Just wanted to give a very, very special thank you to Odestalovebaby who has reviewed seven of the nine chapters posted in the sweetest of ways and accounts for all but one of the reviews this story has gotten. Sometimes it feels like I'm writing into a void but then I remember that one reader does not a void make so this chapter (this story, really) is hereby dedicated to Odestalovebaby!

Ten

They cancel Annie's Victory Tour when she gets too close to a giant wood chipper on a tour of District Seven. I know she only lost her balance because she hadn't eaten or slept properly in a week but she'd come off as unstable enough that someone higher up than me or Mags decides she tried to kill herself and they send her home. I thank that higher power for small mercies.

So she turned toward home with Mags.

She doesn't understand why I stayed at the train station in Seven but she was too exhausted or maybe too terrified to ask questions.

And I continued on without her, giving her apologies to the people in Districts One through Six and assuring them of how much their support means to her. But that's all just for show. The only destination I was ever meant for was the Capitol.

In a way, I'm glad Annie isn't in the Capitol with me.

Venia sits beside me in the car and offers a reassuring smile. I'm not sure how much she knows about what I do, but it's comforting to have her beside me. "They told me to wait through this appointment," she tells me, "because you've got somewhere to be afterward."

Two appointments in one night. This is worse than I expected.

I don't say anything. I should, but I don't. No matter how much or how little she knows, I just know I can be some form of who I really am around her. So I stare out the window at the snow covered city and wait until the car stops in front of a turquoise glass covered building. I take a deep breath and force myself into my alternate personality.

All I have are instructions that the doorman will take me to the apartment I'm meant to be at, and he takes me to the penthouse before disappearing back onto the elevator.

I knock on the only door on the floor and hold my breath.

The door opens to reveal a man I've met just once before. "Ah, Finnick. I hope your trip went splendidly. I am so sorry Miss Cresta was unable to continue her Victory Tour. Do give her my sympathies and wishes for a speedy recovery from her ailments, won't you?"

I blink, nodding because it's taking my brain a moment to catch up. Plutarch Heavensbee bought time with me? It doesn't make sense.

He gestures for me to come inside. "Make yourself at home, Finnick. May I get you a drink?"

"Water," I say before I can stop myself - and I would have because I try not to eat or drink anything unless absolutely necessary during my appointments.

He leaves me alone in the room for a moment and comes back with a glass of ice water, then gestures for me to follow him again.

I do, because that's what I do on my appointments. I follow wherever I'm led.

This time, I'm led to a rooftop garden. And Plutarch locks the door behind him.

"Relax, Finnick," he says as he walks around the green space, reaching behind plants to flick switches and press buttons. "I won't be requiring your usual services tonight. Not unless Haymitch is keen to join us and I don't think he is. What do you say, Haymitch?"

Haymitch Abernathy steps out from behind an overgrown flowering bush of some sort and shakes his head. "Pretty Boy, maybe. Not a fat, old fool like you, Heavensbee." He tips his head to me and offers his flask. "Want a warm up since we're meeting out in the freezing cold?"

I shake my head, clutching my water glass too tightly.

Plutarch looks at me and goes back to the door he just locked. "Why don't you ease him in to the conversation, Haymitch? I'll give you a little time. Knock three times when you need me to come up."

I gape at Haymitch as the former Gamemaker disappears back into the penthouse.

"You're gonna get frostbite on your tongue," he says bluntly, taking me by the elbow and leading me to a stone bench mostly free from snow. "You don't mind a break in the monotony, do you?"

"Am I supposed to have sex with him? Am I supposed to have sex with you?" The words are out before I can stop them.

"God, no. Neither of us. That's not why you're here, Pretty Boy."

I set the glass down on the stone path beneath my feet because my fingers feel like they're freezing to the glass and because I've got a growing urge to smash it in his face and see if there's a force-field around this roof like there is at the Training Center. "Why am I here, Haymitch?"

"It's safe to talk, he turned off the bugs." To make his point, he gestures toward the places Plutarch flicked switches and pushed buttons. "Do you trust me, Pretty Boy?"

If I'm not there and you need to trust someone, trust Haymitch Abernathy. Trust him with your life, with the life of the person you care most for.

I always listen to what Mags tells me. "Yes," I say, nodding for good measure. "Yes, I trust you."

He chuckles and offers me the flask again, smiling when I accept it. "Tell Mags I said thanks. Now, on to the business at hand before Plutarch gets impatient. Mags told me to trust you too. So I'm going to ask you how you'd feel about being part of bringing around to all this."

"All this?" I repeat stupidly. "All what?"

"The Hunger Games, the absolute rule of Coriolanus Snow, district full of people starving while a chosen few vomit so they can eat more, suspicious 'accidents'... all of this."

If I'd had an appointment before this, I'd be certain someone slipped me some chemical to slow down my mind. I didn't, though, so there's just the simple fact that it doesn't make sense. "Are you talking about a rebellion against President Snow and the Capitol?"

"Huh, you've got a brain in there after all, Pretty Boy." He takes the flask back and tucks it into his jacket. "I am talking about a rebellion. Plutarch is running things here in the Capitol, I'm running things with the victors, and District Thirteen is preparing the military power to be the army."

Maybe there was something in the air vents in the car. "District Thirteen was destroyed."

It's the opening he needs and he tells me more than I can fully understand just then. But in the end, I have one clear thought on my mind. "What can I do?"

His smile is grim but he smiles just the same. "It's dangerous, Pretty Boy. If we get uncovered or this doesn't work, we don't survive."

I repeat my question.

He nods. "Remember last Games before Mags had her stroke? You told me how that surgically enhanced twit whose married to the guy who designs the hovercrafts told you Snow had ordered new weapons systems installed? Well, we need to know stuff like that. So, I have to ask, do you have any plans to quit doing what it is that you do here in the Capitol?"

"I don't make my own plans," I say evenly, wondering how he knows all the details - because it's clear that he does.

Seeming to accept that, he continues. "Alright then, what you can do is use your charm to get more information like that from your highly placed lady friends. When you hear something that might be useful militarily or to get people slowly but surely riled in the districts, pass it along to me. That's all."

"That's all?"

"That's all," he repeats. "We keep everybody on a need-to-know basis. You get further in if you want but I figured you've got enough to deal with on your own. You wouldn't need to talk to anyone but me about it."

That makes me feel a little better. Plutarch is a Gamemaker and I can't ever fully forgive that. "Alright," I tell him. "I'll do it. Maybe this new goal will make what I do a little easier."

He takes out the flask again and gives it to me. "I was thinking it might. But if you change your mind at any point, tell me and you'll be out. Do this for yourself, Finnick, and not for any other reason. You understand me?"

I think of Mags. I think of Annie. I know I'm doing it for myself. I need them. So by doing it for them, I'm doing it for myself. "I understand."