of the pain that they had caused me. "I'll meet you at the Victor's Village. Something for... my mother."

What did I actually want? Nothing really. There wasn't anything that I needed from the house. I had gotten it the first time that we had come here, but I needed to get away from everything for a few minutes. I needed to get away from the pitying looks that everyone was giving me. I needed to get away from Gale and Katniss's stares, wondering if I was remembering the same things that they were. So I merely let my feet blindly lead me.

Most of the trip I merely wound in and out of the bodies that littered the street. I guess that I walked here, but the next thing that I was conscious of was sitting on the floor in front of the kitchen cabinets of our house in the Victor's Village. Meticulously lining ceramic jars and glass bottles into a box. Placing clean cotton bandages between them to prevent breaking. Wrapping bunches of dried flowers. Things to keep my hands busy and keep from panicking.

Those very same things that I used to do during my days after the first Games. Things to keep me from losing my mind and to keep me grounded. Suddenly, I remembered the rose on my dresser that I had seen during my first trip back here. Was it real? If so, was it still up there? I had to resist the temptation to check. If it was there, it would only frighten me all over again. The scent of roses seemed to be seeping through the air. I hurried up with my packing.

When the cabinets were finally empty, I rose to find that Gale had materialized in my kitchen. He was alone this time. I wasn't sure where Katniss was. Likely giving us a moment. It was disturbing how soundlessly he could appear. It was a gift that he had always had. He was leaning on the table, his fingers spread wide against the wood grain. It was the same table that he had laid on after he had nearly been killed by the whip. I awkwardly set the box between us.

"Remember? This is where I kissed you," Gale said.

So the heavy dose of morphling administered after the whipping wasn't enough to erase that from his consciousness. Gale still wasn't looking at me. "I didn't think you'd remember that," I said dumbly.

"Have to be dead to forget. Maybe even not then. Maybe I'll be like that man in 'The Hanging Tree.' Still waiting for an answer," Gale said slowly.

Wracking guilt spread through me. "Gale," I started softly, "I -"

"I know, Aspen," Gale interrupted, already knowing where I was going with this. "You didn't pull away that day."

"I couldn't. Not seeing you the way that you were."

"That's all, huh?"

Obviously it was the wrong answer and I still didn't know what to say. "You just -"

"Looked weak. Hurt. Pathetic," Gale interrupted.

There was venom behind the pain in his voice. "That's not what I meant," I said quickly.

"I know."

Instantly I knew that there was no good answer to this problem. Everything that I said or did would hurt him. Gale, who I had never seen cry, had tears in his eyes. Pain spread through my chest as well. To keep those tears from spilling over, I reached forward and pressed my lips against his. We tasted of heat, ashes, and misery. It was a surprising flavor for such a gentle kiss. There was nothing in the kiss. Just desperation to spare his feelings. Gale pulled away first and gave me a wry smile.

"I knew you'd kiss me."

"How?" I asked. Because I didn't know myself.

"Because I'm in pain. That's the only way I get your attention." He picked up the box. "Don't worry, Aspen. It'll pass," Gale said carelessly.

It was a complete one-eighty from the way that he had been just a brief moment ago. Maybe because he could see the look in my eyes. Maybe because he saw that I didn't want to do what I had. It was just... instinct. Gale left before I could formulate an answer. Not that I knew one. Telling him that I didn't mean to kiss him would have been the wrong thing to say. Just like a moment ago, there was nothing that I could say or do to make things better here.

That was why he had left. To spare either one of us the pain of having to say the wrong things to each other and start another fight. As I wandered around the house, I knew only one thing. I knew that I shouldn't have kissed him. It echoed through my head over and over again as I walked up and down the stairs. Cato was back in the Capitol, going through absolute hell, and here I was, kissing someone else just to try and spare his feelings.

What kind of horrible person was I? Kissing someone else while I was already married? That was just the beginning of the very wrong thing that I had just done. Despite everything that had happened over the past few weeks, I really felt like I was married to Cato. And that meant that I shouldn't have done that. But if there was one thing that I couldn't stand, it was seeing those that I loved in pain. And I couldn't just turn off the love - whatever kind of love it was - that I had for Gale.

There was also the simple problem that I had likely set things between Gale and I back a number of steps. We had been making a fair amount of progress with each other before Cato's second propo had aired. Any progress that we had made over the last few weeks had been taken back in that one moment. The kiss - that one, stupid, kiss that had been more on an impulse than anything else - would certainly be something that we wouldn't be able to forget for a long time.

Maybe not even when Cato came back. I couldn't figure out if it was something that I should or shouldn't tell him. I could only assume that I really shouldn't. He would have enough to worry about. He didn't need to add an unfaithful wife on top of it all. I knew that I should have said something to Katniss, but when she came to take me back to the hovercraft, I didn't mention the kiss. Mostly because I felt so guilty about it. Kissing Gale when Cato was going through god-knows-what.

Not to mention that Gale was again acting like things could go back to normal with us. He was no longer acting like he hated me, more like he was sick of me. I was too weary to work through his latest charge. So I spent the short ride back to Thirteen curled up in a seat, trying to ignore Plutarch going on about one of his favorite subjects - weapons mankind no longer had at its disposal. High-flying planes, military satellites, cell disintegrators, drones, and biological weapons with expiration dates.

Brought down by the destruction of the atmosphere or lack of resources or moral squeamishness. All things that were no longer around and would likely never return. You could practically hear the regret of a Head Gamemaker who could only dream of such toys, who must make do with hovercraft and land-to-land missiles and plain old guns. It just reminded me of the kind of person that Plutarch was. Maybe even worse than Seneca had once been.

The entire thing made me furious - not that there was a shortage of any of those moments. I would always be angry about this. As Plutarch continued to talk, the hovercraft landed back in Thirteen and I brushed past him. I didn't even bother to speak to anyone. I was just glad that no one stopped me as I left. Not Katniss or Gale, both of whom looked like they might have moved towards me. I was glad that Gale didn't. Not even Dean or Skye tried to stop me. They knew what today was like for me.

After dropping off my Mockingjay suit, I went straight to bed without eating. Still no one came to check on me as the hours ticked by and I drifted blankly off to sleep. Even so, Prim had to shake me to get me up in the morning. Despite the sixteen hour sleep, I was still groggy. After breakfast, where I hid from everyone, I ignored my schedule and took a nap in the supply closet. When I came to, crawling out from between the boxes of chalk and pencils, it was dinnertime again.

It was a long time that I had slept as much as I did today without being in a semi-medically-induced coma. It was relieving. At dinner I once more ignored everyone. Not once did I even look in Gale's direction. I couldn't face him after what had happened. He didn't force a conversation and neither did anyone else. Other than the obligatory greeting, Cato's family didn't even speak to me. Although I did get an extra-large portion of pea soup.

About halfway through the meal, out of the corner of my eyes, I spotted Seneca walking over towards our table. He rarely ate with the rest of us. I assumed that he didn't like the looks that he got. I could understand that. He looked well-groomed for someone in Thirteen, as always. On my other side, I noticed that Gale instantly got up and left. He never did like dealing with Seneca. Katniss looked like she might fall asleep in her soup.

"Aspen," Seneca greeted. I nodded blankly. "You look -"

"Tired?" I offered.

"I was going to say exhausted," Seneca said.

"Well that's rude but not entirely inaccurate."

Seneca's face flushed slightly. "Pardon me."

"It's alright. What's up?" I asked, spinning around in my seat.

"There's something that I would like for you to see."

"That never sounds good."

"Come with me," Seneca said, giving a slight smile.

"Okay."

For a moment I turned back to Katniss to tell her that I would be back, but she was asleep on the table. Prim promised to let her know that I was only speaking with Seneca. The two of us left the dining hall together and headed over towards Seneca's room. We earned some strange looks as we walked. I knew that some people thought that something was happening between us - just as some people thought that I was with Gale. They would always think that there was someone other than Cato.

Sometimes even I was under that impression. As we walked into Seneca's room I asked, "What is it that you want me to see?" to try and get my mind off of the kiss with Gale yesterday.

"Sit for a moment," Seneca said.

"Why?" I asked blandly.

Even though I had slept almost completely through the last forty-eight hours, I wanted to go back to sleep. "Just sit down for a moment," Seneca said. I nodded slowly, perching myself at the edge of his bed. A moment later, Seneca leaned down to look at my injured shin. "It's getting better."

"My mother's been looking after me since we got back from Eight," I answered, watching as Seneca stood back upright. "Did you bring me all the way back here to talk about my leg?"

"We came here to talk," Seneca said.

"So talk," I snapped.

It wasn't that I was angry. I knew that he knew and I knew that he wanted to speak with me about it. Seneca cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly. "I knew that you saw Cato's interview," Seneca said.

"So you saw it?" I asked for confirmation.

Seneca nodded slowly. "We all saw it." I knew that they had all seen it. "They were concerned that you saw it. They bought the lie that you fed to them at dinner," Seneca said. At least they believed that I didn't know about Cato's current state. "But I saw it. You're a very gifted liar, Aspen. But I'm very good at spotting them."

Yes, he always had been good at spotting lies. Almost as good as I was at telling them. "He just looked so horrible. The way that he was speaking and acting. It was like it wasn't even Cato," I whispered.

"They aren't taking any shortcuts when it comes to Cato. They're putting out those interviews to try and push you. Hoping that you'll make the fools move."

"Go to the Capitol to get him back."

"Exactly. And we can't do that." Seneca grasped my hand upon seeing my panicked look. "Not yet, Aspen. We will. Just not yet," he corrected himself.

"When?"

"Eventually. We're not going to leave him there. I won't let them do that," Seneca said.

"Thank you," I said softly. "Do you think he'll be alright?"

If I was lucky, Cato would be a little traumatized but otherwise just fine. "I think that he's going to suffer when he comes back," Seneca answered honestly. I appreciated it, but I still twitched at the thought. "He's going to have to readjust to being out of the Capitol. He's going to have to realize that he's safe again. He likely won't trust anyone. Perhaps with yourself being the exception."

"It doesn't matter to me. I'll do anything that I can to help him. It's my fault that he wound up there in the first place," I said.

Anything that it took to help Cato, I was willing to do it. "That's not the truth. You know that," Seneca said. I shook my head. "What happened to him... honestly, it was our fault. We went after you, despite what you wanted."

That was why I hated Cato so much. Because he must have been happy at the way that things worked out. "But you did just what he wanted," I growled.

"Yes."

"And you don't regret it."

"No," Seneca said honestly. "The only thing that I regret is the way that it affected you."

"You didn't even think about that," I snapped.

"I couldn't. I'm still a Head Gamemaker."

"Big picture. Not the little details."

Seneca nodded again, looking not regretful, but maybe a little bit guilty. "Yes. I'm very sorry about what's happened with Cato, but we'll fix the mistake. We'll get him back," Seneca promised.

"When?" I repeated.

"If they're treating him the way that it seems, it'll be soon."

"Because they want it to be soon?"

"Because you do."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The two of us sat in silence for a long while before I managed to speak again. "What did you honestly bring me here for?" I asked.

Seneca turned to me in surprise. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"You didn't just bring me to talk about Cato," I said. Seneca tilted his head to the side in confusion. "You said that to try and open me up. Whether or not you think so, I do know you pretty well." Seneca smiled softly. "So what did you want to show me?"

"Just how much you inspire people," Seneca said with a small smile.

"What does that mean?" I asked curiously.

"Watch," Seneca said.

Watching curiously, I crossed my legs as Seneca walked over to the television that was mounted on his wall. He was one of the few people that I had seen with a television in their room. The television whirred to life up against the wall and the screen faded from black to white before the picture finally formed. It started playing exactly what had happened since the last time that Seneca had showed me how the actual war was going. I leaned forward and watched curiously.

It took me a moment to realize that we were watching security footage from somewhere. My eyebrow tilted upwards curiously. Off to the side was something else. It was the footage that Cressida had taken during our trip to Twelve yesterday. But there were no words on this propo. Instead, it was myself singing The Hanging Tree. I was simply walking back and forth, blankly taking in the ruin of my home, the others walking alongside me, The Hanging Tree echoing in the background.

Slowly I turned back towards the security footage as the volume was muted on the propo. Now I could hear what was being played on the security footage. Like the propo, The Hanging Tree was playing. But this time it wasn't me singing. It was the hundreds of people who were marching on what appeared to be the hydroelectric dam that separated District 5 from the rest of Panem and powered everything, including the Capitol.

My heart was firmly lodged in my throat as I watched. What were they doing? A suicide run, it looked like. It looked like they were coming from District 5, presumably their normal workers. Some of the groups of people were carrying crates. Crates that I could assume carried something incredibly dangerous for the Peacekeepers that worked in and around the dam. A few minutes passed that the group of District 5 citizens were marching on the dam before the scene changed.

It was now the security footage from the dam. I could see the Peacekeepers running out of the dam to defend it. They had clearly heard the singing. From the Peacekeepers point of view, I could tell that they were unable to see past the water of the dam. They had no idea where the attack was coming from. For a while all I could hear was the roaring of the water. But then it came. The loud humming and whistling of 'The Hanging Tree' coming from beyond the water.

The Peacekeepers raised their weapons to fire. Then it started. The screaming. The group of rebels began screaming as they passed the mist coming off of the dam. To the Peacekeepers' credit, they reacted before everyone else could. They began firing their rifles and all of the people in the front of the crowd began dropping. I cringed slightly and looked away for just a moment, desperate to see anything but their deaths... that I had caused.

A few seconds later I looked back at the screen. The people who were carrying the crates were ducked down behind the suicide runners, but as they dropped, so did the crate-carriers. Some who had been shot got back up. Others who hadn't been shot yet grabbed the ends. There were three in all, each one being brought up one of the different walkways. Peacekeepers on both the ground and up at the top of the dam were firing down on the group of rebels.

More and more rebels were falling, but as they continued to fall, they were also getting closer. Within seconds the rebels were closing in on the Peacekeepers who were still firing. And finally they managed it. Rebels sprinted up to the Peacekeepers and barreled into them. They all dropped down as the rebels both died and fought to wrestle the guns away from them. Meanwhile those carrying the crates were able to run inside of the dam with their packages.

The screens changed again to the insides of the dam. The two men each who were carrying the crates ran into their spots of the dam and dropped them, nearing the large water pipelines. One of the men for each of the crates were holding some type of explosive device. It was tiny, but I knew what it was. They slammed it down on the tops of the crates before sprinting out back towards the runways that led back to the woods with all of the other survivors.

There weren't many that had managed to survive the attacks that I could see. The screen once more changed to the cameras observing the dam. Just as the rebels managed to clear the dam, the explosives started going off. It didn't take long for cracks to form up the side of the dam to the point where it could no longer contain the explosions. It began cracking to the point where it started breaking open and water began rushing out.

The lights were cracking and collapsing with the rest of the dam. It didn't take long for the dam to begin cracking off in huge chunks and falling into the rushing water below. Eventually all of the lights were dimmed all around the dam and it appeared that the lights were turning off of the rest of the grid. Within moments, even the camera had darkened. They had actually managed to destroy the power grid to not only the Districts, but also the Capitol. That dam was their power source.

"Wow..." I whispered, realizing what a success that attack had been.

"Don't you see what you do to people?" Seneca asked softly.

"It's not just me. They believe in this cause," I said, swallowing harshly.

It was what I had to remember. The people weren't always doing this for me. It was for themselves. "But no one would believe in it this much. Not without someone around to help things along. You're the person that they all have faith in. You're the person that I have faith in," Seneca said.

"Maybe too much," I mumbled.

"Maybe. But I won't regret my choice either way."

"Thanks." We sat in silence for a moment before I glanced over at Seneca. "I'm glad you showed me that," I said.

"You need to see things like that. They don't want you to see quite how bad or intense things are, but I know that seeing things like that are what it takes to get you to move into action," Seneca explained.

"I suppose you know me better than either one of us would like to admit," I said.

"Believe it or not, I do," Seneca said.

Yes. He was right. He did know me. He knew me more than most of the other people in the Panem. With the exception of Cato, of course. "Can you help get Cato back?" I asked suddenly.

"I'm working on it, Aspen. I promise," Seneca said.

He reached over and grabbed my hands. "He's just been gone for too long."

"We're going to get him back. If it's the last thing that I do, I will not let him stay there."

"I'll trust you."

"Do you honestly have a choice?" Seneca asked.

It was just enough to amuse me. I didn't smile but I did let out a little breath. "Hah," I snapped irritably. "You're not funny."

To my surprise, Seneca actually smiled back. He hesitated a few moments before glancing back towards his door. "You know, they'll probably be looking for you," Seneca said.

"For what?" I asked curiously.

"There's a meeting soon."

"Damn. I don't want to be there."

One of the things that I really hated about Thirteen was the constant meetings. So many meetings where we all said the same things. "As one of the leaders of the rebellion, I would recommend you head straight to Command for the meeting," Seneca said. I raised a brow, sensing that he wasn't done. "As your friend, I would advise you to head back to your Compartment as quickly as possible and lock the door. Boggs will have quite a difficult time getting it open without you."

"Good advice. I think I'll take you up on it," I said.

"Will I be seeing you at the meeting?" Seneca asked.

"If I can't avoid Boggs," I explained.

We both laughed - a sound that seemed almost foreign out of my mouth - as I leaned forward and gave Seneca a long hug. He was comforting, something much different than he had once been. The two of us stayed together for a long white before I finally pulled away. Seneca pressed a kiss against my cheek as I pulled away - something that he had never done before. I smiled slightly at him. Every day we were starting to trust each other more and more.

After a moment I got to my feet and left Seneca's room. There were a few people who gave me funny looks, but I merely ignored them and headed off. I was planning on going back to my compartment to sleep even more, despite how much I had been getting lately. But lately I hadn't been sleeping well and I finally had a day that I was able to sleep freely. I just had to keep hiding. I was halfway back to Compartment E when Boggs intercepted me.

"There's a meeting in Command. Disregard your current schedule," Boggs said, referring to the meeting that Seneca had told me about.

"Done," I said.

Clearly there was no way of getting out of it. "Did you follow it at all today?" Boggs asked in exasperation.

"Who knows? I'm mentally disoriented." I held up my wrist to show my medical bracelet and realized that it was gone. "See? I can't even remember they took my bracelet," I said dumbly. When had they taken it? I wasn't sure. "Why do they want me in Command? Did I miss something?"

"I think Cressida wanted to show you the Twelve propos. But I guess you'll see them when they air," Boggs said.

"That's what I need a schedule of. When the propos air," I said.

Boggs shot me a look but didn't comment further. He clearly didn't really understand what I was talking about. Or maybe he was trying to contemplate it. People had crowded into Command, but they had saved me a seat between Finnick and Plutarch. It was easier than having to press myself into a seat next to Gale and pretend that things were okay. The screens were already up on the table, showing the regular Capitol feed. Evidently they had gotten their power back.

Or maybe it was the defense system that Beetee had designed that he still couldn't get past. "What's going on? Aren't we seeing the Twelve propos?" I asked.

"Oh, no. I mean, possibly. I don't know exactly what footage Beetee plans to use," Plutarch said.

"Beetee thinks he's found a way to break into the feed nationwide. So that our propos will air in the Capitol, too. He's down working on it in Special Defense now. There's live programming tonight. Snow's making an appearance or something. I think it's starting," Finnick said.

So they had managed to get their power back. "That's good, I suppose," I mumbled.

The Capitol seal appeared, underscored by the anthem. Then I was staring directly into President Snow's snake eyes as he greeted the nation like nothing was wrong. He seemed barricaded behind his podium, but the white rose in his lapel was in full view. I could see that he was sitting behind bulletproof glass. Of course, he knew that his life was in danger. The camera pulled back to include Cato, off to one side in front of a projected map of Panem.

My stomach lurched into my chest as I stared at him. Cato was sitting in an elevated chair, his shoes supported by a metal rung. He looked terrible. His leg was tapping out a strange irregular beat. He was clawing at the synthetic skin on his arm, looking almost like he was trying to rip it out. Beads of sweat had broken through the layer of powder on his upper lip and forehead. But it was the look in his eyes - angry yet unfocused - that frightened me the most.

"He's worse," I whispered.

It had only been a day... two days? Maybe three. Either way, it hadn't been that long. How did he look so much worse than he had just a little while ago? He looked horrible. Like he had been beaten every day since he had first gotten to the Capitol. Finnick grasped my hand, to give me an anchor, and I tried to hang on. On the far side of the room, I could hear Dean suck in a deep breath. He had Skye's face pressed into his shoulder. Julie was biting her lip, evidently fighting back tears.

Cato began to speak in a frustrated tone about the need for the cease-fire. He was jerkily highlighting the damage done to key infrastructure in various Districts, and as he spoke, parts of the map lit up, showing images of the destruction. A broken dam in Five. The one that Seneca just showed me. A derailed train with a pool of toxic waste spilling from the tank cars. A granary collapsing after a fire. All of these he attributed to rebel action - all of which was likely true.

"Tonight, we've received reports of derailed trains, of granaries on fire, and of a savage attack on the hydroelectric dam in District 5," Cato's voice echoed, sounding terrible.

"Oh, what have they done to you?" I whispered desperately.

I was so glad that at least Alana wasn't around. Damien was, but he was watching with a stony gaze. "I'm begging for restraint and decency," Cato said.

"We interrupt your regularly scheduled horse manure to bring you..." Beetee muttered from the side.

Of course. I had almost forgotten that he was supposed to be interrupting the Capitol's broadcast to show all of the propos that Cressida and the others had filmed while we were in Twelve. I wanted to beg Beetee not to change the screen for a moment. I needed to be able to keep my eye on Cato. I needed to see what they were doing to him. But Beetee interrupted the video with my propo video - finally able to break through his own Capitol airway defense system.

There was the very sudden crack on the screen. Without warning, I was suddenly on television, standing in the rubble of the bakery. Perfect timing. Plutarch jumped to his feet. "He did it! Beetee broke in!"

"That's it. That's our footage," Coin whispered.

"Aspen?" Cato asked.

On the far corner of the screen, I could see that Cato was still being broadcast. He was seeing me as we'd broken through. "He sees it. He sees our propo," Coin said.

"Aspen, are you there?" Cato asked.

It was the first time that I had seen some real emotion in his eyes. It looked like he had been snapped out of some type of trance. I could feel both Finnick and Seneca trying to grab onto my legs to keep me seated, but I batted them away. So I got up and very slowly walked towards the screen, tears threatening to spill over my eyes. Dean, Skye, Julie, and Damien were all on their feet. They all looked ready to pull me away from the screen at any given moment.

"Cato..." I whispered, my voice cracking.

"Aspen?" Cato repeated.

"Cato, please continue," Caesar Flickerman - whom I hadn't noticed was also on screen for the interview - prompted. "You were telling us about these savage attacks."

"Yeah," Cato said blankly, going back to his trance-like state and peering into the camera. "The attack on the dam was a callous and inhuman act of destruction..."

The room was still buzzing with reaction when Cato was officially back, distracted. Our propo was no longer playing. He clearly was unable to go back to the way that he was before seeing me on the monitor. He tried to pick up his speech by moving on to the bombing of a water purification plant, when a clip of Finnick talking about Rue replaced him. The struggle in Cato's eyes was clear. After all, he had been the one to comfort me after her death.

Then the whole thing broke down into a broadcast battle, as the Capitol tech masters tried to fend off Beetee's attack. But they were unprepared, and Beetee, apparently anticipating that he would not hold on to control, had an arsenal of five to ten second clips to work with. Plus this was his design in the first place. He already knew how to fight with it. We watched the official presentation deteriorate as it was peppered with choice shots from the propos.

Plutarch was in spasms of delight and most everybody was cheering Beetee on, but Finnick remained still and speechless beside me. I knew that he was thinking about Annie - whether or not she was in the same state that Cato was. I doubted it. She had known nothing. She was merely serving as bait for him. I met Haymitch's eyes from across the room and saw my own dread mirrored back. Even Brutus looked horrified. The recognition that with every cheer, Cato slipped even farther from our grasp.

The Capitol seal was finally back up, accompanied by a flat audio tone. That lasted about twenty seconds before Snow, Caesar and Cato returned. The set was in turmoil. It was nothing like the calm and collected Capitol that we had all seen so many times before. We were hearing frantic exchanges from their booth. They couldn't realize how to turn everything off. They didn't know how to fight our attacks off. They hadn't been expecting this.

Snow plowed forward, saying that clearly the rebels were now attempting to disrupt the dissemination of information they found incriminating, but both truth and justice would reign. If I wasn't so horrified, I would have enjoyed seeing how far I could get my eyes to roll back into my head. The full broadcast would apparently resume when security had been reinstated. He asked Cato if, given tonight's demonstration, he had any parting thoughts for Aspen Antaeus.

At the mention of my name, Cato's face contorted in effort. "Aspen... think about it. How do you think this will end? What will be left? No one can survive this. No one is safe now. Not here in the Capitol. Not in any of the Districts." There was a little twitch that went through him, and suddenly he looked extremely unstable. "They're coming, Aspen. They're gonna kill everyone. And you... in Thirteen..." He inhaled sharply, as if fighting for air; his eyes looked insane. "Dead by morning!"

Off camera, Snow ordered, "End it!"

What the hell had just happened? My first tear fell out of my eyes and ran down my face. They didn't stop after that. What the hell was happening? What did he mean that we were going to be dead by morning? I tried to run after the camera, but there was no way for me to stop what was happening. Beetee threw the whole thing into chaos by flashing a still shot of me standing in front of the hospital at three-second intervals.

Brutus had me around the waist. I could feel him shaking - the first sign of weakness that I had ever seen from him. He was keeping me from moving. Between the images, we were privy to the real-life action being played out on the set. Cato's attempt to continue speaking. The camera knocked down to record the white tiled floor. The scuffle of boots. The impact of the blow that's inseparable from Cato's cry of pain. And his blood as it splattered the tiles.

A/N: Oh, poor Cato. Don't worry guys, he's coming back into the story soon. Just a few more chapters. Thanks for waiting for this one. I had tendinitis in my wrist so that was making writing tough. Also, I graduated from college and got myself my first real job! Anyways, thanks for the follows and favorites! Please review! Until next time -A

Miss-Harry-Potter2123: I'm so glad that you love the story so much! Sorry that it took forever, I was just extremely preoccupied with work and school. But I'm back! Here's hoping that you liked this one :)

melliemoo: The relationship developing between Seneca and Aspen is really interesting to develop. They've been through so much together and they're ready to finally be friends with each other. They've finally gotten to that trusting point. The propo was a success and Aspen is really inspiring people - she's really becoming the Mockingjay. I'm so glad that you liked the Cato scene at the end. Not to worry, Cato's rescue is coming up soon