I walk along what used to be the cobbled path leading to the square of District Twelve. All around me, there is nothing but dust and ash, swirling in the wind that blows out of the north. I've done my crying for the home I once had, I have no more tears to shed. I pause for a moment and look behind me, taking strength from the fact that Johanna, my Johanna Mason, is standing on the doorstep of the house I used to occupy in the Victor's Village, her eyes locked on me. Even from here, I can see the sadness in her gaze as she watches me. I know that my shoulders are slumped, I know that I look broken and defeated, and if I'm honest, that's exactly how I feel. Here I stand, in the ruins of the home I left twice, with nothing but charred reminders of the lives that were lost because of my defiance.

When I came here today from District Thirteen, I thought seeing the blackened remnants of homes and shops would be the worst thing for me to endure. I hadn't counted on seeing the still, putrefying corpses of people I had known littering the ground. Even then, there were more horrible things for me find in the drifts of gray ash. I had stepped out of the clear area of the Village and gone only a dozen steps when I kicked what I thought was a rock. I looked down to place where it came from, only to see that it wasn't a rock. What I had kicked out of the ash was a skull, one that looked like it had belonged to a child. I had shrieked and stumbled back, prompting Johanna to take a running dive out of the invisible hover over my head to come to my rescue.

I think she expected to take that dive at some point, since she had a line attached to her with a harness. I heard the pilot of the hover shouting at us both, but she ignored him and I was in no condition to do anything about it. She just scoffed and detached her umbilical, letting it retract into the sky and vanish as she held me and calmed my shaking. When I could stand straight and walk again, I kissed her once and asked her to let me make the trek alone. She almost argued, until she saw into my eyes and recognized the need that drove me. Now though, I wish I'd let her join me. I took one more breath, closed my eyes for a moment, and trudged on. I reach the square and I can see things left behind after the bombings. The stalls of the vendors, broken and black, ribs of some ancient beast reaching out the ash. The bones of those unlucky enough to be caught by the flames and the napalm, contorted in agonized postures. The stones of houses that tumbled down, almost buried in the gray snow. In the center of the plaza, the melted remnants of the whipping post where Gale's back was turned to hamburger, where Ripper was left to rot for several days just because she sold black market liquor.

I look to the right, up the lane leading towards the Mayor's house, and I know just then that I do not have the strength to do this on my own. I hear Gale's voice crackle over the headset, asking if I need him to come give me support, and I can't stop the laughter that comes from my mouth. The sound is without mirth, a chuckle that is almost black on my tongue, because where Peeta was oblivious at first and then understanding, Gale has refused to acknowledge what Johanna and I share since I made it to Thirteen. I shake my head and say no, I do not need him, and I can hear the anger and the jealousy in his voice when he says to just let him know if he can help me. He doesn't say that I let Johanna come so why not him, he doesn't mention his conviction that two women should not be together, but I can hear it in his tone. I know him well enough from hearing his rants for years to remember that in his mind, sapphic relationships are a luxury of the Capitol and are more for bragging rights than true affection. I hate those rants now more than ever.

Back when we were younger, Gale would watch the brightly painted and odd Capitol residents parade about on screen during the Tribute's Parade or the shows with Caesar, and he would complain about their opulence. I never said anything, I refused to abuse them the way he did, but I didn't stop him either. When he would see two women, or gods forbid two men, kiss and show their feelings, he would yell about how they were pushing their money and influence in the face of the districts. Then this year, he saw Johanna and I together. He saw the show with Caesar, and though we didn't do anything overt, he still saw the looks on our faces. When he watched the games, he saw whatever the cameras saw. He watched Peeta die, and he told me that while he was sorry that the baker's son was gone, he felt that whatever competition he had was gone. He told me that he would let me grieve, that he would wait until I felt I was ready to move on with my life. He never acknowledged that Johanna and I are in love. He looks at her like a bug, and he is quickly burning through whatever good feelings I have for him. If this keeps up, I think that I will soon hate him.

I remove the headset from my ear and call out to my lover. I beckon her with my words, and I reach out for her with empty arms, needing her to fill this space and give me the strength and support to finish this tour of my personal hell. She is there after twenty beats of my heavy heart, her arms circling my waist and holding me together when I so desperately want to fall apart. I feel her plant a soft kiss on the top of my head. Her hand slips into mine, her long fingers giving a quick squeeze of support, and I walk to the south a little ways to all that remains of my old house. The ash that has settled over everything is even here, covering my home in the only dirt it will ever recieve, a shallow grave courtesy of the Capitol. I fall into the litany that Johanna and I used at first, right after we escaped the arena together. 'My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. I was in the Hunger Games. I made it out, only to be forced to participate again. I am in love with Johanna Mason. Johanna Mason is in love with me. Peeta is dead, Finnick and Cashmere were captured. It is believed that they are dead. They probably are dead. It is probably best if they are dead... I am going to kill President Snow.' This is the only way we can center ourselves in the present, and it reminds us every day of the way the world has changed.

A year ago, I was a star-crossed lover from District Twelve. A year ago, I thought that was all I'd ever be. I wanted to move on with my life, to forget the Games, though I knew I never would. I wanted to be who I had been before, who I never could be again. A year ago, I didn't realize how greatly my life would change in the course of just a few days. Then I was visited by President Snow, his stink of blood and roses infecting my house, and told of the uprising that was starting. I was told to stop it, to convince the districts that my actions were the result of being a loved-crazed sixteen year old. I failed, but I suppose in a way that was a good thing. The Quell arrived, and my world was shaken from the course it had followed and forced into a new direction, one that I would not abandon for anything. The cost of accepting it was great, the deaths of so many is a heavy burden to bear, but I have Johanna now, and her strength is greater than I ever could have dreamed. Now I am twice a victor of the games, I live in District Thirteen, and my home is nothing more than dust and ash.

I lean on my beloved for a moment, then drag her with me up the lane to see what happened to the richer part of the district. Intellectually I know that nothing survived there either, but I have to see it, I must count the cost of our defiance. I must know how many deaths I should place at Snow's feet, how many people I'll be laying to rest when I finally end his life. First we stop at the husk of the bakery, the place that was Peeta's. I tell her this softly, a heaviness in my stomach but no tears and a sullen quality to my voice. Nothing is there, at least nothing other than the misshapen and half-melted lump of metal that was their oven. Gale told me that none of the Mellark family made it out, that none of them joined the people he managed to save. One day perhaps, I'll make a marker and place it here, just so that anyone who comes to this place will remember them, will remember the sacrifice that Peeta made for me.

With heavy steps, we continue on. Our footsteps don't make a sound as we move through the hush and the dust, and I mark all the places I recognize. The dress-maker, the washing house, the metal shop, all of it. We walk past the long gone space that once held the Hob, our district's black market, an old coal warehouse that was burned down before I even left for my second Games. Then we're at the place I was most afraid to journey: the house of the mayor. This house held many memories for me, some happy and some sad. I remember coming here often after my return a year ago, always walking through that door to spend time with one of the only friends I had, a pretty girl with sandy hair named Madge. She was the one that gave me the pin that has become a symbol of rebellion, the gold mockingjay pin that I wore in the arena and at victor's functions afterwards. The pin I still wear today. She was one of the only people I had contact with after my return, and that was only because we never had anything to do other than spend hours together learning to be sociable. I know she is gone now, Gale was actually sad to tell me that her father believed they would be spared and so forbade her to run. I wish she had run anyway.

When I can take no more of this horrible place, the barren wasteland that my home has become, I turn and fold myself into Johanna's arms. I slip my headset back onto my ear and tell the pilot and Gale that we are ready to leave, and a ladder materializes out of the air just above us. I am so numb that I don't notice the current that freezes us both to it as we are reeled in, I only notice Gale's strong hands grab me and pull me in. I also notice that he offers no such help to Johanna, and that earns him a cold look from both of us but he shrugs and takes the seat next to me. He's put me on the end, so that is the only spot available and Johanna will have to sit on the other side of him. I hit him, as hard as I can, and when he asks me why I tell him in no uncertain terms that he is being an ass and a bigot. He doesn't move.

The flight back to District Thirteen takes about forty-five minutes, and I spend that time reflecting on what I saw. I stroke the worn leather of the hunting jacket I had grabbed from my house in the Victor's Village, the last reminder I have that I actually had a father. I also took my hunting bag, along with a photo of my mother on her wedding day, but I couldn't find my sister's ugly cat anywhere. I have to accept that he's either dead, which is likely, or he slipped into the forest and is managing to hunt and stay alive. For Prim's sake, I hope that's the truth. When the hover sets down, I unbuckle my restraints and reach out to Johanna, slapping Gale's hand away when he tries to take mine. The look on his face is sour, and he stomps away to who knows where while Jo smiles and slips her fingers through mine. A peace that I only feel with her settles over me, and I smile on of my rare smiles just for her. I walk through halls and empty corridors, scratching at the place on my arm where my supposed schedule is printed as we try to find where my mother and sister are staying.

When we were in the hospital recovering from the arena, we weren't expected to be imprinted. We were recovering from the first battle of the war, they said, and that was good enough reason for them. As we healed though, they started to take away our morphling and force us to start acclimating to life underground. We get imprinted now, though we still reside in the infirmary wing, and we are supposed to follow the itinerary though we rarely do. Sometimes at night, Johanna will stick her morphling drip into my arm, and she tells me that I need it more than she does because I took more of the blast. I never tell her that she's right. Finally, we find compartment 307 and knock softly, waiting until my mother calls for us to come in. She and Prim are at home for 18:00 - Reflection, a half hour of rest and relaxation before dinner, so I walk in with Johanna waiting in the hall as I pull out the photo for my mother.

She's accepting of what Johanna and I share, and Prim tells me that it's cute and she likes that we're honest about it, which makes both of them better than Gale. I already knew that I suppose, but it still stings that my supposed best friend is so pig-headed about who I fell in love with. My mother cradles the photo and weeps, and Prim's face falls when I tell her that I couldn't find any signs of Buttercup, but they both smile at me and give me hugs. I look behind me to see that Jo is still in the hall and I sigh exasperatedly, grabbing her hand and dragging her inside. She is greeted kindly by my mother and Prim jumps on her back as soon as she sits down beside me, wrapping her arms around her and knocking her defenses down. We spend the time we have before dinner with my family, and by the time we are on our way to 18:30 - Dinner, Johanna is starting to believe me again when I tell her that she's a welcome addition to our number, and not just welcome to me.

We are almost to the dining hall when Gale stops us, his face unreadable, and says, "We're wanted in Command. They didn't say anything about it, so I guess it can come with us." I've had it with him today, and every other day, and I won't take it anymore. I grab him by the collar and pull him down to my level before I floor him with a hard right cross. "You will not speak about Johanna that way! You owe her my very existence, and you owe her more than that. The things she has done for me are more than you could ever hope to equal, and I love her for them. You, on the other hand, I am very quickly beginning to hate. Your bigotry is trying my patience, which you know I never had much of, and your constant disparaging of the strongest woman I have ever met ends now or I will beat you bloody and leave you in the infirmary with a shattered jaw." With that, I grab her by the neck and haul her in for a very fierce and very exhibitionist kiss, unintentionally causing both of us to experience a sharp rise in our libido, then step over him and storm towards Command.

Once we've left him behind and still picking himself up off the floor, she grins and takes a breath to stop the quaver in her voice when she purrs, "My warrior woman... Tell me again how I'm amazing and incredible, Girl on Fire." I chuckle throatily, my anger still seething in my gut but feeling the calming that only she can give me. "You, Johanna Mason, are the most wonderful woman I have ever met. You are strong, and you are fierce, and when my father died you were the person I tried so very hard to become. I wanted your strength and your confidence, and I never once dreamed that six years later, I'd have both, along with the rest of you." She bounces forward happily, bumping me with her shoulder as we enter the door to the darkened command center to find everyone else already gathered. We don't want to be there, but Plutarch sees us and waves us in, his eternal mask of cheer faltering only a little when Gale enters behind us, still trying to set his broken nose.

Johanna and I decide with a silent look to disappear as soon as we can, thinking that whatever we are here to see is just another bit of propaganda to strike fear into the districts. We are almost pleasantly surprised to see Caesar Flickerman, today done up in glittering silver, laughing on the screen. Then the camera pulls back to reveal that his guest is none other than Finnick Odair, and we both gasp, the same sound that comes from being submerged in water and unable to breathe until it's physically painful. We shove everyone out of our way, both of us trying to reach through the screen to him, searching his face and his posture for any sign of mistreatment. Somehow, he is blessedly unharmed, though he looks upset and tired. Caesar settles himself before speaking, almost hesitantly, "So... Finnick... Welcome back."

The Capitol darling grins ruefully and runs one hand through that sandy golden hair, a soft tone in his voice when he answers, "I bet you thought you'd done your last interview with me Caesar." Our shimmering friend laughs and responds, "I confess I did. I confess I did at that. The night before the Quarter Quell... well, who ever thought we'd see you again?" Finnick looks at the camera, almost like he knows we're watching, and says with steel in his voice, "It wasn't part of my plan, that's for sure." Caesar pauses for a moment, his face showing a little regret before he continues sedately, "Yes. I think we could all see what your intentions were, trying to protect Katniss. You wanted her to win, yes? It looked like that was what you tried to achieve with your last act."

Finnick looks at him and nods, his feature inscrutable. Caesar takes that as an acknowledgement and says, "Why don't you tell us about your last night in the arena." Finnick grins that rueful grin again and replies, "Well first, I think you need to understand what it was like in there. Imagine that your world has shrunk down to a giant fishbowl, where the air is almost as thick as water and everything around you is steaming and hot. The trees are so dense that you can only see about twenty feet in any direction, and sound doesn't carry right, so you're never really able to relax. In there, you have to live like you have enemies surrounding you at all times, even if there is only one person there who would gut you given the chance. Living like that... that's what the Games reduces you to, an animal that runs on instinct alone."

Caesar looks a little green, but he soldiers on. It's my guess that no one has ever explained the life of a tribute to him before. "What about the others with you, those you believed to be your friends?" Finnick sits forward, elbows on his knees and his hands clasped before him. "Well Caesar, we were all banded together and just trying to survive. We all wanted Katniss to escape, to be the one that lived for us. We felt that she would be the only one that would be able to pull the trigger and release us. She didn't know us at all really, so she could be the one to end us and live on, carrying whatever we had left with her. She, just like every tribute in there, knew what it was like to live on the outside once you've won, and she is the most incredible victor I've ever seen. When that forcefield went down... I could only hope that she was still alive, that she'd be the one to live through whatever happened next."

"So what were your thoughts when you heard about the escape?" Caesar asks. Finnick thinks for a moment, then is so quiet that the cameras have difficulty catching his words. "I thought that the world was changing, and I didn't know where I fit anymore." When asked if he thought I knew what was happening, he shook his head violently. "Not at all. If she knew about the rebellion, it was only as an abstract notion. You saw what she was like when Peeta died, did that look like a woman who had a plan to rebel? She was trying desperately to keep him alive, and I know for a fact that she thought he was the best of us all. Maybe he was, I don't know. She wanted him to live though, and when he was gone... She could hardly live moment to moment. She clung to what she had left, the only friends she'd made. She fought to keep us alive, and I don't think any thought ever entered her head other than how to survive. I don't even think she thought about what she'd have to do if things went the way the Games always do."

Caesar looks like he's in pain, remembering the girl who tried so hard to be brave for the cameras, the girl who volunteered for her sister. He truly looks like he doesn't want to say what Johanna and I know he will, but he does it anyway. "Well... I hope you're right, but she did fire that arrow. She looked like she knew what she was doing when she grabbed that coil of wire." Finnick is mute, but he shakes his head. He knows that by then, I had figured out what I was supposed to do. He knows that I did what I had to, what he needed me to do, but he doesn't say that. When he speaks after long moments, he shows a conviction that must seem superhuman. "She would never have done anything for the rebellion knowingly. I saw what she did, how she looked there at the end. I think she believed Beetee was dead, that I soon would be, and that Johanna had the best chance to kill whoever was left. She smiled as she shot that arrow, believing that whatever happened would end her suffering. It's not her fault that she was wrong."

Johanna and I hear what he's saying, the words under everything that he cannot say. 'She did what was necessary. She got herself out alive, and she did it because we gave her the strength. She will fight you all, she will fight to end what you have created, and those of you that stand in her way can expect an arrow to the heart or an axe in your throat. Fight on, Girl on Fire. Be the Mockingjay that we all need you to be, and live for those of us who have fallen.' Caesar doesn't hear that, and we are grateful. He smiles at Finnick, who leans back and sighs. "I'm tired, Caesar. Do you have any more questions before I ask to be escorted back to my guest quarters?" His host nods and queries, "Do you have anything you would say to Katniss now, if you could?" Finnick sighs again and looks at the camera, "Don't let anyone control you, Girl on Fire.(Stay strong.) Fight to live your life the way you want to, sweetheart, don't let anyone else make you do anything.(Fight against Snow, make him pay for forcing us all into the arena again.) Above all, do not let anyone tell you that you cannot live the life you have earned, the life you deserve.(Live with Johanna and be happy. Marry that woman goddammit, you've both earned happiness.) Don't let us down, and don't forget us.(Goodbye, you beauties. Run you clever girls, and remember.)"

We are both in tears when the screen shows the Capitol emblem again, and we cannot help but feel pain for our beloved friend. He looks healthy, but in the Capitol's loving care, that could deteriorate so quickly. We want to get him out, we need to, but we don't know how right now. The words he spoke will cost him dearly if Snow figures out what he was really saying... Then the command center breaks into chaos. We hear everyone crying about what a traitor Finnick is, calling him scum for turning his back on us, saying that he has no honor, and I curl into a ball on the floor under the weight of their accusations. Johanna however does exactly what she always does and turns on them. "Shut your fat mouths! You bastards don't know what you're saying, what you're accusing my friend of! Finnick went up there tonight to give us as much of an edge on time as he could, and by doing that he gave us a fucking chance of pulling off the revolution you half-wits want my girl to lead! If you can't get your heads out of your asses, you're going to make the sacrifice he made, along with the sacrifices of every friend I had left, null and fucking void! Fuck you!"

She lifts me up off the floor and bulls through the crowd, carrying me like a child as I cry into her shoulder. As we move through the door, I hear the voice of the white haired woman everyone calls President Coin bark at us, "Soldiers Everdeen and Mason, you have not been dismissed." Johanna doesn't even turn, she just screams back, "Kiss my ass, bitch!" I know that we're probably going to have some sort of reprimand for that, but it doesn't matter anymore. I focus on her heartbeat as she carries me, swallowing my sobs and forcing down my tears until I can breathe around the knot in my heart. I murmur for her to put me down, to let me walk with her, and as soon as my feet hit the floor I drag her to our compartment. I know that my mother and sister aren't back yet, so I don't worry about upsetting them with how broken I look. I open our door and pull Johanna inside with me, locking it as soon as it clicks shut so that Gale can't follow us like he probably would.

With no one else around now, I fall onto the bed and tug her down with me. We lay there like that, her legs sprawled over mine, for a small eternity until she sits up and starts to untie her boots. When I groan, she kicks them off and grins at me, helping me shuck mine as well. I don't realize what that will mean until my second boot hits the floor and her fingertips dig into the undersides of my feet. She only tickles me for a few seconds, but it's enough to break my funk and reignite my flame. I pull her down on top of me again, a private grin that is for only her beginning to spread across my face as I fall into her eyes.