I whistle cheerfully to myself as I amble towards the richest part of District One. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, I'm in a shit mood and I have to pretend to be happy, just like I have for the last fourteen days, nineteen hours, twenty six minutes, and thirteen seconds.

People are staring at me like I've lost my mind, but they've been doing that ever since I got back. After the initial kamikaze rebels got their rendition of 'Tune de la Rue' out of the way, it seems like all of the Marvel fans have curled up and died, leaving a lot of people who look at me like I'm crazy, insult me to my face, or simply decide to act like I died in the arena and no longer exist.

Unfortunately, my family falls under all three categories.

Since Snow isn't an idiot, he didn't film the reunion with my family live. Instead, he decided to make things as awkward as possible and have the whole shindig choreographed and scripted out. So rather than having a huge, nationally televised showdown with my mother like I'd kind of been hoping for, I got to shake my father's hand, hug my mother, and pat Breeze on the head, all while smiling like a creeper and talking about district pride and money and how much fun I had in the Capitol. Afterwards, my father stared at me for a long heartbeat and said, "Be careful, Marvel." Then he walked off. Breeze backed away after him, giving me an 'I'm worried you're going to turn evil and kill me at any second so I refuse to look away from you' expression before finally turning around and jogging to catch up to my father.

As soon as the witnesses were gone, my mother completely lost it. In short, she cussed me out with an impressive thoroughness, told me an entertaining story that involved peacekeepers storming our house to look for rebellious materials and embarrassing the shit out of her in front of the neighbors, and called me a plethora of colorful names that would've made Haymitch Abernathy blush. Then she said that she couldn't stand to look at me anymore, turned on a pointed heel, and stomped off.

That's when the whole 'acting like I don't exist' thing came into play. I haven't seen any of my family since I've gotten back, and my mansion back in Victor's Village is painfully deserted. I don't even have any housekeepers to talk to because I now have so much time on my hands that not only have I taught myself how to do laundry, clean, and cook semi-edible food, but I've also come to enjoy it.

Really, that painful loneliness is the reason that I'm currently going where I'm going. When Tilly called a little over a week ago to tell me that I had to think up a talent with which to entertain the masses, the first criteria that me and my little lonely self thought of was that whatever I chose had to involve socializing; that way I'd have an excuse to interact with people without resorting to begging or bribery. Of course, as soon as I reached said conclusion, I also realized that I knew very few people who'd agree to willingly socialize with me, talent or no talent.

With that wonderfully depressing insight came the task of thinking up acquaintances who would be open to the idea of spending time with moi.

Gloss was the first person who came to mind. At least until I found out that his post-Games talent had been bodybuilding, which, considering the fact that I ditched a lot of my strength-training classes back at the Academy because there were fourteen-year-olds who could bench more than I could, is about the last thing I wanted to do in my free time. Then I considered Cashmere, but other than her talent- which is yoga- all that she does is go on trips to the Capitol to do 'business' for Snow, and if her business is what I think it is, well… I'd rather not be a part of it.

That narrowed it down to two options: Tilly, who had no obvious talents of which to speak, and Ventidius, who I wouldn't willingly spend time with to save my life.

My thinking had just reached the point where I was starting to contemplate joining an old lady knitting group that was too blind to recognize me when, thank god, I had a genius epiphany. I did know someone else who (probably) liked me, and he even had an obvious talent... Cinna.

So maybe I'd never even met the guy, but I did know that he more likely than not was a rebel (aka, not a total Capitol goon), and, well… a stylist who spent a lot of time with Katniss. It was stupidly desperate of me, but I actually think that's the thing that decided me completely; I wanted an excuse to talk with someone who knew Katniss.

I ended up calling Tilly back and telling her that fashion was going to be my talent. I, however, didn't want Snow wondering why I was suddenly so interested in getting buddy-buddy with Cinna specifically, so instead of calling him for advice right away, I've been spending the last few days either on the phone with Venny or hanging out at a fashion boutique that Cashmere led me to. You know, so I can get everyone acclimated to the idea that I'm going to be the next greatest thing in fashion design before I start chatting it up with Cinna.

The world of fashion hasn't been as bad as I expected, either. I've already stopped by Capital Style- yes, that is a terrible pun on 'Capitol'- several times in the last few days, and while I'm definitely not the designer-guy type, I do enjoy trailing the owner and using a fake-Capitol accent to give out bullshit fashion advice to District One's elite. Funnily enough, my fake-accent had enough people believing that spending two weeks in the Capitol made me an expert on what they're wearing that, the last time I was in, Apollo gave me a uniform, a name tag, and the right to offer random people my expert counsel whenever I please.

I cross the street and skip up to the enormous boutique, waving at all of the creepy, terrifying mannequins in the window to give all the staring passerby a legitimate reason to judge me. Smiling like I'm not totally aware that my district thinks I've lost my marbles, I toss open the door and amble into the shop. The whole place is thickly carpeted and filled with paintings of scary silhouette people, along with racks of strange-looking coats and shirts, cubic shelves of ugly shoes, and the most ridiculous hats a person will ever see, all adorning a plethora of head-shaped hat-racks. A flat-screen television is playing in the corner, blaring out the latest news in the Capitol. I ignore it and head up to one of the clothing racks, where Apollo is reorganizing a row of vests.

"Hi, Marvel," says Apollo cheerfully. He almost kicked me out when I first came into the shop, saying he didn't want 'my type' ruining his business, but I've clearly grown on the guy. "I'm so glad to see you. I've been looking into the clothing you wore in the Capitol- it was all marvelous, by the way- and I fell in love with the color palette that your genius stylist used. I was wondering if you couldn't help me incorporate those same colors into styles that are affordable here in District One."

I stare at him, sure that he just brutally abused a 'Marvel' pun and called Ventidius a genius in the same sentence

"You're kidding, right?" I ask slowly. When his expression tells me that he's completely serious, I laugh and quickly say, "I mean, yes, of course. Can I see your designs?"

Apollo isn't a Capitol idiot. He gets that I am being a smartass, but he also understands that I carry a knife at all times and have been known to wave it around like I'm going to use it when he's being unreasonable. Intelligently, Apollo doesn't so much as open his mouth before he stomps off to his office in back, I'm assuming to retrieve his big portfolio of design sketches.

I know that it'll probably take him a while to find it- I've already figured out that the guy misplaces everything he touches- so I take a seat on one of his fancy, extremely uncomfortable chairs, pick up a magazine, and start flipping through it while trying to ignore the Capitol newscast that's playing.

I'm just reading up on how to dress vintage without looking ancient when one of the announcers on the TV says Katniss's name. My ears automatically perk up, and I tune into the program just enough to vaguely hear the end of her sentence. "... all interested in hearing more on the rumors surrounding Miss Everdeen's risque rendezvous with Atlas Baxwoll- son of one of President Snow's most trusted advisers- that began circulating yesterday..."

I freeze in place, certain that I'd completely misunderstood. Then another announcer goes on and says, "The rumors have officially been confirmed. Everdeen, who is currently in the Capitol for unknown business, checked into a hotel with Baxwoll late last evening-"

My magazine flutters to the floor before the guy can finish. I get to my feet and dazedly move closer to the television. A few of the patrons start pointing and whispering, but I hardly care because, now that I'm close enough, I can very clearly see that I hadn't misheard. There are two grotesquely altered Capitol idiots gesturing to a picture that's been brought up behind them… a picture of Katniss holding hands with a tall, handsome Capitolite at the front desk of a fancy hotel. I can't quite make out the expression on Katniss's face, but I can see that she doesn't want to be there by the tense set of her thin shoulders. Well, and because she's Katniss and Snow is a bastard and I know exactly what's going on

I stare at the man that's with Katniss and feel a sickening mixture of hatred and jealousy and pure rage bubble up in my chest, and suddenly I don't care how disgusted I was with myself at killing those people in the arena. I want to find this man and skin him alive and then torture him in every terrible way I have ever been taught.

Trying not to make a big deal out of something that can't be happening, I remind myself that I've had terrible nightmares before and I'm probably asleep. I close my eyes and pinch myself and shake my head over and over again, sure that it's going to go away when I wake up.

Slowly, terrified, I open my eyes again and feel my stomach bottom out when the same headline is still flashing across the screen. My hands start shaking and I have to take a deep breath because I can feel myself slipping back into the arena. Not like at the end of the Games, but like at the beginning, when I wanted nothing more than to kill someone, when I was dying to spill blood.

Snow... that disgusting man who was holding Katniss's hand... I stare at that screen and find myself longing to tear both of them apart with my bare hands.

"Marvel, are you ready?" I spin around to see Apollo standing behind me, holding his big binder and looking at me cautiously. I clench my hands into fists and try to force my breathing to slow down, reminding myself over and over and over again that making a scene will piss Snow off, that that'll just make things worse, and that it isn't Apollo's fault in the least.

My voice is painfully strained despite my best efforts.

"I… I actually think that I should talk to some of my friends in the Capitol first. To… you know… to…" I shake my head. I can't even lie; that's how screwed up my state of mind is. I've been spending the last two weeks with Katniss dancing around in the back of my head, worrying about her and praying that she's okay, and now, the first I see of her since I left her in the Capitol, I figure out that she's either developed a taste for rich Capitol guys, or, more likely, Snow is selling her.

Apollo glances at the television screen, then looks at me and scrunches his face up like he's trying to solve an interesting puzzle. After a moment, his eyes light up with surprise and he nods and supplies, "To ask them about the colors for my designs?"

I don't know if he's serious- something tells me he isn't, that he knows there's something going on and is throwing me a bone- but I snap my fingers and nod emphatically. "Yes," I say, practically jumping up and down with the need to do something. "I'm going to go call a Capitol friend and ask about color combinations. Can I-"

"Borrow my office?" asks Apollo. He gives me a go-ahead gesture, and I quickly move back through the boutique and towards the short hallway that leads to his private office. My head is spinning, struggling to come up with something that I can do to stop this, but my brain is in such a terrible muddle that it's useless. I'm too worried about Katniss, too angry and blindsided and pissed off to come up with any coherent thoughts at all.

When I finally do get into his office, I'm stumped as to what I'm supposed to do. I just saw Katniss Everdeen, my Katniss Everdeen, on the news with some… with some disgusting Capitol freak, and… and it's against her will. She… good god, I don't even want to think about what she had to do with him, and there's nothing I can do to change it because I sure as hell can't go back in time…

I plop down in Apollo's fancy desk chair and bury my face in my hands. Dammit! I try to protect her from one thing, and then Snow goes and destroys her another way. I can't believe that he'd actually sink so low as to do something like that… and to her. I'd understand if he wanted to punish me, if he wanted to sell me and screw with me, but what purpose does messing up Katniss have? She didn't do anything, not really. It was all Rue and me and mostly Thresh, and I'm the only one alive to punish…

Realization hits me hard, and I feel like I'm going to throw up.

No. No way. Snow's hurting me enough. There's no way he's doing this to get to me. He can't be. I've been playing my part so well, and besides, he still needs me… he knows better than to waste his cards like that, so there's another reason… lord, I pray that there's another reason, because I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive myself if I find out that I'm the reason that what I just saw on that screen is going on.

Still… just because it may not be entirely my fault doesn't mean that I should let it keep happening… as if I have a choice. Snow isn't going to stop this; he's going to do with Katniss what Glimmer was worried would happen to her… what I'm ninety percent sure he's doing with Cashmere on a consistent basis, and I can't do anything to stop it, to even make it easier on her.

Gosh, if I was just there.

Then I think of it. Calling Cinna. I could use him as an excuse… ask if he won't meet me a few times to discuss fashion stuff, or go to a fashion show or whatever in the hell they do in the Capitol. Hell, if I misread the guy and he doesn't trust me, I'll call up Venny and do all that crap with him. Anything to get me to the Capitol.

With shaking hands, I reach out and pick up Apollo's phone. I have Cinna's number memorized; I got it from Tilly almost right away and I've been tempted to use it, to call him and ask him about Katniss, since I got it. Now I dial it numbly without having any idea what I'm going to say or what his reaction is going to be.

It's his personal phone, so I know that it's Cinna himself when a male voice answers, "Apollo? Can I help you?"

I guess I should've figured that Cinna would have Apollo's number. I know Apollo keeps in pretty consistent contact with Venny, so I'm not surprised he'd know other Capitol stylists, too.

"Um. This isn't Apollo," I say slowly. I wait a second to see if he recognizes the voice, and when he doesn't say anything, venture, "It's Marvel Metzger."

There's surprise clear in his tone when Cinna replies, "Marvel… to what do I owe the pleasure?"

I think Katniss is being sold and I need an excuse to get to the Capitol so I can cut off all of Snow's limbs one by one for revenge.

"Well, I'm not sure if you've heard or not, but when I had to pick a talent, I decided to go for fashion design, and… I was wondering if you wouldn't mind helping me out a little." I realize I'm speaking too fast and try to slow down. "I mean, I'd need to get permission to head up to the Capitol, but when I'm there, could we meet a couple times to go over designs or something?"

I finish and let out a long breath, sure that I sounded like a random idiot. Cinna, however, must understand at least a little of what's going on because I can practically feel him snap to attention on the other end.

"You would like to come to the Capitol?" he asks slowly. "Would there be any chance of me going to District One instead?"

I feel like this is a test, and cautiously I say, "Well, you could, but I wouldn't want to if I were you. It's freezing here, and the Snow has really been a bitch lately." I laugh, vaguely wondering if that was too obvious. Then I realize that I really don't care. Snow can't do much worse to me than he's already doing. Let him get a little pissy.

"Well, the Snow isn't too bad here at the moment, especially not in my part of the city," says Cinna. I'm not sure if he got my pun or not, but I'll give the guy the benefit of the doubt. "Would you like me to arrange something with the president for you?"

I relax. "That would be perfect." I can feel him getting ready to hang up, probably with promises to call me back or whatever, but I hurriedly speak before he can. "Do you know how long Katniss is in the Capitol for?"

There's a long pause, and for a second I wonder if he's even there anymore. Then Cinna says, "She's scheduled to leave next week."

A week. I feel my heart stop. That's seven more days. Seven more nights.

"Oh. Well… Maybe I'll call her up for coffee sometime or something."

Cinna and I both know that that isn't going to happen.

"Maybe," he says anyway. Then: "I'll call you after I talk with President Snow. I'm thinking that he'll find your interest in fashion interesting and want you here as soon as possible. He may even have you make a few publicity appearances."

"Wonderful," I say. Then, because spending time with Peeta instilled within me a disgusting sense of politeness that I haven't figured out how to get rid of yet, I add, "Thanks again."

Then I hang up. Releasing a low breath, I lean back in the chair, stare at the ceiling, and, in an attempt to calm myself down, start coming up with ways that I can be wrong about what's going on.

Maybe Katniss really did meet a guy she truly likes a lot.

Maybe she's trying to get back at me.

Maybe Snow hired an actor who looks like Katniss to freak me out.

I shake my head. I don't know. They're all desperate ideas, but I'm a desperate person. So maybe I've been lonely and miserable, but lonely and miserable is a million times better than this. I thought that I've been doing well with the whole 'act like an asshole' thing, that Snow wasn't going to punish me any other way, but apparently I was wrong. I can't imagine what would have changed his mind, but… if he's still taking action, I must not be doing enough.

How am I not doing enough? What else can I do? Because I have to do something, anything…

Apollo hesitantly knocks on the door frame, and I quickly jump to my feet. Now isn't the time to be worrying about that anyway. Maybe I'll get an appointment with Snow later where I'll be able to at least try to figure out why he's doing what he's doing and what I could do to make it go away. Later. Not now. Now I have to keep acting and not seem upset and definitely not do anything to make things worse than they apparently already are.

"You're going to the Capitol?" he asks. I want to be pissed at him for listening into the conversation, but I can't be.

"If Snow approves it, yeah," I say. "And don't worry, I'll pay close attention to what everyone is wearing and bring all the information straight back to you."

"You do that," he says.

"I'll ask Cinna about those color things too, since I'll be talking with him and all that. Um… and is it okay if I go now? I know I just got here, but-"

"It's fine." Apollo reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. I try to get a good look at it, but he reaches for my hand and presses whatever it is into my palm instead. I want to glance at it, but I have a feeling that he's being so discreet for a reason. "And don't forget; if you see anything fabulous, pick it up and I'll pay you back."

"Of course."

"You should probably go."

I leave without looking back.

As soon as I'm back in Victor's Village, alone in my room- which I at least roughly checked for surveillance devices- I open my palm to see what Apollo had given me.

What I find makes me start in surprise.

Another mockingjay. This one isn't a necklace, but a pin, and infinitely simpler than Cinna's sparkling design. The white gold and single ruby eye of the mockingjay still make it relatively expensive, but in a much less obvious way.

It's not meant for everyone to see, to make a point, as Cinna's had been.

This one is made to send a message, and I can't help but smile just a small amount as the pieces click together and I realize just what that message is.

Katniss wore a mockingjay pin and Rue sang a mockingjay song, and thinking back on it now, the birds always seemed to pop up whenever Rue and Katniss and I were doing something that made our districts look united in the arena, from joking about 'outer district entertainment' to singing Rue to death. And beyond that, even, mockingjays are rebellious in themselves. I researched them a little after I got back and got the whole back story with the jabber jays and mockingbirds, and knowing that they're something the Capitol never wanted to exist in the first place makes the meaning behind the bird symbol a lot more loaded.

I hadn't really seen it before, but with Apollo passing me his pin like a secret message, it's kind of obvious. Cinna gave me that necklace for a reason deeper than I originally thought; he wanted people to see it. It symbolized union between Districts One and Twelve, and now… now I'm almost positive that it's become the symbol for something even more. If not an emblem of nationwide rebellion, I think that the mockingjay has at least turned into sign of District One's hope for something better.

I turn the pin over in my hands and try to give myself a little of that hope.

If nothing else, I suppose at least this means that not all the Marvel fans in District One have curled up and died.