A/N: The last scene in this has been trimmed down to remove E-rated content, as FFN does not allow it and I'd rather not get the fic removed. If you want to read the full chapter, you'll need to go to AO3, I'm quiet_wraith there.

"I'm so bored," Dusk said with a sigh, biting into a cookie from a packet he had organized somewhere.

"Stop whining," Sergeant Moore commanded. "Would you rather be on the front?"

"I'm not whining, Sarge," Dusk said, deciding that being bored beat whatever Moore could make him do if he was really so bored. In Janie's (and everyone else's) opinion, sitting around being bored beat being shot (or whatever Sergeant Moore could come up with), especially when they were so close to it all finally finishing already. She didn't want to die when it was so close to being over.

Janie shuffled around on the empty crate she was sitting on. For several days, the battalion had been camped on the outskirts of the Capitol proper, surrounded by the same little houses with vegetable gardens and livestock as in the Capitol towns, but with squat low-rises visible not too far ahead, and high-rises on the horizon. Half the population in the area had run away, and the rare young and semi-attractive person was of the sort that inhabited a parallel universe and couldn't be lured into bed with anything Janie could think of. And the officers stole all the prostitutes.

So Janie, too, was bored. So was everyone else, except Sergeant Moore, who was watching the news on a trophy smartphone she had organized somehow. Foreign media could now be accessed, and Sergeant Moore spent all her time watching foreign news.

"Oh, that's one nasty pod," she said, shaking her head.

"Yeah," Will muttered as he poked the ground with a stick. "Nasty."

Janie was willing to thank whatever deity was out there for the fact that she had not had to deal with pods. Some of the ones she had seen on Moore's phone were seriously creative. A machine gun would appear out of nowhere, or a bunch of fucking snakes would materialize out of a hole, or some other shit like that. Most, though, were simple bombs and mines. Step wrong, lose a leg. If you're lucky. Pick up a bottle of water, there goes your arm and half your face. Most of the time, it was civilians who were caught by them as they scavenged for food and water. Trying to clear them was a massive pain in the ass.

The Rebellion had carved out three routes towards the heart of the Capitol, but even far away from the fighting, artillery fire and bombs had destroyed entire municipalities. Janie's squad was sitting in a decently untouched neighbourhood, which meant that the walls of the buildings only had a couple of bullet scars and there was a bloodstain where someone had accidentally shot a horse in the fighting before Janie got there and then the civilians butchered the carcass right there, under the hail of bullets.

"Squad! Get over here!"

The squad was mostly dispersed trying to scavenge for loot, so it was only Janie, Dusk, and Will who ran over to Moore and looked over her shoulder at where a hovercraft was flying over Snow's residence.

"Not ours," Will hissed.

"Is it flying out with Snow?" Janie wondered.

The newscaster was speaking a different language, so that wasn't helpful. Moore clutched the phone like a lifeline, cursing Snow up and down. Janie also wanted to punch something at the thought of him getting away.

Something fell from the hovercraft.

"Bombs?" Will asked in a tremulous voice.

Nothing happened for some time, and then Janie realized those were parachutes.

"Why are they dropping parachutes?" Dusk asked.

"It's like in the Games," Janie said, suddenly angry.

"What?"

Janie remembered that in Dusk's hamlet, the batteries hadn't been delivered most of the time, so he had never watched the Games. "Whatever," she said, now just jealous of Dusk.

There was a massive explosion. The person with the camera swore and ran towards it, Janie, Dusk, and Will looking at each other, confused.

"But why?" Dusk asked.

"Because it's Snow," Janie said. "He'll fuck everyone up just to extend his life by a second."

"So, is it over?" Will asked, staring at nothing. "I mean, he's got to be bombing his own there."

"I hope so," Moore said.

Another explosion, and the camera was thrown back, together with the cameraperson. "What happened?" Janie demanded, glad she was watching this on a screen.

"Probably bombs that explode in two stages," Moore explained. "Every country uses them and condemns their enemies for also using them." She switched to browsing something else on her phone - the former shopclerk from Five was literate. "Oh. Oh, wow."

"What is it?" Janie just wanted the sergeant to please say the fighting was over and everything could be okay now.

"Mockingjay's younger sister was sent into the city centre as a propaganda stunt. She's dead."

How old was she? Thirteen, fourteen? There were plenty of child hangers-on the soldiers hadn't been able to keep out of combat who had been even younger. "Sucks," Will said. "I mean, she was in Thirteen, she could have just stayed there."

"Guess the ones up there couldn't resist the Mockingjay's sister?" Moore mused. "This could have actually been decent propaganda."

"How?" Janie asked, imagining Ricky or Annie dying in that explosion. "She was just a kid. Nobody wants to see a kid on the front lines."

"I think they wanted her there for the surrender."

"I knew her, back then," Will said in a monotone.

It took hours until that surrender happened. Janie didn't really feel anything. Everyone had known it was coming. Snow's surrender wouldn't clear the pods or rebuild the buildings or bring the dead back to life. And, Janie thought as she saw the two figures shamble up towards her, it wouldn't cure the victims.

Not too far away, there was a community centre now being used to house refugees. They usually avoided the soldiers, but these two, if anything, were drawn towards them. The man was rocking a doll with hands that had cradled his own baby not too long ago, before something happened and there was no more baby. The woman sat next to him with blank eyes, idly adjusting the eyepatch on the doll's head and patting it on the head.

The two sat down on a piece of concrete. There was nothing in their eyes. Corpses looked more alive than them.

"Poor little one," the woman cooed as she rolled up a sleeve of the slightly scorched shirt the doll was wearing. The doll was missing an arm. "It's okay. We'll get you a new arm soon."

The man's fingers ran over the doll's head as if he actually felt hair there. "Listen to your mother, Katie," he said. "Oh, don't cry, don't cry, the war's over, everything is going to be fine now."

He resumed rocking the doll, and Janie realized there were tears in her eyes.

It was so horrifically boring in the interrogation centre, Antonius found himself looking forward to the interrogations, as that meant getting out of his cell. He knew there were others in the building - at least thirty at this point, and more arriving every week - but he seldom got more than a glimpse of them. He recognized many, but not all.

In his cell, his only entertainment were the books they gave him almost at random. He sat on his thin futon, blanket draped over his lap, and wrote what they wanted him to write. The lightbulb was always on, which made sleep hard.

Every single day, he had to undress, stand in the corner, and watch as all his things were shaken down before being subjected to a brutal body search. Antonius did not understand why they were so paranoid. The most he had ever been able to find was a small piece of metal wire. He had hidden it in the hole in his shirt where a lanyard had been, but it had been found within days.

"Hey, you!" the guard at the door snapped. Antonius was watched almost every second of the day through the hole in the door. None of the guards had tried to speak to him before.

"Yes?"

"Stand up when spoken to!"

Antonius stood up, letting the blanket fall off him. He had been sitting at an electric typewriter, writing out a description of a hostile takeover Grandma had been involved in decades ago. "What is it you want?"

The guard looked at him like at a piece of garbage. "Straighten out, show some respect! Do you want me to tell Lieutenant Vance?"

Antonius had no idea what would happen then, but he could imagine. He stood straight, trying to mimic a stance at attention. "Sir, what do you require of me?" he asked in a firm voice, feeling his face heat up. Would there be no end to this humiliation?

"That's better," the guard said approvingly, and Antonius was horrified to realize that he felt happy at having pleased the guard. "Come over here."

In the guard's hand was a piece of paper and a pen. "What do you need?" Antonius asked.

"Sign this fifty times, and I'll give you this." The guard held up a chocolate bar, and before he knew what he was doing, Antonius reached out a hand to take it. "Nuh-uh. Autographs first."

Antonius had no idea why anyone would need his signature - to sign confessions in his name, perhaps? - but he had not had any decent food in a very long time, and the thought of chocolate made him salivate. He made quick work of the fifty the guard had required, and threw in a few more, telling himself it was a deliberate strategy to make the guard like him. The guard shoved the paper and pen in his pocket and unwrapped the chocolate bar.

"Here you go."

"Thank you, sir." Antonius retreated back to his thin futon. He sat down cross-legged, pulled the blanket over his lap, and devoured the chocolate, which tasted almost impossibly sweet. It melted in his hands, and Antonius licked his fingers clean, trying to get at every last bit. As the guard looked on, Antonius hunched over the typewriter, clicking away in the horribly bright room that did not even have any windows.

Dear Grandma and Grandpa, this is for you. When I saw the frying pan, I immediately thought of you, so I just had to get it. Your loving granddaughter.

"Did you write that down?" Janie asked the mail clerk after finishing dictating. He repeated the letter to her. "Yeah, that's good."

"Do your grandparents know how to read?" the clerk asked skeptically.

"Grandma does, a little bit," Janie said. "Here's the bundle." She handed the clerk the giant bag, as well as the fee for oversized parcels. Everyone was trying to send the stuff they found to family back home. She had seen people sending actual heaters home, but then again, it was freezing outside.

"What's the address?" the clerk asked. "Are you sure they're still living there?" he asked when she gave it to him. "That county got pretty badly mauled."

"Yeah, they are, I got a message from them last week."

Dear Aunt Susan, this clothing is for the kids. The shawl is for you, though. Her aunt loved shawls.

Dear Mom and Dad, I found this little box and thought you might like it. Also, clothes for Ricky and Annie and Jo. Inside the elaborately decorated box, though, was the bulk of the paper money, as well as the photo of her and Chaterhan. Odd things were happening with the prices, so she hoped the money would be delivered soon. It wouldn't do to have the money arrive, and only be enough to buy a sack of potatoes.

Dear Grandma and Grandpa, this case of tools is for you. Grandma and Grandpa Guerra worked in a garage in a richer part of town. A large box of various tools was just what they deserved.

Dear Ricky, I hope you and the little ones like the games and snacks. To her three little siblings, she was sending a small boxed set of a bunch of different board games, as well as a few snacks and candies.

Dear Uncle Ray, I hope I got the size right. Uncle Ray had never owned a nice suit in his life, so Janie was treating him. She was also sending in a battery-powered shaving razor, as well as a large box of batteries.

Janie made sure to send gifts to everyone. Aunts, uncles, second cousins, friends, coworkers. After all, she was the only one in the family who was in the Capitol, and they all deserved nice things.

It took far too many phone calls to receive confirmation that while John Krechet had been in NCIA Squad 3214, that very squad that Capitolians had called the Death Squad, Helena Lowman had not. The NCIA had kept paper records, and they had fallen into Rebel hands intact.

Lowman was let go, but Krechet stayed. Once he found out about his wife's release, he fell into a depression. Often, he complained to Stephen that he wanted to see his family, and he was not the only one with that demand. The detainees were a rather whiny bunch, but Stephen was confident he'd be able to whip them into shape with some time.

"Lieutenant!" one of the new arrivals, a former major, snapped at him haughtily as if his uniform still had insignia on it. "Am I understanding this correctly, that I am supposed to wash laundry?"

Stephen had only stepped into the washroom to tell one of his subordinates about Krechet, but this always happened. "I am not your lieutenant," Stephen said. "And yes, you are to do the laundry today. Everyone takes turns here."

Dursun crossed his arms on his chest. "Is this how you treat soldiers?"

"Yes," Stephen said. "Would you rather you were treated like how you treated prisoners of war?"

Around them, the others continued working, not wanting to get caught in the proverbial crossfire.

"You-"

"I am not 'you' to you," Stephen cut him off. "I am your warden, and you will address me as such."

The civilians would have continued arguing, but the military people? Dursun did all but click his heels as he muttered apologies. "Sorry, warden, it won't happen again, warden." He rolled up his sleeves and began to scrub a shirt against a washboard.

"See that it doesn't," Stephen said.

"Check out those two," Janie said, nodding at two people selling something out of large containers. Now that they had been moved into the actual city, they could use their time off to sit around, drink beer - and look for someone to pick up. Neither of them had tried it before, but everyone said Capitolites would do anything for a chocolate bar or a sachet of coffee.

Dusk looked up from his beer. His eyes widened. "Wow," he gasped.

'Wow' was the word. The boy had exotic green eyes and a lithe body, and the more normal-looking girl had curves in all the right places. "Yeah," Janie said dreamily, wondering which one she should go after. Being in the boy's powerful arms would probably feel great, and it was hard to stop staring at the girl's chest. "Do you like girls or boys?" She herself liked anyone, which made life way easier.

"Girls mostly," Dusk said with a shrug. He sounded nervous. "Let's go?"

"Only if you can stand up without embarrassing yourself." Given how he was leering at them, that was unlikely. Janie eyed the boy again. Her heart was beating fast now that she had decided, and she was practically shaking with anticipation.

Dusk glared at her and finished his beer. "Let's go," he said again.

Since Janie had long ago finished her own drink, she got up from the table and approached the two, who turned out to be selling jam. "Er, hey," she said to the boy nervously. "How much for the jam?" All along the street, people were bartering things. This was basically black market central. Up close, the boy was even hotter than she had thought. He had a really nice face, and his hair was an odd shade of yellow she had never thought could be real.

The boy named a price that was way too high. Janie looked him up and down before naming a lower price. Blushing, he made a counter-offer. Janie wasn't some sort of great haggler, and her uniform meant that she had plenty of things to offer (and the fact that she wasn't simply taking it meant she wasn't that kind of soldier), but she got a pretty good deal for two large paper cones of jam. When she handed over the chocolate - money was worth less and less every day, so people only bartered - she didn't bother trying to not stare.

"It's sweet," Dusk said. He looked at the girl. "Almost as sweet as you are."

Janie mentally rolled her eyes and ate some jam. It was delicious, and gone within seconds. Maybe she should get some for her family. "This is really great," she said. "There should be people queueing around the block for this." Even half-rotten potatoes sold well, to say nothing of sweets.

The girl shrugged. "We just got here."

"Guess we're lucky, then," Janie said. She moved onto the strip of grass, sitting down next to the boy. A beat later, Dusk did likewise. They now flanked the two. "So, what are your names?"

"I'm Diana and this is Tav," the girl said. "We're coworkers."

They chatted about their lives as the jam was sold out with a rapidity that should not have been so astonishing, not after weeks in the Capitol. Diana and Tav had both worked in an armaments factory. Like Janie, they had worked for the Steelworks, but unlike her, they had gone to school for an entire six years. Dusk the farmhand rolled his eyes as they joked about working in a factory.

"So," Janie said. "You want to go for a walk or something?"

"Um, sure," Tav said. He looked a little bit confused. "To where?"

"Just around."

They walked together for a while but split up eventually, as it felt a little bit weird to watch Dusk practically glue himself to Diana. Not like Janie was any better. Tav turned out to have never dated anyone before and Janie had never gone all the way with a boy. No factory youth could afford birth control and the last thing she had wanted was to become pregnant while still earning youth pay - two-thirds of what an adult made.

Now, though, that was no issue. She and Dusk were both on mandatory birth control - kind of funny, that the higher-ups could fine you for 'fraternization' but had still shelled out the money to prevent one of the more unpleasant potential consequences. If Tav had never dated anyone it was very unlikely that he had some sort of STD. Even if he had picked it up some other way, free Capitol healthcare would have cured it. Still, though, better to ask.

"Are you clean?" she asked as they walked arm-in-arm down the street. This was a particularly wrecked area, and people could be seen huddling in piles of rubble as they cooked their rations.

"Uh, what?"

"Of STD's."

Tav turned red. Actual, bright, red. It was actually kind of cute. "Er, yes. Why do you ask?"

"Why do you think?" she asked, affectionately swatting him on the arm. He was really dense. Either that or naive.

He blushed even brighter, if that was possible. "You want to-" He sounded shocked. How could such an attractive boy be shocked that someone wanted him? Janie stood on tiptoe - he was about ten centimetres taller than her - and kissed him on the mouth.

She wrapped her arms around him, feeling his warmth. Yes, he did have some nice muscles under that loose clothing. Janie pressed himself against him, frantically trying to remember what she was supposed to do now. She hadn't been with anyone since before joining up.

Tav broke away, breathing deeply. "Wow," he said. "You know, this was actually my first kiss." There was a relaxed smile on his face, and it took all of Janie's self-control to not pounce on him again. He was so innocent, it was impossible.

"So," she said, "you know of a good place or should I shell out for a shitty motel?"

Fortunately, his family was all at work, so the apartment was free. The unfortunate part was that he was a virgin and she had never had penetrative sex with a boy, so they had no idea what they were doing. They managed to figure something out eventually, though. A few hours later, Janie was back at the barracks, feeling pretty good about herself. "So, how did that go?" Dusk asked.

"Great," Janie chirped, sitting down next to him. "I'm taking him out on a date tomorrow. Poor boy hasn't had any chocolate for months now." Dusk, however, didn't look too happy. "What's wrong? You weren't in the mood? Couldn't get it up?"

Dusk shook her head as several others laughed, clearly having heard the story already. "Her parents walked in while I was balls-deep."

Janie imagined that happening to her and winced. "And?"

"Well, they're not very impressed with the heroic liberators now." He looked so miserable, Janie couldn't stop herself from laughing. "They tried to get me to say who my commanding officer is, but I held firm long enough to escape out the door." He winced. "She's probably still being grilled right now."

Janie imagined her parents catching her with Tav.

That mental image did not bear thinking about.

A/N: Squad 3214 is a shoutout to a Belarusian unit out of which the special services unit that murdered political opponents in 1999-2000 was formed.