Edit: Yeah, I know I put this on the first chapter, but I meant to put it on this one when I first updated it. This has been nominated for the Energize WIP Awards, so don't forget to vote before March 20. Link on my profile!

A/N: Sorry for not updating in so long. I've had this written for quite awhile, but I haven't been willing to upload it because, well, it made me a bit depressed. And I was just lazy/busy. Just in case you don't remember what happened last (which I doubt), here's the last bit of Chapter 14.

Last Time:

Rue gives a shriek and flies at Marvel, sending Edward to safety in the process. Clove tries to hurt her but she ignores it. She knocks him off of me. For a moment she tries to fight him. She tries to kick him in the head. I can't get my shield on her, it's riveted on Edward. Marvel freezes her in place for a moment. Before she can react, he brings his hand down on her neck. There's a horrible cracking sound as her body contorts in unnatural, broken ways.

I've barely had time to mouth the word no when he knocks her into the fire.

And now, Chapter 15.

The Aftermath

I'm too close to the fire. Embers spray onto me, and I'm certain I'm going to die. I scream at the top of my lungs and role as fast as I can away from Marvel. He tries to force me into the flames. He almost thrusts me into the fire and my clothes catch. An enraged Edward saves me, knocking me out of the way and onto the ground, where I roll for my life. Existence. Whatever! I don't even care anymore!

Abruptly, I'm furious. Beyond furious; murderously enraged. My bloodlust is beyond anything I've ever felt before. I want to rip Marvel limb from limb, to dance around the fire as he turns to ash.

My clothes are on fire. I try to bat the flames off. Failure. I tear a long strip of fabric from my shirt; it still smolders. My muscles tighten, I act automatically.

My hands wrap the fiery fabric around Marvel's neck and pull. I wrap the fire around him. When the flames start to lick my fingers, I scream and let go. With Edward's help Marvel, he flies into the flames. And that's it, the end of a Tribute. I hear a cannon.

I realize, too late, that I am screaming. My shield still pulses around me, the little bubble protecting Edward and I. But it isn't enough, I couldn't save...

I fly at Clove, senseless. I want to scream at her, so I do. The snarling is still coming from me, wordless rage. They killed a little girl. How could anyone do something like that?! My shield flies out from me, the metallic taste of madness on my tongue. The bubble of sheer energy engulfs me, engulfs Edward, engulfs most of the field, with little singularities, little sinkholes for the Careers. They are not protected.

My bubble of electric fabric doesn't recoil now. It's exhausting, it makes me thirsty, but I can handle it. It pulses around me, around Edward, like a living thing. I can feel everything it touches, I can sense the world around me with it. It's like an extra limb.

Clove tries to tear my arm from my shoulders while I'm distracted. My vision turns completely red. I feel the smoldering, fiery fabric in my hands. I feel the living fabric around me. Most importantly, I feel the remnants of Jane's attack, of Clove's attack. I grope in the back of my mind for the little knives caught in my net.

No, I am not a shield, I am not a shield at all. Perhaps I was long ago, but I've changed since I lived in Forks. I've adapted and learned to live in Panem. I've learned to survive. I am no shield. I am a mirror. When I find them, I swathe the two Careers in pain.

Clove screams and collapses into Cato's arms. He cries out but doesn't falter. Maddened with bloodlust, he snarls at me. He lunges at me and knocks my body against the boulder on the other side of the field. A hiss escapes my lips and he sinks his teeth into my shoulder. The hiss becomes a shriek. I hear an awful yelp that comes from the pit of my stomach— followed by the sharp sound of shattering rock. My arm is already healing itself, but it nearly came off. I glance down at the crack that shouldn't be there.

That's when I loose it. I can't see through the haze of red. My good arm tries to strangle him and my legs knock him a dozen yards and into the ground. I fly into him, shrieking. Edward tries and fails to pull me off of him. Venom seethes from my mouth as I scream and scream and scream. I'm no longer swathing them, I'm strangulating them and radiating pure agony.

The red is pulsing anguish through me, too. I can't see, I can't feel, I'm blind, and yet somehow I'm fighting with Marvel. I want him to scream. I snap at him. Vampire flesh tastes like dirt. But venom stings. It stings, and I hate him, and I want him to sting. The sounds coming from the field are screams and shrieks and howls of pain. Then the utter rage eclipses my hearing, too.

And then the animal inside of me takes over completely. Somehow, Edward and I manage to drive Cato and Clove off of the mountain. It takes a fight that I don't witness. It's too late to choose anything. They're gone, but some part of me, and not a small part, can't accept that the danger has left. I'm still shrieking like a wounded animal. It feels like the sides of my throat have sucked shut. The screams are drowned by the horrible choking sound that follows. My lungs running out of air, because I can't breathe and I still want to shout at the top of my lungs. It becomes a sob and a shaky breathe, and then I'm screaming again.

I try to follow them, I have no choice. I stumble downhill and tumble, down, down, down, falling so far. I finally land on one of the mountain's precipices, flat on my stomach. I inhale grass. I scramble onto my feet and stagger forwards. No, I can't let them go, I can't.

The strangled cry that comes from my throat hurts. It burns like fire. I finally fall backwards, knowing that I won't be able to get back up again. Edward catches me. He spins me around and puts his hands on my shoulders, forcing me in his direction. His fingers cup my cheek.

"Bella, Bella, calm down—"

In response, I snarl and try to pull away. For once, he's stronger than me. I collapse in his arms and begin to sob. He pulls me back up to the top. I try to get a hold on myself. The hole in my chest has returned, smaller, less crippling, but there nonetheless. I'm trying not to fall over. Is it possible for a vampire to feel nauseous? The question had puzzled me in Forks. Now I know the answer.

I try to hate Marvel. I really try. He's dead now, burned to a cinder, and I can't bring myself to. It was for the honor of his District, nothing more.

"Bella, it's going to be ok—"

"Ok?! How can this be ok?! How can it ever be okay?! She's dead! She'll always be dead! Because of what the almighty Capitol did she won't even get the proper burial she deserves!" No one says anything like this in the Games. They would have to cut away from us, except for the fact that this is a death scene. They're required to show it.

"Bella," he says again, more firmly.

"And you just stood there! You saw in Marvel's mind what he was going to do, and you just stood there, and you, you. . . you didn't save her!You could have! You know you could have!"

"I would have risked your life in the process."

"And saved hers!" I shout. "She was just a little girl! She had a life! You know that they've discovered this so-called cure for vampirism— she cold have been happy! You know that she wasn't just a soulless monster! You know she had a full life ahead of her! I don't!" My voice is cracking at this point, unrecognizable from the velvety vampire voice it usually is. "I'm human! I'm nothing!"

These words come unexpectedly, and I say them before I realize that I am completely wrong. I'm not human. I may be nothing, but I'm not human.

"You're not human anymore."

This makes me even more furious. "Oh, so when I was human I was nothing?!"

"Bella."

"I'm not a vampire. No speed, enhanced offensive power, no real thirst, and... Edward, I'm not a vampire. I'm a Mutt. I'm just a Mutation. Not a person. Not anything. Just a stupid Mutation!"

"That's not true!"

"She was just a little girl! And you didn't—"

"Bella."

"— save her. You could have. You could have!"

"Bella!" he snaps. Never, not once, has he spoken to me that way, and I react impulsively. With a sudden impulse of rage, I slap him. Much to my horror, he doesn't take this too well. He doesn't look angry, only hurt and shocked.

And I'm horrified. How could I be capable of this?! I hurt Edward. Not only did I accuse him of being a murderer, I hurt him. Physically. I never expected this. How did I? Why did I— I can't think. I double over, sickened by myself. So much for being strong. So much for being Isi, the manufactured spawn of the Capitol. So much for overcoming the silly little girl who wants to die when her boyfriend breaks up with her. I'm pathetic and worthless and I can't take this anymore! It's too much, far too much. But the anger is back to replace sorrow soon enough. I bolt upright.

This isn't his fault.

Edward stands completely motionless. Can vampires go into shock? The fire is still smoldering. Although the wood has become ash, two very distinct piles stand out from the rest. I don't have anything to put out the fire with. No water, and certainly not anything to smother it with. But it's already running out of wood to consume. Vampire venom makes it burn faster.

I stand there until the fire finally dies out completely. Then I gather Rue's ashes. At the edge of the clearing, I find something that breaks my heard— the little wooden chest, with an engraved treble clef. Carefully, I place them inside and shut it. The Capitol won't let me bury her here, a hovercraft will deliver them back to District 11 for the memorial. Still, I place them in the middle of the field. I stare at it for several minutes before I feel a hand on my back and jump.

Shamefully, I face him. "I slapped you," I whisper, on the brink of despair.

"Yes," he says, broken. "You did." There is no menace to them, and I can tell without a second of thought that he thinks he deserved it. He doesn't, but no amount of crying or pleading on my part is going to change that. I take another look at the little box of ashes.

"She deserves better than that," I hiss at the sky, at the field, at Edward, at anyone listening. I'm still as a stone, but I'm radiating pure fury. I try to shield myself with the rage, but I'm already succumbing to grief.

How did I not do something? What is wrong with me? Why didn't I think to protect her, too? It's as much my fault as it is Edward's, if not more. I sense him behind me.

"This isn't your fault," I say emotionlessly. "It isn't Marvel's either." It's hard to hate a smoldering pile of ash.

"Then whose is it?"

I glare at the sky. "Who do you think?"

Edward takes a long pause. He draws in a quick breath. "What do you want me to do?" he asks in a low voice.

I close my eyes. "Sing," I whisper.

"Sing?"

I nod slowly. My eyes sting from tears that will never fall. "Please."

"Bella, I'm not a good singer."

"When you sing, Edward, the mockingjays fall silent. You're incredible."

"It's only because of what I am. All vampires can sing," says Edward, but his argument is weak with sorrow.

"Does it matter?" I ask hoarsely.

He sighs in despair. "The willow song?"

"Yes," I croak with a little nod of the head. "The willow song."

The song is a simple lullaby, one those in District 12 sing to their hungry newborns who can't afford food. One those in District 12 sing to their children who suffer from nightmares of the Reaping. And a song always, always sung at coal miners' funerals. The song is old, very old. The words are easy and soothing, promising something better than the horrors we call today. Edward rubs circles on my back, swallows hard enough for me to hear it, and begins:

Deep in the meadow, under the willow
A bed of grass, a soft green pillow
Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes
And when again they open the sun will rise.

He takes a momentary pause and steps towards me slightly. Just enough for me to see his face. Just enough for me to know that he's singing to me. He takes my hand and holds my broken, sobbing figure to his chest.

Here it's safe, here it's warm
Here the daisies guard you from every harm
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true
Here is the place where I love you.

Edward kisses my forehead and draws me closer. He intends to stop there. But I have to finish the song for her. I'm on television in front of the entire nation. But my speaking voice already sounds like bells; I'm certain I can't sound too horrible.

The next lines change to an eerie, slightly dissonant minor key.

Deep in the meadow, hidden far away
A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray
Forget your woes and let your troubles lay
And when, again it's morning, they'll wash away.

The last lines, although we sing them together, are barely audible.

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true
Here is the place where I love you.

The silence is deafening. Maybe there is sound. Perhaps I just don't hear it. But it should be silent. It should always be quiet. Nothing can change what has happened here. This place should be eternally still. Then, with only a hushed impression of Edward's short breath to warn us of what is coming, the mockingjays take up our song.

They've lost the ability to make words, but the song itself, the melody, is ethereal. A few of the birds, the ones that mimic my warble, have fallen just behind the rest, the overlapping notes forming something more beautiful and otherworldly than anything of the immortal world.

They'll want us to clear out now. There is nothing left for us here, either way.

I hear Edward's voice in my head. His ravings against the Capitol, now dim human memories, reverberate through my head. I never understood what he meant. I never listened. I may as well have been deaf.

But now, while he's as still as a statue and as silent as a stone, I finally hear him. This is unjust. This is wrong. They can take my life; I don't want it. But to take Edward's? To take Rue's? No.

I am a newborn vampire. I need my revenge.

I see a patch of flowers lying in the meadow. They look terribly out of place in a graveyard. I lean down and snatch them out of the ground with the intent to burn them, to toss their ashes off of the cliff. I don't want to see them again. But the coals have died, so I'm about to settle for throwing them when Edward catches my hand while it flies backwards. I turn at him, and I realize it's eerily similar to skipping stones with him. With Rue. I consider yanking my hand away and tossing them anyways, but over his shoulder I see the box of ashes, so alone in the middle of a field.

I take the flowers and move the box. I make a pillow of grass and flowers and daisies for her ashes to lie on. The moon passes from behind the clouds and drapes onto the meadow. Tenderly, I lay the chest into the pile of flowers. I step back and wish that vampires didn't have to die in fire. I want to thread the flowers through her hair, to put them in her hands, to kiss her forehead and lay her down on the bed of grass. But there is nothing left, thanks to the Capitol's Games.

I take a step back into Edward's arms. But, even in their safety, I still feel vulnerable. I know he is vulnerable. From here I can see my work. It looks exactly like in the song. It is the Capitol's fault. This is my vengeance.

They must show this. I want to make them accountable. Just for a moment, I want to show the Districts that I'm more than just a pawn.

Then the birds fall silent. Just like when a hovercraft comes. I hear a high-pitched shrieking noise a few seconds later. The mockingjays must have even better hearing than I. Then they give a warning call as the sound grows ever louder. Edward turns around to watch as the hovercraft collects the ashes. I watch as they take the ashes away. "Bye, Rue," I whisper. I press the three middle fingers of my left hand to my lips and throw them to the sky.

The birds continue the song after that. Another one looks confused and whistles my tune— my four notes. Rue's for notes. The ones that mean she's safe. "Good and safe," I tell the mockingjay. "We don't have to worry about her anymore." Good and safe.

Then I turn my attention to the living. "Come on, Edward," I say to him. "There's nothing left for us here. It's just a graveyard." And it ought to be left in peace.

It is silent. It is empty. It should stay this way, preserved and undisturbed, forever. I turn away and don't look back.

I am numb on my way down the mountain. The world is a monochrome, never black and never white, trapped in the havens of gray. I see nothing, feel nothing. Maybe there is sound. Maybe I don't hear it. I know things— that Edward wraps his arm around my shoulder, that my feet move beneath me— but I can't feel it. I am numb. The void surrounds me, penetrates me, sucks the life and emotion out of me. There is nothing, and I dread the moment when the pain returns.

I've no idea where to go. The brief sense of home I had with Edward and Rue has vanished. I think Edward might have given up on trying to comfort me, because I suddenly notice that he isn't holding me anymore. I know he's following me, letting my newborn wanderlust take me wherever I need to go. My feet move over the ground and I walk; that is all that matters. Leaving. Getting away from the place where it happened.

I wander this way until sunset. Rue died just before the breaking of dawn. It's been an entire day and I haven't felt a thing. At the sound of a cannon, the complete numbness dies. I don't feel pain or emotion, but I recognize the will to survive. I'm not afraid or watchful, which makes me an easy target. Except I'd kill anyone on sight without emotion or hesitation. Well, maybe not Edward. Maybe. Which is probably why he's shadowing me rather than staying too close by.

This is the Games, only one of us can live. If we're the last Tributes winning, we'll either wait a hundred years or kill each other. Or, knowing Edward, he'll find a way to kill himself.

Edward finally says something to him. I don't hear his words, just understand the idea. Do I want to hunt? I'm not thirsty. I'm about to tell him this when I hear the thunderous sound of the Capitol anthem. I hear something. That's good; an improvement in my physical well-being.

The boy from District 1 is first, obviously. And then Rue. Now that I have wrapped my mind around the fact that I must choose between life without Edward and life at all, I have all but lost the will to live. Although I don't wish to die, I don't think I could resist the urge to bathe myself in flames, given the opportunity. When one sinks this low, your greatest enemy in a game of survival is yourself.

Finally, my newborn instincts win out and Edward convinces me to hunt. I mindlessly kill the deer, but at the sight of blood I halt. My first kill; no, not the doe. I've killed hundreds of animals with my bow back at home. But Marvel. I destroyed him. I sent him hurtling into the fire. I tried to kill Cato and Clove. Naturally, Marvel didn't bleed when I killed him. But still. Blood means death, and it makes me sick. But I am thirsty; I swallow it but don't taste it. It's like swallowing a sickening medicine with my nose pinched.

"Bella?" Edward asks, noticing how disturbed I look.

I shake my head. Of course I am disturbed, I have witnessed and aided a murder. The frightful look in Marvel's eyes flashes through my head and I shudder. The bloodcurdling shriek and the hiss of embers that forever stole my innocence. Or what I had left of it. Bella sounds like a child's name. It doesn't belong to me.

I inhale and listen. The thrum of heartbeats. Something large. A bear, a mountain lion. "I'm still thirsty," I lie, not wanting to talk anymore.

He seems to enjoy the hunt. I do not. I mindlessly fly after the beast while I ponder the meaning of meaning. I am numb. In the end, Edward lets me take the bear. I still taste nothing. I taste nothing, I feel nothing. Lifeless and defeated, my will to live completely crumples. I wonder how long this is going to last. Suddenly I remember Esme, and I realize forever if I don't do something. But what? What do I have to work towards? I'll be dead soon, anyways.

"Bella?" Edward says again. I shake my head.

He smiles sadly. I think he's going to say something, but he's cut off by the thunderous voice of Claudius Templesmith.

"Attention Tributes. Attention." Edward and I look up. "The regulations requiring a single Victor have been... suspended. From now on, two Victors may be crowned if they originate from the same District. This will be the only announcement." The microphone cuts off.

It takes a moment to register this. Two Tributes. Two Victors. If they're from the same District. Both can live. Both of us can live.

Edward. Before I can stop myself, I call out his name.

Yay. Now I can pick up the pace a little bit. As for Bella's shield/mirror, I'd like to think she's adapted to live in Panem. I also would have used it if I were Stephanie Meyer... I also liked the Deus Ex Machina, it seemed pretty probable of a way to get Cato and Clove off of the mountain. But, rest assured, I won't cop out when it comes to the actual climax...

Reviews are greatly appreciated. :) And The Professor: Ah. I see you've figured out how to use the review feature. Also, since you're not feeling too well, consider this chapter your Get-Well-Soon present.