This morning I went to battle with Microsoft Word. We'll see if I manage to get this chapter posted before work.

Also I don't think prison cells would actually be in alphabetical order, but call it creative license.

Katniss

Turquoise's words don't exactly leave us feeling super confident, but they don't stop us, either. We go our separate ways, her towards the battle and us towards the jail. Wordlessly, but almost seamlessly, we move through the mostly-deserted streets of the Capitol. Today's events and series of near-death experiences have cemented us as a team. For better or for worse, we are starting to work together properly.

Mainly, I keep an eye on Prim. I know she's old enough now, wise enough to keep an eye on herself, but I also know we're in a bad place. I wish more than anything she was safe and sheltered in District Thirteen, but it's too late for that now. It's been too late for a long time.

It's abundantly clear we're headed away from the battle- it must be clustered right in the center of the city, by the President's mansion and its massive courtyard. A good a place for a battle as any, I suppose. The streets are mostly deserted here, aside from the occasional looter. When the wealthy are stealing, that's when you know it's bad. Things in the Capitol are worse than I thought.

My thoughts of deserted streets jinx us. A trio of Peacekeepers jog out of an alley, clearly just on patrol but a danger to us all the same. Half of us are dressed for the arena and half of us are dressed for District Thirteen- we couldn't possibly stick out more. Our appearance fully screams we are not associated with the Capitol in any way.

I react instinctively, with my bow. Storm is just as fast with her gun, and suddenly, we don't have a problem anymore. The few looters we share the street with are giving us some funny looks, though. The sooner we get out of here, the better.

Prim gives a little yelp as we jog past the bodies. In this moment and this moment only, I can't look her in the eye. To her, the healer, I'm sure it's oh-so-wrong, but I'm keeping a promise I made to myself a long time ago- I'm doing what I have to do.

We're ambushed a few more times as we scamper through the city. But they're always outnumbered; we're always faster. I grow numb to it, eventually. The echo of bullets, yanking my arrows out of gaps in their armor when it's done. I've always been a good shot. It just matters more now.

We convene outside the prison, once Hiron's expert navigation leads us there. What we're doing is too stupid to do without a plan, but it's actually really hard to come up with anything. We don't know anything about the security, the layout, or anything else that might help us reach our families. "Well, uh, try not to die?" Rye says eventually, and we burst into the building.

It's just as deserted as the streets outside. There's one man standing behind a desk, and Maris quickly wallops him with the butt end of her spear. At least she didn't kill him; at least that part was easy. Hiron jumps behind the desk, next to the crumpled guard, and grabs an enormous set of keys that really isn't hidden very well.

"Cells are that way," says sharp-eyed Prim, gesturing down one of the hallways. We all follow her lead with a sense of urgency that wasn't there even a moment ago. I think something about a prison break is a little much, even for us.

I haven't thought much about my mother. That probably makes me a bad person, but it's true. It's been a long time since she was really a mother to me, anyway- after my father died, I had to step up and be the adult, keep us fed and clothed. Our relationship changed after that, and not for the better. When Turquoise warned us we might not get a joyful reunion, I certainly wasn't the one who needed to hear it.

At least it's a fairly cushy prison, not like the harsh barred structure we have in District Twelve. The cells are more like little bedrooms, clean and gray and in alphabetical order. That'll make it easier to find who we're looking for, too.

It's eerily quiet in the prison hall. No guards, no sound except for the drumming of our feet on the too-white-too-clean floor. The cells themselves must be soundproof. I haven't heard a thing from any of the prisoners.

Jewel stops suddenly. "Brand," she reads from the card pinned to the wall. "This is my parents. Hiron?"

He fumbles for a moment but produces the correct key. Jewel takes it and pushes it into the lock, turning it slowly and carefully. I should be excited for her, but fear wins over, my pounding heart and the gut feeling that warns me something is wrong. I'm not the only one who feels it- Jewel's hands are shaking as she pulls the door open, and I think the rest of us are all holding our breath. As if something that's definitely not Jewel's parents might jump out at us. Maybe this is a trap. I hadn't considered the possibility before, but it could be a trap.

Jewel lets out a shuddery breath. "It's empty." Her voice echoes around the metal cell. "They're not here."

"What?!" We all crowd around the door now, as if we have to see it for ourselves to believe it, as if for some reason she might be lying. But she's not. The cell is deserted.

I check the card again. Brand, Cell 42L. "Could they be somewhere else?" Peeta tries. "Prisons usually have some sort of recreation area, right…?"

Storm scoffs. "How would we know? Let's check the next one."

I run through all of our last names in my head. Everdeen is next, a thought that only fuels my trepidation. Turquoise's words pound in my head now. You might not like what you find.

We're running through the halls now, not bothering to be quiet. Who's around to hear us? No one we couldn't make short work of, I'm sure. The pounding of my footsteps is matched only by the pounding of my heart. I can't wait to get out of this city and never come back.

"Katniss," says Peeta, toneless but urgent at the same time. "This one."

I'm not sure if I'm excited or scared. Maybe both? In the end, it doesn't matter. I turn the key and open the door. The cell is empty.

I don't say anything, but Prim's lip is trembling. Rye tries to keep us in order. "Who's next?"

The Hunt cell is empty as well. That just leaves Mellark- Storm and Maris have no living family. Maybe they're better off for that; I don't know.

It doesn't surprise anyone that there are no Mellarks to be found, but it does fill us with a resounding sense of hopelessness. Maybe some desperation thrown in there too.

I check the card again, like some Capitol official might have scrawled "actually they're around the corner and on your left!" to help us out. I should know better. Would we really be The Career Pack 3.0 if things went our way? Obviously not. There's no handwritten note.

But there is a stamp. The red ink is smudged, but I can read it if I squint. My stomach drops to my knees. It says terminated.

I can't make myself say words. I just point a shaking finger at the card until someone else reads it. Storm. "Terminated?" she says with an air of confusion. Then there's actual revulsion in her tone. "Oh. Like…"

"Dead," Rye finishes for her. "They're dead."

"No!" Prim blurts out. She's only thirteen. She's already lost one parent. "They just…I bet they just got moved or something."

The rest of us are all silent. We all just know.

"I don't think they got moved, Prim," says Maris. She doesn't exactly sound kind or sympathetic, but she does sound slightly less like herself than usual, and I guess that's the same thing. "This is the Capitol we're talking about. I'm sure they're dead."

"Not just dead." My voice cracks over the words, although I don't think I'm going to cry. I've run out of tears. "Executed."

And what for, really? Being an inconvenience? They did nothing wrong. Their only crime was being related to the wrong people, and that knowledge makes me feel so guilty in addition to the rage bubbling up inside of me. I've seen death before; I've caused it. But never something so meaningless and so cruel.

Prim is crying. I instinctively move to comfort her, although there's not much I can do for her right now. Not when I'm so broken too, angry and numb and broken all at the same time. I squeeze her hand tightly and try to hold myself together for her and her alone. Don't think about Mother. Just. Don't. Think.

I just always thought I'd have more time.

Time to make things right with her.

Time to be mother and daughter again.

I would have done everything differently, if I could go back now.

"It just doesn't seem fair," Rye says hollowly, echoing exactly what's in my brain. His voice is shaky too. "I thought being Reaped was a death sentence. But I guess it saved me, in the end."

"The world is cruel," Jewel says flatly. She's staring straight ahead, her brown eyes narrowed to slits. Trying not to cry, maybe. Or maybe she's just as angry as I am, shaking with it and needing to fight.

She's right, though. The world is cruel.

"Hello? Hello? Is someone there?"

The muffled cries interrupt the grieving process. I jerk back like I've just been woken from a deep sleep and instinctively reach for my bow. We all jump, but none of us think to respond except for Prim. "Yes. Who are you?"

"We're rebels. Please let us out." The mysterious voice punctuates her sentence with a weak cough.

Just a few cells down. "I don't know if she we should be-" I start, but Hiron is already shuffling through the keys.

"We have to save someone, right?" he reasons as she shoves the key in the lock. "And any enemy of the Capitol is a friend of ours."

In the end, he's right. He swings the door open, and I get my first look at who we have rescued. I don't recognize them at first, filthy as they are and in orange prison suits. But then I do. It's Davina and Griff, Aspen and Lorcan and Kinzie and Jemma, everyone else who survived the arena. They're accompanied by Johanna Mason, Victor, who was one of the mentors from Seven.

They're all in terrible shape. Skinnier than they should be, visible cuts, bruises, and infections, and dead eyes. Dead, haunted eyes.

"What happened to you?" Peeta asks in a low voice.

"They rounded us up after the explosion," Aspen replies. She has the most visible injuries of all of them except Johanna, but she's still standing the tallest. "I don't know if they knew they were rebels. I don't think they cared."

"They tortured us," says Kinzie, the youngest, her lip trembling. "They didn't even ask for information. They just wanted it to hurt…"

Now she's crying. I flinch away- my natural reaction to emotional problems- but Prim moves in to hug her, being careful to avoid her gashes and bruises. "There, there. You're safe now. We won't let anything bad happen to you."

My chest tightens. A wonderful promise, yes. But is it really one that we can keep?

I turn to Johanna. I don't know her, really, but I know who she is. She was a legend in the arena; people talked about her for years. "How much do you know?"

Even in her weakened state, she scoffs at my assumption. "I probably know more than you do. I've been deeply involved with the rebels for ages now. Of course, getting caught wasn't exactly in the plan…"

"It never is," I finish. I hesitate. "Do you know anything about, um…"

She knows exactly what I'm talking about. Despite being a complete stranger, Johanna Mason can read me like a book. "Your parents?" A short bark of laughter. "Dead. It was quick for them, at least. They got a gunshot; we got tortured, starved, beaten…"

At least, says Johanna. I don't see anything "at least" about the unnecessary death that took place here. If they'd drawn it out, my mother might still be alive. We could still make amends and be a family again. But no, the Capitol has taken that from me, just like they've taken everything else.

"We have to help them," Prim tells me in a hushed voice. I guess the hugging part is over now. "I can treat some of those wounds. But…not here."

She's right, obviously. These people may have been our enemies once, but they're not anymore. And it would be cruel to leave them here, where guards could show up any moment and throw them back into cells. Us too, for that matter. But if not here…where?

"I know where to go," says Rye, as triumphantly as the moment allows. "The Tribute Tower. I'm sure it'll be completely abandoned- the Games are over, and everyone is here. We'd be safe there."

At first it seems a little out there, but I realize he might not be that far off. If Snow executed the families of tributes, what would he have done to the Gamemakers? I'm sure everyone of importance has been removed from the tower one way or the other, and why would they continue to staff a building that holds nobody important? By all logic, the Tower should be empty.

It also helps that the Tribute Tower is the only place in the Capitol any of us have ever been. If Rye knew where a hospital was be probably would have suggested that.

"Alright," I say. "Let's go."

I guess this was always meant to be a rescue mission.

We're all undeniably eager to leave the prison. Even though there's been no sign of trouble so far, there's an eerie feeling to it, like trouble could find us at any time. They put me in the lead, being the stealthiest. I check around every corner before we round it, bow at the ready. It's a good distraction, and god knows I need a distraction right now. I'm so angry and bitter I can hardly see straight.

In truth, it's not much better outside of the prison. The sound of gunfire has probably doubled, and there are more people running around. More Peacekeepers, but this time they run right past us even though we're even more visibly not-Capitol. Something big must be going on, and for the first time, I find myself itching to join the front lines.

None of us know our surroundings very well, but navigation is easy. The Tribute Tower stands higher than everything else, and the signage is actually very good. I wish we could get there faster, but the slow pace is unavoidable. Johanna is limping badly; Prim tells me in a hushed voice that the leg is probably broken. When you consider that, she is actually moving at quite a brisk pace.

Despite the obvious and serious pain, Johanna still manages to share little tidbits of information with us between ragged breaths. The Capitol has lost complete control of the media. She had plans and backup plans, but they've been winging it ever since the Games restarted. She's disappointed she won't get to kill President Snow herself.

She sounds alarmingly ruthless when she says it, but that doesn't surprise me. Johanna Mason's claim to fame is slaughtering people with an ax, so "ruthless" is pretty on brand.

The tower is just as empty as Rye assumed it would be. That's good for us. It's locked, but Storm makes short work of that and suddenly we're in the lobby, a place I've never seen before. I was only ever here as a tribute, and that more or less means "prisoner". They didn't exactly give us the grand tour.

Hiron slams the door behind us and what's left of the glass promptly shatters. Hopefully there aren't any alarms attached to that.

"First aid kit," Prim says urgently, scurrying over to the front desk like it's putting out some kind of homing beacon. Jewel and Peeta help the rescued tributes into some of the cushy lobby chairs, but I hang back for some reason. I wouldn't be much help. But that's not the only reason.

Prim returns quickly, holding the kit over her head triumphantly. She's in healer mode now, barking orders at anyone who'll listen. "Katniss!" she begins, but she falters when she sees my expression. "…what's wrong?"

"I'm leaving," I tell her, feeling truly horrible as I say it. "I'm not a healer like you. I'm not helping anyone by staying. I need to fight."

It feels so incredibly wrong to suggest parting so soon after our reunion. But I also know it's right. This is something I have to do for my mother, for every tribute in the Games, and for me. I've had enough of being the victim.

Prim opens her mouth to say something- the look in her eye tells me she understands completely. But Maris talks over her. "Oh, good, I'm glad someone feels the same way. Let's get going before the fight's finished, shall we?"

A bunch of us tell her "no" at the same time, notably including her big sister, Storm. Maris crosses her arms over her chest, awkwardly shuffling her homemade spear to the side. "What do you mean, no?! What about all that stuff Prim Senior just said?"

"Turquoise said no fourteen-year-olds in battle," Storm reminds her.

Maris glowers at her- a stare I would not want to be on the other side of. "Since when do you care about following the rules?"

"I care about you following the rules," Storm reasons. "You're not going."

"I'm going!"

"You're staying here!"

"I am not!"

"You know, I really don't mind staying here," Prim says agreeably.

"I think it sounds quite nice, actually," Hiron puts in.

Their hints don't do any good. Maris just snarls at them. "Shut up! You don't know anything!"

In turn, Johanna snarls at her. "Hey, brainless. Did it ever occur to you we were in the middle of something?!"

Oh, right. Broken leg, untreated infections, all that.

But if she thought she could earn sympathy from Maris, she's wrong. The younger girl all but bares her teeth. "Did it ever occur to you I could bash your other leg in?"

"Oh yeah? I'd like to see you try!"

Jewel clears her throat before blows can be exchanged- good thing, too, because that's really a fight we do not need to happen. "Alright. Let's settle down, maybe? Maris, you're staying here; that's non-debatable. Obviously you're more than capable, but your age is a liability. Besides, someone needs to stand guard for Prim."

Maris shoots her a Look. "Right. That's definitely not something you're saying just to keep me in line."

"No, it's true!" Jewel insists. "You're the right person for the job. I mean it."

With a roll of her eyes, Maris ignores her. Instead, she finds her sister Storm, the one who really matters. I've never seen Storm look so desperate. Pleading eyes, a stubbornness that only comes from caring. I know in this moment Storm would do absolutely anything for Maris except stay. Because she belongs on the battlefield. She's finally found something worth fighting for and that means everything.

The two sisters stare each other down. The rest of us hold our breath, praying they'll somehow resolve this peacefully. Finally, Maris relents. "Fine. I'll stay here and be your stupid guard. But you better kick ass for me out there."

There's a sigh of relief, not just from Storm but from everyone in the room collectively. "Of course I will," she replies indignantly. "Somebody has to, and I doubt any of these losers will be of use."

She's looking to me and Peeta. Something in the air shifts. Peeta hesitates; I can feel it. My stomach turns and I suddenly realize that every time I pictured myself on the front lines fighting for the rebels, he had always been right next to me. The idea that he might stay behind is an unsettling one indeed.

"Somebody needs to take care of these kids," he says in a low voice. Probably not wanting Maris to hear him refer to her as "kid". "Someone who can stand up straight. Otherwise…"

He doesn't need to finish the sentence. I know exactly what he's worried about, reading him like a book. I can easily see Maris sneaking out the back door soon after we leave, with Prim and Hiron too busy taking care of the freed prisoners to notice or stop her. Obviously I don't want that to happen. But at the same time, selfishly, I need him right now.

I can't look at him, much less say it. I've never been one to beg; I will not beg. But Rye saves me by putting a hand on his brother's shoulder. "You go, Peeta. I'll stay."

"You mean that?"

"I do."

In the end, I don't really know who's sacrificing what, but suddenly, Storm, Peeta, and I are as we were.

Then Jewel surprises me by making her way over to our side. "I'll fight too," she says. "I'll be more use out there than in here."

I do not know Jewel very well, but something about her tells me she will be more than capable of whooping ass on the streets.

I look between our two groups. This isn't exactly how I wanted things to happen- but at the same time, I would never expect to be so lucky. I know whose life I'm living, thanks.

My eyes find Prim one more time. Deeply focused on wrapping a bandage around Lorcan's arm; Hiron is helping her. I don't dare interrupt to say goodbye. In a way, that seems to invite the possibility we won't see each other again, and I can't afford to think like that.

We've survived worse. I'll be back. I have to hold onto that.

Quiet goodbyes are exchanged, promises to do the best we can. And then we're gone again, into the unknown.

On the sidewalk outside of the tower, I realize I have no idea what to do next. Part of me immediately wants to run back inside, to safety, to Prim, but I don't. There's a reason I wanted to fight. I can't give up in the first fifteen seconds. At the same time, we're very lightly armed and have no idea what's going on.

My anger beats that. Hunger for justice outweighs the uncertainty, and I realize it's not enough for us to fight the war: we need to end it.

This chapter was HARD to write. Sorry for killing everybody's parents- I had to inspire Katniss to go into battle and I thought dead parents was better than dead Prim.

Also, I don't think it happens beyond the one time, but I think it's hilarious that Maris calls Katniss "Prim Senior". Like, I KNOW you know her name.