I know it has been a while, but I was consumed with the two other stories I am writing on here. However, yesterday day was my birthday, and my gift to you is a new chapter! I hope you like it. Please Review!

**Big thank you to MarbleSharp for notifying me that Haymitch was in seclusion during the time Katniss went to 12. I don't have my books with me up here at college, so thank you for catching that error. I've now rewritten the second half of this chapter.**

The Dark Days

Lost

We lost our Mockingjay. I should have known this would have been too much. She didn't ask to be the face of the rebellion, nor did she ask to be thrust into the Games in the first place.

She had just wanted to survive.

It was almost sad that the last fight she had to give was against me.

Katniss had burst through the door of the control room wearing nothing but a hospital gown and a wild look in her eye. She held a syringe, looking as if she was ready to take on the world.

It was almost comical. I had grabbed her and forced her to drop it, though, before she hurt anyone on accident. Plutarch looked as if the force I used was a little excessive, but he didn't realize that he was dealing with a rabid animal, one that had just been plucked from the Games without a clue as to what was going on around her.

So yeah, that little needle was lethal.

I also knew that, eventually, she would find out about Peeta, and when she did she would be livid.

However, I was not prepared for her attack when it did come. I knew how angry and hurt she would be, but I had not expected this from the girl who had guarded her feelings since the moment I met her.

"You drunken piece of shit," She had screamed at me. "You promised you would save him!"

It was almost as if she couldn't find the words at that moment that she wanted to say to me. A strangled noise clawed its way up her throat, and I saw her fists clench. However, while I'll admit I was slightly surprised when she launched herself at my face, I felt I was more than a match for the frail little tribute.

I had forgotten about her nails.

She clawed my face, spitting every curse she could think of. I was so pissed off, I honestly can't even remember what I said. I just thought of the most hurtful words I could think of and hurled them at her without a second thought.

"Why didn't you just let me die?" She had spit at me.

"I fucking wanted to." I roared. "God knows Peeta would have been a hell of a lot more useful than you."

I cringe now as I remember those hateful things I said. I had sat by her bedside after she was dragged out from the room and strapped to her hospital bed. I watched as she tried to force herself into unconsciousness by banging her head against the rails.

It's depressing to know that that was the last real fight Katniss gave. I honestly don't know if there is anything that will snap her out of the depression she is in now.

Coin complains constantly about her not sticking to her schedule. I could give a rat's ass about that. What worried me now was finding her under drainpipes, in closets, and under desks in deserted offices. She is unresponsive; wallowing in self-pity and loathing while she is awake only to escape into a morphling induced coma at night.

Coin worries about rallying the people. Plutarch worries about the Mockingjay's image.

I worry that we might have broken the girl from the Seam.

District Twelve

That girl made me eat my words. It seems she has a little spark left in her after all.

I heard about her visit to District 12, or at least what was left of it. I didn't envy her going back at all. No amount of drugs or liquor in the world could make me want to go back right now. I knew what she would find. I knew of the devastation, and how the Seam was completely obliterated. Not many had made it out alive, and I knew there would be countless decomposing bodies for Katniss to stumble on.

Plutarch had been the one to fill me in on what had happened. He skimmed over most of what happened when she first arrived, claiming that his Mockingjay was rather "unresponsive" and "couldn't quite deliver the footage that they wanted" at the time. She had been "off in her own world", according to Plutarch.

"No doubt she was in complete shock," he had said. "But you'd think she'd get a little emotional over the whole ordeal."

The average person might find it hard not to be irritated with Plutarch. He was from the Capitol after all, and, not to mention, he was trying to help lead a revolution. He needed a Mockingjay, one way or another.

I was not the average person, and it took every ounce of control I had in my body not to wipe that frustrated expression off his face.

Plutarch, however, could not stop raving about her "performance" in the woods.

"Absolutely marvelous! I don't know where she comes up with this stuff!" He praised.

I had heard the "Hanging Tree" before, a long time ago. It had been banned as long as I could remember, as it had been one of the anthems of the First Rebellion. Katniss had no idea what significance that song meant to millions and the effect it was going to have on the Capitol. It was an invitation to revolution, an outright declaration of risking death for freedom.

Plutarch could not shut up about it. He got the footage he wanted. It seemed we might get our Mockingjay after all.