A/N: I know it's late. At least it hasn't been months! Besides, I said I would upload it on a Sunday, and it is a Sunday. A big thank you to Kl, who convinced me to upload the next chapter despite the sound of crickets. It's the most honest review I've gotten of this story, and it hugely boosts my confidence because this is "pretty good," and I know my writing has gotten better since I last wrote this. So really, I'm happy to present Chapter 24: The New Life.

The New Life

Aro tells us to leave, and Kalyna reminds us that she and Caius would be happy to tear us limb from limb if we don't leave immediately. We acquiesce them with haste. Edward, still badly shaken, comes with me through the hallways. Elyse takes us to the hovercraft, and we leave without incident. I know what that really means: we aren't leaving at all. The Volturi — the New Volturi Order — will be watching us.

Edward tells me more about what Kalyna made him experience. Well, "tells me" is a little generous. Most of it is babble, but at least he's talking. I was quiet and crying when I found Edward again after he left me. But still, it's so out of character for him that I begin to worry. Apparently, it wasn't just me dying, but being killed slowly, while they descended on him, forced him to bow to Aro, and then… it got even worse. "I should have known it was a dream," he chides himself over and over again. He's all at once relieved, terrified, and disappointed with himself, and acting so strangely that I wonder vaguely what he isn't telling me.

Suddenly he's yelling at me for being so beautiful, for being so understanding, and for existing at all, because he wouldn't be in this situation if he didn't love me, he wouldn't be in this situation had he killed me in the first place, and then he's sorry because the very idea of my nonexistence is physically painful to him. All the while I stare in silence, because I've never seen him like this before.

As we're landing in the Capitol, he becomes incoherent.

"A side effect of Kalyna's powers," says Elyse nonchalantly. "The humans often go mad after the horrors she subjects them to. Of course, he'll recover. She didn't have time to drive her talons into him too far. Had she had time, she probably would have made him watch as his family was torn to pieces and burned, too, and then subjected him to — "

"Stop it!" I growl at her. Elyse sighs, but obliges.

The hovercraft lands. I'm walking towards the exit when I feel the injection come from behind. Panic grips me and I turn to face the danger, but I find I can't, because my body is sluggish and everything hurts. When I finally find the face, it's an unfamiliar Avox girl and Effie Trinket. Then everything goes black.

When I wake, the first thing I register is a dull pain.

It gnaws, not in my throat, but in my stomach, like something's hollowed out my gut. I remember the sensation vaguely, but I can't put a name to it…?

I blink, and the ceiling overhead is blurry, glowing with a soft yellow light. The air smells of chemicals, overwhelming my senses completely, and the only thing I hear is the soft tick of a clock. The room is almost completely dark.

Then I realize that I'm naked, the bedclothes against my skin soothing against my skin. My right arm has tubes jammed into it, that extend into the wall behind it. My brow furrows in confusion. I'm not supposed to have a bloodstream of my own, the venom burned it away…

And then I notice the darker hue to my skin, the horrid blurriness of my memory, and put a name to the feeling in my stomach: hunger.

The overwhelming weakness of my situation terrifies me. I try to sit up, but a restraining band keeps me from rising upright. My panic increases, and I'm try to escape when a pannel of the wall slides away and the redheaded Avox girl steps in, carrying a tray. She sets it on my thighs and presses something that raises me into a sitting position.

"Thank you," I rasp. She nods, and I look down at the tray and frown. A glass of water, a bowl of broth, and a serving of applesauce. The Avox girl presses a spoon into my hand.

I want to ask her a million questions. Did they catch Elyse for the impostor she was? Were we missed while we were gone? Do they even know? But any familiarity could get her in trouble, and I'm obviously being watched. A question is on the forefront of my mind, though, one that won't leave me alone. While she adjusts my pillows, which lull me into something I remember as tiredness, I risk it. "Edward. Is he okay…?" He was rambling like a madman the last time I saw him. From what Elyse told me, it was a temporary side effect. Then again, from what she told me, she's on my side, not the Volturi's. But to my relief the redhead nods, smiling slightly.

My stomach growls, and I turn to the tray. I remember the delicacies before the Games, and wonder why they give me this sparsity. But I find that it's an effort to down a spoonful of applesauce, the taste unfamiliar and strange. The broth is better — salty and warm, but missing the metallic flavor of blood — but it fills me up quickly. I take another bite of applesauce and force it down my throat. Once everything else is gone, I turn to my greatest enemy on this tray: the water.

But a sip of it makes me realize how dry my mouth and throat are. It isn't a burn, but a feeling like dust, and my lips feel like an ancient oil painting. The water is what I take with the greatest ease.

There's usually a lag between the Games and the victory ceremony, apparently, where they remake the feral person into someone worthy of television. Haymitch and Effie must be arranging a banquet for our sponsors. Cinna must be working on my outfit, Portia must be working on Edward's. My heart clenches, and I swear I can feel it beating in my chest, when I wonder if the stylists create the victory fashion from the beginning, and have to watch every year as their costumes go unworn. Thinking of those four makes me strangely homesick, however.

Homesick. I think of my real home and smile, because soon I will be going home! My enemies are gone, the Volturi left us alone, and now the Capitol will send us home.

But weakness overtakes me before any more time has passed. Something like a timer rings in the distance. A cold liquid seeps into my veins and I lose consciousness.

It happens off and on for an indeterminate amount of time. I wake, eat, drink, and lose consciousness after awhile. Sometimes I hear voices, sometimes those voices are familiar, but other times there is only silence. I am also getting stronger. Whatever they've done to make me human again left me weak, but I think they're giving me nutrients through the IVs, because I can move about without feeling like I'm made of lead. Or maybe I'm just getting used to the human weakness. The periods of waking seem to be getting longer, too, my meals getting larger, though it's still only soft food. It's a strange, continual twilight, more so than my time as a vampire. No waking, no sleeping, only drifting somewhere in between with only brief periods of lucidity.

Finally, I come to and startle.

There's nothing in my right arm, and the restraint has been removed, leaving me free to move about. My skin, though still unmistakably and horrifically human, is smooth and glowing; new.

But all of this is second to the person standing before me.

His hair is still blond, eyes still golden to match. His skin is a strange hue, somewhere between normal and vampiric, though it's far too white to belong to an ordinary human. And from the relief on his face at seeing me awake, I know there can be no mistake. When I spoke to Aro, I had spoken correctly, because I'm face-to-face with Carlisle Cullen.

"Good morning, Bella," he says calmly. "How are you feeling today?" As if this is Forks hospital and nothing has changed at all. There's a firestorm of emotions inside of me, ranging from relief to elation to absolute fury, and questions ping pong back in forth through my head too quickly for me to process any of them. I stand, at first afraid that my legs won't hold my weight, but I find them strong and steady… as they ever were, anyway.

Then I realize he's probably waiting for an answer and I'm still gaping at him, unsure what to say. I shake my head and blink. "Alive," I finally say, not realizing its double — no, triple meaning until after the words have already left my lips. "I'm alive," I say finally, "and so are you." The sentence is as pointed as a sword, and he seems to notice.

"It's a long story," he says.

"I guessed that," I say. Out of the rainbow of emotions inside me, I've chosen annoyance, then. I probably don't have a right to be annoyed, because I told the Volturi that he was in the Capitol and had given me morphling. Now that I think about it, that's a bigger piece of information than I thought — he's been with the Tributes.

"You don't seem surprised."

"You gave me the morphling," I say flatly. Now it's his turn to be surprised. The expression is off, unlike I remember. Then I remember my expression in the glass on the hovercraft: the Capitol has changed me, in more ways than one.

"You remembered?"

"Vaguely," I say. "I only realized it was you… after the Games."

He pauses, slightly uncomfortable at the mention of the Games. "Did you tell Edward?"

Guiltily, I say, "No. But I think he knows, or at least suspects. The Volturi — "

"I'm not sure if it would be best to tell him," he replies. "Edward isn't the only telepath in the Capitol. I'm still risking a lot to come here. It's going to take awhile to explain, but — "

"The Capitol captured you because you were working with Jane and District 13, and now the New Volturi Order are after you?" I ask.

He blinks, surprise breaching his calm demeanor. "Is there anything you don't know?"

I don't realize I'm angry until I start talking. "How you survived, and how they coerced you into coming here?" I say. "Why you didn't try to contact us? Why you let Esme spend months thinking you were gone? Why you let them manipulate you into helping them create a new serum for vampirism? And then probably helped them create a cure for it too?"

"Bella, please, you're going to accelerate your heart-rate — "

I cut him off with an angry glower. Why are you annoyed? asks a little voice in the back of my head. And for a moment I focus on the little voice, and then the little voice says, Calm down.

"Your brain is still readjusting to the chemicals associated with strong emotion," he explains. "It will take time before you can control such impulses."

"I thought I had good self-control," I mumble.

He chuckles. "Edward slapped Dr. Glass," says Carlisle, "and severely underestimated his strength."

Yeah, well, I should slap you, says the little voice that used to be the big voice. But the old little voice says, Calm down and I say, "So the cure worked on him, too." I had hoped that because he was so much older than me, Edward wouldn't have to adjust to the many horrors of being human.

"Not as well," Carlisle admits. "He'll always have strength he shouldn't, and he shouldn't spend too much time in the sun for the next few months."

My brow furrows. "The sun?"

"The pallor lingers. He'll sunburn easily, and will not develop a tan without great difficulty. I have… prescribed a few medicines to help, but I don't know whether or not the Capitol will allow him to bring them home."

"They have to," I say, "how else will Edward and I — "hunt, I almost say, but the walls and floor must have ears here.I realize that I won't have to hunt for game anymore; the Capitol will always make sure I'm well-fed. But somehow the idea of never seeing my bow again causes a sinking feeling in my gut that I equate with nausea.

You want to kill something, says the little voice that used to be the big voice while the old little voice says, Calm down.

"Stay indoors except in the mornings and the evenings," advises Carlisle, "and if you have to go outside, make sure he doesn't come with you."

"Are you coming with us?" I ask suddenly.

He gives me an apologetic look. "I can't."

"So you're their prisoner here," I surmise.

"I thought you would have already guessed that. No, I do not wish to be here, but here I am."

"So you do have information regarding District 13?"

"Yes…" he begins, "but I am not an expert the District's security protocols."

"Why are you here, then? And why can't you just leave?" The little voice doesn't tell me to calm down, and suddenly I feel my heart racing in my chest, pulse pounding through my temples, and it hurts with a surprising fierceness that makes me grind my fingernails against my palms.

"Gwen," says Carlisle, as if that explains everything.

"Gwen…?" I prompt.

"A sociopath, at least, possibly a psychopath; I've not had time to diagnose her," he replies, rather shortly. "IQ well into the genius range, and she can defeat me in chess. She's also an obsessive personality, and is looking for a way to extend her lifespan and… enhance her beauty. While she wants information about District 13, it's vampirism she really wants."

Both the little voice and the old little voice disappear to make way for confusion: my eyes widen and my senses sharpen slightly, in a way they couldn't only a few hours — days? weeks? — ago. "If she wants to be a vampire so badly, and they obviously have venom, why can't she just use it on herself?" It wouldn't even hurt, not if she used morphling, and it wouldn't take very long, either.

"She's…" Carlisle trails off.

I think I know before he finishes, and something like fear grips me.

"Immune," he finishes. "Gwen possesses a natural antibody for the venom. Eleven years ago a vampire bit her, and she fended it off like someone else might fend off a virus. It gave her unnatural strength almost immediately, to the degree that she was able to turn on her attacker Any other vampire would have probably left… but it was Aro who bit her. Fascinated by the prospect of a new toy, he brought she and her sister, Elyse, to New Volterra, where they remained for almost a year.

"Elyse was turned almost immediately, but suffered a rather common side-effect — almost complete memory loss, immediately. Gwen, on the other hand was bitten repeatedly each time she fended off the virus. She's been left with scars on her neck, and venom remains in her system, replicating itself like a virus before being fended off again. She's a natural carrier of it, but she's in constant pain as a result.

"She finally escaped from the Volturi and returned to the Capitol, where she resumed her post with the military, where she has quickly gained rankings. Admiral Laudan coerced me into coming to the Capitol, and has been making me test her theories about her antibodies ever since. Alice never saw it — she is neither human nor vampire, and is therefore invisible."

"Oh," I say lamely. "What about her antibodies?" I spent a good deal of time admiring Edward while in biology class.

Carlisle looks at me rather confusedly, then says, "It's because of her unique immune system that we've managed to develop cures for and mutate the venom."

"So you just… modified my immune system to get rid of my vampirism?" I ask, my voice rather shrill. Being a vampire is not simply a disease.

"It isn't quite that simple. It was mostly a trial and error process — "

"'Trial and error'?!" I demand.

" — when Gwen tested her 'cures' on myself," he finishes.

"Oh," I say again. "Oh." Suddenly the strange pallor makes sense. "She wanted a vampire, and she wanted a geneticist," I guess, "so she — "

"Staged my death and dragged me to the Capitol. Yes."

Yet again, my brow furrows in confusion. "But so many died," I say. "There was an explosion… everyone lost someone that day…"

His gaze falls to the ground. "Yes."

"She blew up the mine."

"Yes."

"She killed everyone?!"

"I killed no one," says a voice behind me. I whirl around to face the woman. My memory of her is far from perfect, so I look her over again: pale skin, pale enough to be that of a vampire, brown eyes that should be warm but are dead instead, and far too much makeup. She wears soft brown curls on top of her head, a ringlet hanging down by the side of her face, and a sweet smile that makes her charming.

I would guess her for a teacher, perhaps a musician or an artist, were it not for the white uniform silver stripes and a star adorning her sleeves, three stars along her collar, framed by wings, and the various medallions at her chest. It makes me wonder — has Panem seen war without the Districts' knowledge? Is there a world outside of North America?

"You aren't supposed to be speaking to her, Carlisle," says the admiral softly. "You aren't supposed to be speaking to anyone."

"She is my patient."

"I gathered that," says Gwen. "She is also your stepdaughter, and now she knows you are alive." Her tone goes down as she speaks, sweet voice hiding a threat.

"Don't," Carlisle warns.

"I have no intention of harming her. Once she knows what you did, she won't want to come back for you," she says, then turns to me, circling, and I inhale sharply, sensing that now I am the prey. "I've seen people like you before. You've only played in the Games, yet you're already so traumatized. You'd never survive a real war, with or without your petty little talk of rebellion. And that, my darling," she says, toying with my hair, eyes so dangerous that I don't dare to flinch, "is what you would have if you ever returned the the Capitol… unauthorized."

"Admiral," says Carlisle, "she has nothing to do with this…"

She inhales deeply, nostrils flaring. "Neither did Esme," she snaps suddenly, glowering at him, "yet she worked to my advantage."

"Carlisle," I start, "what is she talking about…?"

"I like to start my projects with a bang," says Gwen. "I think of it as an art form, and I love my overture to have a beginning to remember."

"Your art form?" I ask, horror swelling at the way she said it.

"I wanted to twist him right from the beginning, you see. It was the only way to get him to come with me — threatening to kill Esme, threatening to destroy the mines…" She pauses. "He couldn't refuse me, with all of those lives on his conscience. But he was guilt free, still unbroken. I pressed him to see who he would rather die: hundreds of people, or Esme? He chose the mine. I ordered my officers to kill everyone in the mine. Then, to help the coverup, I… destroyed the mine."

Bile rises in my throat. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a syringe sitting on a tray.

"It was difficult, being the instrument of destruction, ordering the men to do that and then detonating the explosion," says the admiral softly. "I said the Lord's Prayer as I did so, in the hopes that He would forgive me."

I bite my lip.

"Guilt is still on my conscience," says Gwen, "although it was Carlisle's fault. I would have only killed one, had he allowed it. But he preferred that everyone in the mine died. I only gave him his wish, horrible as it was. Such evil, done in the name of love… I wonder if monsters are capable of love. Are you?" she asks me.

I grab the syringe and drive it towards her. With surprising strength and reflex, she snatches my hand before I can see her arm move.

"I may not have been blessed with the beauty of a vampire yet," she says, "nor the immortality… but I am stronger than you. Do not attempt that again." Gwen turns to Carlisle. "I'll let her live for that offense this once. Perhaps I'll kill an Avox in her stead?"

He freezes. "Don't…"

The admiral laughs a high, happy laugh. "Do not worry. There is no reason to punish anyone. Isabella is mentally unstable right now."

"'Mentally unstable'," I mouth, and it tastes like poison.

"She cannot control her actions," says Gwen. "Nor could she control her actions in the arena, she was so… lovesick. I hope, for both of your sakes. Come along, Carlisle."

He doesn't move.

"I've killed before to make you cooperate," says Admiral Laudan, "and I will do it again if I must. The death will be on your conscience, my hands will be clean."

"Your hands are anything but — "

Gwen cuts him off with a sharp look. Loathing fills me.

"You must come with me," says the admiral, brightly. "I believe I've had a breakthrough with the venom, and I've a ceremony to attend shortly." She gestures to her dress uniform. "Besides, Bella has her own issues to worry about. Effie and Haymitch will be here shortly."

Carlisle turns to follow her, and my heart clenches, but then he pauses. "May I say goodbye to her?"

Gwen tilts her head with a blank expression on her face, calculating. "Yes… I suppose."

He gives me a brief embrace, taking my hand as a comforting gesture. "Be careful, Bella," he says. It takes what feels like hours, but the admiral leaves, with an apologetic Dr. Carlisle Cullen following behind her. "Remember," mouths Admiral Laudan to me as she leaves, smirking as she struts into the hallway. My eyes burn, a feeling not unlike the unquenchable thirst, but then water falls down my face and I realize I'm crying. As he leaves, my vision blurs so much that I don't realize that Effie and Haymitch are standing in the hallway until Effie hugs me. I gasp, terrified, then relax into her embrace.

"There, there," says Effie Trinket. "I know, it's overwhelming, but you'll be home soon!"

I'll be home. I'll be home, and I'll be leaving my stepfather in the hands of the Capitol. We will undoubtedly be used as leverage against each other. There will be no rebellion as long as we are threatened.

She can defeat me in chess, Carlisle said. I bite my lip, and imagine her sweet, cruel voice saying 'check.' I don't know how to move my pieces out of it, and Alice won't know, either.

"Welcome back, sweetheart," says Haymitch as Effie releases me, standing next to another familiar face: Cinna. But two faces are missing.

"Where's Portia? Is she with Edward? He's fine, isn't he?" I babble.

"He's fine. Only they want to do your reunion live on air at the ceremony," says Haymitch, and Effie gives me an apologetic look.

"Oh." The monosyllable word has become my favorite since I left the arena, apparently; it means I'm safe and I'm alright and but not really and the Games still aren't over and they're still in my head and Cato is dying and ohGodIknowI'mnotreligiousbutpleaseletthisend.

"There are a lot of hopeless romantics in the Capitol," says Effie, sighing in a way that tells me she's among them.

"Go one with Cinna. He has to get you ready," says Haymitch.

I finally release my clenched fist, and almost drop something in the process. It's smooth, metallic, and cold, but small enough to fit into my palm. I realize that Carlisle must have given it to me, right as he told me to be careful, and suddenly I understand his meaning. I slip it into my pocket and walk along with Cinna.

It's a relief to be alone with him. He puts a protective arm around my shoulders and guides me away from the cameras, down a few passages, and finally back to the Tribute Tower. We're alone, now. There are no escorts and mentors of the other tributes — there are no other tributes — and the room is as hollow as my chest feels right now.

As the elevator doors open to my room, Venia, Flavius, and Octavia embrace me, their voices buzzing so quickly I can't understand them. It brings a smile to my fave regardless: they are actually happy to see me alive, if not outright relieved.

They sweep me into the dining room. I see the real meal on the table — roast beef and peas and soft rolls — and the scent of it makes my mouth water, but an Avox serves me something else: water, a baguette, and soup. It's a step up from the soft food, though, and it's absolutely delicious. When I ask for seconds, however, I am refused.

"No, no, no. They don't want it all coming back up on the stage. Your stomach still isn't used to processing food," says Octavia, but she slips a roll under the table to let me know she's on my side. It's softer and sweeter than the baguette, and I'm left wanting more.

The prep team tries to bring me to my room, but I ask for a moment on the roof. They oblige, but say they'll come and get me in a few minutes. Once on the edge, satisfied that the Capitol cannot see me, I pull out the object that Carlisle gave to me.

It's like an orb, but more of an oval. On top of it is a little word: codex. Below that is a switch. Folded and taped on the bottom of it is a slip of paper.

Only your mind is safe. Only you can see this, it says. At the mention of this, I feel for my shield and flex it. It's still there, but much, much heavier. Despite this it feels… stronger? Perhaps the Capitol venom really had weakened it.

Then I flip the switch.

I'm instantly reminded of old sci-fi movies and TV shows: Star Wars, Star Trek, and other half-remembered figments of the 20th and 21st centuries. At first the blue, floating hologram makes no sense, and then it starts to focus, no doubt interacting with my brainwaves, as I watch it carefully.

Then it forms letters. Enter passcode, it says, a little cursor blinking tauntingly in front of ten spaces.

It belonged to Carlisle. Most people use their children's middle names or spouses' names for this sort of thing. I type esmecullen in the box.

Warning: 2 attempts remaining, it says, and I curse.

How and why Carlisle had this evades me, but I have it now. He had to get it out of the Capitol. It has to have something important on it, and I'm willing to bet it's what Aro wanted, what Gwen wanted. Be careful, Bella, Carlisle told me.

I'll do my best, I think to no one in particular; to no one at all, as my shield is still pulsing strongly. I press the codex into my pocket and walk downstairs.

My prep team brings me to my room, Cinna disappears for awhile, and they get me ready.

"Oh, they did a full body polish on you," says Flavius enviously. "Not a flaw left on your skin."

Looking at myself in the mirror, I only notice the imperfections. I'm too skinny, and any muscle the venom added has been removed entirely. It's hardly becoming of the woman who is supposed to be one of the most beautiful in the world.

They take care of the shower settings for me, making the water, soaps, and oils appropriate for highly sensitive skins, then go to work on my hair, nails, and makeup when I'm done. They talk about the Games, but only about themselves. "I was still in bed!" "I had just had my eyebrows dyed!" "I swear I nearly fainted!" They don't talk about the dying boys and girls, and I don't have to fight to keep the contents of my stomach where they should be.

Finally, Cinna returns, a simple yellow dress draped across his arms.

"I'm no longer the 'girl on fire'?" I ask, but I am relieved. Images of Cato's burning body creep into my mind, lurid and unfading as they were in my vampiric days, and I clench my jaw.

"You tell me," he says, then slips it over my head. I frown at the padding over my breasts.

"I know," says Cinna. "But the Gamemakers wanted to alter you surgically. Haymitch had a huge fight with them over it. This was the compromise." He stops me before I can look at my reflection. "Wait, don't forget the shoes." Venia helps me into a pair of flat leather sandals and I turn to the mirror.

I am still the "girl on fire." The sheer fabric glows. Even the slightest movements in the air send a ripple up my body. By comparison, the chariot costume seems to garish, the interview dress to contrived. In this dress, I give the illusion of wearing candlelight — soft, contained fire, not the roaring fury of an inferno.

I swallow.

"What do you think?" asks Cinna.

"It's beautiful," I say. When I manage to pull my eyes away from the flickering fabric, I'm shocked. My hair is loose and girlish; my makeup rounds my face and widens my eyes; my nails are covered in a clear polish; the sleeveless dress is gathered at my ribs, not my waist. The hem falls to my knees, and without heels, you can see my stature. I look small. I look like an innocent little girl. Not like the feral monster the Capitol pulled out of the Games.

This is a very calculated look. Nothing Cinna designs is arbitrary.

"I thought it'd be something more… sophisticated, though," I tell him.

"I thought Edward would like this better."

Edward? This isn't about Edward. He liked my innocence long ago, and probably still does, but he's long since accepted that I have become a woman. What innocence Panem didn't take has been lost to the Games. No, this is about the Capitol, the Gamemakers, and the audience.

We take the elevator to the level where we trained, that first day. It's customary for the victor and his or her support team to rise from beneath the stage: first the prep team, then the stylist, the mentor, and finally the victor. Except that there are two of us this year, sharing a mentor and stylist. I find myself in a poorly lit area under the stage. A new metal plate has been installed to transport me upward. Even my weak senses can detect the sawdust and the fresh paint. Cinna and my prep team rush away to change into their costumes.

The rumbling crowd outside is so loud I don't notice Haymitch until he touches my shoulder. I recoil and drop into a crouch out of habit, then straighten as I see him.

"Easy, just me. Let's have a look at you," says Haymitch. Stretching out my arms, I twirl once. "Good enough," he says gruffly.

I tilt my head and look at him. I didn't used to do that. Suddenly I remember Gwen, and straighten myself immediately. "But what?" I say.

"Haymitch's eyes shift around the area. "But nothing. How about a hug for luck?"

That's odd. Beyond odd, it's bizarre. But Carlisle hugged me to give me the codex, whatever it is. When I put my arms around his neck, I find myself trapped in his embrace. He begins whispering quickly in my ear.

"Listen up. You're in trouble. Word is the Capitol's furious about you showing them up in the arena. The one thing they can't stand is being laughed at and they're the joke of Panem."

Dread fills my veins with a pain as cold as fire is hot, but I laugh as though he's just told me a joke, because someone is watching this. Someone is always watching. "So, what?" I ask brightly.

"Your only defense can be you were so madly in love you weren't responsible for your actions. I know you love Edward, but there were other reasons, too. Forget them. Now." Haymitch pulls back and adjusts my hairband. "Got it, sweetheart?" He could be talking about anything now.

"Got it," I say. "Did you… tell Edward?" I giggle for good measure.

"Don't have to," says Haymitch. "He's already there."

"But you think I'm not?" I say, taking the opportunity to straighten his red bow-tie.

"Since when does it matter what I think? This is about you and Edward," says Haymitch. "Better take our places." He leads me to the metal circle. "This is your night, sweetheart. Enjoy it." He kisses me on the forehead and disappears into the murk of the backstage.

Then there is only a quiet emptiness that fills my entirely. Cold sweeps over me, and I don't know if it's dread or the temperature. In that instant, I acutely hate my humanity, more than ever before. My whole body quivers, and I hope I can pretend it's excitement.

The damp, moldy smell threatens to choke me. It's like the opposite of inhaling the scent of blood: it makes me nauseous, makes the thought of putting anything in my mouth ever again seem revolting. Sweat like ice breaks out on my skin, and I feel as though the stage is about to collapse on me.

I was supposed to be safe, but now I'm not.

It's worse than being hunted in the arena. Out here, everyone is a piece on this grand chessboard. My family, Edward, Carlisle, and the people of District 12 will all be destroyed like pawns if it means getting to the king, which I have a sinking feeling that the Capitol thinks it's me.

I was supposed to be safe, but now I'm not.

I'm not a warrior. I wouldn't survive a real war. I didn't survive the Games. If I can't make the Capitol believe that I don't hate their guts, then the real war will begin.

I still have a chance, though. In the arena, what was I thinking about? About how I couldn't kill Edward, of course, but also about outsmarting the Gamemakers. I never once thought about how my actions would hurt the Capitol, did I? But the Hunger Games are their weapon and no one is supposed to defeat it. Now that I stand under the stage, I know that not even the victor really survives. Now the Capitol will actas if they're the puppet-masters behind the whole thing, right down to the double suicide.

And Edward… Edward will suffer, too, if this goes wrong. I think of Kalyna, and what she did to him, and cringe, my heart making an indecisive flop in my chest, like it can't decide whether to accelerate or die. But what was it Haymitch said?

"Don't have to. He's already there."

Already thinking ahead of me? Or already desperately in love? I don't know. I can't begin to imagine how he's feeling right now. He went half-mad in the hovercraft, and now he's been violated in the worst way possible, turning his greatest dream into his worst nightmare.

The crowd roars outside, and I imagine the prep teams bouncing out onto stage. I take a sharp breath. If I play this wrong, it will be the war Admiral Laudan said would destroy me. And in a moment of realization, I know it's because she was right. This could become so much more than a game, but that's what it is, for now. The most dangerous part of the Hunger Games is about to begin.

A/N: Once again, I thank you all for reading this story. If you enjoyed it or didn't, please let me know. You guys really have no idea how much it means to me. :)