Long overdue, but I promised I'd get this through.

Does anyone else hate it when their Internet connection goes berserk and logs them out of Fanfiction before they get a chance to save their documents? Not that it happens very often, but just putting it out there. Brings a lot of discouragement, but then again you guys bring back the encouragement and I thank you a million times for that.

The solmenty of his tone worries me straight to the edges of hell. His eyes are grave, and his voice is low as he whispers in my ear. I feel the eyes of many upon me, but the center of my attention listens intently to Haymitch.

"Tell no one else this, you hear me? For many years now, Snow has been capturing Mockingjays. Every rich bastard has. But the way Snow handles it, he keeps them all locked up in a top-secret vault in the Capitol. The population of Mockingjays has been declining so rapidly over the years because he's captured so many of them for his own uses and amusement. It has been going on forever, but Snow's kept it hidden well. I fear your mother may be next."

-Excerpt from Chapter 20

Katniss

"Let's go get that bastard!"

Pushing Haymitch aside, I storm from the room and enter a narrow white hallway. I keep walking down the hall, never giving a care about where I was going. I didn't see white; I only saw red. I don't hear them coming after me. I don't hear anyone coming after me. I come after fury itself. Even the pain of my wing temporarily subsides.

I am going to get Snow. I. Will. Get. Him.

I am going to have revenge.

I am going to get Snow.

I don't even stop and think about who I've turned into. I've been through too much to care. My most important mission in life right now, the very reason to live, was rescuing my mother and those other poor Mockingjays from the horrible bastard that Panem has to acknowledge as president.

I don't even hear him come after me until he catches up to me.

"Katniss...! Katniss, where are you going?"

I stop in my tracks and spin around to face him. "To blow up the dear, fucking Capitol." I snarl, then start walking again.

A giant hand encloses itself around my wrist. "Wait."

"Let me go!" With a tug with all my strength I free myself from his grip and continue my brisk walking. This time, he doesn't follow but calls after me.

"Katniss, you don't even know where you're going. You have no idea what you're doing."

"I know exactly what I'm doing," I growl. I keep my eyes avert and ahead. "Rescue Mockingjays. My mother. Kill Snow."

"Do you really think you're capable of killing Snow?"

That makes me stop in my tracks. I am a distance away from him, but a couple quick strides and he's already standing in front of me.

"Do you really think you'd be able to storm into the Capitol and just march up to him with a knife aimed for his throat?"

For some reason, this only furthers my rage. "No one better stand in my way." I move past him, purposely bumping his chest. He didn't even make the slightest incision. Instead, he crosses his arms.

"Do you really think this is a good idea, Katniss? Think again. I thought you could."

I spin around to face him. "Are you calling me a coward?" I hiss, my eyes livid and my mind jumping all over the place, including to rapid conclusions.

"I never called you a coward. I'm simply asking what in your state of mind made you think you're capable of killing Snow alone."

"I..." In rage, I can't think clearly. "I never...I never said I was going to kill him alone."

Instead of speaking, he lowers his gaze. Then in a barely-there whisper, so soft, so un-Catolike, he whispers, "I can't kill anymore people, Katniss."

I stare at him, my eyes narrowed suspiciously. He clearly has misunderstood me but...but what does he mean, kill more people? "What do you mean more people?"

This time he shuts his eyes and I can hear him grind his teeth. "I've already ruined so many lives, Katniss. My parents, my brother, you..." When he opens his eyes, I can see my reflection in that shade of blue. "I can't ruin anymore. I just can't."

Through everything that's happened, he didn't ruin my life. But my smart mouth chooses not to tell him this. "But Snow lost his humanity long ago," I blurt out, "He's killed countless others and countless, countless Mockingjays died and will die because of him! We will go extinct eventually because of him and his Capitol!"

"Fighting fire with fire can ignite an inferno, Katniss. You know this already."

I know! I know it too well. But the anger within me rises to fury until my chest is blazing and I say words, pointless words I don't really mean and words that feels wrong coming out of my mouth but bringing with them the frustration I carry within me. "If you think I'm implying that I need you, you're wrong, Cato." Searing white-hot pain explodes on my wing stump, enough that I'm gnashing my teeth.

I feel his stare on me, a confused, wild, bewildered stare, but I'm too upset and therefore I keep on going. "I've never needed anyone and I won't start now. I'd get along just fine by myself. Humans are wicked things, and they must be punished for their wicked deeds! I'm not your pet Cato, I'm a Mockingjay and I can make my own decisions for my life without you standing there with your chain, you - you Mockingjay enslaver!"

I watch as Cato's face changes to everything from angry to frustrated to distressed to...pain? That's when I know I've pushed him too far.

"Fine, Katniss," he says through his teeth, "I get it. I'll just take me and my chain out of your life. I wish you the best on your mission." He slams his fist into the wall. I jump back, away from him. He slowly removes his fist, revealing a large dent in the stupid white wall.

I've pushed him too far and my heart is desperately thudding, telling me to own up the apology I own him. But I'm too ashamed to admit my pride. We hold a staring contest, daring each other to avert our eyes, to glance down. The tension between us builds like a wall until both of us are trapped on each side. Someone will have to be the first to climb.

I'm secretly hoping he will. Deep within me, I secretly hope that he will reach out to me. A lot of things have happened so quickly, I feel like life is flying by without me, and I am loosing my feathers quickly.

Speaking of which, I'm worried. My wing blade has been raging from crazy pain to uncontrollable itching lately, and I fear it may be infected. I don't understand how, though. I've left it alone for many months.

But maybe that's the problem. When one leaves it unsolved, it will grow bigger - and it's not always the most noticeable thing in the world. Someone just needs to acknowledge the problem, address it. Realize what they did, and admit they're wrong.

Neither one of us do so. And so the human I've come to care the most about, the person who has given me the best times of my life, turns around and walks out of it.

Possibly for good.

And I let him.

Cato

CRASH! SMASH! SLAM!

"Cato, what in hell?"

Cano appears in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. His eyes betray his amusement at me.

How amusing I must seem right now. With my form hunched over, my back rising and falling in an attempt to even my breathing, my hands bloody and scratched thanks to the smithereens littering the ground around me.

"Why the fuck have you been smashing bottles, dude?" Cano invites himself in and peers into one of the bottles I haven't gotten my hands on yet. "Empty bottles. Smells good." He tosses it over his shoulder and it lands somewhere, broken. "Anyways."

Now that I'm calmed down, the reality of the situation kicks me right in the ass. I straighten up. "Damn it!"

"Whoa, you finally got your reality check, dude?"

To answer him, I make my way to the small circular table in the room and sit. It's a long time since I'm actually on something so sturdy, something that won't break on impact. Cano silently joins me, sliding his chair across from me.

"What's up?"

I don't answer him. I don't need to, the smirk on his face gives his thoughts away.

"You and that girl of yours had'n a fallout?"

Does he expect me to answer that?

"You're even scowling like her," he guffaws, tossing back his mane of hair.

"Did you have any other things to say to me, or are you just here for my time?" I snarl.

Cano's grin disappears. "Calm down, dude. Being mad as shit's not going to get you anywhere."

"I'm not trying get anywhere. I have a specific destination in mind."

"Ohh..." Cano leans in, flashing his teeth a wicked grin, "Does this destination have something to do with a certain winged someone...maybe that little place - "

"Cut it out, Cano. I'm in no mood for shit."

Cano chuckles. "I see you haven't changed much, brother, but let me tell you the real shit. Here's what I think: you've got the goo-goo eyes for that gal with the things, not that the other winged gals aren't smokin' but you know who I'm talkin' about. But the gal you just happen to like just happens to be one hell of a fireball, and it's not like you back down from your tempers either. So you're angry. Angry because you want her to stay and angry because at the same time you think you're being selfish. But you don't want to blame her, so you're channeling your negative 'motions at yourself, making you angrier. Aren't I right, brother?"

I stop staring at the empty space in front of me and instead gaze at Cano. For once in his life he doesn't gloat at me. His eyes glitter.

"You know, you're stronger than I gave you credit for," Cano continues on, of course never knowing when to stop. Or to shut up. "I used to think love was the worse there is. Look at what it did to Father, Mother, and Cadis. But then I see you, and there I see something else."

"What do you mean?" What does he think he's talking about?

"Let me finish, Cato. These are hella things you been going through, and I don't know how you're staying sane through this. But anyone with half a brain can see you've got something for the girl. I dunno how in hell it happened, but anyone with a brain can see she's got something for ya too."

I gnash my teeth. Anyone with half a fucking brain can see it's not a good idea to taunt me now. She doesn't have to feel guilty for not feeling the way I feel. And I do not need to be reminded of it.

"But you're like, completely smitten. You fell for her hard, dude. And you don't want to force her to stay or anything cus you want her to be happy. Because you're in love with her. Because. You. Love. Her."

"She doesn't love me," I say aloud, letting the words linger in my own ears. I want those words out of my system. I need to hear them. For me it's a first. It's the first time in a long time I've let my deepest, darkest feelings be exposed. It's the first time I think I've truly expressed something I strongly feel to my brother, other than anger. But inside, I cannot stop seething. I cannot stop thinking about how weak I both sound and feel. I hate how one girl could ignite all these feelings within me. And how I can't do anything but feel for her.

"It looks like that, man."

I suddenly have a newfound appreciation for Cano. He doesn't try to make me feel better when he knows I'm down. He just lets me be. I'm given space and time to think.

"She's got a temper."

"I know someone else who does," Cano counters.

I give him what he later dubs a 'bittersmirk laugh' . "And you're a bastard."

"That's only because I been hanging with you for too long these recent days." It's Cano's turn to smirk. I won't lie, when it comes to his comebacks they are pretty good.

"But sometimes things aren't what they seem. Some girls, particularly indecisive and winged ones with a temper, dig bastards," he adds, "They just suck at showing emotion, even more than you. I know, bro, I know. Total shocker."

I consider his words. "She doesn't need me, either. She has him."

"Who? That awkward blond Mockingjay?"

"The whiny one, yeah."

Cano tosses his back and roars with laughter. "Please. I think Katniss's more masculine than him. His wing colors are weird. And I thought that Odair dude was supposed to be like the only male Mockingjay in existence?

"Which means more hotties for us," he adds as an afterthought with a grin, as if that is supposed to somehow cheer me up. It's not what I need for my ego.

"They have a whole world we don't understand," I explain, "There's more to them than meets the eye."

Cano snorts. "Well, sure. Unlike you, whereas someone can tell you're a fucking idiot from first glance."

"I look like you," I retort, shoving him. He bares his teeth at me. "Gee Cano, didn't know it was possible for you to smile."

"It's not, but it's happening, isn't it?" he remarks. "Just like Mom and Dad."

Immediately, I feel my entire body tense. My shoulders square, my head seems to shrank back into my neck. "What do you mean?" I ask in a rather cautious tone.

If Cano noticed my new posture, he doesn't make any smart comments. "They were practically enemies when they first met. They hated each other."

"I remember them telling us that story. Over and over."

"And that one time Mom told the story a little bit differently, I mean that she had Dad smitten from the fourth 'date', and then Dad went all berserk on her - "

"But it was just an act - "

"And they made up all night. I heard it."

I roll my eyes at Cano. "I swore I couldn't hear anything."

"I didn't believe you." laughs Cano, and then his face is serious again, the face I'm so used to. "But anyways, what I'm telling you is that the impossible is possible. Hell, the very word screams I'm possible. And fuck me in the ass if it's all cheesy, but even I know it atta be true. Mom and Dad had us even though they were enemies - on two different sides at first. And they fell in love somehow, and made you and me. That's some deep shit right there, and I know you're out of your mind if you think you don't have a chance with that Mockingjay. Have you seen the way she looks at you? You might not have," he continues before I could interrupt, "But all of us can. And as despicable and as gross and as weird as it is, she's interested in you. And I mean real interested. Don't feel guilty if you don't want to kill Snow with her. She was just angry in the moment and you two had a fallout."

Lowering his voice, he adds, "I think she cares about you, maybe more than I ever did. And if she doesn't, well, if you truly and sincerely care for her, then you'll let her be. Her happiness would be your happiness."

I let his words sink in. He gives me time and space to wallow in my thoughts, just as I knew he would.

Who was this man that spoke so deeply and passionately? This man that clearly lets the world know what his fears are, but tells them anyways? This man who tries to help me? Was he telling the truth? Was our argument just because of our barriers we were afraid to break and things we failed to see at the time?

Despite myself, I smile a little. Just a little. "Haymitch and I have spoken before," I say, "But he didn't seem to remember me."

"Hell, you're not easy to remember," Cano snorts, almost to himself. Then he looks me in the eye. "But you're hell of hard to forget."

I nod at his words. Even though he had never literally gone away, I feel like my brother just came back. I look him in the eye. "Let's go save some damn Mockingjay asses."

Cano grins. "Now you're talking."

We get up from the table and head out into the hall, never mentioning it out loud but each trying to stay one step ahead of the other. (Just like the old days.)

Katniss

After hours and hours of searching this damned piece of shit for windows, I finally found this gutsy, poor excuse of a porthole. But since I was desperate and needed a place to cool down, I really couldn't give a shit on whether I could actually see the outside at all or not.

What's there to look at anyway? It's just space and cities and people and all that's despicable. I've never liked people, and people have never liked me. Cato is one in a million. He shouldn't like me, though. I know most Mockingjays I meet could've lived without meeting me.

I put my head down in my arms, glancing at the nothingness our hovercraft was passing by. I'm being selfish again, extremely damn selfish (and more human language I'm not exceedingly proud of). My mother is in jeopardy, and yet all I've been able to think about is Cato. I want to wrap my wings around Snow's throat, but I'd be no better than the murderer I already am. And Cato deserves better than me, yet he is on my mind all day and night.

Is that so bad? I ask myself, shifting position and closing my eyes, just for a second. For a moment I imagine a world where there are no barriers, where all the walls are down. I imagine human and Mockingjay couples strolling down the streets, sharing a meal, sharing a molt and flight together (though those two are things the human is too clumsy to do).

I imagine a world where half-Mockingjay children lives in peace with human and full Mockingjay children. They would play and run about together without a second glance at the size of wings or the existence of wings at all. Would that be such a terrible world?

Of course not. It would be the perfect one. But I'm being silly. There is no such world, and there will never be. Our world, the one Mockingjays and humans must share, is as flawed as it can get.

But it can't all be the humans, can it? It is what we were taught, yet now the notion seems silly, even dare I say, impossible. If all humans are bad, what is Cato? Hell, what even would Cano be?

Not all humans are bad, and not all Mockingjays are good, that I've come to realize. But all Mockingjays might be in danger. We're on our way right now to save my mother.

I contemplate that. We're not just saving my mother, we're saving all the Mockingjays. We're "blowing up" the Capitol. We're going to make history.

I don't want to make history. I don't know what I want. Saving my mother is a duty, but would I be a monster if I recognize it as more of a duty than a personal need?

I don't know if I love my mother. I have realized how love can weaken a Mockingjay, and I have always been on the strong side of my species. My mother deserted me and left me for dead or alive. She'd given me up, and I don't know if I want to forgive her for that. I don't know if I can.

My mind suddenly heads down a very different route. On the other hand, Cato took me in. Yes, he bought me, but I would rather have gone with him than with any other despicable human being. And there's been a million times where he could've let me go, forget about me, leave me by myself, and yet he didn't. He didn't give me up, in fact, he offered for me to stay. He would never desert me, I realize, and I don't want to loose him.

Can this be love? I don't know, I don't know. I don't know why I'm okay being around him. I don't know why I always feel safe when I'm around him. I don't know why I'm constantly thinking of him, and dare I admit, missing him when he's not nearby.

Yes, this has all the elements of love written on it. But I am afraid. It comes so raw, so sudden. It's not here one day and then boom. It goes against everything I've been taught, everything I am and yet it somehow still feels so right.

I'm crazy. But I'm also in love. It doesn't matter, though. Cato doesn't love me. Words have little meaning to me, on me, and I've never been good with them as everyone else around me. I'm more of an action-packed gal.

Oh dear Lord, that sounds exactly like something a human would say. Doesn't it? I sigh, and bury my face into the crook of my arms again. Cato doesn't love me, even if he has been kind enough to comfort me. He's just too kind and too good. He wants to make me feel better, to feel loved. That doesn't mean he's in love with me though. And even if he did love me a smidgen before, he's probably long stopped loving me after I said all those horrible, nasty things to him, none of them which I meant. Anger hurts everyone, humans and Mockingjays alike.

I glance at the ceiling, and try to contemplate every single relationship in my life. To my mother, I have daughterly duties. Other than that, we've long drifted apart. Of all the small amount of friends I have, we don't interact much. We mostly live in different areas and it's difficult to see each other except when they sometimes migrate, but they always go back to where they used to live. They are there for me, but not always there. Peeta, my oldest friend from childhood, doesn't seem like our relationship is going to be the same again. He wants to move beyond a platonic relationship, but I can't do that. He's gentle, kind, and sweet, but I feel no romance whatsoever when I'm with him.

And Cato...Cato is on a level entirely of his own. When I'm out in the wild and skydiving off a cliff (with Peeta screaming his lungs out after me), and I keep my wings locked in place until the last second, where then I whoosh out of danger and straight into the open skies, that is thrill. In that moment, I am time itself, fierce and wild.

He is my captor, yet that seems like millions of years ago. It's time to move on to more important details. I hate the way I was caught and I hate the way I was sold. But I would've never met Cato. I never would've known this kind of feeling I'm feeling right now, one that is making me giddy and anxious and joyous and angry all at the same time in a whirlpool rush of emotion. More emotion than I could've felt in any lifetime. Another gift Cato has given to me.

I know that other Mockingjays frown upon him for purchasing him. I admit, I don't at all admire the way he acquired me but I do not and would never regret meeting him. He saved me from Cadis countless times (And his death still is difficult for me process. It's too much all too soon). In the end, however, I don't think it matters how he and I met. I think what matters is that Cato never once tried to hurt me or force me during my stay with him. In fact, quite the opposite. When I felt like the world abandoned me, Cato was there for me. I'm anything but tame when I'm with Cato.

I let that information sink deep into me.

"Getting some alone time, sweetheart?"

I whip around, prepared to attack my intruder but just find a smirking Haymitch. Some of his earlier stubble is gone and his breath can't be smelled from miles away. He's cleaned up some.

"What are you doing here, Haymitch?" Why have you come to pester me?

"Don't mind me. Just passing through." He points his index finger at me. "You ready for them Capitol?"

I glance outside the porthole at the approaching city. "If you mean bye-bye Snow, then hell yeah."

His laugh startles me, loud and rash and not even attempting to be polite. "Never thought the day I'd seen a Mockingjay cuss, much less you."

I roll my eyes, but I turn towards the hole to hide my impending smile. Stupid emotions.

"So are you going to tell the boy?"

"Tell him what?"

He chortles. "It's so damn obvious, and yet you're the only ones who don't recognize it. Everyone on this ship be it winged or not knows your affections for each other."

"What?!"

"Better kiss the boy goodbye one final time, you don't know if you're coming back." His tone has become ever so serious, lingering on the edge of grave.

Yet I hate to be wrong. I cross my arms. "Why should I?"

He belches, and then smacks his lips. "Please, sweetheart, stop the pretending. It's giving me a headache. You're telling me you care more about what others think than you do about the boy? Don't make me hurl. Better hurry." He flashes me a yellowed grin, then stalks out of the room.

I watch him leave, and then I turn my attention back towards the porthole. The city was coming closer ahead. Glancing into the eyes of my reflection in the glass, I make a promise to myself.

"I am going to help him if it's the last thing I ever do."

Katniss-Continued

I don't have time to seek out Cato. We are summoned to the control room before I'd gone three steps away from the porthole (shithole). Haymitch is pacing back and forth, his wings awkwardly moving in the process. If it weren't for the grave looks about everyone's faces, I'd have burst into laughter. We Mockingjays do not get many a chance to laugh in our lifetime.

Besides Haymitch, also standing in front of the glittering machinery is a tall, ruggedly handsome man and ... oh gracious, Cinna. It has been forever since I have seen him. Actually, it's been awhile since I've seen most of the Mockingjays in this room.

I wonder how they are judging me.

"Listen up!" Haymitch suddenly snaps. Dozens pairs of eyes land on him. He is attention-grabbing, I'll give him that. "We are fast approaching the Capitol. Seneca Crane has been put to death, and we'll be next if this fails. You all know the plan?"

A bunch of heads bobbing up and down. Shit. I'd strolled out when they were going over the plan. But did that mean, does Cato know about this plan? I scan the crowd for him.

How come I don't see him?

"Listen, I'll repeat for those of ya huffing up. But don't screw up, and stay alive or else we are all fucked."

I bite my tongue in order not to interrupt Haymitch. The vile man must've forgotten there were younger Mockingjays here! Or the more likely, which is he doesn't care. I grit my teeth. The pain on my wing blade has started searing again.

"Right now though there is a little problem. We can no longer stay on AUTOPILOT because we need to blend in with the Capitol. We can't let any of those colorful idiots see us or else we'll be shot right out of the sky. Now our lovely pilot just admitted that he's not very good with steering up in high altitudes, which he decided just as of now to be important enough to share. So my question to you is, which one of you lovely wingers out there has good flight navigation skills and is volunteering to lend us a good steer?"

Rage, you could feel it in the room. I don't know whether everyone wants to fly into a panic or what, but I'm sure the rage is visible on our faces. Yet concern only overshadows the humans. All the Mockingjays have wings they could use in an emergency and are well trained in the manifestation of flight. Including me, but I was missing a wing.

One by the one, Mockingjays fold their wings behind their back. There is no sound in the room except for the rustling of velvet feathers. No volunteers for pilot.

"That is how much you care about this? About saving your species?" Haymitch spits indignantly (and impatiently).

I find it hard to speak when my voice is so dry. "Our species, Haymitch." Pairs of eyes turn from Haymitch onto me. I ignore the judgment, the blinks. "You are one of us, Haymitch. Act like it." I end my statement with a little smirk. I've never been good with words, but I prefer to speak my mind.

To my complete surprise, Haymitch smirks back. "The bravest has volunteered themselves for the suicide mission. It is vital." There he is again, solemn as ever.

Silence ripples through the room like a maddening force. The tension in the air sings to us. What suicide mission? Damn it, I must've missed important information. The bravest? I'm not the bravest. And I never volunteered myself, especially not for a suicide mission.

"What suicide mission?" I snap irritably. I hate being left in the dark.

Haymitch pats the seat. "Do you agree to fly as our pilot, sweetheart?"

I hate the nickname he's picked for me. It draws too many eyes, too much attention. "I'll fly. But I do not commit suicide."

His face is grim. "Not you."

Confused, I dazedly make my way to the control equipment. Cinna tries to offer me a wry smile while the other man nods stoically at me. Haymitch watches, his face neutral.

I sit down slowly and glance at all the fancy human stuff before me. Puzzles, confusing signs and buttons. At least the humans are stupid enough so that words are placed next to practically every button on the panel. Except a couple.

I can't keep the scowl off my face. Why the fuck does every human thing have to be so complicated? "Um, so you don't know how to fly this thing?" Humans are so stupid!

Haymitch snorts. "All humans do, but you Mockingjays have navigation skills we will never the chance to learn. If we need to swerve or duck out of some flying missile's way before we get blown to pieces, you Mockingjays have that instinct from years of flight, unlike the humans."

"What about you?" I snap. "Do you fly?"

He scowls at me. "Focus on the controls, girl! Let's have Cinna teach you."

I don't mind who teaches me as long as it's not Haymitch. But Cinna shakes his head. "I think it is better than Plutarch over here guides you," he says with an apologetic smile at my dropped jaw of horror, "He has more knowledge of aircraft than I do."

The ruggedly handsome man with the red apple-like cheeks actually breaks into a smile. "Pleased to be working with you, Miss Everdeen. Plutarch Heavensbee."

"How do you know my name?" I inquire cautiously with a raised brow.

He has the audacity to chuckle. "You're a bit well-known after your infamous visit...with the Capitol and its Mockingjay Games," he adds as an afterthought, "You see, the Capitol would like to think of itself as perfect and flawless in every sense. The Mockingjay Games were developed for their advantages but since its trial run didn't work out so good concerning you...well, it's not too happy about that."

"And you are not from the Capitol, I assume?" I say.

Another hearty chuckle. "I was born there, but I don't prefer to get into it. The districts are much nicer, if I might add."

I'd never thought I'd be tolerable of a Capitol man standing so close to me, but surprisingly I find myself okay with it (not that I haven't had much surprises within the last few months). Plutarch tries to give me instruction and guidelines, as well as tips and what to do in emergency situations. I try hard to pay attention, but it's easy to see that the only reason the old fart Haymitch chose me as a pilot was for my raw flight navigation experience as a Mockingjay.

I hear him retelling the plan to the Mockingjay masses. "The center of the Capitol lies in the Capitol Mansion. Real creative folk, as you can see. The Capitol Mansion is used to hold annual parties and balls, but it actually hides a ton of dirty the Capitol doesn't want citizens getting ahold of. Some of it is quite valuable, others are very dangerous. But screw that, this whole mission is danger. We're - " he pauses and shoots me a look, directed straight at me "- a team now. And we work as a team, we mission as a team. We die as a team. But we might still have a little chance if you each do your part.

"Those of you going in to infiltrate the President's Quarters and those of you going to into the heart of the Capitol, we salute you. You're on a suicide mission, there's a very tiny percent you'll succeed and come back alive. Good luck."

I spin around in the pilot's chair, ignoring the look of surprise on Plutarch's face (who has just spent a good minute of time heartily explaining to me what the yellow side buttons do).

I'm just in time to see a hidden door open and a group of young people dressed from head to toe in black file out. Their outfits look glazed with sleekness and shine, and even their zippers seem to have a plastic bubblegum appeal to it.

And then I see him.

My gaze swallows the tallest man in the little squad. Dressed from head to toe in black, he looks good. Real good. He finds me easily in the crowd somehow and inclining his head, smiles at me with his white teeth.

My heart sinks. I didn't know - how could I have known that Cato was part of the suicide mission squad? Shame and guilt and despair and rage and confusion and sadness overfills me, all at once. The man who I decided I love is going to almost die for certain, and I've said some terrible things to him. I've also never told him my feelings. And I may not get another chance.

I've tried letting him go, but I couldn't really find the notion in me. I push my way through the crowd, ignoring the cluttering of wings and the ever-growing pain on my wing blade. I make my way over to him almost forcefully and I stop right in front of him, just where I can see his eyes from the helmet he'd put on. He seems surprised and yet pleased I'm here.

"It's time!" announces Haymitch suddenly, and the other young men and women dressed in black begin to slip on goggles. Cato is also reaching for his, but stops when my hand finds his first.

He looks at me with concern in his eyes. I stare back, unable to say anything (even though I went over what I was going to say to him a couple times in my head really quickly).

His fingers begin to let go, but I tighten my grip. I don't want to let him go again, but it looks like this is the inevitable. I close my eyes, trying to mentally prepare myself for the moment of letting go that will lead up to a lifetime of emptiness.

But instead I am met with a light tingling on the sensation on the back of my hand. When I open my eyes I realize Cato has just planted a kiss on my hand. In front of the entire crowd! My face goes red and I almost look away.

Almost. I don't want to turn my head and meet the disapproving stares. It shouldn't matter what they think. I only care about what Cato thinks.

And that's what has mattered all along, I realize as I barrel towards him, into him, my arms wrapping around his middle. He seems surprised at first, then quickly reciprocates my action.

This is what I've dreamed of all my life, this is the moment I've dreamed of. The moment where I'm appreciated by someone. The moment where I matter to someone, and not such a little matter, this moment where they will not let me go and fade into their past. I play a part of nobody's past.

I wish I could freeze this moment right now, right here, and live in it forever. Never has such perfection happened in the history of my life, of a Mockingjay's life.

I shyly smile back at him, my hand reaching for his shoulder when suddenly he yanks my hand from him.

"What are we doing?" he hisses.

A lump of surprise forms in my throat and clogs it. I swallow before replying. "Uh..."

"We can't do this, Katniss. Or have you forgotten?" His voice is metallic, cold.

I stare at him. He's...but this isn't...didn't we...? "I thought that you and I were...," I take a deep breath in order to keep my temper, "Nevermind. I just wanted you to let you know... I'm sorry for saying those awful things about you to you. I didn't mean them, and I hope they do not stay with you."

"It's a little hard to take back what you said, isn't it?" he asks, his tone matching the icy look in his eyes. Their coldness burns a million degrees into me, much more than the hottest of infernos ever could.

I swallow hard, willing myself not to wander astray. "I..." I take a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. "More than anything in the world, I wish you weren't going on the suicide mission. I wish you would stay..."

The ice melts in his eyes more quickly than anything I've ever seen before. I think I see them quiver for a second, and then he turns away. "You're not making this easy on me," he says with clenched teeth and fists, "Nor are you making this easy on yourself."

"I'm not trying to make it easy. Easy isn't always good. I'm trying to make things right."

He sighs and then whirls back to me in one fluid motion. "Why are you playing with my feelings, Katniss? I decided your happiness mattered above everything else, and I want you to go as you please. Why must you come back now and toy with me? Get my hopes up?"

Before I could reply, Haymitch and Plutarch signal all the black uniformed people. It is time for them to go.

I don't want to let Cato go. And it breaks me that he is willed enough, strong enough, willing enough to let me go...

Or he's stating that my choices matter above his. He loves me enough to the point where he's willing to set me free. He wants me to have what I want and be happy. But I don't want what I wanted before, I want what I have subconsciously wanted all along, past, present, and future.

Our fingers intertwine in their own figurative embrace - seconds later and suddenly they're separated and he's deploying his parachute without another word through the stomach hole of the hovercraft. I watch him until he's a tiny, tiny, speck below, and then he's gone.

Gone. Just like that. And our last word did not end in happiness, and I may never see him again.

My throat is as dry as well but before I can go off to look for water Haymitch's yelling again for a Mockingjay pilot. I hurry over to the control panel and sit beside Plutarch, ignoring the stab of white-hot pain that has suddenly taken over my shoulders and wing blade.

"This is our most crucial moment," Plutarch was saying, "It matters above all else whether you..."

But I was not paying attention. Plutarch seems to know this, and he angrily asks me to define all he has just explained in great detail.

I'm tentatively reaching for a yellow side button when the hovercraft sharply jerks. My head smashes into a brightly-lit control panel, and I hear it begin to vibrate. Just as I'm wondering if I've doomed us all, the hovercraft suddenly stops its violent jerking and begins to smoothly rise up while still gliding at its usual pace.

"That's good, Katniss! Now press the red button and you'll be in control. Think of the craft as a big old metal Mockingjay."

I press the red button, feeling the controls practically give a little sigh before they seem to mold onto my hands. A metal Mockingjay? That's the last thing I want to think of this as of, but what choice do I have?

Cato has shown me that I've always had a choice. There has always been a smidgen of hope in the darkest, most forbidden of places.

A lump forms in my throat. He's gone, parachuted down into the Mansion. And I never even got to make amends to him.

FUCK! The hovercraft swerves sharply again, to avoid being detected by some forcefield or another but in the process, Plutarch hit his head on the lever, hard. He is knocked out cold.

FUCK! My insides go into full panic mode, as do the rest of the small crew that remains with me. I want to scream for Haymitch, but he is nowhere to be found. What now?

I'm such a hummingbird! I should've been paying attention...

Alright focus, Katniss. Don't let your silly thoughts crash this craft. Think. You used to be able to fly. How did you do it?

With the right amount of speed, velocity, current, energy, and confidence. A big metal Mockingjay. A metal Mockingjay... maybe if I rearrange the pre-navigation indicator thing, I can reset the navigation. Whenever I'm flying, changing my navigational patterns provides me with extra velocity and greater altitudes at faster speeds. Navigation is key.

I have such a clear view of the Capitol below, it's thrilling and exciting at the same time. I'm flying again. Not feeling the wind through my feathers, but flying! I find the more I tamper with buttons, the more I'm starting to understand this. The buttons are sparkling, and they bleep bleep and bloop bloop nicely. My fingers are like silk threads, gliding over the looms I used to weave for nests for the Molt.

The random shifting fits of pain are distracting, but I manage to haul the craft up into the clouds at around .9 atmospheric wind pattern - or says so on my navigation compass rose. I lean back in the seat and try rubbing friction against it, but it's not very useful and besides, I have to keep a good control on my navigation. The pain subsides for a little while, and I relax and keep us out of view while debating on whether or not to think about what was happening in the world below. (Cato doesn't belong down there on level zero with them. He belongs up here in the heavens with us, with me. I have a sudden vision of him and me soaring among the clouds, side by side in the endless blue skies and a smile forms on my face.)

Then suddenly agony rips into my shoulder, and I'm smashed against the window by the sting. I slide down slowly, just in time to see the Capitol Mansion explode in a fiery volcano of smoke, fire, and fine marble.

Cato!

That fateful day I wrote and published the first chapter, I never dreamed that I would get so much feedback for this story. Now, Freedom of a Mockingjay is near to the end of its flight and it would've have been what it was without each and every single one of you. Join me next chapter to find out what will become of Cato and Katniss. Will Katniss stay with Cato (assuming that they survive their rescue mission)? Who will pay the ultimate price (death)?

What are some of your favorite quotes from the chapters? I just thought of that because I thought the way that Katniss said the sentence that begin this chapter was pretty humorous (not what she said, but how she said it). I can just imagine her scowling at me for that lol :) I also agree with Cato that fighting fire with fire would ignite an inferno.

I'm sorry to say that I do not have as much time as I used to for updating, but I can't say in words how much I appreciate the feedback. They mean so much to me and you guys mean a lot to me as well. Thank you so, so much for being there for me from the very beginning. And thank you for all the beautiful reviews, that are dear to me as wings are to a Mockingjay. Hang in there, I will get this done. And I will continue writing stories (with your favorite pairings :) [And the little mistakes, I'll edit after publishing the chapter because that seems to be the only time when I can find them)

(The phrase "I wish I could freeze this moment... " also belongs to the Hunger Games.)

Thank you to Cinna's Bird for encouraging me and never finding the urge to get impatience with me.

Happy Valentine's Day!