Author's Note: Just sayin'-this is the sequel to my previous fic, A Different Kind of Mockingjay. If you haven't read that yet, I'd recommend doing so first; With Faltering Wings probably won't make much sense otherwise.

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Part I: Lost

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"Deep in the meadow, under the willow. A bed of grass. A soft green pillow…"

I choke up and have to stop singing, but the mockingjays take up the tune anyway, repeating the notes of the song and spreading them throughout the meadow. I lean back on the grass and close my eyes, and if I concentrate just enough, I can imagine that it's still that last night in the arena. That Marvel is on one side of me and Katniss on the other, and that we're all together and safe.

The sound of footsteps jars me out of my trance. I leap fearfully to my feet and stumble backwards, instinctively putting distance between myself and the unseen threat. I only relax when I see my best friend standing in front of me.

Willow must have heard the song, because tears are running down her cheeks.

People always do that now; cry when they see me.

"Your mom wants you home," she whispers. "Your prep team is supposed to be here soon."

Because the Victory Tour starts today. Within a few hours, I will have to be plucked and primped and made pretty for the cameras.

"I don't want to go," I announce. As though what I want actually matters. After spending the last six months being trailed by peacekeepers and kept from venturing into any of the populated parts of District Eleven, I have come to recognize that I have little say in my own life anymore.

The Capitol runs everything.

"You have to, though," says Willow. "Remember? So you can make sure Katniss's sister is okay."

"I don't want to see her."

And I don't. I'm the reason her sister is dead—I can't imagine she doesn't hate me for that. Her mother probably does too, and Gale and Madge. Probably everyone in District Twelve. They've only had two victors ever; Katniss winning would've been a big deal for them.

But she died. Because of me.

Willow knows me, even if we've maybe grown a little distant over the past few months, and she can hear everything I'm not saying.

"Katniss made her choice. It's not your fault." I start to protest, but Willow cuts me off, this time with a forced smile on her face. "Besides, you have to get to District One too. So you can… what was it?"

I laugh a little. "So I can punch Marvel's father in the face."

"And she smiles!" Willow cries happily, and we both giggle a little. Then we remember why she's here to get me, and our expressions immediately dim. "Well… come on, now. You can't keep your prep team waiting."

"I didn't know you'd been appointed as my escort."

"What can I say? I'm leagues better than Cecily Skye."

"You think you're joking," I say, sighing a little. My escort is my least favorite person out of my team from the Capitol. She treats me like I'm five, and acts frustratingly condescending, even though she isn't half as mature as my three-year-old little brother.

"Just ignore her," says Willow. "Really, you ought to ignore everyone who says anything bad about you on the Victory Tour. You did the best you could, and that's all anyone could've asked."

I've heard those same words so many times, from my parents and the older of my siblings, and even Chaff and Seeder. They don't mean very much anymore.

"Right," I say anyway, because I know that Willow gets worried when I act too depressed.

She doesn't buy my act for a second, but thankfully she doesn't say anything either.

"Don't worry, Rue. It'll be okay. You'll see."

Then she takes my hand and squeezes it reassuringly, before we both reluctantly start back to my house.

…

Despite Willow's words, I feel anything but okay when I leave my house several hours later, to find several big cameras pointed straight at me.

Seeder told me that I need to look happy and content and that I shouldn't do anything stupid. I'm not so sure that I want to listen to her, not after seeing how much of an impact Marvel and Katniss made my doing stupid things. Unfortunately, acting outright rebellious runs the risk of hurting my family, and I'm forced to settle somewhere between thrilled with my life and furious at the Capitol.

So I smile slightly and wave at the cameras, and then I make sure to turn so that everyone can see my new necklace.

It's purposely gaudy—made out of silver and gold and studded with big, obvious diamonds—in a nod to District One, and in the middle rests a mockingjay just like Katniss's. I still have her pin, but Seeder had this one made for me to wear. Not just because it honors Marvel too, but because it's very easy to see.

I'd realized that the mockingjay had started to mean something as soon as the tribute train pulled back into District Eleven; they were painted on buildings and in tunnels, and there was even a tattered banner with the image on it hanging from one of the fences.

I asked Seeder what it all meant, and she told me that the people had used it as a symbol of rebellion during the revolts. She added that a lot of the other districts have been using it too, but that it's become enough of a fashion symbol in the Capitol that I could wear one without it looking too suspicious. I asked her if she couldn't get me a really noticeable one, so she had Hermia make me this, and even though I don't like jewelry very much at all, it's perfect for what I wanted it for.

After a few more moments of looking happy for the cameras, Cecily nods that I've done enough and then we all pile onto the train and set off.

Straight for District Twelve.

…

When the train reaches Katniss's district, I am utterly shocked by how different it is from Eleven. For one thing, it's so tiny. As soon as Seeder says that we've entered District Twelve, it seems like we're right in the middle of it. It's really green too, with lots of trees everywhere and nothing but a flimsy electric fence around the outside.

There aren't armed guards either, and the few peacekeepers that I see seem to be more casually wandering the district than working active patrols.

It looks so free.

"This is amazing," I breathe, eyes going wide. For a moment, I almost forget how afraid I am of looking Katniss's family in the eye, of speaking in front of so many people who have every reason to hate me. Except then the buildings start showing up, some of them run-down and others relatively nice, if not a little small, and my fascination fades to hollowness.

My eyes follow the homes as we zoom pass. People who knew Katniss, who were rooting for her in the Games, live in those houses. People who are all going to be in the middle of the district in just a little bit, listening to my speech and thinking about how she'd be here if it wasn't for me.

I suddenly feel alarmingly close to throwing up.

"I'm scared," I choke out, looking at Seeder. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Cecily made you a card," she says. She looks right into my eyes. "Just read off the card."

Except I know Cecily and I have some sort of idea of what she would've written, and I know that I will undoubtedly wind up saying something entirely different.

…

When I walk out in front of the Justice Building with Cecily's card held tightly in my hands, everyone gathered in the square goes utterly silent. My knees shake as I step forward, and my stomach clenches uncomfortably when I see the families of the tributes standing on a special platform at the base of the stage.

Peeta's family is the first I examine. His father, who has his stocky build and the same kind face as his son. Then two other boys, who I assume are his brothers. His mother has frighteningly severe features, and she glares when she catches me looking at her.

I force myself to keep walking forward. Step by step.

I'm almost to the front of the stage before I gather the courage to look at Katniss's family.

Her mother is the saddest-looking woman I have ever seen. She is blond and willowy and has sunken in eyes that look like they've done too much crying over the years. Although she is very obviously trying to hold herself together, I imagine that she is only one more heartbreak away from crumbling into bitty pieces of sorrow and heartache.

Looking at Prim almost breaks me.

We are so very alike that it hurts. We have similar features and similar postures and similar builds, and if our coloring were the same, we could pass as twins.

She looks straight at me, and she is crying.

The sight hurts too much. Tears well up in my eyes and start trailing down my cheeks. Before the ceremony even starts.

Cecily makes an impatient noise from behind me, and I weakly make myself finish shuffling forward.

Once I'm finally in place, the mayor appears and makes a speech in my honor. His voice is very hollow, and he sounds as though he's about to cry too. I bunch my hands in the thin, flowing fabric of my dress in an effort to keep them from trembling.

A little girl approaches the stage when the mayor is finished speaking, and she's carrying a bundle of rue flowers that I have to accept. I almost drop them because my hands are shaking so awfully. The mayor must see this, because he kindly takes them from me.

Then I have to speak.

I step up to the microphone and look at Peeta's family. At Katniss's. Then at the card in my hands.

"I…" I sob. The sound crackles loudly in the microphone, and I have to take a deep breath and wipe at the tears streaking down my face. Katniss is dead and I am alive, and I hate her for it right now, because I have to look her family in the eye and pretend that I can say something to make it okay.

"I- I d-didn't know Peeta," I choke out, ignoring Cecily's shallow pre-written scrip. My words may be awkward and stilted and painful, but at least they are real. "But I watched him and Katniss when we were t-training. I liked him because he was so kind. All of the other tributes avoided each other, or were scared, or serious… but Peeta was strong and brave, and he made Katniss laugh, when no one else could even look at each other. I d-didn't know anyone could be that nice."

Still no one makes a sound, or gives any reaction at all. It feels like they are judging me, and I have to look back down at my hands.

"I watched him when he was with the Careers. Saw him help Katniss. A-and when he got the wound that killed him, it was by protecting her. He saved her life, and K-Katniss kept me alive. So Peeta saved me, too, in a way. He…" He didn't deserve to die. Except I can't say that, and so I simply trail off.

Then I peek at Katniss's family. Prim is squeezing her mother's hand.

"Katniss…" I whisper. Katniss was amazing and strong and she almost acted like my big sister and she died for me and is there really anything to say other than that? "K-Katniss should've won." I squeeze my eyes shut to try to make the tears go away, but it doesn't work. But I keep them closed anyway, because at least it means I don't have to look out at all these people. "She was stronger. And better. But she killed herself so I could go home."

I force my eyes open and make myself look at Prim. She is crying as much as I am, and it hurts.

"I'm sorry," I breathe, now talking solely to her. "I d-didn't ask for her to do that, and I know I can't ever repay her, or… or make it any easier on you. But I will keep my promise, and I won't ever forget what she did."

Then in a fit of inspiration, or maybe stupidity, I take a deep breath and add, "B-before she took those berries, I told Katniss that I'd make sure you were okay. And I know you can't be, after losing her, but… I can maybe help. A little. I've got more money than I'll ever spend, and I know Katniss would want you to have enough food, so I'd like for your family to get a month of my winnings every single year until I die."

The crowd breaks into murmurs and gasps and it's the first noise they've made since I set foot on stage.

Then everyone starts moving. Prim and her mother, and Peeta's brothers and father step forward and the whole district does the same three-fingered gesture that they did after Katniss volunteered for Prim so many months ago. I'm not sure what it means, but I think it might be a sign of respect.

The mayor hugs me then, and gives me a plaque so big I can hardly carry it. I slowly back off the stage, watching as peacekeepers step forward and try to nudge the crowd into complacency. I'm shocked to see that their hearts don't really seem to be in it.

I blink as one of them stops what he's doing and looks straight at me, and gives me the very same gesture.

I force a smile for him, and then stumble back into the Justice Building.

…

I sit between Seeder and Madge Undersee at the banquet that evening. I don't know who she is at first, until she introduces herself and I slide so far down in my seat I almost disappear under the table.

"Y-you're Katniss's friend," I whisper.

Madge gives me a sad smile. "We never talked much. But I liked to think I was. I'm the one who gave her the Mockingjay pin."

I immediately ask if she wants it back, but Madge shakes her head.

"She said she wanted you to have it. Remember?"

Then she smiles at me, and there's warmth and forgiveness in it, and that helps me feel just a little bit more okay about everything.

…

I'm somewhat upset that we have to leave right after dinner. I wanted to have a real conversation with Prim and say that I'm sorry and ask if there's anything else I can do, but we have a schedule to keep and so Cecily waves off my requests and pulls me onto the train, and before long, we're leaving District Twelve behind.

One district down... only eleven more to go.

I pray desperately that they will not all be so painfully heartbreaking.

…

Author's Note:

As promised, here's the first installment of the sequel to A Different Kind of Mockingjay. This has been written more recently and feels slightly different because of it, but that might just be me. Anyway, updates probably won't be as fast since I don't have the whole thing written, but I've got three parts done already and imagine I'll finish with around six or seven.

Um... I don't think there's much in the chapter to comment on, but if anyone has questions, feel free to ask. Other than that, please tell me what you think, and I'll try to get the next chapter up within the next few days.