Sorry this has taken me so long guys, I've been working 28 hours a week and going to class for 8 and doing who knows how many hours of homework, so writing has been a bit harder, but I think I know better where I want to go with this story more solidly now, so hopefully it all turns out how I want it too. Well, without further ado...chapter 3...

I come to an abrupt halt, Peeta nearly falling out of the chair as a result. Face flushed and temper high, I spin to face Gale. "What the hell were you thinking Gale? Turning yourself in like that? Snow could have killed you."

His face somber now, "I didn't turn myself in. They legit captured me while I was outside hunting. That note was Snow's idea. He'd never have taken me anyways. The real weapon would always have been Peeta, if I had turned myself in he would have just brought me back here anyways. I'm not Peeta and he knows it." His face is downcast and his expression blank. I don't want to say there is any truth to his words, but that wouldn't be true. He's right, Snow used Peeta because I loved him, because I was willing to sacrifice my own life for his. I guess it's like Peeta said on the train during the Victory Tour, "Isn't it strange that I know you'd risk your life to save mine, but I don't even know what your favorite color is?" He'd been right. And for the record, his is orange…like a sunset. I remember. I would have let this whole rebellion crumble, just to have him back, and I almost got my wish.

"How did the Peacekeepers get in here?!" I holler at him. That's – regardless of whether he turned himself in or not – not a good thing. Peacekeepers in District 13, where we think we're safe, untouchable, and then what happens? They just waltz in like nobody's business. "Gale?" I ask again. "How did they get in here?"

"I was kind of – intoxicated…so, um," he looks down to his shoes. "I don't know."

"That's not good Gale!" I scream, "That's not even you!"

"You don't think I know that, Katniss?" he shoves Peeta's wheelchair aside until he's standing right in front of me. "Whatever you think I did – or didn't do – you have no right to judge me. What have you been doing all this time without Peeta? Moping. You've been moping. And you're going to sit here – stand here – and lecture me? That's not fair Katniss. That's not fair and you know it."

"Do I?" I'm so mad at him I can barely stand it. "Do I know that? How sure are you?"

"We're not getting into this now, we have a meeting to get to," he starts walking away from me without another word. We silently walk the rest of the way, no one speaking a word. I'm not even sure Peeta would if he was conscious. If he did he would've taken my side and the whole argument would have just gotten more intense, more ridiculous, and even more unnecessary. We're better than that. We were always better than that. Maybe, after all we've been through, we aren't anymore. I don't know who I am anymore, let alone who Gale is. He was never in the Games, he cannot possibly hope to understand any of it. Not a word.

We finally make it to command as Peeta starts to stir awake. "Rise and shine lazy ass." Gale says harshly as the doors open. "Let's see what they've got for us this time. And hey, maybe Katniss can film an actual propo this time." With a huff he steps through the doors, Peeta and I hesitate before following.

"What happened?" he asks so only I can hear.

"Don't worry about it."

"Katniss," he hisses. "What's going on?"

"Here?" Only now do I look forward to see all of the yet living victors. Okay, only Johanna and Haymitch are missing. They killed everyone else, so I guess it's nice to be wanted…dead…or alive. I guess I'm wanted more dead than alive, and I can see and understand why. The Mockingjay has been wrecking so much havoc lately, I'm sure they all would prefer I was dead…well, all except maybe Peeta and Haymitch. "I have no idea." I just barely see Peeta nod beside me.

The doors shut behind us and seconds later Plutarch has taken command of the room and is telling us about where we are going, what's going to happen next. Then there in the middle of this elaborate map is something green, blinking, I'm moving forward before I even realize it when my hand makes contact with several others by the glowing green light. Many in the room remain confused, but it's not until Finnick starts, "Ladies and gentlemen . . ."

His voice is quiet, but mine rings through the room, "Let the Seventy-sixth Hunger Games begin!"

I laugh. Quickly. Before anyone has time to register what lies beneath the words I have just uttered. Before eyebrows are raised, objections uttered, two and two are put together, and the solution is that I should be kept as far away from the Capitol as possible. Because an angry, independently thinking victor with a layer of psychological scar tissue too thick to penetrate is maybe the last person you want on your squad.

"I don't even know why you bothered to put Finnick and me through training, Plutarch," I say.

"Yeah, we're already the two best-equipped soldiers you have," Finnick adds cockily.

"Do not think that fact escapes me," he says with an impatient wave. "Now back in line, Soldiers Odair and Everdeen. I have a presentation to finish."

We return to our previous positions but neither one of us has stopped sharing looks of terror, apprehension, and guilt, many times over. This was not something any of us wanted to happen…well, okay, Plutarch definitely wanted a revolution but probably not for the reasons he's been telling us. After awhile Finnick and I are able to focus on the reason we've been corralled here in the first place. We're going to the Capitol. After the meeting they briefly ask me and Peeta to stay behind.

"All we want is to inform you," says Coin, "that we will skip the haircut for you two. This is how the Capitol knows you, and this is how you will stay."

I nod and Peeta and I leave the room. "We're taking on the Capitol?"

"Did you just think we were going to sit here?" my jaw drops, "they bombed 12. Peeta there is no 12. No Hob, no bakery, no nothing but Victors Village." Okay, so I probably could have chosen a better time and way to tell him about that, but the opportunity – however poorly timed – presented itself, and I'd have to tell him sometime soon anyways.

"Katniss," says Finnick. I turn to meet him. "What am I supposed to tell Annie?"

"Nothing," I say. "My mother and Prim won't know anything of this either." It's bad enough that we know what we're getting into, but sparing anyone outside of our group, well they don't need to know what we're walking into, and I'm not about to go tell everyone exactly what that is either.

"But what if she—" he starts.

"She won't. They won't. It's classified, they couldn't see it even if they wanted to," I tell him, "which I don't think they would want to. And anyway it's not like an actual Games. Any number of people will survive. We're just overreacting because – well you know why. You still want to go don't you?"

"Of course. I want to destroy Snow as much as you do," he says.

"It's won't be like the others," I say firmly, trying to convince myself as well. Then the real beauty of the situation dawns on me. "This time Snow will be a player, too."

Before the conversation can go any farther, Haymitch appears beside Finnick. His voice flat, and expressionless face tell us that something is wrong. "Johanna's in the hospital again."

"What happened?" I'm shocked. She was doing so well. She had her test today so she should have been fine…she should have been at that meeting. Come to think of it, why hadn't her absence been a red flag for me earlier? I'm discovering I'm not very good at this friend thing at all. "She was fine this morning."

"She was on the Block," Haymitch explains. "They try to ferret out weaknesses, so they flooded the street," say Haymitch. This doesn't make sense to me, but the noise out of Peeta's mouth and the speed at which he moves away from us lets us know that there is something terribly wrong with the situation. Finnick and I look back to Haymitch confused.

"That's how they tortured her in the Capitol," he hesitates as we start to comprehend what he's saying. "Soaked her and then used electric shocks. In the Block she panicked. Had some kind of flashback. Didn't know where she was. They have her sedated agin, but being that you're as close a friends as she's got—"

"We're going—" Finnick says as he turns.

"Right now," I finish for him as we make our way to the hospital wing. By the time we get there Peeta is sitting in the chair beside Johanna, stroking her face, mumbling something about her being okay, how the Capitol can't hurt her in here…and then I wonder what he must have gone through…what they could have – did – do to him. Did he have to watch? Listen? To what they did to her? There is a bond here, that I don't understand, but I have a feeling it formed much like mine and Finnick's…survival. Sanity. Someone out there who understands how you feel, and what you're going through. Perhaps Johanna is Peeta's Finnick. Either way, I don't know that I can say much that would be better than whatever it is that Peeta's doing.

Johanna is crying. Violently. Shaking. Sweating, profusely. I've never seen her – someone so irrefutably strong – look so undeniably weak. It's not something I'm used to. The weak are weak, the strong are strong…chalk that up to the Games. But now…now I see four broken people that had to rely on someone else's presence – because of someone else's absence – to survive. To make it through one horrible day after the other.

Finnick drapes his arm around my shoulders, "Better not give into it—"

"It takes ten times as long—" I continue the quote.

"To put yourself back together…"

"As it does…"

And in unison we say, "to fall apart."

There is an eiry silence that follows. Besides Peeta muttering different reassuing – I'm assuming – things in Johanna's ear, we have no idea how she's doing, how she's feeling, what's going on inside that head of hers. It took me so long to crack her, and now…well…now. I don't know what she is now. I've never seen her so broken, so wholly untrusting, so utterly damaged. The Games destroyed us all, we've all helped that to some extent, but her destruction goes beyond the Games, to the Capitol, to Snow himself. And Snow is going to pay. For what he did, sending us all back into that arena, for taking Peeta and Johanna, for what he did to them when he had them…for how they are now. For every single person that died in District 12 and District 8, because they believed in me, because they believed in the Mockingjay…and because the Mockingjay had failed to protect them. Had failed to keep them safe, guarded, protected. It all started when I volunteered for Prim. If I'd just kept my mouth shut, maybe this wouldn't be happening, but I also wouldn't have Prim, and I'm sorry, but that's just not a possibility.

I started the rebellion, I didn't want to, but it's started now, and there's nothing I can do about it except to see it through till the end. If I fail, I fail…but I'm at least going to try. Johanna Mason, the victor from District 7 that stripped down in front of me outside of an elevator, saved me in that arena, was apparently there for Peeta…and who is my friend now. For Madge, for the rest of the Mellark's, for everyone that's not here with us now that should be – Snow will pay for what he's done – because anyone that can take stip-down-bare-chested-confident-District-7-victor Johanna Mason, and reduce her to this…is no friend of mine.

"Katniss," says Finnick on my right, "what should we do?"

"Be here for her?" I ask tentatively. "I don't know."

"Hey," hiccup, "brainless," another hiccup. "Com'ere." I walk slowly over to her other side and then remember something – "wait!" She looks at me startled, "please? I'll be right back. You have my word." She nods and I run from the room, yank a cotton bandage from the bedside table, run to the elevator and all the way up to the top. One of the guards tries to stop me, but I tell him plainly, "gotta grab some stuff for a friend, so you can come with me if you want." He followed me as I yanked strips of pine tree needles, and after making a neat pile in the middle of the bandage, I gather up the sides and give them a twist, and tie them tightly with a length of vine, making an apple-sized bundle.

On making it back to the hospital I stop in the doorway, Peeta and Finnick have both left and now all I see is the once strong, and seemingly indestructible Johanna Mason curled into a ball crying. Whatever they did to her in the Capitol, is completely unforgivable. She may not have been the best person in the world, but she certainly did not deserve this…to be turned into such a frail, absolutely defeated person. Johanna survived the Games – two arena's – all for what? To end up like this? In a hospital bed, in tears, for what? Satisfaction? Snow knew that she was in on the rebellion, he knew she was in the know, she was aware of things…so he did this to her. She's been irreparably damaged by what they put her through, and no one's going to sit here and tell me that she's fine; I may have been oblivious to Peeta watching me over the years, but this…no one cannot not see this…she deserves so much better. "I'm not like the rest of you. There's no one left that I love." She'd said that in the arena. For whatever reason she was alone in this world…alone and unprotected, but not anymore, not now that I'm here. She'll never be alone again.

I force myself through the door, "Johanna?" I ask timidly rounding the bed.

"Hello, brainless," she fakes a small laugh before hiccupping.

"I brought you something," I say raising the improvised bag I made. "I thought it might remind you of home, trees and all, you know? You were a tree the first time that we met, remember? Thought this could…make you feel more at home." I shrug and she hiccups again.

"I am home," a very heavy sigh escapes her, "you guys are my home. You, Finnick," she chokes up, "Peeta. He's been so good to me, all this time, always. He was always there for me in the Capitol…our cells were adjoining…"

"I remember you mentioning that."

She nods, "yeah. We're very familiar with each other's screams." That stings a bit to hear. I've never really heard Peeta scream, not like that, not in agonizing pain…I don't even think I could handle that. "It was really quite terrible…the screams, I mean…they never stopped. If it wasn't Peeta, or myself, it was someone else. Someone a few cells down from us. We were caged like animals, and then tortured like animals…I'm guessing someone's clued you in on how they got to me…" she looks at me expectantly, and all I can do is nod. "It was quite awful, Katniss. It's one thing to hear about torture…it's another thing entirely, to experience torture. The Games were bad, but nothing compares to this. Occasionally we'd fall asleep holding hands…the one thing tying us to reality in the black abyss we'd come to know…come to call home." She cries some more.

I walk over to her slowly, but definitively. Each step more careful and calculated than the last. She reaches her hand out to me and I walk quicker to grab it. "You're home now then. But we'll get out of here, we won't stay in 13 forever, and you can come live with me, does that sound good to you?" She starts to sob and her grip on my hand tightens, I can see my fingers are going numb when she yanks my face in front of hers.

"You have to kill him, Katniss."

Him? Oh, Snow. "I will."

"He can't be allowed to live, he can't have this power," she inhales a few times very quickly, "he's got to know that these things – these actions have consequences, and they are unavoidable, because the act was unforgivable. He can't live, Katniss. Promise me you'll kill him." I didn't think it was possible but her grip on my hand gets tighter. "Promise me."

"I promise," I nod placing my other – uncrushed – hand on top of hers, "I'll kill him. I promise you that. I won't come back until he is dead. He'll pay for everything that he's done. He'll pay, I promise you."

"Promise on something you love!"

"I promise on my mother and –"

"No," she says harshly. "Something you love. Peeta. Swear on Peeta."

"Alright," I tell her. "I swear on Peeta Mellark, that I will not come home until President Snow is dead. I won't let anything happen to you, and I won't let him hurt anyone ever again, you have my word on that."

"Okay," she says laying back. "I need to rest, okay brainless?"

"Anything you need," I tell her, "don't hesitate to ask. We've got a lot of money between the two of us, they should be willing to do whatever we need them to do, on our behalf."

"Cute," she says with a faint smile. "Thank Peeta for me."

"Of course." In a matter of seconds she is out like a light. I try to take the pouch from her hand but instead she clutches it tightly to her chest. Her other hand releases mine easily enough. I'd have thought her and Peeta's closeness would bother me…and maybe it would…if she wasn't so utterly damaged. I would have been damaged beyond repair if Peeta died, but now looking at Johanna, I don't think I'd be free of damage if anything happened to her either. She really had become family. Has. She has become family. It's almost impossible to imagine mine now, without her in it, oh it's not that she has this arresting presence that just pulls at you…but her in general. She was insufferable at first, then tolerable, then she was an ally, an ally turned friend…and a friend turned family. No, as long as I'm alive, Johanna will not be without family.

I make my way back to our room, but I almost feel obligated to stay in her room with her, keep her company, make sure no one else can hurt her – get to her – make sure she's safe, but I can't. They wouldn't let me. I have my own quarters and that's exactly what they'd say as they'd usher me out the doors. I'll visit her in the morning…but for now, I need some sleep as well. Connecting with her this emotionally has really wiped me out. The walk back to the corridor is long and quiet – as most have gone to bed – which is both a good thing and a bad thing…one should only be able to think so much, for so long. I look to my right and notice I'm back at the corridor already…that walk certainly seemed shorter than ever, but no matter, I open the door. Peeta is sleeping so I slip into my pajama's and slide in beside him.

Noticing me he turns over and snuggles up behind me. "Peeta?" I ask.

"Mmm?"

"Do you still get nightmares?" I'm almost afraid of the answer.

"Mhm."

"Do you remember what you told me on the train, that one night, about your nightmares?" I ask slowly so that hopefully he catches everything I'm saying. He nods his head against my own.

"Mhm."

"You said, you never woke up or thrashed around…" I've started to rub the arm draped over me subconsciously. "That they were about losing me…and that you were okay—"

"Once I realized you were there." He nods his head again. "It sure does feel good to have that advantage again. The dreams are still bad, and I think I do thrash around now, but yes. Like I said before, they're usually about losing you…and I am okay once I realize you're here." He kisses the back of my head. "But we should get some sleep, Katniss."

"Mhm," I agree. "I love you Peeta."

"I know," he says with a yawn. "I love you, too. Always have, always will."