Johanna knew it was a dream. It began innocuously enough, with her walking back into her first home in 12 with a fresh kill tucked into her belt. Nothing was out of place in their rundown, small home at the edge of the Seam. The small porch was still covered in a thin layer of soot. The windows still had the bedraggled curtains swaying in front of them from an unknown breeze. It wasn't until she heard her father's deep singing voice booming from within the kitchen that she truly realized she had stepped into an alternate universe. Celadine and Aurelia skittered in front of her, hollering hellos as they chased each other through the small house. John sat in an armchair, his back hunched over, sharpening a hunting knife with repetitive, rhythmic zings of metal on metal. Johanna tried to create saliva in her mouth, but the air was far too dry.

No one looked at her as she walked through the house. It was as if it wasn't a dream; she was a ghost. Johanna took off her belt and disregarded it to the side. The kill made a squelching noise as it hit the floor, something that would've bothered her mother if she were young. She kept such a neat house while Johanna's father was alive. After he died, the soot piled inches high on the wooden floors and the dishes cluttered in the sink. Johanna kicked soot into the air from the floorboards with her black boots. It was only then she realized she was dressed in the Mockingjay outfit, complete with Katniss's bow over her shoulder and her axes tucked into the belt. The house was warm, much warmer than it had ever been when they were living there, and it was stifling underneath all her armor. Johanna felt beads of sweat trickle in hot rivers down her back. She turned right, heading into the small kitchen. The tiny table they ate usually dinner around, typically packed with loud kids, was eerily quiet. Her father and mother sat opposite one another, staring lifelessly into each other's eyes. Her sisters sat side by side with their gazes down toward the table. Her brother was the only one who looked up at her as she entered.

"There's no place for you," John said to her in a toneless voice that sounded vaguely like him, and vaguely like a stranger. Johanna moved her brown eyes over the table, observing that now there wasn't a space for her anymore. It had shrunk considerably since she walked in. "You have to go," he urged. "There's no place for you."

"I don't want to go," Johanna replied softly. "I want to stay here." This is all she wanted. Her family. Her father's rakish grin, her mother's - before her father's death - gentle voice, her sisters' loud chattering, and her brother's gentle strength. All she ever wanted, ever since her father died was her family. To curl into her father's arms and hear him sing her to sleep again. To braid her little sisters' hair. To be a part of something that wasn't killing and loneliness, beautiful and murderous girlfriends, and power-hungry leaders.

"You can't stay here," her mother ordered sternly, tearing her eyes away from her husband to look at Johanna. Her blonde hair was spun back into a bun, as she often wore it before Johanna's father died. Afterward she barely even made an effort to even comb it. "You must go. Go now. She's coming for you."

"Please let me stay," Johanna begged. "Is it because I failed? Because I failed everyone?" Johanna raised her hand to wipe her tears, and she realized her hands were covered in dried blood. She used her forearm instead, wiping her hands on her uniform, but the blood was stained there like bright crimson paint. "I'm so sorry," she choked out. "I let everyone down. I was supposed to protect them." She implored her father. "I was supposed to protect them. I know I didn't, b-but please. Let me stay here, please, Daddy. Don't make me go!"

"No!" her father shouted in a dissociated voice. It was harsh and garbled, not the smooth, gentle man she remembered. Johanna trembled in fear. Her father never shouted. He was a proud, stubborn man, but he was not one to raise his voice, especially not toward his children. "Get out of here, Johanna!" he thundered, rising from his chair and knocking it to the ground in the process. The room erupted in flames, forcing Johanna to stumble backward out of the kitchen. It blocked her view of her family, but through some of the licking flames she could see them, sitting around the kitchen table, burning to death in silence. Her father's deep brown eyes bored into hers as the fire curled and melted his skin. The rest of the house was rapidly engulfed in yellow and orange flames, the heat pushing her out toward the back door. She felt a hand grasp her wrist and she whipped her head around to see Katniss.

"I have to go back for them!" Johanna shouted, wrenching from Katniss's grip, but the younger girl was so strong. Too strong. Johanna struggled futilely as Katniss pulled her from the flaming homestead and out into the frigid air. "Katniss, let me go!"

"I can't," Katniss replied plaintively, gray eyes desperate. "You have to come with me, Johanna. They're gone. Everyone's gone." The severe look on her face began to soften and Johanna raised her eyebrow. Katniss smiled at her. It wasn't her smile though. It was the smile of a wolf before it opens its jaw and takes the death bite. "You are mine, and I am yours."

"No!" Johanna cried, breaking free of her grip. "I'm not! I don't want to come with you. I want to go home!" Katniss lunged forward and knocked Johanna to the ground, wrapping her hands around Johanna's throat. Johanna felt the pressure increasing on her larynx as Katniss pressed down on her. Johanna's eyes widened as Katniss's body burst into hundreds of jabberjays, all of them screaming, flapping their wings in erratic circles above her head. Johanna was about to try get up to go back inside, but the tiny home erupted into ashes like a volcano, covering Johanna in thick layers of soot. It flew up her nose and into her mouth, choking her. The impetus of the ash's descent kept her stuck to the ground. The gray material floated downward in puffy clouds, effectively burying Johanna. She allowed the soot to pile on top of her in thick sheets, hoping it would suffocate her and bring the sweet release that she wanted.

A mockingjay sounded in the distance. Johanna wished she were dead.

But she wasn't dead. A lull in her morphling drip dragged her out of the depths of her cyclic nightmares and into consciousness. Her eyes blinked up at the ceiling. One of the lights flickered above her head as her tired eyes struggled to open. When her deep brown eyes finally dragged down her body she took in the damage. Her left arm was completely wrapped in gauze from shoulder to wrist, with just a small opening at her elbow for the morphling drip. Johanna found she couldn't really turn her head, only move her eyes. Her right arm was wrapped as well, but not as much as the other arm. She wiggled her legs underneath the blanket and winced at the searing pain in her left thigh. "Ow," she rasped in a hoarse voice.

Suddenly there was noise to her right, and Johanna moved her eyes to catch the shadowy figure rustling on that side of the hospital room. "She's awake," the voice barked. The figure grabbed a remote and pressed some buttons. Within moments a doctor and a nurse came flying in the room. "She just woke up," the voice explained.

The doctor rattled off some information that Johanna didn't understand. Something about vitals and heart rate. All she knew with any confidence was that she was alive. She kept her eyes open in slits as the doctor messed around with the machines that surrounded her bed, watching her with disinterest. The nurse finished within a few minutes and left the room, and the doctor turned to her. "Miss Mason, can you hear me?"

"Unfortunately," Johanna choked out. Her throat felt like someone had started a fire inside her esophagus. Everything seemed to require so much effort, even just breathing.

Johanna heard a snicker from somewhere in the room, but she kept her eyes on the doctor speaking to her. "Good. Do you know where you are?"

"The Capitol." The Capitol. The place that had stolen from her all of which she held dear. The beeping of her heart rate monitor doubled. Her right fist clenched but she couldn't make a fist with her left hand. She stared at it, trying to will her fingers into clasping together. They wouldn't budge.

"That's right," the doctor answered brightly. "I'm Doctor White. I'll be taking care of you while you convalesce."

Johanna snickered. "Doctor White? Snow must love you. White walls, white roses, white lights, white doctors." Johanna squinted at the woman, who was remarkably dark-skinned against her white lab coat. "In a manner of speaking."

The woman huffed out one short laugh. "If Snow was fond of me, I wouldn't be alive to take care of you." Johanna furrowed her eyebrows. "I suppose you'd be interested to know I'm not from the Capitol. I'm from District Three."

District Three. Technology. "Beetee," Johanna said aloud, her mind trying to piece together the information. It was surprisingly difficult. It was like trying to thread a needle blindfolded to make the information piece together correctly. "Did I hit my head? Why do I feel like I can't think?"

"The morphling," Doctor White responded kindly, "combined with a nasty head injury. If we don't give the medicine to you, you'll be in a world of pain. We've lessened your dosage in the last few days to begin weaning you off of it. Unfortunately one of the side effects is massive grogginess. Combined with your concussion, to be frank, I'm surprised you're even awake this soon."

Johanna's eyes widened. "Few days? How long have I been here?"

"Six days," she answered. "You were very badly burned and you nearly lost usage of your left arm in the explosion six days ago. You sustained major burns to your left arm and leg, as well as your neck and parts of the left side of your face. The previous wound in your left arm had festered but we were fortunately able to stop the damage before you lost the arm entirely. It will be a while before you get full feeling and range of motion back."

Johanna closed her eyes and felt a heat rush over her body. She could still feel the snow in her mouth and the heat on her back. The only parts of her that weren't covered by another body were burned. Her eyes flew open. "Katniss." Her panicked gaze fell on the other woman in the room, who Johanna finally realized was Jackson. "Katniss?"

Doctor White gave Johanna a tight smile. "I'll be back in a while to check on you and take off the wrap. Glad to have you back, Miss Mason."

Once the doctor left the room, Jackson stepped forward. Her normally tired features looked even more haggard than usual. The circles under her eyes were as dark as nightlock berries. "Katniss is alive," Jackson informed softly, but with her usual strict delivery. Johanna expelled the anxious breath from her lungs. "She covered you in the explosion so she took some serious burns to her back and her limbs. They put her in some kind of intensive care unit. Pieced together her skin, just like they did to you." Johanna eyed the bandages on her arm. Fire mutts. That's what they were now. They'd always been two souls forged together by fire. Now they'd look the part.

"John," Johanna whispered, her throat closing. She met Jackson's eyes, but she knew the answer. Every time her eyelids closed, she could see the burgundy coat go up in flames, with her brother's little soldier body inside. "He didn't make it, did he?"

Jackson blinked a few times and Johanna could swear the 13 native was going to cry. The lump in Johanna's throat expanded. "No," Jackson replied. "He didn't." Jackson leaned forward, taking Johanna's hand between her two calloused ones. Johanna jerked out of her touch and ignored the flash of hurt in Jackson's eyes. "I'm so sorry, Johanna."

"You were supposed to protect him," Johanna accused in a low hiss. "Get him to safety, that's all I asked."

"I know." Jackson's eyes dropped to Johanna's blanket. "I got everyone to a small camp. Just as we got there, John saw the medics streaming toward the Capitol. They had gotten wind that there was a group of children guarding the mansion." Jackson tightened her fists into balls. "I was rendezvousing with a commander and he snuck out. None of us saw him leave." Jackson backed away from Johanna's bed, her skin flush with anger as she paced around the room. "I should have made him come with me. But he was so worried about you; he said he wanted to be left alone. I never should've left him alone. I should have known he'd go after her. He's a Mason."

Johanna was briefly puzzled, but then the pieces began falling into place. John wanted to get to Prim. Just like she had wanted to protect Katniss. They both had a soft spot a mile wide for the Everdeen women. Johanna's eyes filled with hot tears. Even in his last moments, John was trying to be a hero. Instead he met the same fate as everyone else in her family. Her father in the mine. Her sisters in the Hob. Fire had consumed them all. The anger rose inside Johanna's chest like the swell of a wave. "Is Snow still alive?"

Jackson nodded absently. "He's awaiting trial. It should only be another few days. Then they'll stage his execution."

Johanna snorted contemptuously. "It's always a show. He's going to love that." Her chest rumbled. "I have to make him pay."

Jackson rolled her shoulders back and ran her long fingers through her hair. "Your brother died a brave soldier, Johanna," Jackson said abruptly. "His shouting about the parachutes got some of the kids and the rebel medics to move out before the second round of explosions went off. He saved their lives. He knew it was a trap. No one else saw it coming, but he did."

"Whose trap?" Johanna inquired sternly. "Whose trap was it? I saw the Capitol seal on it. But that set up. That snare." Johanna didn't have to continue for Jackson to understand her. The rebels had been using the Capitol's playbook since Two, possibly even before. The parachutes worked like a perfect, massively executed snare. "Who deployed that hovercraft?"

Jackson let out a long, tired breath. Her hair, nearly always pulled back in a short ponytail, was hanging loosely around her face. Johanna thought she looked younger that way, even if she was exhausted. "Honestly, I don't know. Does it matter? War means taking responsibility for all lives lost. If you want to know who's responsible, we all are."

Johanna narrowed her eyes. "So you think there's a chance Coin dropped those parachutes?"

"I'm saying it doesn't matter, Johanna. The war is over. If you're seeking vengeance, then that list includes all of us. Everyone. And that's exhausting." Jackson perched on the side on Johanna's bed. "All you have to be concerned about is getting better. Getting out of this bed and living the life you deserve." Johanna's relentless gaze made Jackson sigh irritably. "Snow can wait. I'm sure President Coin will let you be the executioner. But that's not what's important. None of it is. The war is won and that means you're not the Mockingjay anymore. You're just a girl. Just Johanna Mason. Not a symbol or a tribute or a leader. Just a girl who gets to live the rest of her life."

Johanna's eyes slowly turned upward toward the ceiling. Not being the Mockingjay would be a blessing if there was anyone left to share it with. Who cared what she was anymore? She was no one with no family. She was a face on posters. A name people would remember for a generation, maybe, and then forget. A name that would exist only etched in a podium inside the Training Center, if they even kept the Center. There would be no more Masons, and nobody would care.

"Being the Mockingjay is the only thing that's kept me alive," Johanna said evenly. "That's where my worth begins and ends." She lolled her head to the side to get a glimpse of Jackson. "Don't deny it. The only reason you were tasked with babysitting me was because of my importance to the rebellion. Now there is no rebellion. Now there's nothing. There's nothing left of me if I'm not the Mockingjay."

"Not to me," Jackson supplied in low tones.

"Bullshit."

Jackson glared over at Johanna, with an anger Johanna wasn't sure she'd ever seen from the older woman. "If my only concern was babysitting the Mockingjay, I never would've followed you into the Capitol after Boggs died." Both of their dark eyes flashed with the same strain. "You owe it to him and to everyone else who perished on those streets to take this opportunity. Get better. Kill Snow. Go home. And live the life this place had tried to rob you of since the day you were reaped." Jackson pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. "For whatever it's worth to you, you're important to me. Johanna Mason is important to me."

After a long, meaningful stare, Johanna's face relaxed. "Geez, Jackson. Who knew you were so fond of me?"

Jackson's stern expressed melted and she managed to roll her eyes. "What can I say? You grew on me." Her eyes looked away. "Like a wart." Johanna tossed her a playful glare. The corner of her mouth quirked upward and she reached forward, stroking Johanna's hair. A short knock on the door broke their contact, and both pairs of brown eyes turned to the source of the noise. Johanna used the small electronic pad on her armrest to make the upper half of the bed raise a little, only to reveal President Coin's slim figure in the doorway. Jackson straightened up. "Madame President."

"Soldier Jackson," the woman greeted in smooth tones. "I'm very glad to see you alive and well." Jackson kept her gaze unwaveringly intent on the President. Johanna could only barely notice the crackling of tension between the two strong-willed women. "I was hoping my eulogies for you both were for naught. No matter. You did as you were tasked and provided a successful mission. You delivered the Mockingjay to safety."

Jackson and Johanna shared a look. Jackson's voice took on the clipped tones Johanna remembered from before their departure to the Capitol. "Yes, I'm very pleased Johanna is in one piece, despite all the efforts to the contrary."

President Coin nodded, the ghost of a smirk on her face. "I do hope you'll apply that same extraordinary skill as my Secretary of Peace." Johanna clenched her jaw, mostly to prevent it from slacking in shock of betrayal. Don't want anything from you my ass, she thought bitterly. "May I have a few moments alone with Miss Mason?" She turned her steely gray eyes to Johanna. "That is, if you're feeling up to visitors."

Johanna wet her lips and nodded her head. "Sure. As long as they don't pump me with morphling again, I'll be lucid for a little while."

Jackson gave President Coin a deferential nod. "Nice seeing you, President Coin." Johanna watched the dark-haired woman make for the exit, shooting the President's turned back what Johanna could've sworn was a distrustful glance before disappearing out the door. That morphling must've been quite a dose.

President Coin picked up a nearby chair and placed it perpendicular to Johanna's bed. She sat down and crossed her legs, linking her fingers over her knee. Her dress had changed from the gray jumpsuits of Thirteen to some other gray outfit, but one that was more fitting of someone who was now commanding a country. It was a Capitol outfit, with snaps and buttons and asymmetrical cuts, though in the same drab gray hue. "I hope you understand how thoroughly relieved I am that you are alive. And how equally disappointed I am that you put yourself and your squad in that danger." Johanna blinked away from the President's face. "But to say I wasn't expecting it would be dishonest," she admitted with a quirk of her lips. "How are you feeling, Johanna?"

Johanna didn't hold back on rolling her eyes before settling her gaze on the President. "How do you think?"

"I imagine not very well." Her eyes dipped down before they found Johanna's again. "I wanted to come here to extend my condolences for your brother. He was an exceptional soldier. And, from what I witnessed, a very devoted brother."

"He was the only good thing I had," Johanna accused in an abrasive voice. "The only thing worth saving in this world. And I failed him. Just like I failed my sisters. Like I failed Boggs and Cashmere and Castor, the Leegs and Messalla."

President Coin allowed silence to fall between them before speaking again. "I don't see any of that as failure, Johanna. Loss of life, no matter how dear, is always tragic. However, we cannot let them hold us back from the future. Which, because of you and all of those people you mentioned, is immeasurably brighter."

Johanna moved her gaze upward and over to the wall adjacent from them. The bitterness she felt inside her seemed to sit on her tongue, coppery like blood. "That's a good speech," Johanna remarked, painfully moving her neck to look at the woman. "No offense, Madame President, but I'm tired, and I don't think you're here to practice pep talks."

There was a brief flicker of some inscrutable emotion in the woman's eyes before they settled into their normal placidity. "Very well. I have made sure that former President Snow's execution will be public, in the City Circle, and performed solely by you. In the, what I imagine will be revelry beyond that, I ask that you make a short speech. The content of which is largely up to you, but there will be script points I would like you to hit. Cressida will go over the speech with you." Cressida lived. Johanna breathed another sigh of relief.

"I don't see how my support matters anymore. There is no rebellion. I'm not the Mockingjay." Johanna eyed the woman's outfit. "You're already in power."

The gray-haired woman's lips wavered. "Johanna, you were the Mockingjay long before you accepted the role. And you will continue to be long after you've hung up your wings." Johanna swallowed. "It is part of your spirit. It is as much a part of you as your boldness, your obstinacy, and your empathy." President Coin stood, towering over Johanna in her bed. "And I require all of who you are to make my transition into power as easy as possible for all of Panem," she smiled, "once you're back in good health." The President looked down for a moment before adding, "I am genuinely pleased to see you again." The corner of her mouth twitched, and Johanna thought she detected a slight pink tint to the pale woman's cheeks.

Johanna swallowed. "Why did you send her to the Capitol?" Johanna looked up at the woman, trying to will lucidity into her veins. The morphling drip had started up again and she felt the deep pull of twilight. "Katniss. All I asked for was her safety."

President Coin compressed her lips and wiped her face clean of expression. Johanna wished the morphling hadn't erased her ability to suss out emotions. That, coupled with her lingering concussion, made her intuition hazy. "And when that conflicts with the needs of the rebellion, I put the country in front of you. I saw her participation in the propos as an opportunity to bolster support within the Capitol, where there were still pockets of lingering Capitol sympathies. She should have been safe. Had you not taken it upon yourself to get to the mansion, she would have been." President Coin clasped her hands. "I did not put Katniss Everdeen in danger. You did." She let those words sink in with a hard stare into Johanna's eyes. "Get some sleep, Johanna. I need you healthy and well-rested in the days and weeks ahead."

Johanna waited until the door clicked closed to allow the painful lump of guilt to spread in her chest. The morphling began pulling her toward sleep and she didn't fight it. At this point, her nightmares weren't any worse than her real life. The only emotion she could feel with any clarity was anger. Her anger was an axe poised to strike, but Johanna didn't know which target to hit.

Several days and arguments with her doctor later, Johanna was out of her arm cast and into a sling, and finally allowed to walk around the hospital. Walking was more painful than she let on, but they wouldn't let her stalk the halls if they knew the amount of pain she was in. A young nurse flashed her a smile and Johanna grabbed the girl by the arm.

"Everdeen," Johanna stated firmly. "Katniss Everdeen. What room is hers?"

The nurse looked down at her clipboard. "I-I'm not sure. We have a lot of patients, Miss Mason. I don't think she's on my rounds." The young woman looked around her. "Where's your doctor?" She eyed Johanna's leg, the patchwork skin visible through her hospital gown, then dragged her hazel eyes to Johanna's unfocused brown ones. "Shouldn't you be in a wheelchair?"

"No. Forget it." Johanna limped past the nurse, heading toward the main desk on her floor. Before she could get there, she spotted a familiar flash of blonde hair emerge from a doorway. "Mrs. Everdeen!" Johanna sped up her pace, feeling heat rush to her wounded leg. Once she caught up to where the woman stood, Johanna was out of breath. "Is this her room?"

Mrs. Everdeen leveled her placid blue eyes at Johanna. "She's very tired, Johanna. I don't think she's up to seeing anyone." Like her daughter, the eldest Everdeen woman had the uncanny ability to make her face impossible to read, but Johanna got the distinct feeling she was being brushed off.

Johanna narrowed her eyes at the older woman, taking in her tired features and rigid posture. It was the last stand of a woman protecting what she loved. Johanna knew the expression well. "I'm sorry about what happened to - to-" Johanna gulped. "I'm sorry."

Mrs. Everdeen's face showed a brief moment of sympathy. "Both of my daughters made their own decisions," she reasoned, her eyes dropping to the floor. "Perhaps I should have exerted more influence on them, but they in all likelihood would not have listened to me. They've always been free spirits. Like their father."

Johanna allowed herself a small smile. "Weren't you the one who went against your parents and married outside of your class?" Johanna raised her eyebrow. "You can't be surprised you raised rebels."

Mrs. Everdeen gave her a tight-lipped smile before gently working out tension in her right temple. "I suppose that's true." Her eyes met Johanna's and the woman let out a sigh. "She's probably not asleep yet, if you want a few moments."

"Thank you," Johanna breathed with relief. "I won't overstay my welcome, I swear. I just need to see that she's okay." Mrs. Everdeen opened the door for Johanna, who painfully limped into the room. She caught Mrs. Everdeen's watchful eye and carefully steadied herself, shaking off her concern. Once the door shut, Katniss's eyes flicked up to it. Johanna recognized the drug-addled lack of focus in her gray hues. Morphling. Her eyes dropped to the plug in her arm and Johanna's own elbow crook itched. She strode to the side of the bed as quickly as she could. "You're alive."

Katniss snorted half-heartedly. "No kidding, brainless." The levity in her face slowly vanished and she reached her hand out toward Johanna. The raven-haired girl skipped the pretense of a chair and sat on the edge of the bed and took Katniss's hand. Her arms were burned in many places, the skin flaking and peeling right up to her shoulder. The side of her face and neck looked the same. The fire must have singed her hair, too, because it was many inches shorter than Johanna remembered. "But I'm more glad to see that you're alive."

"That makes one of us," Johanna muttered. Katniss raised a partially singed eyebrow and Johanna sighed. "Not that I'm not grateful. I get to see you, so in that sense I'm glad, but the cost..." Johanna's eyes trailed over Katniss's wounds.

"Have you seen Gale?"

Johanna blinked a few times at the question, but then shook her head. "No. I've only seen Jackson and Coin."

"He came to see me. He apologized for not being there with us in the Circle." Katniss chuckled acerbically. "Like he's stupid enough to walk into one of his own snares."

Johanna heart sank into her chest. "You think the rebels dropped those parachutes." Katniss was so matter-of-fact about something Johanna had been agonizing over, she was stunned. Maybe her hijacking made her see with more clarity. Or maybe it had poisoned her against them. Johanna was almost more upset that she couldn't be sure.

"I know that was Gale and Beetee's brainchild," she explained simply. "I don't know if Snow stole it or Coin used it, but I recognized the snare." Katniss watched Johanna's face for long beats. "You want to know who it was."

Johanna nodded. "I need to avenge my brother."

"And your sisters?" Katniss questioned. Off the offended and pained look Johanna gave her, Katniss continued. "Snow definitely killed them. And you're considering what, assassinating Coin instead? For potentially doing something you can't prove she did. I mean, it's not like she authorizes every action herself, right?"

Johanna shrugged. "I don't know. Something as big as blowing up a bunch of children? She had to know." The betrayal in Johanna's voice broke her sentence into pieces.

"Do you really believe that?" Johanna's gaze fell heavily on Katniss. "The way she talks about you, and the way you respect her, I'm surprised you even suspect her capable of it. I'm surprised you think you're capable of killing her."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Johanna countered, feeling a heat rising in her stomach. If she were honest with herself, she was almost certain she wasn't capable of killing the woman. It gave her an ugly feeling inside, one she couldn't shake.

Katniss shrugged her shoulders. "You think she sees you like a daughter. You're wondering how she could do this to you. But maybe she had no idea you or John would be there. We did take off, away from the mission."

Johanna gulped and stared into Katniss's eyes for a few long moments. Her relationship with President Coin had been fraught with tension, but there was a level of understanding between them. A mutual respect between two women forced into positions of leadership. However, Johanna couldn't deny the implication by Katniss. "The medics, though."

Katniss swallowed. "Every available medic in Thirteen was brought to the Capitol around the time we ended up with Tigris. Those kids had been there for days. The rebel medics were dispatched that morning by President Coin to help the children stuck in the corral in front of the mansion. Prim told me. They didn't even care that she wasn't fourteen yet, they let her go with the rest to save those kids. Or so she was told, I don't know."

"Prim is alive?" Johanna's eyes closed and she could see the burgundy coat covered in flames. Her brother within it, burning alive. Saving the life of the girl beneath him. Sacrificing himself so Primrose could live. Just as Johanna had done at the reaping. She could almost hear his voice in her head, caught between being the man he'd never grow to be and the child he no longer was. 'You would've done it too.'

Katniss nodded. "She's alive. She was discharged two days ago, according to my mother, and she's been assisting in the hospital."

"John is dead," Johanna mumbled numbly. "Prim is alive." She rose from the bed and dropped Katniss's hand back to the mattress. Her thoughts began to pile on top of each other in a confusing heap. My name is Johanna Mason. I am eighteen years old. District Twelve is my home. My brother is dead. My family is dead. But Prim is alive. A headache formed above her eyebrow and she pressed her two fingers to the spot. "I-I have to go."

Katniss watched her with a combination of concern and confusion, but the tug of morphling in her veins kept her immobile. "Okay." Johanna gave her one last look before stumbling out the door. Only a few feet from Katniss's room she collapsed against the hospital wall, sliding down the cold tile. The pain in her legs nearly matched the severity of her disorienting headache. The walls began to swirl and spin like water flowing down a drain.

Before unconsciousness took her, she felt one strong arm cradle underneath her knees and one sling around her back. Suddenly there was no gravity and she was flying toward the swirling drain, clutching a small, but powerful female body. Somewhere in the cacophony inside her head she heard a voice, and smelled the faint hint of sea salt.

"You better not barf on me, girl on fire."

Johanna woke up back in her hospital room, thankfully not plugged into the morphling drip. The pain in her leg had subsided, and only a pulsing in her head remained of her headache. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw two figures that made her narrow her eyes. Effie and Haymitch.

"Oh god," Johanna groaned. "What is it? Another Victory Tour?"

Haymitch chuckled and shook his head. "Not today, sweetheart. The new President has asked all the remaining victors for a meeting. It's in about an hour." He nodded his blonde head toward his companion. Effie was in a well appointed dress again, her face painted with makeup, but not nearly as much as before. In spite of her wig, she looked more like herself. Not as much artifice as she was in the reaping, and less like a 'political refugee' from 13. "She's here to make you look less like a corpse."

"Haymitch!" Effie admonished and Haymitch grinned. Johanna shot him a look but nodded her head at his unfortunately rather accurate assessment. Effie poised herself on the edge of Johanna's bed, her bright blue eyes glossy and sympathetic. "Johanna, we are both very sorry for what happened to your brother. He is a hero," Effie stated with a rather exaggerated amount of resolution.

"He was a hero."

Effie shook her head firmly. "That is untrue. John is a hero. He lived a hero and he died a hero. And he will forever be one because no one will ever forget it. I never will. Not for a moment." Effie attempted a smile. "So you see? He can't truly be gone if he's always present in our thoughts."

Haymitch and Johanna shared a glance, and he gave her a tiny shrug. Johanna wanted to spout off about how holding his memory is not the same as holding her baby brother again, but Effie was trying. Johanna heaved a sigh. This was not the place to drop her axe of anger. "Thank you, Effie. That means a lot to me." She flicked her eyes to Haymitch, whose mouth rose briefly in a grim smile.

"Wonderful. Now, Cinna left me instructions on how to dress you. We are under the assumption that President Snow's execution will happen shortly after this meeting. The trial was," Effie plucked at her skirt, "expeditious," she finished diplomatically.

"Where is Cinna?" Johanna inquired, looking between the two of them.

"Safe," Haymitch replied in a gravelly voice. "He's in the Capitol." Another relief. Hope was coming out in drips like a leaky faucet, but Johanna was thirsty for every drop. "President Coin tasked him with designing new Peacekeeper uniforms. Something less severe."

"Can I see him?" Johanna realized she had been wrong about there being no one left she trusted. There was Cinna. Haymitch and Effie were okay, but Effie's Capitol upbringing and Haymitch's general enigmatic attitude made her wary of them both. There was always Gale, but Johanna didn't trust herself around him yet. It would be too painful to ask the question of which she was afraid to know the answer.

Effie shook her head. "No time, not before the execution. So let's get to it, shall we? Bring about an end to this awful ordeal." She looked down to her shiny watch. "We do have a schedule to keep."

Johanna managed a fond smile and shook her head. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed to begin getting up. The victor tried, unsuccessfully, to cover a wince with a yawn. Haymitch looked at her knowingly. "It's fine, mentor."

"Sure it is." His eyes flashed with sympathy. "I'll see what I can do." The older man gave Effie a pat on her shoulder before exiting the hospital room.

Effie and Johanna busied themselves with dressing Johanna in something appropriate for the meeting. Black boots, thick socks, a pair of cargo pants that resembled the ones she'd worn to the Capitol assault, and a thick black sweater that was, upon Johanna's inspection with her palms, padded with some armor. Once she was dressed, and her hair combed into something that didn't resemble a rat's nest, Effie consulted her watch and clicked her tongue. "Well that took longer than expected."

Johanna rolled her eyes. "You did spend a lot of time pulling threads from my sweater."

Effie hardened her stare. "Presentation is key, Johanna. It's not my fault this dreadful fabric is pilling everywhere. My goodness, you're the reason we're all even alive and not preparing for another Victory Tour, and they can't spare some cashmere." Cashmere. Another person Johanna failed. The District 1 victor's entire tumultuous life, all culminating in being torn apart by mutts. Mutts sent after Johanna, to kill her. Effie didn't notice her faraway expression and let out an irritable sigh. "We must hurry now. I don't want you to be late for your meeting. Once you're finished, they'll escort you into a changing room to prepare for the execution. I'm to understand that your Mockingjay suit was recovered and will be waiting for you."

"Fabulous," Johanna remarked. Effie ignored her sass and escorted Johanna from her room. The hospital was a short distance from the mansion, which looked vastly different than Johanna remembered. It was sprawling with a flat, rolling lawn of snow leading to the entrance. Effie's plush coat swept at the ground as they walked, but her high heels made no noise against the inch-thick layer of puffy white snow that blanketed the ground.

Effie navigated them both expertly through the hallways Johanna vaguely recognized from the victory party. Life had been different then. Her sisters and brother alive. No rebellion, at least not like it became. No hijacked Katniss. No Soldier Hawthorne. It felt bizarrely quaint now, looking back upon it. Simpler times when just a mockingjay symbol printed in sugar on a cookie was a dangerous thing. Now every corner held dangerous things.

When they reached the meeting room Effie ushered her inside, then promptly left. Sitting around a sleek metal table were the remaining victors, none of them looking particularly well. Beetee, Enobaria, Annie, Finnick, Gale, Katniss, Haymitch, and Lyme. Enobaria, Beetee, and Annie were clad in the gray 13 uniforms, but the rest of them wore something similar to Johanna's near-combat outfit. Even Katniss, whose beautiful face had a burn scar running from her neck to her temple, was dressed in the same outfit.

President Coin entered from a side doorway, looking much the same as she did when Johanna saw her days earlier. She glanced around the room, and seemingly satisfied, gave Johanna a nod. "Please sit down, Miss Mason." Johanna obeyed and sat between Beetee and Annie, across from Katniss and a chair over from Gale. He didn't meet her eyes. "I've asked you here to settle a debate. Today we will execute Snow. In the time since the Capitol's surrender, hundreds of his accomplices in the oppression of Panem have been tried for their crimes and await execution. However, the suffering in the districts has been so extreme that these measures appear insufficient to the victims. Some are suggesting the complete annihilation of anyone with Capitol citizenship. Of course, this is impossible if we are to maintain a sustainable population. An alternative has been placed on the table. In lieu of this mass execution, we stage one final, symbolic Hunger Games, using only the children of those who held the most power. We have come to a consensus to let the victors decide. A majority will carry the vote. The public will know this was done with your approval, but your individual votes will be kept secret for your security."

"If it's just victors, what's she doing here?" Enobaria inquired scathingly, looking at Katniss. "She's won no Games."

President Coin remained steadfast. "I have invited every living survivor of the Hunger Games to this meeting. Soldier Everdeen certainly meets that criteria."

A long, chilly silence spread throughout the room. "Is this a joke?" Lyme inquired, sitting back in her chair. The broad-shouldered woman crossed her arms over her chest. The shock on her face was as plain as her bright blonde hair.

"No," Coin replied coolly.

Haymitch looked much steadier than everyone else, Johanna noticed, as if he had been expecting this. "Was this Plutarch's idea?"

President Coin shook her head, her curtain of hair waving ever so slightly. "No, it was mine. It seemed to satisfy the need for vengeance with the least loss of life. You may cast your votes now."

Uneasiness settled around the victors. The proposition seemed ludicrous. Kill hundreds of thousands of people, or twenty-three innocent children who had the misfortune of being sired by powerful men and women. All of them eyed each other carefully, trying to gauge just how alike they all were. They were no strangers to violence. They all held hatred for the Capitol, probably more so than anyone else in the districts. But they also shared the unique experience of knowing what it was like to slaughter innocent children.

"Putting the blood on our hands," Gale murmured, and the President's attention turned sharply to him. "Just like before. Pitting us against each other." Gale firmed his stare. "I won't kill any more of the Capitol's slaves for them," he quoted, standing to his feet. Johanna felt a chill run through her, as she had when Cashmere had stated those words during the interview before the Quell. "I vote for nothing. If you want to have the blood of children on your hands, you do it yourself. You want to burn this place to the ground, you set the fire."

"No one may abstain from the vote, Soldier Hawthorne," President Coin explained in calm tones, but the edge in her voice betrayed her impatience and anger.

"Or what?" he sneered. "What will you do? Kill all of us? Purge the rest of the victors?" President Coin aimed her glare at him and Gale crossed his arms. "There were more of us than just this," he accused smugly.

"And President Snow had most of them hunted down and murdered," she bantered with a roll of her eyes.

"Did he? Well, isn't that convenient? I wish I knew what it was like to fight a rebellion and keep my hands clean." Gale slid his chair back underneath the table. "You want to arrest me, go ahead. But I will not sit here like they did seventy-five years ago, and decide to satiate vengeance with the slaughter of children, Capitol or not." He sucked in a calming breath, but his voice retained its sharp edge. "I hate this place. Always have. But nothing will change if these are our choices."

Gale stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The rest of the victors sat in his wake, soaking in and reeling from his words. Finnick whispered to Annie, rubbing her clenched fists to straighten out the unstable former victor's fingers. Soon, they stood up as well, fingers entwined. "Excuse us, Madame President." Finnick led Annie out of the room, casting a glance toward Johanna before disappearing beyond the door. Lyme followed soon after, shaking her head and providing no explanation at all, aside from the look of disgust on her face.

President Coin stood firmly at the front of the room, leveling her blue stare at the remaining victors. Without the muddling effect of the morphling, Johanna could tell the President was incensed. Beetee, now free of his wheelchair, stood calmly from the table. "I must courteously abstain as well, President Coin. We cannot continue to view each other as enemies. It is vital for our survival that we are united." The bespectacled man left the room as swiftly as his legs could carry him. Enobaria stood up next.

"I don't care which you choose. Hunger Games or whatever. Let them get a taste of their own medicine, either way." Enobaria shrugged and sauntered out.

Katniss. Haymitch. Johanna. The three 12 natives sat in a crooked triangle around the table. President Coin cleared her throat. "We can do the vote with just three, if need be."

Haymitch leveled his eyes at the woman. "All due respect, President Coin, I think that their sentiment is mine, as well. Neither of those choices seem like good ones."

"This is not an easy decision," President Coin agreed. "That's why I wanted the consultation of the only living people who have endured the Games to decide whether or not others would share that fate, to spare the nation. I merely wish to keep the devastation to a minimum."

"It's because you don't get it," Katniss said, staring at a spot on the table. "You never lived in the districts. You never had to fear the Hunger Games."

"That is why I asked the victors here," Coin repeated.

"I understand that, but you can't expect us to subject children to the same fate, when we know what horrors the survivor faces. And to Panem, this won't be seen as mercy. Only the Capitol saw the Games as fair, as merciful, as opposed to annihilating the districts. We always saw it for what it was - a way to oppress. Oppression is still oppression, even if the victims are Capitol." Katniss's eyes moved up the table to President Coin. Johanna found herself quite proud of Katniss in that moment. It sounded like her Katniss, the Katniss before the hijacking.

"Find another way," Johanna said finally. President Coin shifted her gaze to Johanna, who stood up from the table and adjusted her arm in her sling. "Find another way. There must be. There cannot be another Hunger Games. That's not what my brother died for."

President Coin sighed heavily. The disappointment was written plainly across her face. "Unless Mr. Abernathy has something enlightening to say, I will be forced to make this decision myself."

Haymitch held her eyes for a few long moments before shrugging and rubbing the stubble on his chin. "I'm with the Mockingjay."

"Very well," President Coin clipped. She turned her attention to Johanna. "You will be escorted into the changing room, and Cressida will go over the speech with you. I would like the speech to be as succinct as possible." Johanna saw the twinge in the President's jaw as she managed a very small, almost imperceptible smile. "See you at the execution, Miss Mason."

Johanna was not escorted to the changing room. She wandered the hallways of the Presidential mansion first, navigating through abandoned hallways and peering into darkened rooms. A few turns around corners later, she came across a door with two guards posted outside. The scent of roses was stronger there than it was in the sewers, overpowering Johanna's senses, but also drawing her closer. The guards eyed her suspiciously as she approached. "You can't go in there, miss."

"Soldier," the female guard corrected. "That's Soldier Mason. You can't go in there, Soldier Mason. President's orders."

They filed in to prevent her from knocking, until Commander Paylor emerged from around a corner. "Whatever lies beyond that door, she has every right to it." Paylor looked more beaten up than when Johanna had seen her last, but who didn't? Everyone was wearing some level of damage on them. The woman drew closer. "On my authority, you may let her in."

The guards stepped aside and Johanna opened the door, closing it tightly behind her. The room was like a conservatory, glass-enclosed, and filled to the brim with white roses. The lingering smell of roses and blood nearly made her faint, but she pressed on. The room was dark, and felt heavy with the lingering dew that they must have sprayed on the roses to keep them fresh. Johanna traced her fingers along the petals of the colored roses, careful to avoid their thorny stems. She arrived at a bush of roses that were tinted a beautiful shade of emerald green. Katniss's favorite color. Johanna considered shearing one for her until she heard the voice.

"That's a nice color." Johanna froze, her fingers atop the delicate petals. The voice was familiar, like it was her own. But it belonged to someone else. A man whose face and voice figured in her nightmares even before the reaping. "The colors are nice, of course, but nothing says perfection like white."

Johanna swallowed and lifted her fingers from the rose, turning to face the voice. President Snow sat atop a stool in the room, as finely dressed as he ever was. However, his face was a sickly green color, and his wrists and ankles were shackled and outfitted with trackers. He held a white cloth in his hand, spotted with crimson blood. Johanna felt anger rising slowly from her toes up to her head, filling every vein in her body. It must have been apparent, because Snow let out a chuckle. "Still so fiery. We have much to discuss, unless you're here to bring an early end."

Johanna clenched her teeth. He deserved more than just an end. Johanna wanted to tie him to a post and set him on fire with tiny matches. She wanted to prolong his suffering for as long as possible.

He looked his age for the first time ever, as if the last forty years had fallen upon him in the last forty minutes. Still, here he was in cuffs, but in a finely-made suit and a trimmed beard, sitting in a cushy conservatory room. Maybe even sitting in his favorite room. President Coin surely arranged this; she was not so stupid as to set a bad precedent on how to treat disposed despots. She could be one.

"I'm happy you found your way to my quarters," he remarked casually. "I was hoping to extend my condolences on the loss of your brother. He seemed like a fine young man. What a waste of life."

Johanna's eyes narrowed as she fought the disorienting headache forming above her eyebrow. "And my sisters?"

He didn't even blink. "A most unfortunate accident." Johanna scoffed. "The accident being that they were there. I assure you my intention was not just to kill your sisters. I could have done so in a much less expensive way." Johanna clenched her jaw and mused upon his words, and his tone. He had no reason to lie, not now. Johanna didn't think he was lying, as much as she wanted to believe he was.

"You still leveled my district," Johanna stated firmly. "And murdered my brother."

His slithering snake smile crawled on his face. "Miss Mason, let's ignore the fact that if I had a working hovercraft at my disposal, I would have used it to flee. If that were not true, and I wished to stay to see the end of my reign, why would I waste the lives of a few hundred Capitol children?" Johanna rolled her eyes. "I am not above killing children, but not for no reason. I do not waste life. I take it very methodically."

Johanna tried to make sure the shock on her face was carefully concealed. It was not an easy task. "I don't believe you."

"Oh, Miss Mason, I thought we agreed not to lie to each other." And just like that, Johanna was floored. Just as she was when he'd visited after the Tour and informed her that he had seen her kiss Katniss. "This, you don't believe. But President Coin has been very smart. Very smart. I was watching you, and you were watching me, but neither of us were watching her."

"I have spent a lot of time with President Coin. She is not a child killer," Johanna denied. She thought about the symbolic Hunger Games. About what it implied - that Capitol children were not deserving of the same sympathy as the districts. Johanna changed tactics. "She allowed rebel medics in there. She wouldn't kill her own people."

"You seem quite certain of Alma Coin's morality." He stared at her for a while, his dead eyes searching for something. Finally, he smiled again. "She gained your sympathy by allowing you to rescue the girl," he gathered. He looked disappointed with himself. "I knew she was the key. I knew it even before you did. I should not have allowed her out of the Capitol, even in her condition." He shrugged his sagging shoulders, putting the cloth to his mouth to dab his oozing lips. "Of course, I must take responsibility for my choices. One cannot live with regrets. Regret is a poison much stronger than any other."

Johanna stared down the despicable man. He was responsible for this country, for the impoverished districts, for the continuation of the Games, and for the deaths of her family. Killing him had consumed her for so long, Johanna could barely think of anything else for the last year. Another thought dawned over her: all the things President Snow could take blame for, so could she. The rebellion. Volunteering at the reaping. Getting close enough to Katniss to make her a target. Letting Gale and Katniss get taken in the arena. District Twelve's obliteration. They both bore the weight of the rebellion on them.

Johanna's body trembled in both fear and unspent rage, and not trusting her voice, she quickly fled the conservatory room, and Snow's implications. Commander Paylor stood outside the door, a look of careful concern on her face. "Did you find what you were looking for?" Johanna stared back, pupils small and lips bloodless. Paylor took Johanna gently by the arm. "I'll bring you to the changing room."

Down a few more hallways and up one flight of stairs, Johanna found herself in a plush room not unlike the ones in the Justice Center. Johanna plunked down on the bed, smoothing the fabric underneath her fingertips. Her mind flashed with the memory of she and Katniss in the Training Center, fingers gripping bed sheets and pushing each other toward the edge of pleasure. The sensation of pleasure was so far away, Johanna didn't know if she'd ever capture it again. She was close, back in the fur shop, feeling the press of Katniss against her. But even that memory was buried beneath layers of pain and anguish, and so much anger, that the pleasure was overlooked. Johanna didn't deserve pleasure. The future for her was not as bright as President Coin seemed to think; to her it was a black chasm of uncertainty, distrust and disappointment.

A swift but gentle knock at the door zapped Johanna from her thoughts. "Go ahead." The door opened and Cinna slipped inside the room. Johanna felt the wash of relief flow through her and she stood, practically running into the man's arms. She felt the warmth of him through the leather vest he wore, and the strong flex of his muscles holding her close. "Cinna," she breathed. "They said I wouldn't see you."

"Mockingjay," he cooed back at her, pulling away from their embrace and holding her biceps in his hands. "As if they could keep me away. I'm happy to see you again."

"Likewise."

His caramel eyes bored into hers and he waved his hand. "I know you have questions, but I have a job to do. The prep team is indisposed at the moment so it'll just be me."

"With how much work I need to look even marginally human?" Johanna snorted. "Good luck."

Cinna smiled and both of their heads turned as another figure walked into the room. Cressida. She was out of her combat outfit and into what counted as normal clothes among the Capitol citizens. A black leather shirt with long cotton sleeves attached, tucked into a pair of blue pants. She still wore her combat boots, but these were not the same ash and blood covered ones from their mission.

There was a cut on her chin, but otherwise she looked unscathed. Johanna managed a small smile. "Soldier Smolder."

Cressida chuckled and the tips of her cheeks tinted pink. "Johanna." She looked between Cinna and Johanna, a friendly smile on her face. Her bright eyes moved back to the victor. "I need to go over the speech with you. President Coin has asked me to give you some points."

"Right." Johanna looked to Cinna. "Can we work around her?"

Cinna nodded. "Of course. Let's get you out of this first and to Beauty Base Zero."

Cinna led her into the bathroom and turned on the faucet in the bath. Instead of water, he allowed soft foam to fill the bathtub. Johanna stripped out of her clothes and slid her entire body into the warm suds. It tingled her skin, in the same pleasurable-painful way that a sour does in your mouth. "It's to help your skin heal. It exfoliates the dead skin off and provides some protection for the new skin."

Johanna soaked in the tub for about ten minutes, trying to will the foam to seep into her skin, into her veins, and clear her thoughts. She needed to rinse herself of her anger. No amount of water or soap or Capitol-strength foam would ever truly clean her, she thought as she rose in the tub to her feet. Cinna gently washed the soap off with tepid water. Once she was clean and free of the peeling skin, she redressed in her undergarments and reemerged into the bedroom. The stylist placed her in a tall chair in the center of the room and began his work.

Cressida cleared her throat and diverted her gaze to some papers she withdrew from a brown messenger bag at her side. "The speech is largely free-form, but there are some, um, key words the President would like you to use."

"And some she'd rather I'd not, I'm sure." Johanna gingerly placed her arm down on the chair's armrest. Movement in her left arm was still at a minimum. She could barely stretch it out. "Like parachutes?"

Cressida's eyes flickered with emotion before she spoke again. "Yes. She wants you to avoid any mention of rebel activity and losses, other than the personal ones suffered. The speech is supposed to rally the people and introduce a new future."

"There is no new future," Johanna lamented. Cinna's eyes flicked up at her for a brief moment before he returned to trimming and painting her nails. "It can't be new if we repeat the past."

Cressida looked emboldened. "Say that." She crossed to stand next to Johanna, holding the papers in her lap so she could see them. Johanna's tired eyes scanned the paper, reading the bullet points of "ideas" for her to discuss in front of all of Panem. "The most important part of this, is that you emphatically state your support of the legitimacy of her Presidency. The rest of it is up to you." Cinna moved to Johanna's left to begin applying her makeup. Cressida's eye contact never wavered. "Keep them responsible," she advised. "All of them." The director stepped backward, leaving the papers on the edge of the bed. "I will be there, directing Pollux, so look for me. All of Panem will be watching you, Johanna." Cressida's bright blue hues met with Johanna's deep brown ones. "Just say what you think. You've never stopped before," she smirked, "and don't stop now."

Johanna nodded and Cressida waved to Cinna before leaving the bedroom. Cinna placed his hand on Johanna's chin to lift it, applying a streak of eyeliner beneath her eye.

"What if I'm wrong?" Johanna queried as Cinna began combing through her hair. She didn't have to specify what she was thinking. Even if Cinna was unsure of her thoughts, Johanna felt confident he would give her good advice.

"Do you feel like you're wrong?" he peeked at her over her shoulder and she met his eyes for a moment. "There are rarely any decisions that are completely right or wrong. There are always consequences, seen and unseen. The best you can do is what you think is right. You can't regret a decision you made with the best intentions." Cinna circled around her with his fingers on his chin, his gold-flecked eyes scanning her body from toe to nose. "Perfect. Now let's get you into the suit."

Cinna helped Johanna into the Mockingjay suit once more, fastening her buckles and tightening the straps. Johanna found the pocket with the nightlock pill conspicuously missing. She frowned at its absence. Before she could comment on it, the door opened once more.

Gale stood in the doorway, clad in something that resembled the casual soldier outfits from back in Thirteen. In his hand was a long rifle. He looked at the stylist and his thin lips lifted in a brief smile. "Cinna, I'm glad to see you," Gale said as he walked in, leaving the door open behind him.

"Same to you," Cinna replied. He gave Johanna another once over. "You look ready. Do you feel ready?" Johanna nodded, but the man was unconvinced. Cinna smirked indulgently, but gave her a nod and drew her in for another tight hug. "Take care, girl on fire."

Cinna exited silently and closed the door. Gale met Johanna's eyes and she found she couldn't hold the anger that she thought she'd feel upon seeing him. As always, Gale knew what she was thinking. "I don't know if it was the rebels or not," Gale admitted abruptly. "Beetee doesn't know either. We don't know if it was ours."

"Is that why you're here?" Johanna cocked her eyebrow. "To absolve yourself of blame?"

Gale shook his head. "No. I shoulder my weight. I didn't expect them to use those parachutes on children," he spat angrily.

Johanna remained unimpressed. "Prey on weakness. It's the tenet of setting a snare, or so some hothead hunter once told me." Johanna sighed and crossed to Gale, who put the rifle down on a nearby table. "I want to be angry with you. But how can I be, when I'm just as much at fault for all the people who've died? It's my fault John was even there." Her voice broke at the end of her sentence and she shuddered. The heat memory of the explosion washed over her, filling her with warmth she didn't want. She looked up into his steady gray eyes. "At least we're getting what we wanted," Johanna whispered sardonically as Gale took her into his arms. The familiar smell of him, woods and smoke, prompted her to inhale deeply of his scent. It was like her father and her brother, rolled in one, but made alive with heat and heartbeat.

Gale snorted into her hair. "Nearly. The price was high."

"We knew that," she said, tilting her head to rest her ear against his rhythmic heartbeat. "We did it anyway. We knew the risk and we gambled it with everyone's lives."

"And our own." Gale pulled back, resting his hands on her jaw. "No one was forced into this except us. Every person who participated in this rebellion did so because they believed in it. They believed in a better Panem, a better future. They believed in you."

"And most of them are dead," Johanna remarked with a cold stare.

"If that sniper had been a better shot, then you'd have been dead, too. If that mutt had gotten closer to me, if Katniss had gone mutt again." Johanna shot him a dangerous look. "A lot of things could've happened. But what we've done, we can't undo it. If the parachutes were a last ditch effort by Coin, it worked. The war ended immediately. The Capitol assault could have taken a few more weeks, taken more lives."

Johanna felt her cheeks grow warm. "You'd kill children to make the war end early? Are you joking?"

"No," Gale replied evenly. "I'm not saying I approve. I'm saying that what's done is done, and we came out with a victory. Snow will be dead in a few minutes, and no child will have to be reaped into another Hunger Games." Johanna looked at him and found his stare intense. "No one will nearly starve or get whipped to death for poaching to feed their families. No more mine collapses."

Johanna swallowed. Her father. Her wonderful father could have been so instrumental in this rebellion. Someone she could have relied upon, could have trusted. "I know." Johanna rubbed her throat to try and work out the lump forming there. "I wish John was here."

"Me too." Gale picked up the rifle and turned the breech, pulling back the bullet chamber. Johanna saw one glistening gold bullet inside. "Firing the last shot," Gale said, irony thick in his voice, closing the breech without cocking the gun.

Johanna rolled her eyes. "I can't shoot that rifle." She lifted her elbow. "My arm."

Gale plucked a small vial from one of his breast pockets and shook it in front of her. Johanna recognized the violet hue of it. It was whatever serum they'd drank in the arena that allowed them to kill the remaining tributes.

"Where'd you get this?" Johanna inquired, taking it from his hand and examining the bottle. It was such a small amount, but Johanna recalled its power. It was immediate and overpowering.

"Haymitch got it from one of the doctors. It's not something they give away easily; it gets abused. Especially in the Career districts. At least, that's what Cashmere told me." Johanna met his eyes before he blinked away. "It's sort of like stimulant morphling. Dulls pain, but where morphling is a sedative, this is a stimulant. I'm not sure what else is in there. But people take it when they're training to heighten awareness and exercise for longer. Should allow you to use your arm. You'll still be hurt, but for a while you won't feel it."

"I remember." The scar on Johanna's thigh from Clove's knife throbbed in memory. Johanna unplugged the small cork and downed the liquid quickly, tossing the empty glass on the floor at their feet. She felt it begin to settle inside her, immediately flooding her veins. Her brain began chugging harder, her senses exploding. The smell of the room, the nuances of the lights, all flooded into her brain. The lingering odor of oil from the freshly cleaned gun. Johanna flexed her left arm up and down. The muscles were not as weak, and the pain was nothing but a dull throb. Her eyes met Gale's and she found him studying her closely. "Best I've felt in a long time."

Gale snorted. "Well it won't last forever, so let's get moving." He picked up the rifle and handed it to her. Gale rummaged in his pocket and produced another identical bullet. Johanna slowly met his gaze. "I didn't load this one. I'll leave that up to you."

Johanna slid the bullet into a flap of her Mockingjay suit. She threw her arms around Gale and pulled him back in close. The medicine made his smoky musk even more powerful, and sent her memory hurtling back to the arena, when they'd realized they could both go home. The joy in their faces, the very real way she'd wanted to kiss him in that moment. She pulled away, placing her hand on the clean-shaven side of his face. Her lips pressed against the corner of his mouth, before she rested her head near his neck.

"I'll never forgive myself for what happened to John," Johanna murmured.

Gale sighed. "And you'll never forgive me for it, either," he gathered, raising his eyebrow when Johanna pulled away to look at him. "I don't expect you to. But, we are in this together. We began this together, and we end it together." Gale inhaled a deep breath. "You've earned the right to stand in front of Snow alone and take his life for all he's taken, but I'll be there, okay? And whatever you decide to do, I'm still on your team."

Johanna nodded, gathering the strength from the serum and allowing it to truly take over all her senses. "Let's go."

The wind was cold as it wrapped around her, pushing some loose strands of hair into her face. Effie led her to the door, but she was alone as she stalked down the center of the City Circle, people filing in behind her. Not fellow victors or citizens of 12, but people she didn't know. They could be Capitol, or from 13, or even from the other districts. Now that Snow was no longer in power, the restriction between districts was probably gone. Johanna didn't know. She didn't look to inspect them. She marched forward with her rifle in her hands as she'd been instructed to by Soldier York.

The raucous crowd burst with enthusiasm as President Coin emerged onto the balcony where President Snow once stood, months ago, staring down at Johanna as she rode in her chariot. The gray-haired woman was flanked by a few people Johanna recognized from 13, and some she didn't. Maybe Capitol people she'd integrated into her ranks. Along the sides of the balcony, she saw the victors. The large screens projected her face on them, then cut to the faces of the victors, standing together with even emotions. They were among the few people not participating in the revelry. Katniss was missing, but perhaps it was because she wasn't a victor, technically. Maybe she'd gone to find Prim. Johanna found she longed for the comforting stare of the gray-eyed hunter.

Her heightened senses made her acutely aware of the tension amongst the happiness. She could even smell Snow's blood from where she stood. He was chained to a pole, on his knees, coughing globs of blood onto the stone ground in front of him. Johanna raised the rifle, and President Coin put up her hands in an attempt to hush the crowd. It quieted down some, but the low roar of people echoed in Johanna's ears. She could even hear individual voices; see the sweat on their brows as they waited for the execution.

Johanna examined the rifle. It was bolt action. If she were going to fire another round, she'd have to do so after she had unloaded the first one. With her accelerated strength, she figured she could do it in less than five seconds. Plenty of time. She pushed the bolt forward as far as she could, and then closed it. Johanna pulled the rifle up and settled it into her shoulder.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, echoing loudly like the banging of tympanic drums. She wrapped her finger around the trigger and aimed down the sight. Snow's face stared back at her through the lens, smirking. She thought of her brother. Of her sisters. Her father, and her mother. The faces of tributes she'd killed and victors that had died, of the soldiers they'd lost and Capitol rebels killed, all passed before her.

This was for them. This was for Katniss. This was for Johanna.

She sucked in a deep lungful of chilly winter air. She expelled nearly all of it, and then held her breath to steady her aim. Her finger pulled back on the trigger and her body rocked once as the bullet soared through the air. Johanna could see it, as if it was happening in slow motion. The shiny gold bullet embedded itself into President Snow's head, cracking the bone of his forehead and exploding inside his brain. The bullet exited through the back of his skull, forcing his ragged body to go limp as matter and blood spread on the snowy ground around him.

Johanna blocked out the sound of the crowd, of President Coin's voice booming over them. She took out the next bullet and loaded it into the gun, trying to make quick work of the rifle. The gun clicked and as she pulled it back to her shoulder, she was finally aware of the screaming and the gasps of the people around her. Her eyes blinked in confusion, until they settled on the body on the ground next to the execution pole. Amidst the snowfall and the fallen Snow, was the crumpled body of President Coin.

Dead, with an arrow through her neck.

Author's Note: Thanks for hanging on with this story. I know it's been a drudge recently, but things will get better. To anyone who has messaged me that I haven't responded to about Fireworks, rest assured I will be returning to it shortly. This story is nearing its end so I'd like to finish it first, but I will work on Fireworks here and there and hopefully have something worth reading soon.

Thanks to Johannas-Motivational-Insults for her beta and her slave-driving ways.