This is the second part to the sequel, which is the reasoning behind the time shift that is about to occur. I only say this for clarity, so there's no confusion with the timeline, though hopefully it's understood through the writing. ALSO I've already written almost all of the rest of the sequel, so I'll be updating multiple chapters a week (and because I am overly excited about just sharing the rest of this portion of Pandora's story).

Anyways, enjoy.

A Year's Time

Tempered sunshine streamed through the clouds. It cascaded past the crooked steeples of marble, steel and glass, finally penetrating the windows of the Panem Special Operations facilities. Dull light illuminated specks of dust, which softly danced through the air.

Apart from the ticking of a far off clock and the distant noise of city life the room was still, but it was a full quietness, weighted silence that crammed Pandora Sullivan's heads with questions.

She was resting her arm on the back of the sofa. Her eyes were focused on the streets below.

Dips in the white cobblestone collected spring rain, with the reflections of the pale sky the puddles appeared silver. From time to time a person or group would filed through the narrow way. The office was so high up the pedestrians looked like marching ants.

"What are you thinking about?"

The question pulled her back into the room. Even though Pandora didn't look away from the window she took in a steady breath. Silent seconds passed until finally she crossed her legs and glanced to Dr. Viktor Mironov.

"I was just enjoying the view."

A smile formed beyond his white beard, "Yes, it does have a nice view. Looks out onto the mountains."

She twisted her neck slightly. Her eyes briefly peered once more to the scenery. Sure enough, far beyond the buildings and bustling streets snowcapped mountains protruded from the earth. They looked like jagged white teeth. Although these mountains were much larger, Pandora couldn't help thinking of the mountains in her home District. She tried to close her eyes and remember the details of those mountains, the knolls, the forest…it was all so far away.

When Pandora opened her eyes back up she could feel Mironov staring at her. He was waiting for their appointment to continue, for her to speak. She contemplated the possible avenues of conversation to take but only a single overwhelming phrase played on repeat.

"It will be noisy again soon—the games will be beginning."

Her gaze lowered as she listened to her own words. They sounded strange out loud.

"We've been doing these appointments for a year now. Hard to believe, isn't it?"

She gave him a short-lived stare before looking away. It was hard to believe.

A year. That was how long she had been in the Capitol. That was how long she had been behind the golden bars of government and military. It felt like just yesterday that she had met Finnick Odair, that she had fought in the arena, that President Snow had brought her back to the Capitol to live…now it was the past. Her future rested snuggly on the horizon, still muddled and mysterious.

"It feels like it was a year ago just yesterday. I—I sometimes lose track of time. It's as if I'll blink my eyes and miss half my life."

"That happens as you get older."

Her fingertips traced the cool metal of her bracelet. A bracelet that her youngest brother had given her as a token of good luck. Her eyes narrowed at that memory. More than anything she wanted to be reunited with her family, to at least know that they were okay. Over the past year she had pleaded with Mironov, even President Snow to somehow let her see them, but each time her pleas were denied. The ache and longing was so severe that she would awake some night in a cold sweat and breathless rage.

"They say time changes things," she whispered back.

"Do they?"

Her eyes twitch to him silently, "I wish I could remember what it was like before the games."

Mironov leaned forward. His fingers scratched at his beard, "How do you mean? You're saying you can't remember?"

"No, not like that. Of course I remember it all, but it's like an old song you used to know. The old me feels like someone else entirely."

"Well I suppose that's because you grew up. No one stays a child forever."

Pandora didn't reply. This topic was a recurring theme throughout their meetings. Rarely did she speak about her hatred of the Capitol or President Snow, mainly because there was no way that would be fully allowed. These meetings with Mironov were for her own sanity or, as he told her, a way to ease Pandora into Capitol life. She was wary of this fact. She didn't want to be eased, she wanted to be left alone. No matter where she was forced to be, no matter how long, District 7 would always be her home, and although sometimes it was hard for her to remember this truth it was always there to help her.

One year had passed, that much was true, but Pandora Sullivan had little regard for time. After all time didn't matter, her sentence was for life.

"And how is Finnick?"

Her face brightened immediately. Her heart jumped.

"He's—wonderful. I don't know where I'd be without him. He reminds me of how good things can be."

"You've been with him for a year almost."

She parted her lips as she remembered their first real kiss. It was a warm memory, one that made her smile. Since then they had shared many more kisses, not only that but somehow, in some way, they were beginning to share their lives together. To Pandora, Finnick was the only one. She didn't need him, she didn't need anybody, but she wanted him. She loved him.

"Yes, I have," her palms calmly rested on her legs, "Sometimes it's hard—all the publicity—It's not natural."

"No?"

"All the pressure, I mean."

"I thought you had gotten used to that."

Suddenly she felt nervous. The thought of gawking crowds and press made her stomach churn.

"I hate it."

"The price you pay I suppose—for winning."

Her lips tightened abruptly. Her eyes dulled.

"I never asked to win anything. I thought that by now the world would forget about me. It's been two years since I won the Games. And now—with this year's coming up—you'd think they'd at least stop for a little while."

"You know, you shouldn't be afraid of your own promise. You have much to achieve in your life."

"I don't want to achieve anything!" she suddenly shouted, "I want to be left alone."

"Shh—Shh. The scientists will think someone is being attacked by tracker jackers."

Out of the corner of her eyes she could see the doctor smiling at his own joke, but her face didn't flinch.

She rubbed the temples of her head. A sharp pain vibrated through her brain and down her neck.

"Headache?"

She bowed her head forward, trying to open her eyes. The pain was passing but not fast enough.

"Woah—"

She didn't realize she was falling forward until Mironov had his hands around her. He steady his bad knee and helped her back to the sofa.

"Alright—let's not get too riled up."

His blue eyes uneasily widened as he propped her onto the cushions and reached for the pitcher of water.

"Sip it slow, now."

She clenched her teeth together as she took a breath of air and leaned back. A final slice made her vision darken for a second, "Ah!"

"Just breath."

By the time the pain fully passed her fingernails were digging into her palms. She shifted away from Mironov and grimaced. The water tasted strange on her tongue.

"So you're still having headaches?"

"I—they aren't normally this bad."

"Do you think you're getting sick?"

She frowned at him, her eyes darkly seared through, "You're the doctor. Why don't we just cut me open and find out? That's probably what you're planning to do with me anyways."

"That's not funny."

She laughed grimly as the her body relaxed, "Viktor, you look at my brain all the time. I think if something was wrong you would know."

Over the past year Mironov had been hooking Pandora up to a machine with wires, and putting her in claustrophobic tunnels, all so that he could study her brain. She had no idea why he was so interested in this, but she complied for fear of consequences if she didn't. For the most part they were painless.

"You're healthy. We don't need to worry about anything," he was examining her pupils with a small light. He pushed his glasses up as he leaned away, "You're still having nightmares?"

The mentioning of this made her feel nauseous, "I always have nightmares."

"They're getting worse?"

She rubbed her forehead and furrowed her brow, sudden irritation rattled her bones, "It's not important!—they're all the same—just nightmares!"

Mironov silently took in her response. He was observing her. By now he could tell when she was uncomfortable and when she was just plain angry. Right now she was both. He dropped his eyes and pulled off his glasses.

"Why don't you tell Finnick about these meetings?" He suddenly inquired.

She froze. Her posture filled with tension and stale shock, "He wouldn't like it."

Mironov nodded with a smile. As he rose to his feet he arched his bushy eyebrows and limped towards his desk.

"He goes home soon for the Hunger Games Reaping, eh?"

"Yes, tomorrow—he'll be mentoring again this year. I wasn't pick to mentor…I'm never picked."

Mironov was jotting notes into one of his journals. He didn't take his eyes of the pages. "Would you really want to be?"

Pandora's expression saddened. Her voice had an edge to it.

"No," she whispered, "I wouldn't."

Their appointment ended abruptly with an urgent call from one of the laboratories that needed Mironov's assistance. Pandora didn't ask question, she was happy to be done with it all. Soon, he promised her, she would not have to continue coming to these appointments anymore. That single assurance was enough to make her feel hopeful, though she couldn't repress the bite of suspicion lurking in her gut.

Instead of taking the car home, she walked. The rain steadily drizzled from the sky. She was thankful for the stormy weather, it made it easier to go about her business unnoticed by passing fans.

Her heels bellowed against the paved way. It was an hour before she found herself in front of the familiar glass tower. Yuri was snoring at his desk as she pushed through the doors and pressed the elevator button.

Moments and several footsteps later, she was at her door. Her hand quickly pressed against the identification panel. Instantly the clanking and screeching of security and locks echoed.

A soprano chime was swiftly followed by the robotic voice.

"Welcome home, Pandora Sullivan and Finnick Odair."

She smirked as she stepped inside. Raindrops trickled onto the floor when she pulled her coat off and stepped out of her heels.

"Finnick?!"

No answer.

She poured a glass of water and slowly meandered into the living room. Her gaze shifted to a photograph of Finnick and her, it had been taken during one of the many social functions the Capitol put on. Her smirk quickly transformed into a smile.

"I woke up alone."

She whirled around. Finnick was standing in the doorway.

"You're not trying to get away from me, are you?"

She returned his smile and shrugged, "Caradoc wanted an emergency photo shoot done."

"I think I'll have to talk to him one of these days…"

She peered up at him as he hugged her and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. When he leaned away she craned her neck up and brushed his lips with hers.

"You'll miss me terribly when I'm away, won't you?"

Pandora let out a throaty laugh before kissing him on his neck and backing away, "I'll be lost. Absolutely lost."

"I figured as much."

His smile slowly straightened as he let go of her and wandered into the dining room. Suddenly he seemed worried.

"Another year," he seemed to whisper it to himself.

"Maybe there's a way you could get out of this, I know how much you hate doing it."

"No—I want to—I need to do this."

She pursed her lips and nodded, "I know."

"I'm just glad you don't have to mentor, you've had it bad enough."

"We both have, Finnick."

He stared at the glass table, "I can't believe it's already the 70th Hunger Games."

Pandora crossed her arms. Her brow furrowed at his words. Suddenly her conversation with Mironov felt very near, "Yes, it's funny how time works."

Finnick rubbed the back of his neck. A thoughtful groan simmered from him as he turned his face to the windows and looked out. His green eyes vibrantly sparkled.

"You know, it's strange…something feels very different about this time around. About this Hunger Game."

In the sunlight he looked like a shadow to Pandora, "How?"

"I don't know."

Silence loomed before he suddenly let out a laugh and turned around to face her. He shook his head.

"Nevermind that…I'll miss you, Pandora."

"It's only a week. Just don't be long."

"I haven't smelt the ocean in…well I can't even remember."

She leaned her back against the wall and smiled. She would never go home again, but it gave her comfort that Finnick could. Her only fear was that he would love her less after. The idea of it was crippling and yet so realistic it was hard to push away. Finnick was her light, if that light ever went out Pandora didn't know how she would survive.