I'm working at the knot tying station when Finnick approaches me, swiping the piece of rope which I've been toiling over for the last hour and happily finishing the knot. I close my eyes and take a breath, temper Katniss, temper.

"Hello, Mr. O'Dair," I greet stiffly, but politely.

He grins mischievously at me and then swoops into a bow, "Always a pleasure, Miss. Everdeen!" he exclaims, glancing up at me. I just roll my eyes and pick up another piece of rope. He grins as he takes his own piece; it seems that he plans on making himself comfortable.

Much to my disdain, he refuses to leave after that point. He doesn't say anything, but he just sits at the knot station tying every type known to man, without any instruction of course. All the while he stares at me, and grins as I continually fumble my rope. I was doing better before he showed up.

I feel my face flushing, and I curse my complexion. Who cares was stupid Finnick thinks, I know how to tie these, I've been doing it for days. I realize how frustrated I am when I feel actual relief to hear Johanna snapping at Finnick as she crosses the room.

"Fishboy, what are you doing? Trying to ruin our chances? Cut the routine and act like an actual air-breather for a change. All you're accomplishing is annoying the shit out of the poor woman."

"Aw, she's not annoyed, Jo. Kat and I are getting on just fine," he says. I imagine that the smile he's throwing my way is meant to be charming, but I'm just mildly nauseated.

"It's Katniss, and no, we're not."

He frowns at my deadly expression, "Well, girl on fire, you really are different aren't you?"

Johanna just grins, "You bet she is, so get lost before you scare her off with your slimy personality." He shrugs and makes his way over to the combat section. Good, now Peeta can deal with him.

"He really isn't all that bad," she tells me, picking up her own piece of rope and beginning a careful knot. "It's all an act, when it comes down to he can be rather funny, and he's deathly loyal—he just doesn't always know when to turn it off. And seeing as how almost everyone prefers his crazy flirtatious personality, he's genuinely surprised when someone might prefer his actual thoughts."

I glance his way and see him teaching Peeta the basics of using a spear, "You would think he could take a hint though."

She just shrugs, "The Capitol fucks with us all," my first instinct is to duck—you don't say things like that, and you certainly don't say things like that here, but then I find myself smiling. They can't really hurt us here—not if they want us in their games. Besides, Johanna has always been the crazed uncontrollable victor, everyone knows that. The Capitol is more or less used to ignoring her ramblings. "I'll talk to him," she continues, "He's being brainless. He's not even interested in you, wouldn't touch you if you begged. His heart has been taken for years."

I look up at her quickly, her? Finnick is in love with Johanna? I did not expect that. But then she's laughing and I'm blushing, "Now who's being brainless. The two of you… not me. We're friends I suppose, but who would be in love with me?" She looks both ways and then whispers exaggeratedly, "Haven't you heard? I've killed people!"

I laugh, a real full laugh. That's the kind of jokes Gale and I used to make, before everything else. The kind of jokes that just fill you and make you not take things so seriously for a moment. It is serious, it's so serious. This entire room is full of murderers, drug addicts, and alcoholics—and their all training to kill each other, or be killed. There isn't anything funny about any of this, and yet when Johanna says that, with a small smirk and her wild eyes, suddenly our situation seems far more hilarious.

Peeta and Finnick hear our laughter and look towards us, along with most of the other victors, Peeta looks mildly nervous, seeing me cackling with a madwoman, but Finnick seems somehow calmer. Perhaps he knows that Johanna is saving them right now, she's the one winning me over—which is probably a rare occurrence between the two of them.

"You've got a sense of humor, Girl on Fire. Try not to lose it," she says to me with a grin, and happily produces a perfectly tied noose. "Look at me, I can make a noose…very useful in the Hunger Games…Well if you give me enough time, and someone doesn't mind sticking their head in it." She tosses it on the table.

She saunters away and I catch myself having that same dumbfounded expression that she seems to always leave me with. Strange woman.

It's several hours later when I finally leave the training center, hopping into the empty elevator I allow myself to relax and take off my mask. I don't have to be the Girl on Fire anymore tonight.

"Hey Katniss," a voice says from my left, and I jump. Finnick is standing there, hands crossed casually across his chest and a light smile playing on his lips. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's fine, you didn't." I say quickly. "I just didn't realize anyone else was in here."

"Yea, I slipped in at the last moment. I swear I wasn't trying to freak you out," he says apologetically. He's looking at his feet, almost awkwardly. It looks like Johanna spoke to him. "Look, Katniss, I'm sorry about before—and yesterday. I just go into autopilot sometimes and, well most people like me that way. I didn't mean to give you the wrong impression or really make you uncomfortable. I'm really not that kind of person."

I nod slightly, trying to see past the Finnick that I have been watching on the television for all these years. The Finnick who covers the pages of every magazine in the Capitol. I try to see who he was before he became the youngest ever Hunger Games victor, and broke the record for the most kills. He still has an air of mischief about him, and a bit of arrogance. But he also seems to genuinely care that he's upset me, and there's a certain slight annoyance with himself for falling into that personality so easily.

"It's okay, Finnick," I say finally. "We all have our ways of coping."

He smiles, and I'm pleased to see that it holds none of the sleaze which his earlier grins projected. Maybe there is hope for fishboy. "I'm not upset," I continue, "And I'm going to talk to Peeta about an alliance. But either way, if we say no it isn't because of you."

He tilts his head curiously and studies me for a moment, "You're honestly worried about my reaction?" he asks perplexed. I just shrug. "You really are something else entirely, Katniss Everdeen. I'll see you tomorrow." He shakes his head and exits smoothly when the elevator stops on his floor.

Later that night, after a long shower and a lot of food, I sit down next to Peeta on the couch. "Okay," I tell him, "What are you thinking."

"Well, for one, that group is terrifying," he says, and I laugh. I can't argue with that one, "other than that, most of them seem like a decent enough bunch. I would obviously avoid Brutus and Enobria, and Gloss and Cashmere are a bit scary. I'm also not so sure about Johanna and Finnick—though both of their partners seem nice. I think you may have been right about the two of them, they're a bit off, don't you think?"

"I like them," I say plainly. "I think we should join up with them."

He stares at me as if I've suddenly sprouted tentacles, "Seriously? I assumed that after Johanna tore off her clothes, oiled up, and started wrestling you would be out! What convinced you?"

I shrug, and smirk slightly, "Johanna promised that she wouldn't kill us right away, and if she did have to kill us, she wouldn't prolong it…"

Peeta pales and I'm laughing again, when did I remember how to laugh? "Seriously though, Peeta. I think they're good and will be helpful. I also don't think they'll mess with us."

He sighs heavily, but I know he's going to agree with me. It's probably wrong, how easily I can sway him to my decisions, but in this case it is handy. I've made up my mind, and I want them—damn, that means Haymitch was right. He'll never let me live that down.

"Okay," he says, finally. "But I want Nuts and Volts too, if we can."

"Beetee and Wiress," I interrupt quietly.

He ignores me and continues, "They may not be great fighters, but they're brilliant in their own right."

"I agree, but I don't know if Johanna and Finnick will go for it."

"Make them, Katniss. They want us, not the other way around. Besides, have you seen Finnick with his partner, Mags?" I shake my head; I hadn't paid much attention, "Katniss, he does everything for her. I don't know why she volunteered, but if it's up to him, she is going to be with him every step of the way. If we've already got a crippled, eighty year old, deaf, mute tribute slowing down the group, I don't see how Beetee and Wiress can be objected to."

I can't argue with him, he's right. "I'll talk to them Peeta, that's all I can promise."

He nods and head for his room, I can tell he's still mildly unhappy with me. I know he doesn't like my choice of allies, and he's cold in general towards me. I thought it would burn out over time, but he seems to just be growing more and more distant.

Grabbing a bag of almonds, I head up towards the roof. I don't feel like going to bed, but I also don't feel like spending the evening with Effie and Haymitch. Those two are exhausting on their own, let alone when you lock them in the same room. As I open the door I smile slightly, thinking of the last time I was here—nearly a year ago, when Peeta didn't mind dying, but didn't want to be a part of their game.

I didn't really understand him then, not fully. But I do now. Death doesn't scare me, but being used to endanger my friends and family, being forced to kill, forced to live in a certain way? That scares me. The idea that they can tell me to marry Peeta, to have children, to have 1 child, three children—whatever they want. That scares me. They can use me for whatever they please, and I have no say in the matter.

I toss an almond at the force field and catch it in my mouth, trying to focus my mind elsewhere. Peeta and I had started the game the year before, and I had found that the mildly charred nuts were rather addictive.

I continue on for a while, lost in my own musings, when suddenly I feel a presence behind me, "You know, you probably should have chosen that as your talent. It's more believable than your 'fashion line'," It's only been a day and I find I'm becoming accustomed to that voice and can identify it without turning around at this point.

"Because your ballroom dancing was so believable?" I laugh, and turn around to find her smiling. She must have just escaped her own shower, her hair is plastered to her head and she is wearing only a tank top and a pair of men's sweatpants.

"Once upon a time, before the Hunger Games, I did want to be a dancer," she explains, and I take a seat on the wall, listening intently. "My grandmother would tell me stories about the days way before the rebellion, she was completely ancient," she laughs, "she told me about things other than the politics though—everyone is always focused on the politics. She talked about old movies and music and art, about things from before her time even. She told me stories about women in elegant costumes who could dance so lightly that their feet scarcely touched the floor."

She looks down then, playing with the hem of her shirt, "It's silly, I know. But I was always fascinated by the idea. There are still dancers here in the capitol, but it's nothing like it used to be—the dancing, and the costumes, and the music—it's all different."

"That sounds beautiful," I tell her, keeping my voice soft, somehow this seems like a moment for soft voices, like we're discussing something sacred.

She shrugs, "Well that was before my Hunger Games, before I killed those kids, and before my Gran passed. That was before a lot of things. When they told me that dancing would be my talent—they thought it would make me more likable, less scary—I told them they could suck it. But I didn't really have a choice. So I did it. That was the last thing I did for the Capitol."

The idea chills. Openly telling the Capitol no? Telling them that I won't do as they say? I know what the results would be and I can't imagine ever making that decision. "You just stopped?" I ask, perplexed.

She nods lightly, leaning back to look at the stars—you can't really see them here, but I suppose even just the faintest of glimmers is comforting. "There were consequences—lots of them. Admittedly, I don't know if I would have fought them if I had realized, but I'm my own person now. I haven't pissed them off or broken the rules so much that they're willing to kill a victor, well not until now apparently."

My heart drops, "Jo, that has nothing to do with you. They're doing that because of me, because of what I've done. You can't blame yourself."

She looks at my sympathetically, brushes a hair from my eyes. My heart unexpectedly picks up speed, "Katniss, you're wonderful—you really are, but you've got to get it through you thick skull. This isn't all about you." I try to interrupt but she quirks and eyebrow at me and I'm smart enough to quiet. "You may have pulled out the berries, yea, that was a big thing. But you also got away with that. You played the game from that point on. The rest of us didn't."

"What do you mean?" I ask, and she laughs.

"Haymitch really doesn't tell you anything at all, does he? Katniss, very few of the victors have been left alone this year. Most of us are under house arrest, I was being kept in the Justice Building basement for a while. We're being threatened and harassed, and our families are having mysterious accidents. All because our districts aren't listening to the Capitol anymore, and we're not quieting them.

"I think that the Morphlings have been pretty much left alone, because they aren't affecting anything. And Finnick plays nice, but he's not willing to risk the people he loves, understandably. Besides, he's been playing the game so long, I think when he finally stops he's going to have a breakdown. Other than that, nearly all of the victors are causing trouble—goodness knows I have," she grins. "So stop worrying that this is entirely your fault, you are the most behaved out of all of us."

I'm in complete shock, and I know that I'm worrying Johanna when a few minutes go by without me saying anything. I just don't know what to say. The entire country is apparently in rebellion, and no one had informed me. I mean sure, I had heard about 8, and rumors about 4, but nothing like this.

"This is really happening," I say, and she nods.

"So will you align with me?" she whispers, and I smile. Trick question.

Still, it doesn't matter what question I'm answering, it's all the same, "Yes."

She smiles, "So in the games?"

"Peeta and I are in," I tell her, forcing myself back to our current reality. We aren't rebelling right now—there are no choices right now. "He wants Beetee and Wiress as well."

She rolls her eyes predictably, "Fine, but they get the same deal as Peeta. If they can't keep up, we leave them behind."

"And Mags?" I ask, and she grins.

"Oh, I see. He saw the two of them, and made some assumptions—figured if we would slow down for her, we'll slow down for the lot of you. Poor bread boy, he's so dim. He's seen them talk, and work, and eat—he hasn't seen how they can move together. Mags won't slow us down; in fact, I doubt your Peeta can keep up with that old broad."

I look at her questioningly, but she just shakes her head, smiling, "Just don't worry about old Mags, and tell Nuts and Volts to keep up."

"Deal."

We sit for several more minutes, and I teach Johanna about the force field and the nuts, she's amused, and when I disappear back to my floor, claiming a desperate need for sleep, I leave them with her.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you continue. Please review and let me know what you think!