Before I dive into Chapter 27, I want to take a moment to thank each and every one of you that stuck with this story from start to finish. This tale grew from an idea stuck in my mind to the massive juggernaut that you've all read, commented on, and (hopefully) enjoyed.

A special thanks to TomHr, who basically beta'ed this "on the fly," and whose suggestions and observations only made the story better; TLWtlw, whose knack for "getting it" led to some incredibly thoughtful observations; as well as otherrealmwriter, kamjam, crazywithabook, Anla'shok, Shizu Uchiha, burkygirl, Evereno, Tea4e, NotMyBabies, St. Aidan, Roxiblilly, Fenris Jin, Jakobamy, Martianmojo, PKAlways, Browniangel, FightforFiction, HookedonPeeta, and an honorable mention to Meadowlark27 (Who's encouraged me to write from day one and who, I'm sure, will get around to reading the rest of this story "someday" ;-)...as I'm sure she will!). And to everyone else that felt compelled to leave a review, I thank you all. You're my payment for the effort that I've made here.

I know that this is a long chapter...but it is the last one!

And now, on to the final chapter!

CHAPTER 27

PART I

"Prim?"

Primrose Everdeen looks up from her position on her milk stool and smiles at her older sister. Her nanny goat, Lady, bleats plaintively as Prim returns to the task of milking the little goat...now heavy with young, courtesy of a successful mating with the billy goat that Goat Man had sold to the Everdeens.

Milking Lady was a favorite time of day for Prim. It made her think of simpler times when they always didn't have enough to eat, and it was never quite warm enough in their drafty Seam house in the winter, and her sister Katniss would spend hours each day outside the district perimeter fence, hunting with her best friend, Gale Hawthorne, in the hopes of bagging a stringy rabbit or two, or some scrawny squirrels...trade bait in the Hob.

Now, they were rich, and always had more than enough to eat, and Prim could give away the goat milk instead of selling it for the few precious coins that she used to get...and still, Prim finds herself wishing that life was like that again, where Katniss would always manage a smile for her, and their nightmares were always about their beloved father, and the Hunger Games was just an abstract fear instead of an everyday reality.

"Got a minute?" Katniss is asking. One glance at her older sisters' face tells Prim that something is wrong. Peeta Mellark is right. Katniss should never bet at cards...she would lose her last coin for sure.

"Sure, Katniss," Prim says warmly, even as she wonders what's wrong. Worry has become normal in the Everdeen household...and Prim worries about Katniss constantly.

Katniss gives Prim another small, tight smile before grabbing a nearby bucket, upending it, and uses it as a makeshift stool. The little billy goat, tied up nearby, butts his head playfully against Katniss's hip until she reaches down and absently scratches between the nubs of his horns.

"She's getting big," Katniss observes, nodding toward Lady.

"Few more weeks," Prim replies as she continues to milk the little nanny goat.

"Any plans for the kids?" Katniss asks.

Prim shrugs. "I dunno. Maybe see if the Home can take them. They could use some milkers." Prim pauses and looks up at the solemn face of her sister. "Katniss, you didn't come out here to talk about goats. Out with it."

Katniss gives her younger sister a fond, sad smile and reaches out to gently stroke a stray lock of blonde hair from Prim's forehead. "You always could see right through me, Little Duck," she whispers. "Yeah, I do need to talk to you about something. Something important."

Prim leaves off milking Lady and sits up, facing her sister. "What, Katniss?"

Katniss lets out a shaky sigh. "What do you know about the Dark Days?"

Prim shrugs. "The Rebellion failed. That's why we have the Games now. Why?"

"The Rebellion failed," Katniss says carefully, "but it didn't die. The Rebellion lives, Prim! And we...Peeta and I...are part of it!"

Prim feels a cold knot of fear deep in her belly. "Katniss...that's -"

"Treason," Katniss finishes. "I know. We know. Prim...this is important. Maybe the most important thing that I've ever done. There's gonna be a New Rebellion, Prim! And it starts here...in Twelve!"

Prim can feel the knot expand. "Here? It starts here?"

"Yes," Katniss replies, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Here." Katniss pauses for a moment. "On Reaping Day."

Prim stares at her older sister in mingled awe and disbelief. Katniss...part of a Rebellion? Of course, Prim knew how badly mistreated Katniss had been by the Snow regime...forced into prostitution at the age of sixteen for no other purpose but to allow President Snow to show Katniss exactly who is in charge...and Prim knew that, even without the prostitution, Katniss struggles with each and every day since her Victory. Awful, screaming nightmares have become normal in the Everdeen household. It was awful enough to Volunteer...Katniss lost her best friend, Gale Hawthorne, to the Games...and now she has to deal with his loss on top of everything else.

Peeta Mellark has helped Katniss immensely...but he, too, has to deal with his own demons. The loss of a leg, the deaths of his father and brother...it's no wonder that he's involved, along with Katniss, in this New Rebellion.

"Katniss," Prim says carefully, "why are you telling me all this?"

Katniss hesitates for a moment, nervously chewing on her lip. "It...Prim, when it starts...it will be...violent. There'll be shooting. The crowd will probably panic. I don't want to see you hurt...or worse...when the riot starts." Katniss looks at her sister lovingly, her eyes glistening with tears. "So we need to get you away from the crowd."

Prim listens, wide-eyed, her heart thumping in her chest. Katniss is deadly serious. "How? How are you gonna get me away from the crowd? I'll be with the rest of the fourteen year old girls."

"There's only one place that's away from the crowd," Katniss says slowly. "The stage."

"The stage?" Prim looks confused. "But I can't be on the stage! The only people that go on the stage are..." Her voice fades as the realization of what Katniss is saying finally sinks in.

"You're planning on Reaping me?" Prim whispers. "Is that it?"

Katniss squeezes her eyes shut, failing to stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. "No," she says shakily. "No, we can't arrange that. Too much chance of it not working. Oh, Prim...if there were any other way..."

"You want me to Volunteer." It was a statement, not a question. Prim's chest suddenly feels tight and her own vision clouds as tears form in her eyes.

Katniss is crying openly now as she nods miserably. "I...I'm so sorry, Little Duck. But yes. You need to Volunteer. The stage...it's exposed but we're working on making it as safe as possible. It's just that I...I'm so scared that something will happen to you!"

Prim lets out a soft sob as her own tears begin to fall. She had already lived through the nightmare of being Reaped, only to be saved from the Games by Katniss. And now she's being asked to Volunteer! But still...this is different. This is to keep her safe. It's a fake...she would never board that awful train and be carted off to a certain death. But, no matter how hard she tries, Prim can't shake the nagging fear.

"Tell me," she says, standing up and pulling Katniss to her feet, wrapping her arms around her sister tightly. "Tell me that I won't have to get on that train!"

Katniss's arms go around her younger sister as she replies softly, "No train. I promise."

Prim pulls back and looks into her Katniss's silvery gray eyes. "Promise?"

Katniss forces a smile to her face. Gently, she pushes that same stray lock of blonde hair from Prim's forehead. "Promise," she whispers gently.

Prim takes a deep, shaky breath. "In that case...I Volunteer as Tribute."

"I wish there was some other way," Katniss says softly. "I'm so sorry, Prim."

"I trust you," Prim replies with a small smile. "But what about Mom? She'll be there too."

"Don't worry about Mom," Katniss replies gently. "I have a plan for her as well."

"Okay," Prim says, gently disengaging from her sister's arms. "I...I guess I better get back to my milking." She awkwardly wipes her eyes on her coat sleeve, and then laughs softly. "Katniss, you better wipe your face before you go back inside, otherwise Mom's gonna think we've been fighting or something!"

"As if that's ever gonna happen," Katniss murmurs as she, too, wipes her face and eyes. "Prim? I love you."

Prim smiles and kisses her sister's cheek. "I love you too. And I know that's why you asked me to do this. Now let me finish up with Lady."

Katniss smiles sadly at Prim as her sister sits back down on the milking stool. "You're tough, Prim."

"I'm an Everdeen," Prim replies softly as she resumes her milking. "It runs in the family."

PART II

"What's the emergency?" I ask as Katniss and I take our seats at the basement table. "All Hazelle would say is that you needed to see us right away."

I survey the faces staring grimly back at me. Haymitch, Jackson, Darius, Silenus Festuca, and Leeg are sitting on one side of the table, with Katniss and I sitting on the other.

Haymitch is the first to speak. "We have a problem," he says with a heavy sigh.

Katniss and I exchange a concerned glance. "What's going on?" Katniss asks.

"The op may have been compromised," Jackson replies coldly.

"What?" I sit bolt upright. Compromised could mean only one thing...that word of what we're planning to do somehow has leaked out. "Compromised by who?"

Jackson regards us coolly for a moment before replying. "By you."

"What?" Katniss almost shouts the word. "Look, I can guarantee that Prim won't say a word about this and -"

"Stop!" Darius barks, holding out one hand. "Did I hear you correctly? You...told...your...sister?"

"Oh, fuck," Haymitch grumbles. "This shit just keeps gettin' better n' better."

"I...well...yes," Katniss sputters. "Yes, I told Prim. I had to."

Jackson glances at the others seated on her side of the table. "Well, that explains it."

"Explains what?" I demand. "Will someone please tell us what the fuck is going on here?"

"Very well," Jackson replies, turning to Leeg. "Soldier?"

Leeg hands a small electronic device to Jackson. I recognize it as a digital recorder. Jackson takes it and places it carefully on the table.

"This was recorded two nights ago," she says as she pushes the playback button.

"Peeta?" My eyes widen at the sound of Katniss's voice coming from the small speaker.

"Sorry," I hear my own voice say softly.

Katniss again. "It's okay. You woke me before my dream got too bad."

There's a pause and the sound of rustling sheets before we hear Katniss's voice again. "I've been thinking. They're partly right, you know. About needing to get Prim on the stage."

"Not like that, though." My voice again.

"No," the Katniss-voice says. "Not like that. Besides, there's too much to go wrong. Somehow we would have to make sure Effie pulled the right slip, or someone would say something. She can't be deliberately Reaped."

"We need to get her on stage somehow," Peeta-voice says.

"Prim needs to know what's going on," Katniss's voice sounds shaky and on the verge of tears. "And there's only one way to get her up with us where she'll be away from the crowd."

"How?" I hear my voice ask.

Katniss-voice again, sounding more upset. "I bring her in on the plan...and tell her to Volunteer."

Jackson reaches out, picks up the small recorder, and angrily punches the "Stop" button.

Katniss and I both exchange wide-eyed looks before turning back to the others.

"Well," Haymitch says laconically, "I guess now you've got proof that the Victors' mansions are bugged."

"It was late," Katniss says defensively, "and Peeta had a nightmare that woke me up. And I hadn't been sleeping very good that night, worrying, and -"

"Stop." Jackson holds up her right hand. She turns to Darius. "Potter?"

"One of 'my' Peacekeepers had Comm room duty that night," Darius explains. "This recording was burned to a flash drive, and the original was erased. No one knows about this except those of us in this room."

I feel the tension drain from my body as Darius speaks. "You had me scared for a minute," I admit.

"Let me tell you somethin' boy," Festuca snarls. "It was only pure dumb fuckin' luck that things worked out the way they did. Anyone else in that Comm room and ain't none of us would be sittin' here right now!"

"He's right," Jackson adds coldly. "But this is bigger than all of us. The entire Rebellion could have been set back years, by your amateurish carelessness! Years!"

"And now we find that you've actually compromised the op by bringing in an unauthorized individual?" Darius says in amazement.

"She's not an 'unauthorized individual, Darius!" Katniss snaps. "She's my sister! And I had to come up with my own plan, and I had to tell her, because, in all honesty, your plan sucked!"

"Soldier, you aren't in a position to make decisions," Jackson snaps. "That's not up to you. Your job is to follow orders and -"

"Fuck your orders!" Katniss snarls. "My only concern here, now, and in the future, is the safety of my sister!" Katniss stands up so quickly her chair falls over with a bang. "And stop calling me 'Soldier!' I'm not a soldier and I never will be!" Katniss spins and heads for the stairs.

"Stop!" Jackson barks. "We're not finished here yet!" Jackson is literally shaking with rage as she, too, leaps to her feet. "Get back here," she says quietly. "And sit down."

For an instant, Katniss hesitates, her eyes narrowing as she stares back at Jackson. "Fuck you," she finally says, her voice devoid of emotion.

Jackson lunges forward, her face a mask of anger, and grabs Katniss's arm...and is instantly staring at the blade of a knife a hand's breadth from her face.

"Let go of my arm," Katniss says quietly. "Or I'll give you your first taste of what life or death hand to hand combat is really like."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Haymitch says, lurching to his feet and deftly inserting himself between Jackson and Katniss. "Sweetheart, put...the...knife...down." He turns to Jackson. "And Missy, I'd listen to Katniss and let go of her arm. Now."

Jackson is the first to blink. Angrily she releases Katniss's arm. Without another word, Katniss turns and stomps up the stairs, the basement door slamming shut behind her.

Jackson whirls towards me. "Go after her," she commands. "Bring her back here. We're not done!"

"Yes, we are," I say wearily. "And I know Katniss well enough to give her a little space right about now. And stop ordering us around. We're not your soldiers."

"Peeta," Darius says carefully, "Look. We're just concerned about what happened."

"I know," I say softly. "And I'm sorry. It won't happen again. But don't say I didn't warn you. Katniss's number one priority is Prim. Everything else...myself and the Rebellion included...is a distant second. And the quicker that you let that sink in, the better off we'll all be."

"She's lucky that we need her," Jackson mutters. "Otherwise I would've -"

"Missy," Haymitch interrupts her, "You're lucky you ain't dead right now!"

I'm sure that Jackson was glad that only one of her team was present to witness her confrontation with Katniss. Mitchell and Homes were out with Madge and July, learning the fine art of "blending in."

Well, they may not have seen it, but they sure heard about it. The entire team treated Katniss with a lot more deference after that day in the basement.

The confrontation caused two changes in our lives. The first was the three Victors...Katniss, Haymitch, and myself...agreeing to wear body armor during the Reaping. Credit Leeg for that one. It seems that the District Thirteen team had brought along several sets of very lightweight, easily concealed body armor that Katniss could wear even under the designer number that Cinna had made for her to wear to the Reaping. Leeg called it "smart" armor, because it would conform to the wearer's body shape, which meant that Katniss's breasts would still be evident under her creation by Cinna, instead of being hidden under a bulky...and very evident...ballistic vest.

As always, there were drawbacks. The first was that we would have to wear this armor every day for the better part of two weeks while it "learned and remembered" our body shapes. The second was that it was all but useless against rifle or machine gun bullets, only being effective against relatively low-powered pistol cartridges.

"Even then," Leeg had explained, "you can still be injured from the shock of the bullet striking you. You can end up with cracked or broken ribs and even internal injuries...but the bullet won't penetrate."

Wonderful. But, as Haymitch pointed out, it was better than nothing.

The second change was a personal one between Katniss and I. She stopped spending the night at my house, and began going back to sleep in her own house every night. And it was my idea that she did.

In truth, we couldn't afford more of what Haymitch called "pillow talk incidents." The shock of finding out that our mansions really were bugged made us question even Haymitch's elaborate security precautions at his own house. It made us wary of talking about anything even remotely connected to the Rebellion, even outside, where we were well away from any of our homes and knew that we weren't being listened in on.

And it's driving a wedge between Katniss and I.

Our lovemaking has declined sharply. I can't say that I blame Katniss. Who wants every moan and groan, every little scream and sigh, to be recorded so that some idiotic Peacekeepers could laugh about it as they listen to us.

It wasn't just the lack of intimacy, though. Katniss pretends that she understands the decision to not have us spend our nights together...but lately her "I love you's" have become rote and perfunctory. The strain of planning for the Reaping Uprising is taking its toll on us both. At seventeen, we're sounding more and more like some old married couple that stays together more out of habit than anything else...like my mother and father.

It still pains me to think of my father. And I feel nothing when I think of my mother.

I find myself wishing every day that I had my father to talk to. He had a knack for looking at problems from a lot of different angles...something that I don't think I will ever be able to master the way that he did. And the biggest problem now is what this Rebellion is doing to Katniss and I.

It would be ironic if we ended up successful in driving Snow from power...only to have Katniss and I drift so far apart that we end up losing each other entirely.

It would almost be funny if I didn't feel like screaming.

PART III

"Vulnerable points," Darius is saying, as he stands before us in full Peacekeeper regalia. "The neck and throat, under both arms, and the groin." As he speaks, he points to each area. "The uniform has built-in torso body armor, reinforced elbows and knees, and the helmet and visor combination are designed to absorb impacts."

"Great," Haymitch mumbles. "So we either have to slit their throats or kick 'em in the balls?"

Everyone, including Katniss, chuckles at that remark. It's good to see her smile, even briefly. Even Darius has to crack a smile at that.

"The helmet and visor are not bulletproof, especially at close range," Darius continues. "And a blow to the head will still ring a few bells, even if it doesn't crack the skull. And don't hesitate to shoot, even if the torso is your only clear target. The bullets may not penetrate, but there's still the full impact of the round that the target has to deal with. That may give you the seconds that you need to finish the job."

"It sounds so...brutal," Madge says softly. "Slitting throats, blows to the head, 'finishing the job.'"

"It is," Darius replies bluntly. "Listen up, all of you. Planning this hasn't been easy for me. Some of these people seem to be just like you and I...they laugh, tell jokes, they're interesting to talk to, and they have hopes, and dreams, and plans once their twenty years are up. I even like some of them." Darius pauses and looks at each of us in turn before he continues. "But if you could spend a night or two in the barracks and listen to how they talk about all of you...'Seam rats,' 'two-legged gophers' - that's one of the nicer terms for a miner - and, for the ladies present, you'll be happy to know that the most flattering thing that most Peacekeepers call you is 'fuck toys.' And I'm being nice."

"He's spot on," the gravelly voice of Silenus Festuca chimes in. "It's ingrained from day one in the academy. Every district except One and Two are filled with subhuman scum, and it's the Peacekeepers sacred duty to enforce the law, brutally if necessary, in order to keep all Panem secure."

"And you don't feel that way?" Katniss asks archly.

Festuca fixes her with a steely glare. "As a matter o' fact, no. Neither does Potter or his people. We're the minority here, girl. We got brains and can think for ourselves."

"I think we need to clear the air here," Darius continues. "I'm from the Capitol. My family is still there. I'm here to repay a debt...not a personal debt, but a family debt. My grandfather placed a bet on the First Quarter Quell that he couldn't cover and he lost. The family has been paying down his debt for over fifty years. The government takes one quarter of my pay. The other Peacekeepers that are in on this have similar stories...and, like Sergeant Festuca said, we can think for ourselves. Brutality and oppression was not what any of us signed up for. The oath that I took to serve and defend has been perverted beyond recognition."

The room is uncharacteristically silent. That silence was finally broken by Mitchell, who rarely strings more than five words together, as he steps forward, hand outstretched towards Darius, and says, "Glad to have you watching my six."

The tension drains from the room as the two men clasp hands. It's the first direct acknowledgement of the alliance between the soldiers from District Thirteen and the Peacekeepers' Rebel faction.

"Alright," Darius says after Mitchell steps back, "I can't stress this enough. Trust no Peacekeeper except my people. We've worked out a simple method so you can spot us easily. Right after Primrose Everdeen volunteers, we will all raise our face shields. Once the shit hits the fan, each of us will be carrying an armband in our pockets that we will slip onto our left arms. It's blue with the Mockingjay symbol on it in black." He pauses for a moment. "Take no Peacekeeper prisoners. None. If you think that they're surrendering, don't trust them. It's a ruse to get you to lower your guard. Peacekeepers are trained to never surrender. To do so would be to violate their oath to the President and the Capitol and they would be subject to immediate execution. Kill them all by whatever means necessary."

"What if they're wounded?" Madge asks. "Wounded and unable to fight?"

"Then you put them out of their misery," Darius says firmly. "Look. I'm not heartless. And we probably will get some prisoners...Capitol Liaison people, for example. But they aren't an immediate threat. Peacekeepers are. You kill, and you kill without hesitation."

The room was silent as everyone digested what Darius had just said. The enormity of what we are planning is becoming more and more real with each passing day. This isn't civil disobedience. This isn't a work stoppage. This is an armed insurrection against an oppressive government that has a better chance of failing than it does of succeeding, even with the help and support of District Thirteen. And there's a very real chance that some of the people in this very room will die on Reaping Day.

It's Haymitch who finally breaks the silence. "Anything else?"

Jackson stands up. "The hovercraft. The one that monitors the Reaping...it won't be a threat. We'll have a security team in place in the forest outside the perimeter fence on Reaping Day. Once the shit hits the fan their first task will be to eliminate the threat from the hovercraft. They're equipped to deal with aerial threats. They'll be there to assist with the breakout as well."

Haymitch nods. "Okay. Good to know. Anything else?"

There was nothing else. I glance at Katniss. I really want to talk to her, but here is not the time or the place. And so I wait, chafing while everyone leaves one at a time so as not to draw attention to Haymitch's house in particular, and the Village in general. We choose the sequence of who leaves when at random. Today Katniss was number two.

Today, I'm the last.

When I leave I don't head back across the Green to my house. Instead I go directly to the Everdeen house and knock firmly on the door.

Katniss answers, much to my surprise. Usually it's Prim or Mrs. Everdeen. Katniss is obviously surprised to see me standing there. "Peeta," she murmurs. "Uhh...hi."

"Do you have a couple of minutes?" I ask.

Katniss hesitates for a moment. "I...I'm really tired. I was just going to..."

"Two minutes," I repeat, and then add, "please."

Katniss looks at me for a moment with slightly narrowed eyes. "Okay."

Katniss steps outside and carefully shuts the door behind her. I reach down to take her hand and, for a moment, I feel her fingers stiffly resist my own, until her hand suddenly relaxes and her fingers twine with my own. Together we walk out into the Green, which, true to its name, is green once again.

"So, what is it you want, Peeta?" Katniss asks softly.

"I'm worried," I reply just as softly.

Katniss sighs. "Me too. This whole thing, and with Prim Volunteering, and I just know it's not gonna go as planned, and -"

"I'm worried about you...and me," I cut in bluntly.

Katniss looks at me sharply. "Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? You and me? With everything else that's going on? That's so...so -"

"Selfish," I finish for her. "Yeah. I know. I'm a selfish prick because I'm worried about losing you while we're so busy fighting for a Free Panem. Katniss, what good is it to fight a war to defeat Snow if I lose you in the process?"

"Who said anything about losing anybody?" Katniss shoots back.

I stop walking and turn to face her, placing my hands on her shoulders, her silvery-gray eyes blazing defiantly back at me. "Look at us. We barely talk anymore. And when we do...we really don't."

"It was your idea, remember!" I can feel Katniss stiffen under my hands. "Your idea to not have us spend nights together! And as for the other...I don't want to be some Peacekeeper's entertainment!"

"You're right," I reply softly. "It was my idea. I was worried that something would happen...that one of us would say something that would get back to Thread. But it's something that I intend to stop, beginning with the first night after the uprising." I lift one hand and run my fingers gently over her cheek. "You've no idea how much I've missed you."

"Oh, I don't?" Katniss asks softly, lifting her hand up to grasp mine firmly. "I miss you just as much." She gently kisses my hand. "And I miss...that," she adds, color rising to her face. "I miss the closeness afterwards," she whispers. "The tenderness that you show me. The way that I feel safe when you hold me."

Suddenly Katniss lets go of my hand to wrap her arms tightly around my neck. "Hold me, Peeta," she murmurs. I slide my arms around her slender body and feel her trembling ever so slightly against me.

"I love you," I breathe into her ear. In response I feel her arms tighten around my neck.

"I love you, too," Katniss replies breathily. Her response is neither rote nor perfunctory. Every word is filled with emotion.

Katniss lifts her face up to mine and kisses me softly, and then she reaches into her shirt and pulls out the gold chain with the pearl. "I never take it off," she whispers.

In response, I kiss her again. After a moment, Katniss squirms uncomfortably. "I wish I could take this off, though," she says, scratching ineffectually at her side.

I know exactly what she's referring to. My "smart" armor itches just as badly. "Just a few more days," I assure her.

"I need a break from it right now," Katniss says with a small smile. "And I desperately need some...closeness from you."

"Me too," I admit, feeling my excitement begin to stir. "But where?"

"Feel like taking a walk to the Seam?" She asks.

"I thought you were tired," I gently tease.

"I changed my mind," she replies, her color rising once more. She reaches down and slips her hand into mine once more. "Come on," she says insistently, turning towards the Village entrance.

I willingly follow.

It's been far too long.

Once we arrived at her old house in the Seam we barely make it to her mother's old room before dropping our clothes...and the hated "smart" armor...on the wood floor. Our lovemaking was brief and frantic...spurred by our enforced celibacy and the urgency of what we knew was going to happen soon.

Afterwards, we rest in each other's arms for a bit, dozing lightly, before we start again. This time, we both take our time, using fingers, lips, and tongues on each other before Katniss finally rolls on top of me and moves gently against me until we both climax. She collapses on top of me with a quavering, satisfied sigh and once again we hold each other close, neither of us talking...neither of us needing to talk.

Katniss finally breaks the silence. "I spoke with Leeg. About watching out for my mother once...you know," she says carefully. We're reasonably sure that the Seam house is bug-free.

Reasonably sure...but why take an unnecessary risk?

"She okay with that?" I ask.

"Yeah. As long as she is still able to do her job." Katniss shifts around a bit, laying her head on my chest. I feel her cheek rise in a smile. "I can hear your heart beating."

"I think it's slowed down a bit," I chuckle.

I shiver as Katniss gently nips my nipple with her teeth. "Oops...I think it just sped up again."

I sigh in response, fighting down another wave of desire, glancing toward the window as the late afternoon sun begins to peek through the worn curtains. We'll have to head back shortly. "I haven't asked how your sister is doing."

Katniss sighs softly. "Okay...considering."

I gently stroke Katniss's hair. "Katniss...it'll be okay."

"I know." There's no conviction in her voice. She's worried sick. A stray bullet...or a deliberately aimed one, once the Peacekeepers realize exactly why Prim Volunteered...and Primrose Everdeen will die. Katniss and I will do our best to keep her behind us, shielding her with our bodies, but there's no guarantee that she'll come through this unscathed.

There's one more problem. What about Effie Trinket? She'll be vulnerable too, and she won't have a clue as to what's going on. Truthfully I have no idea how she'll react. Will she immediately seek protection from the Peacekeepers, or will she side with us? The only thing that I'm sure of is that she'll need to be protected by someone.

"We should go," Katniss says with a sigh, even as she gently untangles her arms and legs from mine and sits up.

"Yeah, I know." My sigh echoes hers. We dress quickly, in silence. The last thing Katniss does is to carefully slip the pearl under her shirt. The only sound Katniss makes is a soft chuckle as I carefully double-knot my shoelaces. I smile up at her in return, shrugging my shoulders sheepishly.

We slip out of the house together. Katniss carefully closes and locks the door behind her.

Neither of us knows it at the time...but this would be the last time we would be in this house.

Ever.

PART IV

Today I'm saying goodbye.

Not to people, or even to places. I'm saying goodbye to the dead.

I've already visited the graves of my father and brother. I spend most of my time apologizing to them again for not being able to save them. I ask them both...my father especially...why they have never visited me like Gale and Gamma.

The stone doesn't answer.

I visit Gale and Gamma next. I reflect that, if things go as planned tomorrow, they will be the last two ever buried in Tribute Gardens. And how come you two haven't visited me in a while? Still pissed at me, Gale? Better things to do, Gamma? Or have you told me everything that you needed to tell me? I wish things could have been different. I wish I could have gotten to know you both, outside the Games. I shake my head and smile ruefully. But, without the Games, you both would have ended up in the mines, and I would still be working in the bakery. And Katniss would be...

I know where Katniss would be. Katniss would most likely be with Gale, now that she's eighteen and would have been completely out of school by now. And there would be four more kids buried here in the Gardens instead of two. Would Gamma have been Reaped? I shake my head. It's useless to speculate on what might have happened.

Besides, Gale and Gamma don't answer.

I sigh and slowly turn away from the graves. Goodbye, my friends. Visit me once in a while. I actually miss you in some strange way.

I make my way back to the Village. There's still a lot to do before tomorrow.

The Tribute Train arrived earlier today and Effie has been a virtual whirlwind of activity, brimming with excitement at my "first Games as a Mentor! How thrilling!" She went on and on about the possibilities of a "three-peat" for District Twelve, and lamenting that the odds of that were definitely not in our favor.

She was also disappointed that she wasn't able to visit the bakery, as it is still under construction. Snow has upheld his end of our agreement, but, of course, he never said how long it would take to complete construction. Not a high enough priority, I guess.

I have to hand it to Katniss, though. She's putting on the performance of a lifetime. During our first meeting with Effie, she played the part of second-year Mentor perfectly, even affecting annoying Capitol mannerisms such as air-kissing Effie in the general vicinity of her cheeks, gushing over Effie's color choices this year (a combination of my sunset orange and Katniss's forest green favorites), and just generally giving Effie the impression that she's totally "in the moment."

Poor Effie. Reality will be such a huge shock to her. And I find myself actually caring what she thinks of all of us once the uprising begins.

Of course, nothing is ever easy. Plutarch Heavensbee, not entirely trusting that his tech wizards will be able to keep the Reaping broadcast airing once the shit hits the fan, has sent an insurance policy to conduct a shadow broadcast. We know his backup resident director quite well.

Her name is Cressida.

"Why her?" Katniss all but snarls, her face a carefully constructed mask of impassivity.

Haymitch, Katniss, and I are standing in the Green while Cressida and her crew work on setting up a few generic stock shots of the three of us together. These shots will be followed by quick interviews with the three of us.

"Sweetheart, I have a message for you from Plutarch," Haymitch replies. "It's seven carefully chosen words: 'Suck it up and deal with it.' He's well aware of your objections. That being said, Cressida, Messalla, Castor, and Pollux are not only one of the best crews in the Capitol, their loyalty to the cause is beyond question." Haymitch's voice softens a bit. "Look, you don't have to like her. Just work with her. Okay?"

Katniss glares at Haymitch for a moment. "Fine," she replies flatly.

Cressida approaches us at that moment. "Uhh...we're all set here," she says. "A few stills, some video of the three of you together, and a very brief series of questions. Okay?"

We murmur our assent, and, for the next twenty or thirty minutes, plaster fake smiles on our faces as Cressida and her crew do their job. Even Katniss manages to sound witty and charming while answering Cressida's questions.

It's probably a good thing that the cameras are unable to pick up the cold glint in Katniss's eyes while she talks with Cressida.

"Okay," Cressida finally says. "That'll do it. We'll see you all tomorrow...at the Reaping."

Katniss immediately turns towards Haymitch and I. "I'm going home," she announces. "I need to...need to..."

Haymitch nods solemnly. "Okay, Sweetheart," he murmurs. Katniss catches my eye and I give her what I hope to be a reassuring smile and a nod. Katniss steps forward and gives Haymitch a quick kiss on his cheek, and another, more lingering kiss on my mouth.

"See you later," she whispers, and then turns to go. I place my hand on her shoulder.

"Katniss." She stops. "Come over tonight, if you...I mean, in case you..."

Katniss reaches up and covers my hand with her own. "I'll try." I give her shoulder a gentle squeeze before I let go and watch her walk back to her house.

"You okay, kid?" Haymitch asks gently.

I half nod, half shake my head. "Yes. No. Shit. I don't know." I turn towards Haymitch. "I have the same feeling in my gut now that I did last year before I went into the arena."

"If it makes you feel better," Haymitch says with a crooked grin, "I'm scared shitless too."

I can't help but return Haymitch's grin. All the weeks...the months...of tension and planning, of secret meetings in Haymitch's basement...everything was building up to the climax tomorrow. And here's Haymitch, joking and seemingly relaxed. And he's been involved with this for over twenty years.

"There you are, boys!" Effie Trinket's voice trills. Haymitch and I both glance in the direction of her voice and see her hurrying across the Green towards us. She pauses briefly for a quick hello to Cressida and her crew before continuing on to Haymitch and I.

"Hey, Effie," I say with a smile, trying desperately to sound casual. "What's up?"

Effie stops in front of Haymitch and I and gives us both a mysterious smile. "Well, something for you and Katniss, Peeta! After all, these Games are as much about the two latest Mentors as they are about the Tributes!"

"I don't follow you," I admit.

"It was your birthday recently, wasn't it?" Effie asks. "And didn't Katniss celebrate a birthday recently also? The eighteenth for you both, I believe?"

"Last month," I confirm.

"Well, that's a big deal!" Effie continues. "In the Capitol, it means that you are now an adult! So, I was thinking about an appropriate celebration once we arrive in the Capitol. What do you think? By the way, where is Katniss anyway?"

"She went home to spend time with her family before we leave tomorrow," Haymitch says firmly. "In other words, Princess, don't bother her."

"Besides," I add hastily, "A big birthday celebration has never been a tradition here in Twelve." I don't add that, for district residents, the best thing about turning eighteen is the fact that you only have one more Reaping to live through.

Effie looks unconvinced. "No matter," she says cheerfully. "We'll discuss it on the train tomorrow. All right then, boys, I will see you in the morning! Get some rest tonight, we have a big, big, big, big day tomorrow!"

Haymitch and I watch her totter away on those impossibly high heels. "She doesn't have a clue," I mutter. "Not a clue."

"No, she doesn't," Haymitch agrees. "She's an even worse actress than Katniss."

"What happens with Effie tomorrow?" I ask.

Haymitch looks at me in surprise. "We take her with us. That's a no-brainer. Otherwise, we might as well shoot her ourselves."

"Do you think the Peacekeepers would hurt her?" The thought of Effie being mistreated by Peacekeepers was unsettling, to say the least.

"Kid, Snow's bound to retaliate," Haymitch explains patiently. "Once he figures out what's going on, he's gonna hit back, and hit back hard. And, as far as he's concerned, everyone in Twelve will be an enemy."

"Even the Capitol people?" I ask softly.

"Even them." Haymitch looks grim. "He'll probably execute any surviving Peacekeepers for failing to die in the line of duty. As for the rest, well, it's anyone's guess. Effie would most likely end up as an Avox, at the very least. It would be kinder if we shot her ourselves."

"What about the others?" I ask. "Capitol Liaison and people like that?"

"Fuck them," Haymitch replies in a flat voice. "I don't owe any of 'em shit. If they wanna come along, it's as prisoners. And remember, we don't take Peacekeepers prisoners."

I nod in understanding. "But Effie you feel you owe something to?"

Haymitch nods. "It's complicated, kid. But yeah...I owe her something."

Haymitch wouldn't elaborate on exactly what he feels he owes Effie. But, in traditional Seam fashion, he is bound and determined to repay her.

I lie awake, staring up at the ceiling. The moonlight is filtering in from outside, bathing my room in a soft, silvery light. I close my eyes, willing my brain to shut off long enough for me to fall asleep.

But of course it doesn't.

I roll over with a disgusted sigh and glance at the softly glowing face of my bedside clock. 12:50. I'll have to get up in a few hours even if I don't get any sleep.

This is worse than the night before launch. At least then I wasn't sure what to expect.

I packed a small bag earlier. A backpack, actually...something I can carry and leave my hands free. A few mementos...my spile, my sketchbook, a box of pencils, a picture of my father. The knife that I kept from the arena I will be carrying with me tomorrow, in the small of my back. There are two other knives sitting on the dresser, courtesy of Silenus Festuca. I'll strap one to each wrist when I get dressed. My jacket sleeves will conceal both quite effectively.

I have everything that I need. Everything...except Katniss.

I had gone to her house earlier in the evening. Prim had answered the door. I could tell that she had been crying. I looked at her and raised my eyebrows - you okay? - and she had nodded, once.

I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile and asked her if I could see Katniss, but Katniss had heard us and was already on the way. We didn't talk for long...I could tell that Katniss had been crying as well...but all I had wanted to do was to see her one last time before...before tomorrow.

Katniss had hugged me, and kissed me tenderly, and had cried softly and apologized and said that she was sorry, but she had to stay with Prim. And so I smiled and kissed her back and told her that I understood, and went home, and tried without luck to fall asleep.

I glance at the clock again. 1:23. At this rate I'll be nice and exhausted for tomorrow. I wonder if Jackson and the others are having as much trouble as I am. I wonder if -

What was that? The sound of my front door opening and then closing followed by light footsteps carefully climbing my stairs. I lay in the darkness as I hear my bedroom door open, and then quietly close. A brief rustling of clothing hitting the floor, the slight sag on one side of the bed, and the feel of a soft, warm body pressed close to me.

I don't move, even when Katniss slides her arm possessively over my chest. Instead, I whisper, "Why are you here?"

"You needed me," Katniss whispers back.

I turn slightly until I'm facing her. "What about Prim?" I whisper.

"She's sleeping with Mom. And you didn't have anyone tonight. So here I am." I feel the bed shift slightly as Katniss raises her face up to mine to kiss me.

"I'm glad you're here," I murmur.

"Me too," Katniss replies just as softly. "Maybe now we can both get some sleep."

I sigh and pull her close. "I know I will, if you stay with me."

Katniss snuggles against my chest and whispers a single word.

"Always."

PART V

"It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks," Mayor Undersee intones solemnly. Seated behind him, I can't see his face. Do you know? Did Madge tell you?

I nervously glance to my right. Katniss is sitting next to me, with Haymitch to her right. We have her sandwiched nicely in the middle. There's one more empty chair to the left of mine...the Mayor's chair, now unoccupied. Effie is standing off to one side, patiently waiting for the Mayor to finish so that she may step forward and complete the Reaping.

I'm immensely thankful that Katniss had spent the night with me. Her presence calmed me and both of us had been able to sleep, uninterrupted, for several hours. But, she had returned to her house after we both had awakened and my anxiety has been building ever since.

Now, I can't look at a Peacekeeper and wonder if I will see a raised visor and an armband. I can't look toward the far side of the square at the squad of Peacekeepers seated at the check-in tables, with Jackson and the rest of her soldiers standing surreptitiously close behind...knowing that, if everything goes as planned, that this entire squad would be among the first to die.

From where I sit I can only see the tops of the helmets of the "Glamour" squad. Which one is it? Who's the Rebel? I've been driving myself crazy for the past couple of hours wondering who are the Rebels among the assembled Peacekeepers...and who are the unlucky ones that must die.

I feel Katniss gently squeeze my knee and I look up at her as she gives me a quick reassuring smile. Outwardly she's projecting complete calm. How are you doing it, Katniss?

Even as I watch I see Katniss's smile fade and I turn my attention back to the front of the stage, where Effie is now positioned in front of the microphone.

"Welcome, welcome! Happy Hunger Games!" Effie's voice echoes throughout the Square. "And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

Here it comes. "And, as always, ladies first!" Effie crosses over to the glass bowl containing the slips of every District Twelve girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen and plunges her hand deep inside. She swirls her hand around dramatically before she latches onto one and pulls it from the bowl with a flourish.

Effie crosses back across the stage to the microphone and rips the slip open, pulling the edges apart as she raises the paper up and reads, "Justina Elliott!"

I know this girl. Her parents run the outfitters that caters to all of the miners in the district. I watch as the crowd of seventeen-year-old girls parts and a crying girl with dark blonde hair emerges and is immediately flanked by a team of burly Peacekeepers.

I wait for Prim's voice as Justina slowly makes her way toward the stage. Come on, Prim, I say to myself. Come on, come on, come on. I glance at Katniss and see her lips compressed in a thin, bloodless line as Justina approaches ever nearer.

Was Prim going to wait until Effie called for Volunteers? That makes absolutely no sense. She wasn't in any danger of actually having to board the Tribute Train and -

"I Volunteer."

Primrose Everdeen's faint, high-pitched voice barely makes it to the stage. A murmur immediately rises from the crowd as Prim pushes her way through the crowd of fourteens and steps into view.

"Primrose?" Effie gasps in astonishment. "Primrose Everdeen?"

Justina and her escort immediately stop and turn to stare at Prim in surprise. Prim, her hands balled into small fists at her side, takes two steps forward and repeats her earlier statement, louder and more clearly this time.

"I Volunteer," she says, her voice ringing out clearly. "I Volunteer as Tribute!"

Silence.

For a few moments, the only sound is the clicking of the Peacekeepers' boots on the pavement as they escort Prim to the stage. Prim is walking steadily, her chin held high, her single blonde braid bouncing slightly with each step. Only her clenched fists belie just how frightened she really is.

In spite of my own rising fear, I can't help but smile. There's no doubt. Prim is an Everdeen, through and through.

I quickly glance at Katniss. Her lips are compressed in a thin, bloodless line as she slowly rises from her seat. She's as scared as I am, but I see something else in her eyes as she slowly walks to the microphone.

Determination.

A low, rustling murmur rises from the crowd as Prim draws ever nearer to the stage. They're confused...Prim only had three slips in the Reaping Bowl, and, to the best of anyone's knowledge, she barely knew Justina, who is now standing to one side, shock and confusion on her face...so why Volunteer?

"Peeta?" Mayor Undersee's voice is filled with confusion, and I jump a little. I had almost forgotten about him sitting here. "What's going on? Why did Primrose Everdeen Volunteer?"

"You're about to find out, Mayor Undersee," I whisper as I, too, rise to my feet and join Katniss at the microphone.

Effie is still standing at the microphone when Katniss and I step forward. Prim is just beginning to mount the steps to the stage as Effie glances first at Katniss, then at I, her confusion evident on her face.

"Katniss," Effie stammers, as she turns back to face Katniss, "Wh...what's going on? Why did Primrose Volunteer?"

"Don't worry, Effie," Katniss murmurs. "Everything is all right."

Prim is now standing on the stage next to Katniss, while Katniss and I flank Effie. I glance over at Prim and, even from a couple of meters away; I can see that she's trembling with fear. I wonder how Mrs. Everdeen is handling this, I say to myself. I quickly scan the crowd, now muttering louder and shifting around uneasily, but I can't locate her. What I do see is one of the Peacekeepers in the team that escorted Prim to the stage very deliberately raise his face shield, revealing a dark face that I recognize as one of the Peacekeepers that had accompanied Romulus Thread to District Twelve.

I wonder what Thread would think if he knew that one of his "hand picked" Peacekeepers is a Rebel? I turn my attention to the "Glamour" Squad and see, all the way at the end of the line, a Peacekeeper that I recognize with face shield raised. Purnia and I make brief eye contact as her hand casually drops to the butt of her holstered pistol.

"Prim, go sit next to Haymitch," Katniss murmurs quietly. Prim, her eyes wide, nods and moves toward the line of chairs.

"You too, Effie." Effie turns to me, her face a mask of confusion.

"What...Peeta, I don't understand! I need to...need to..." Effie gestures towards the bowl with the boys' names.

"Effie," I mutter urgently, "please go sit down!" Confused, Effie totters back to her seat and stiffly takes her seat.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Sergeant Bellatrix Breccia glares up at the stage from her position with the "Glamour" Squad. She's at the opposite end of the line from Purnia, where she, too, has raised her face shield...not as a signal, of course. And she's too far away for Purnia to have a clean shot at her. Dammit.

Katniss ignores her as she steps to the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen," she says smoothly, "there's been a slight change of plans regarding today's Reaping." As I listen to Katniss speak, I see Pollux, at my far left, and Castor, at the far right, both actively recording. Cressida is standing to Katniss's right, carefully positioning herself so that she won't obstruct Castor's view. Messalla is with Pollux, off to the left.

"I must inform you," Katniss continues, her voice quavering ever so slightly, "that today's Reaping will not come to its usual conclusion. In fact, neither will the Games. I now give notice that the Hunger Games are hereby cancelled, now and forever. Today marks a new day for the people of Panem. Today marks the beginning of the end of President Snow. Today marks the beginning of the Revolution...and freedom for all!"

No sooner did the last word leave Katniss's mouth than a series of crackling pops erupt, seemingly from all around me. I fumble for the knife strapped to my left wrist while trying to keep an eye on the rapidly building pandemonium that's beginning to erupt all around the stage. I see, off to my left, Purnia casually raise her pistol and begin to shoot the other Peacekeepers in the "Glamour" Squad, starting with the one closest to her.

Pop, pop, pop. Three Peacekeepers fall to the ground limply, like rag dolls. Screams of fright now begin to rise from the crowd as panic grips the people nearest the growing carnage. Even as I pull my knife I see, at the opposite side of the square, Jackson and her team simultaneously raise their pistols. Pop pop poppop poppoppoppop. The Peacekeepers at the check-in table slump forward lifelessly, caught completely by surprise. Only two had managed to even begin to rise to their feet before bullets to the backs of their heads drop them back down again for good.

They sound like firecrackers. I thought they would be louder. I watch as Jackson and her team step forward, efficiently stripping the gun belts from the Peacekeepers that they had just so ruthlessly executed. There's a commotion to the front of the stage as the remaining Peacekeepers in the "Glamour" Squad finally begin to react. I see the dark skinned Rebel Peacekeeper that was with Prim's escort shooting also, as people begin to run in every direction, frantic to escape the growing battle.

The shouts and screams continue, as do the sounds of the gunshots. I see smoke billowing from an upper story window in the building across the Square...July Barrow's kids had done their job. The machine gun on the back building stutters to life, shooting at Snow only knows what...only to be silenced after a few seconds by a series of sharp cracks from above and behind me. Darius must have succeeded in killing the others in his team and has quickly and, using his sniper rifle, efficiently silenced the other gun as well.

And, all the while, Katniss has not moved so much as a centimeter away from her position at the microphone. She's saying something now, but, even amplified, her words barely penetrate the cacophony of the riot that continues to build just below us. I manage to make out a few words - "fight," "free Panem," and "uprising" among them - and I marvel at the courage that she's displaying now. And then I hear other words...spoken not from Katniss's lips, but from a point directly below the stage...two words that chill my soul.

"Traitorous bitch!"

In the melee I had almost forgotten about Peacekeeper Sergeant Bellatrix Breccia. And now, it's obvious that she hasn't forgotten about us. Her face is twisted into a mask of rage as she deliberately raises her pistol in both hands, even as I raise my knife and shout a warning.

"Katniss!" And, as I draw my arm back, I realize that there's no way for me to throw before Breccia pulls her trigger...and, on the stage, Katniss is open and totally exposed. I scream as Breccia begins to fire, even as my arm whips forward. My knife leaves my hand just as the gun in Breccia's hands fires, I see Katniss fall backwards...and there's a sudden, blonde-haired blur to our front as Breccia's gun barks twice more.

Forgotten is the growing riot. The sound of shouts, screams, and gunshots fades to a mumbling roar coming from all around me as I drop to my knees next to Katniss's supine body. Katniss's eyes are wide open, staring at the brilliant blue sky above us, as her mouth works frantically and her hands clutch her chest.

"Katniss!" Prim's voice now joins mine as the younger Everdeen drops down next to Katniss and her hands immediately begin to work at prying Katniss's own clutching fingers from her chest. Katniss's mouth continues to work until, suddenly, a loud gasp explodes from her and she groans loudly.

"Katniss!" Prim shouts. "Katniss! Move your hands, Katniss!" Katniss stares up at Prim uncomprehendingly as Prim continues to tug at Katniss's hands, until Katniss's arms unexpectedly go limp, and Prim pulls Katniss's hands away from her chest, to reveal a neat hole in her Cinna-designed dress, revealing the damaged, but still serviceable, body armor underneath.

Katniss coughs, moans, and coughs again as her eyes focus on her sister. "Prim? What..." She tries to sit up and is gently forced back down by Prim, who, along with me, is simultaneously laughing and crying.

"Body armor!" I shout. "Your body armor!"

"Peeta?" Katniss's eyes focus on me. "What? Armor?" She tries to sit up again, moans, and collapses back. "Shit. Hurts."

I turn to Prim, remembering what we had been told about body armor. "Check underneath," I tell her. Prim nods, inserts her fingers in the hole in the dress made by the bullet, and pulls, tearing the expensive fabric. Sorry, Cinna, I say to myself as Prim examines the divot in the armor made by the bullet.

"Does it hurt when you breathe?" Prim asks Katniss. Katniss nods, once. Prim looks back at me. "She had her breath knocked out and probably has a cracked rib."

"I'm fine," Katniss mutters and tries to sit up again. This time, she manages to raise herself up on her elbows. "See? I'm..." she begins, before her eyes widen and her voice trails off.

I turn in the direction that Katniss is looking and manage to choke out "No!" as I pivot around to see Cressida, with Messalla kneeling next to her, laying half on her side in a growing pool of her own blood.

Even as I move toward Cressida, I see Messalla raise his tear-streaked face toward Castor, then at Pollux, and snap, "Keep recording!"

Both cameramen, who had been moving toward Messalla and the fallen Cressida, stop instantly and continue to train their cameras on the growing chaos erupting around us. I can now see Cressida's face...her eyes closed, her mouth and chin splattered with blood, stray locks of her blonde hair resting in the growing pool of crimson beneath her. I glance down at her chest and see two neat holes, a hands breadth apart, bubbling blood in a regular rhythm.

Still alive. Somehow, she's still alive. A voice then calls my name. "Peeta!" I glance behind me to where Leeg now stands, looking out of place in her "traditional" District Twelve clothing, and with her is Mrs. Everdeen, looking shocked, frightened, and confused. Leeg has buckled a Peacekeeper gun belt around her waist, and is clutching a carbine in one hand.

"Where's Katniss?" Leeg asks in alarm.

"Here." Katniss appears by my side, wincing slightly. "I'm right here." She notices her mother for the first time. "Mom! Up here! We need help!"

"Are you okay?" I ask, my voice full of concern and worry for her.

"I'll live," she replies grimly as she stares down at Cressida's lax, ashen face. Behind Katniss I can see Mrs. Everdeen climbing the steps to the stage. Beyond that, out of the corner of my eye, Leeg pauses next to a white-clad body sprawled out on the pavement in front of the stage, and then bends down, grasping the hilt of my knife, and, with a single tug, pulls it neatly from the bleeding eye-socket of the now-dead Bellatrix Breccia.

It had been a snap throw, and the best that I had ever made. And it had come two seconds too late.

Leeg casually wipes the blade off on Breccia's trouser leg before turning and handing it to me. "Thanks," I mutter, gingerly taking the knife by the hilt and sliding it back into its sheath on my wrist.

In response, Leeg nods once, and then her face contorts and she barely has time to turn her head before she vomits loudly. She turns back to me sheepishly, wiping the back of one trembling hand over her mouth. "Sorry," she mutters. "This...it's nothing like I thought it would be."

I nod, once. Leeg looks like she's about to say something else before Mitchell, from the center of the square, calls out her name. Leeg turns and waves, once, before turning back to me. "I gotta go," she says apologetically. "I'll see you later."

As she turns to trot away I feel a hand tug at my arm. "Peeta," Prim is saying. "Your knife. I need your knife." I nod and reach my left hand under my right sleeve, pulling out the other knife that Goat Man had given me...this one unsullied by human blood...and hand it to her.

Prim immediately turns away and begins cutting Cressida's shirt open. Her fingers move swiftly and surely as she quickly exposes the bubbling wounds. Mrs. Everdeen is cutting strips of cloth from the bottom of her own dress with another knife...Katniss's, I realize...while Katniss is doing something that I never in a million years thought I would ever see her do.

She's cradling Cressida's head in her lap...and she's crying.

"Get outta my light," Mrs. Everdeen snaps at Messalla as she kneels next to Cressida's bleeding body. Without a word, Messalla steps to one side, absently wiping his bloody hands on his pants as Mrs. Everdeen and Prim grimly work on Cressida.

Prim carefully folds a strip of cloth into a rectangle, somewhat larger than my outstretched hand, and then carefully lays it across both bullet holes. Mrs. Everdeen moves in with another strip of cloth...this one cut from the bottom of Prim's dress, I notice...and lays it across the makeshift dressing.

"Lift her up, Katniss," Mrs. Everdeen commands. Katniss, still crying softly, carefully lifts Cressida's head and shoulders, causing a wheezy moan to escape Cressida's lips as Mrs. Everdeen quickly wraps the homemade bandage around Cressida's chest, and then ties it off directly over the dressing.

Mrs. Everdeen watches the dressing carefully for a few moments, groaning in frustration as blood begins to bubble through the cloth. She looks around frantically. "I need a piece of plastic," she says. "Big enough to cover the dressing."

I look around the stage. Plastic? Where are we supposed to find a piece of plastic?

"Excuse me," a soft voice behind me makes me jump. I spin around, jerking the knife from my wrist sheath in a single smooth motion.

"Easy, Peeta," Mayor Undersee says. I had completely forgotten about him, and I slowly relax. The past few minutes have made me nervous and jumpy. "I heard what you said, Una. About needing plastic." The Mayor extends his right hand. In it was the copy of the Treaty of Treason that he reads at the Reaping every year...encased in a plastic document protector.

"Perfect!" Mrs. Everdeen says, snatching the plastic-encased Treaty from the Mayor's outstretched hand. "Just what we need!" She turns back to Cressida. "Prim?"

Prim has another makeshift dressing and bandage ready...these, I see, were cut from the bottom of Katniss's dress...and, first ripping the copy of the Treaty out of the protector and tossing the paper aside, carefully lays the plastic over the first dressing before covering that with the second square of cloth.

"Katniss?" Mrs. Everdeen says. Wordlessly, Katniss lifts Cressida's limp body up once again as Mrs. Everdeen wraps the bandage around the bleeding woman before tying it off securely.

Mrs. Everdeen and Prim watch the second dressing intently before settling back. Prim looks at her mother, the relief apparent on her face. "It's holding."

Mrs. Everdeen shakes her head. "I don't know how she's still alive. I'm pretty sure one of her lungs has collapsed and she's lost a lot of blood."

I stare down at Katniss, who's still kneeling next to Cressida, cradling the older woman's head in her lap. She's stopped crying now but her face is streaked with tears. Katniss looks back up at me. "Why? Why did she do it? After the awful, shitty way that I've treated her! Why?"

I shake my head. "She...Katniss, I don't think she was ever angry with you." I shrug my shoulders helplessly. "Maybe this was her way of telling you how sorry she is for what happened."

Katniss looks like she's about to say something else, but then she turns back to Cressida. For the first time since it all started, I look around the Square.

Dead Peacekeepers litter the Square, along with more than a few District residents. A few others are sitting up, cradling wounded limbs, or painfully making their way through the Square, either alone or with family members or friends helping them. I can still hear sporadic gunfire coming from the general direction of the train station. I quickly glance around the stage and, for the first time, I notice that someone's missing.

"Where's Haymitch?" I ask.

"He left," Effie replies, her voice wooden, devoid of emotion. To my surprise she's still sitting exactly where she was when the shit hit the fan. "After Cressida was shot. He took off that way." Effie points off in the direction of the Capitol Liaison offices. "Oh, Peeta," Effie says sadly. "What have you done?"

How do I answer this woman, who's been raised in the opulence of the Capitol, who has never before known what it's like to be hungry, or cold, or frightened beyond belief on Reaping Day? How do I explain to her what we have started here on this day?

I step forward, dropping to a knee in front of Effie, who continues to look at me with infinitely sad eyes. "Changes need to be made, Effie," I murmur as I slip my knife back in its wrist sheath and take her hands in mine. "Changes that benefit everyone...district and Capitol alike."

"Changes," Effie repeats. "At what cost, Peeta?" She asks, nodding towards Cressida.

"Changes that Cressida felt strongly enough about to -" I almost say, "to die for," but I can't bring myself to utter the words. "- to risk her own life for."

Effie shakes her head sadly. "I don't understand." She glances up, looking over my shoulder. "Here comes Haymitch. Maybe he can make me understand."

I glance over my shoulder. Sure enough, Haymitch was walking across the Square...and he was pushing someone along in front of him. It takes me a moment to recognize the impeccably dressed, gaunt figure.

The Mine Company Doctor.

Haymitch has a firm grip on the man's collar, and, with his free hand, is holding a knife to his throat. He pushes the man up the stairs roughly, stopping a pace or two from Cressida's wounded body.

"There's your patient, doc," Haymitch snarls. "Now get to work."

I have to hand it to the doctor. He is quite obviously terrified, but he has a set of balls on him. "I'll not be a party to treason," he says, his voice quivering only slightly.

In response, Haymitch casually nicks the man's earlobe with the point of his knife, causing the doctor to yelp in pain. "You have exactly three seconds to reconsider. I don't give a shit whether you live or die this day. But you might care. One...two..."

"Stop!" The doctor chokes out. "I...I'll do it." Immediately Haymitch releases his collar and pulls the knife away from the man's throat.

"Get to work," Haymitch orders. "And if she dies, you won't be far behind her."

Romulus Thread can't believe it.

One minute, he had these district scum in his iron fist. The next minute, everything had gone to shit.

That traitorous Everdeen bitch! She's ruining everything! But no, it's not just her. It's the rummy and the punk with one leg. They're in on it too! And where the fuck did those four by the check-in table get guns? In the blink of an eye, eight good Peacekeepers...assassinated!

But it's not just that. Unless his eyes are playing tricks on him, some of his own Peacekeepers are traitors also! Fucking bastards! Thread has never seen anything like it in his long career as a Peacekeeper. Treason from sworn Peacekeepers! Violating the very oath that he's held sacred for decades!

Well, Thread has something for all of these traitors, positioned carefully on a pair of rooftops, and...no! It can't be! Another traitor on the Justice Building roof? It has to be. Both machine guns are silent. That bastard Potter. He is in on this too! Murderer! He's killed seven...count them, seven...good, faithful Peacekeepers and is, at this very moment, sniping at other loyal Peacekeepers!

Thread smiles as he sees an opening. On occasions like this, he likes to wander around the Square, making his presence felt by as much district scum as possible, and today was no exception. So, when the shit hit the fan, he was working his way back up towards the stage, off to the side of the boys' assembly area.

Thread knows his duty. As Head Peacekeeper for District Twelve, he's tasked with maintaining order. What's happening now is the antithesis of order. And, for him to restore order, he needs to eliminate the threat...and kill the Victors now assembled on the stage. It's obvious to even an idiot that once you cut off the Rebel head, the body will soon die as well.

There! Even as chaos replaces order in the Square, Romulus Thread grins in triumph. The rummy has returned with the Mine Company Doctor, no doubt to work on that traitorous slut that his heroic Sergeant Breccia managed to put a couple of slugs into, before she was murdered in turn by that one-legged punk. Thread begins to raise his carbine and is distracted by a small noise off to his right side. In annoyance he glances to his right, seeing no one but that disgusting old goat merchant, who immediately scuttles off to avoid Thread's wrath.

"Filthy Twelve shit bag." Thread mutters to himself as he, once again, turns his attention to the task at hand...the elimination of three traitorous so-called "Victors," who gladly accepted the generosity of the Capitol when it suited them. And, as his gun sight settles on the head of the Seam slut Everdeen, he grins again, imagining the gratitude that President Snow will show him once he, Thread, crushes this uprising once and for all, and is able to deliver the heads of the traitors personally, and -

"Psst." Thread jerks his head to his right in annoyance. That fucking goat merchant! Once he's done with the Victors, he'll toss in "Goat Man's" head as a bonus, no extra -

Thread stiffens in surprise as a surprisingly strong, gnarly hand clamps down over his nose and mouth from behind. Before he can react, the hand jerks his head roughly to one side and Thread feels the deadly kiss of steel on his exposed throat.

All Thread can manage is a muffled scream as Goat Man, previously known as Sergeant Silenus Festuca, Corps of Peacekeepers, Republic of Panem, plunges the point of his knife deep into Thread's throat, expertly twisting the blade while simultaneously slicing outward, cutting through Thread's carotid artery in a single, neat motion.

Festuca roughly pushes Thread away, deftly avoiding the fountain of blood spurting from the torn throat of the Head Peacekeeper. Thread gags and stumbles forward, his hands clawing ineffectually at the spurting gash in his neck, and falls to his knees before collapsing on his side, his head turning and his eyes lighting on his assassin.

And, even as Thread's vision dims as his life pumps out of him, staining the pavement beneath his body a bright crimson, his last thought is why does he look familiar?

Festuca watches impassively as Thread gurgles, jerks spasmodically, and dies, his eyes still wide open and staring. Festuca then steps forward, carefully wiping Thread's blood off of his knife, and then strips the gun belt from the dead Peacekeeper, buckling it securely around his own waist before stooping down and recovering the carbine.

"You always were careless about covering your six, Romulus," Festuca says softly; taking one last, long look at his former trainee before finally turning away.

Instinctively, I duck down as the hovercraft swoops in low, the single machine gun in its nose spitting out death. I watch helplessly as it passes in front of the stage, flying from my left to my right, machine gun bullets striking pavement and flesh indiscriminately.

A movement off to my left catches my eye, and I turn my head and see Jackson and her team running toward the Justice Building. Frantically I wave my hand over my head, trying to attract her attention, even as the hovercraft begins a long, looping turn in midair, in preparation for another machine gun run.

"Jackson!" I shout. Somehow above the din Jackson hears me and waves in acknowledgement as she and her team continue toward the stage and the Justice Building. I point frantically to the sky and the hovercraft.

"On it!" Jackson shouts back, even as I see Leeg, running close behind her, talking frantically into some sort of communications device on her wrist.

I glance back at the hovercraft, now almost finished with its turn, and hear an ear-splitting whoosh come from the general direction of the Meadow. As I watch, a fireball corkscrews up from the ground, heading straight for the hovercraft.

The hovercraft pilot sees it also, and jerks the aircraft violently to one side, then the other, in an attempt to avoid the streaking fireball...to no avail. The fireball collides with one wing of the hovercraft and explodes with a roar, causing the hovercraft to tumble wildly out of control and crash, somewhere in the vicinity of the outskirts of the Seam and the perimeter fence.

I can't see the crash, but I can hear it. And there's no mistaking the fireball that rises up from the Seam. I can only hope that no one was hurt or killed when the hovercraft went down.

Jackson and her team run up the steps and onto the stage, stopping short as soon as they see Cressida, who's still being held by Katniss and worked on by the doctor, Mrs. Everdeen, and Prim. Jackson quickly looks at each of us in turn...myself, Haymitch, the Mayor, and Effie...satisfying herself that no one else has been wounded.

"How bad?" Jackson asks softly.

"Bad," Mrs. Everdeen mutters in response.

The doors to the Justice Building suddenly swing open, causing Haymitch and I to both pull our knives, only to see Darius, accompanied by some of the younger Community Home kids, all heavily weighed down with weapons, gun belts, and ammunition, step out onto the stage. We slip our knives back into their sheaths as Darius joins us.

"Shit," he mutters as he looks down at Cressida. At that time the doctor stands up, wiping his hands on a scrap of cloth before turning to Haymitch and I.

"I've done everything I can," he announces. "Which isn't a great deal. This woman needs a hospital. I'll be blunt." He pauses for a moment, eyeing Haymitch warily. "Without proper medical care, she will die."

I glance at Katniss. She's still kneeling next to Cressida, holding her head in her lap. Her expression doesn't change as the doctor speaks.

"I've given her some morphling, for the pain," the doctor continues. "The dressings are crude, but surprisingly effective. There's just nothing more that I can do without a trauma center." He pauses for a moment. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I bet you are," Haymitch mutters sarcastically.

"Haymitch!" I snap. Haymitch looks at me in surprise. "Enough," I say. Haymitch opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it and nods, once, before turning away.

"Hey!" A voice calls out from the Square. I turn and see Madge Undersee and July Barrow running across the Square from the back building, along with several Community Home kids. They're all carrying weapons, gun belts, and ammunition.

"Madge?" The Mayor steps forward, shock and confusion written on his face, as Madge, July, and the kids run up the steps and onto the stage. "You're involved in this too?"

"I'm sorry I couldn't say anything," Madge says apologetically. "But yes, Dad. I've been involved for...a while now. I had to. Because of Aunt Maysilee." Madge looks down at Cressida. "How is she?"

"Dying," Katniss replies bitterly.

Darius steps forward. "Uhh...listen. We need to consolidate and start getting ready to evacuate." He pauses for a moment, looking down at Cressida. "This has gone off better than I had hoped for. I've only lost two of my Peacekeepers." He looks over at Jackson. "Looks like you have all your people."

"Yeah," Jackson replies. "No significant injuries. With my team," she adds quickly. "I, uhh, I mean, we've been in contact with our security squad outside the fence."

"Did they shoot that fireball at the hovercraft?" I ask.

"That was no fireball," Jackson replies with satisfaction. "That was a shoulder fired surface to air missile."

"Whatever it was, it did the job," Haymitch says. He turns to Darius and Jackson. "So, what's next?"

"The remaining Peacekeepers have fallen back toward the train station," Darius replies. "I think the Peacekeepers on the Tribute Train have linked up with them."

"Can we expect any trouble from them?" Haymitch asks.

Darius shakes his head. "They're pretty much leaderless except for a sergeant or two. Right now I expect they're fighting in ones and twos, but they are probably in a total defensive mode right now. I wouldn't count on them mounting any sort of counterattack any time soon."

Haymitch looks thoughtful. "So the Peacekeeper barracks and compound should be clear."

Darius nods. "Yeah, should be."

Haymitch turns to Jackson. "And your squad is in the forest?"

"They're in position right outside the Meadow fence," Jackson replies.

"How about the locals?" Haymitch asks July Barrow.

"Last I saw, Thom and Bristel were in the group that's pushing the Peacekeepers back towards the train station," July replies. He grins wickedly. "They're putting the captured Peacekeeper weapons to good use."

"It's a wonder that none of them has ended up shooting themselves in the foot," Jackson remarks snidely. "No offense," she adds, glancing over at July, "but they're untrained civilians."

"Yeah, well, they know where the dangerous end of a gun is," July snaps.

"Enough," Haymitch says, holding up one hand. "You two wanna get in a pissin' contest, you do it on your own time." Haymitch pauses, looking thoughtful. "Okay. Well, the one thing that we know for sure is that Snow will hit back. He won't let this go unpunished. The questions are...when and how?"

Leeg answers that question almost immediately. She had been doing something with the device that she wore on her arm (a "commicuff," she had called it) and now she looks up at us in alarm.

"Message from our command and control bird," she says breathlessly. "They report eight bogies inbound from due west. ETA is seventy-five minutes."

"That quickly?" Jackson asks.

"Probably not from the Capitol," Haymitch replies grimly. "They probably had a flight of hovercraft staged somewhere closer. Due west...hmmm, probably either District Six or Eight."

"My money is on Six," Darius says. "They build hovercraft there, and the Capitol has a decent sized auxiliary base just outside the main hovercraft plant."

"No matter," Haymitch glances over his shoulder as a fresh burst of gunfire erupts near the train station. "We have a little more than an hour to get the hell outta here."

"Bombs?" Jackson asks. "Or Peacekeepers?"

"Either or, it doesn't matter," Darius looks grim. "Eight hovercraft can carry a lot of Peacekeepers...and you can bet that these will come very heavily armed and will be expecting a fight. And we can't fight bombs."

"What about missiles?" I ask.

"The squad outside the fence probably didn't bring enough for eight hovercraft," Jackson replies. "Our best chance is evacuation. Now." She turns to Darius. "Potter, we'll need some help in suppressing the remaining Peacekeeper threat. I'll take my team and -"

It's at that moment that Cressida awakens.

All this time, Katniss had never moved from her position on the stage. She still has Cressida's head cradled in her lap. So she was the first to hear Cressida speak.

"Katniss?"

"Cressida?" Katniss whips her head around, staring down at Cressida's blood-spattered face. Katniss had been looking up at us, following our discussion on what to do next.

"You...were shot," Cressida manages to wheeze out. "I saw it."

"Body armor," Katniss replies, clumsily wiping fresh tears on her dress sleeves.

Cressida's eyes flutter shut as her lips curl in a crooked, pained smile. "Now...you tell me."

"How?" I ask softly. "How is she awake?"

"Morphling," the doctor replies. "It suppresses pain. I didn't dare give her a large dose, though. Not in her condition."

"Shouldn't it have put her out, then?" I ask.

The doctor shrugs. "Morphling is a funny drug. Normally I would say yes. But here, apparently, it had the effect of allowing her conscious mind to re-focus on something other than pain. I've seen this effect before."

"Messalla," Cressida is saying now, her voice a hoarse whisper.

"Right here." Messalla steps forward, kneeling next to Cressida.

"Tell me," Cressida gasps, "tell me you got it on camera."

Messalla nods, even as he wipes his eyes with his sleeve. "I got it."

"Good," Cressida whispers. "Trained you...well." Cressida coughs, spraying both Katniss and Messalla with a fine, bloody mist.

Katniss never even flinches. "Rest," she says gently, even as Cressida's eyes flutter shut again.

I watch for a moment as Katniss tenderly brushes Cressida's hair from her forehead before turning back to the doctor. "There's nothing you can do?" I demand.

The doctor shakes his head. "She shouldn't still be alive," he replies. "She's resilient. I've never seen anything like it."

"And that brings up another point," Haymitch says. "Getting the wounded outta here." He turns to Darius. "How many trucks do the Peacekeepers have?"

"Ten squad carriers," Darius replies. "They're armored. Two smaller command and control trucks."

"Twelve?" Haymitch asks. "That's it?"

"This is a small garrison," Darius says defensively. "No need for mounted patrols. Twelve is more than enough."

"Okay, okay," Haymitch says, throwing his hands up. "Can they travel off road?"

"Of course," Darius looks thoughtful. "Plan on taking a trip?"

"A short one." He turns to the doctor. "Okay, doc. You work in Capitol Liaison. What do they have on wheels?"

"Not my area of expertise," the doctor replies dryly. "Besides, you already said I was dead if she dies...so why should I help you?"

"In a hurry to die sooner?" Jackson asks quietly.

The doctor looks at Jackson for a moment before looking back at Haymitch. "I'm not sure," he finally says. "Some cars. A few hopper trucks that the Mining Company uses. I think the Freight Office at the train station has a couple of trucks also."

"Shit," Haymitch mutters. "Not nearly enough." He turns to Darius. "How many can fit into one of those squad carriers?"

"They're designed for eight." Darius looks thoughtful. "But that's fully equipped Peacekeepers. Probably get half again as many civilians. Say twelve per truck. Half that for the command and control trucks."

"A hundred and thirty-two, packed to the gills," Haymitch says. "And the Capitol Liaison cars?"

"If you're planning on using any of the Capitol Liaison vehicles or the Mine Company trucks to evacuate, forget it," the Mayor chimes in. "They'll bog down off road. The cars don't have the power to go cross-country and the trucks are too heavy. They wouldn't get half a kilometer."

"Better than nothing," Haymitch mutters.

"What about the train?" I turn towards Madge's voice.

"What about it?" Jackson asks. "We're not heading toward the Capitol. The tracks run southwest. We want to head northeast."

"The tracks head northeast also." Madge points out. "This line ran all the way to Thirteen back before the Dark Days."

"How do you know that?" July demands.

Madge looks at July in irritation. "I can read," she replies archly. "It's in some of the old histories. The line ran all the way to Thirteen."

"Madge, that line hasn't been maintained in over seventy-five years," the Mayor points out gently. "The tracks probably won't be able to take the weight of the train."

"Dad, it doesn't have to for very long," Madge replies. "It just needs to get us a few kilometers out of Twelve."

"We saw the rail line from our hovercraft when we did aerial recon," Jackson adds. "As best that I can recall, we didn't see any breaks in the line until it reaches the river crossing."

"What's at the river crossing?" Haymitch asks.

"A collapsed railway bridge," Jackson replies.

"Sweetheart, you ever hunt up that way?" Haymitch asks, turning toward Katniss.

Katniss shakes her head. "Gale -" even now her voice hitches a bit when she speaks Gale's name "- Gale and I would usually go north or northwest." She pauses, looking down at Cressida, still nestled in her lap. "It's more open up that way. Hunting wasn't as good."

Haymitch scratches his chin thoughtfully. "Okay. Darius, take your Peacekeepers and whoever else you need and get those carriers ready to go. Mr. Mayor, can you help out and see what you can do about 'borrowing' the Capitol and Mine Company trucks?"

"Haymitch," the Mayor says carefully, "Annaliese...she's not well. I suppose you noticed that she wasn't here today. I'll help, but I don't know if she's up to making a strenuous trip."

Madge looks at her father in alarm. "Dad -"

"Karl," Haymitch cuts in softly, "you can't stay here. You know that." Haymitch turns to Madge. "Go with your father. Help him in any way you can." Haymitch turns to the doctor. "You too. Go talk to the Capitol Liaison people. If they wanna live they can assemble at the train station in thirty minutes."

The Mayor, Madge, and the doctor walk away, with Madge talking urgently to her father. Haymitch, shaking his head, watches them walk for a moment before turning to me. "You're with me. We're gonna see a man about a train."

"What about Katniss and Cressida?" I ask insistently. "I'm not leaving them here unprotected."

"They won't be," Messalla says firmly, stepping forward, a Peacekeeper carbine clutched in his hands. Behind him I see Castor and Pollux, similarly armed.

Haymitch raises his eyebrows. "You boys know how to use those things?"

"We showed them," Jackson says. "Speaking of that..." Jackson gestures to Homes, who steps forward with a pair of Peacekeeper carbines clutched in his hands.

"These are for you two," Jackson explains as Homes hands us the carbines. "Pay attention. Each has a full magazine. Selector switch is on semi-auto. One shot for each pull of the trigger." He taps the muzzles. "That's the dangerous end," he adds with a grin.

Reluctantly I take the carbine, and then I bend down to kiss Katniss. "I'll be back."

Katniss nods. "I'll be okay. I've got Mom and Prim here. Effie, too." She looks down at Cressida's barely breathing form. "I...I can't leave her. Not after..."

I nod. "I know." I kiss her once more. "I'll be back." I say again, straightening up.

Katniss gives me a small smile. "I'll be here."

It's the first smile I've seen from Katniss all day.

PART VI

I flinch at a burst of gunfire off to my left. The remaining Peacekeepers are bottled up near the loading platforms, and, according to Thom and Bristel, don't seem to be eager to charge out and face the opposing Rebels any time soon.

That doesn't mean that they're not dangerous, though. Right now, they're cornered. And a cornered animal is not to be taken lightly.

"How fast can you get the train turned around?" Haymitch is asking the engineer, a short, sallow man from District Six.

"We don't actually turn the train around," the engineer explains. "We switch the engine from one end of the train to the other."

"Whatever," Haymitch sighs impatiently. "How fast can you do that?"

The engineer thinks for a moment. "Twenty minutes."

"Good," Haymitch barks. "Get to it."

"You want to head northeast?" The engineer asks in amazement.

"Got a problem with that?" Haymitch asks pleasantly.

"The track condition, for one," the engineer replies. "Plus, there's nothing out there but wilderness!"

"Hypothetically speaking," Haymitch says, "if you took your train northeast, how fast could you go without knowing the condition of the track?"

"More like how slow would we have to go," the engineer retorts. "I wouldn't feel comfortable going much over about thirty kilometers per hour."

Thirty. This train can do well over three hundred.

"Fine," Haymitch replies. "Get to it."

"But -"

"Here's your options," Haymitch snaps. "Help us, and maybe live to a ripe old age, or stay here, and be dead in about -" Haymitch glances at his watch "- an hour."

The engineer gulps. "We'll be ready to leave in twenty-five minutes."

"Good," Haymitch says, turning to the well-dressed woman standing nearby. "Get on it," he adds as the engineer hurries away.

"You wished to see me?" The woman looks at Haymitch with obvious distaste.

"You head up the Capitol people on the train?" Haymitch asks.

"Yes."

"Then yes, madam, I do wish to see you." The woman and I both flinch at a fresh burst of gunfire, while Haymitch doesn't even seem to hear it. How does he stay so calm? "We're commandeering your train," Haymitch explains.

"I heard," the woman says coldly.

"Good!" Haymitch says with a smile. "Now, to prove to you that I'm not the heartless bastard that you undoubtedly think I am, I'm gonna give you a choice...the same choice that I intend to give the Capitol Liaison people. You can take your chances and stay here...which means that you will most like be dead in an hour or so...or you can surrender and come with us, in which case you might just live longer than an hour."

"And be branded a traitor?" The woman asks.

"What would you rather be?" Haymitch asks reasonably. "A dead Loyalist, or a live traitor?"

"My people are noncombatants," the woman reminds us. "Do you guarantee our safety?"

"Madam," Haymitch says carefully, "I guarantee that no harm will come to you from us. That's the best that I can do."

The woman thinks about Haymitch's offer for a moment. "I accept," she finally says.

Haymitch grins again. "Good! Now, here's what I need you to do. First, evacuate your berths on the train. The beds will be needed for the wounded and infirm. Second, clear out the garment car. Toss all those fine Capitol clothes onto the platform."

"The clothes? Whatever for?" The woman looks confused.

"Three," Haymitch continues, ignoring the woman, "the garment car will be reserved for the exclusive use of any and all Capitol citizens that choose to accompany us."

"But...but there's no seats," the woman sputters in indignation.

"You're breaking my heart," Haymitch sneers. "Now motivate! You're burnin' daylight, Duchess!"

Haymitch turns away from the sputtering woman just as the Mayor, Madge, and the doctor return. "We're set with the cars and trucks," the Mayor says. "The train station delivery trucks, too. I told them to assemble in the Square as soon as possible."

Haymitch nods in satisfaction. "Good." He puts his hand on the Mayor's shoulder. "Karl, the train is to be used for the sick, wounded, and elderly. Go get Annaliese. I want you three on the train."

"Thank you, Haymitch," the Mayor says thickly as he turns to Madge. "Let's go get your mother, Madge."

As the Mayor and Madge turn away, I put my hand on Madge's arm. "It's on your way," I say hurriedly, "Delly's house, I mean. Can you stop there and tell her about the train? Her grandparents are too old. They'll never make the walk."

Madge smiles, quickly wrapping her free arm around my neck and kissing my cheek. "Of course, Peeta. See you later. And don't tell Katniss that I kissed you!" She adds with a wink.

"See you later, Madge," I grin in return as Haymitch turns back to the doctor. Madge lets go of me and, with a final glance over her shoulder, hurries away with her father.

"Well?" Haymitch asks the doctor.

"I've told them," the doctor says brusquely.

"And?"

"Perhaps half have agreed to go," the doctor replies. "The others have indicated that they will take their chances with the Peacekeepers when they arrive."

"And you?" Haymitch asks.

"I have a patient," the doctor replies stiffly. "At least, until she dies. I shall stay with her until that time." He swallows heavily. "At that time, I suppose that you -"

"Relax," Haymitch grunts. "I ain't gonna kill you. We got other wounded, doc. Of course, you have the option of staying here..."

"I shall accompany you, thank you just the same," the doctor replies stiffly, his relief evident.

"Okay, then," Haymitch says, turning back to me. "Do Thom and Bristel know the plan?"

"Hold the Peacekeepers in place until the train leaves," I recite. "Then head for the square. Board any trucks remaining in the square. If the trucks are gone, head for the Meadow. The fence will be breached in the Meadow once Darius kills the power. Round up as many as you can and head for the forest. Once in the forest, head northeast. We'll assemble at the collapsed bridge."

Haymitch nods. "Good. Okay, kid. Let's head back and collect up our people."

I hesitate. "You go on ahead. I...I have something to do first."

Haymitch looks at me closely for a moment before nodding. "Don't take too long."

"Don't plan to," I reply. "See you in a bit."

"No."

"Mother," I say patiently, "you don't understand. Peacekeepers...or worse...are on their way right now! If you don't leave -"

"They're on their way because of your treason!" Mother sputters. "You and that filthy little Seam slut that you've taken up with! Oh, it's such a good thing that your father is dead! It would kill him to see what you've done!"

I feel my face flush with anger. "I'm really sorry that Poppa is dead," I say through clenched teeth. "At least he was worth saving."

I don't wait for my mother's response. I spin and storm out of the small apartment, slamming the door behind me. I'm halfway down the walk before a soft voice stops me.

"Peeta."

I stop and turn. My brother is standing in the door, his arm around the shoulders of his wife. "Look," he begins. "You know how mother is -"

"You're all going to die," I say tonelessly. "You, Eldreth -" I nod towards his wife "- and mother." I shake my head sadly. "You know what's sad about all this, Alec? It's sad because none of you has to die. And that's exactly what will happen in less than an hour."

I adjust the sling of my carbine and, once again, turn away. "Goodbye, Alec," I call out over my shoulder.

He doesn't answer, and I don't look back again.

After confronting my mother and brother, I have just three more tasks to perform. I have to go back to the Village to pick up the small bag I had packed (along with similar bags for Katniss and Haymitch, as well as Katniss's bow and her small stock of arrows), along with Prim's menagerie of cat and goats, and I have to take Effie along so she can use my phone. Effie has to call the Capitol, and Seneca Crane specifically, to tell him that she is being forced to go with us against her will.

"You gotta do it, Princess," Haymitch had said. "If you don't cover your ass, and if this thing goes to shit, then they can charge you with treason along with the rest of us. You ain't done nothin' wrong. So go with Peeta and talk to Seneca."

Reluctantly, Effie agreed...although I think that, in the beginning, her desire to accompany us have more to do with not dying than it has to do with any rebellious fervor on her part. She dials the phone while I ducked over to Haymitch's to grab his bag. She is still talking when I go to Katniss's to grab her bag (along with personal items belonging to her mother and sister, and her bow and arrows), as well as Prim's cat, Buttercup, and her two goats. By the time I grab my bag Effie is done. I wordlessly hand her the leads for the two goats and the pet carrier containing a very indignant Buttercup as I manhandle three bags along with Katniss's bow and arrows, and we leave Victors' Village for the last time.

"I swear," Effie had said as she gingerly leads the goats to the waiting squad carrier, "I feel like taking a shower after talking with that man. Every time."

I just hope that she was able to convince Seneca Crane that she wasn't committing treason.

There's a very slight lurch as the Tribute Train begins to move. I stare out the window, as the District Twelve train station appears to roll past the train. It's an optical illusion, of course...the train is moving, not the station. But it's disorienting just the same.

I'm standing in what was my bedroom on this very same train just one short year ago. Cressida lays on the bed, an IV drip swaying slightly on a flimsy-looking stand next to her. The drip is a sterile saline solution. Attached to the drip is a morphling pump that automatically injects a small dose of the painkiller every five minutes. The Mine Company doctor grabbed it, along with some other medical supplies, from his small clinic before the final evacuation. Not that it would do any good in the long run. Cressida is living on borrowed time.

Still, she's part of the team, not to mention that she willingly endangered herself to protect Katniss. So we do everything possible to keep her alive for as long as possible.

One hundred thirty-two made it out on Peacekeeper vehicles. A hundred more or so packed the Capitol Liaison cars, train station delivery trucks, and the big coal hopper trucks that, according to Mayor Undersee, will be lucky to make half a kilometer once outside the perimeter fence. The all-terrain Peacekeeper trucks are following the other vehicles, although there's nothing that they can do once one gets stuck. Moral support, I guess.

Silenus Festuca is driving one of the squad carriers. It was his idea that they follow the other vehicles. He reported that he personally killed Romulus Thread, and, after viewing Thread's bloody remains, I have no doubt that Festuca is true to his word. That in and of itself is enough to raise his stature with the surviving Rebel Peacekeepers so that even Darius is deferring to him.

I'm not sure how many are on the train. Hundreds, is my guess...all either too old, too sick, or too injured to move on their own...and, of course, with their families or close friends along to help them.

Everyone else is on foot. A thousand, maybe more. Not counting the dead from today's uprising, of course. How many dead is anyone's guess. Certainly more than a hundred, counting Peacekeepers. Perhaps as many as five hundred. But walking now is the only option, for those that choose to leave. Many are too afraid to leave. Others, like my mother, are Loyalists to the Capitol and President Snow. And some are just too damn slow. As for the walkers...those that decide to take their chances in the forest...Darius and the surviving Rebel Peacekeepers promise to stay with them, the same way that they are staying with the other vehicles. We just hope that they can get far enough away from the district before those eight hovercraft arrive.

I glance around the opulent room, now turned into a makeshift hospital. Cressida, her face an unhealthy white, is lying on her back, her ragged tortured breathing the only sound besides the soft murmurs of Prim and Mrs. Everdeen as they make her as comfortable as possible. Katniss has never left Cressida's side and is clutching the older woman's hand tightly. As I look at the scene before me, my mind involuntarily flashes back to the only other time that Cressida was lying in my bed.

Angrily I shake my head, willing the image away. Katniss glances up at me with a puzzled expression. I force a smile to my face, which, after a moment, she returns, before turning back to Cressida, gently dabbing at the blood around Cressida's nose, chin, and mouth with a damp washcloth.

There's a soft knock on the door, and then the door opens and Haymitch sticks his head through the opening. "Ladies," he says, addressing Mrs. Everdeen and Prim, "the doctor could use your help. He's across the hall in Katniss's old room. And Peeta, can I see you for a minute?"

Prim looks at Katniss apologetically. "Katniss, if you need us -"

"Go on," Katniss urges her sister. "Nothing more you can do here, anyway." There's infinite sadness in her voice as she speaks. Prim hesitates for a moment before following her mother out the door.

"I'm gonna go see what Haymitch wants," I say as I head to the door. "Remember, if you have to use the bathroom, the goats and Buttercup are locked up in there." It was the only place I could think of to stash the animals.

"Okay," Katniss replies woodenly. I look at her helplessly for a moment before slipping out into the hallway, carefully shutting the door behind me.

Outside the relative quiet of my old berth is complete pandemonium. Haymitch is waiting for me patiently. "Follow me," he says as he begins to move toward the front of the train.

"Where are we going?" I ask as I brush by a seeming endless crush of refugees.

"Comm room."

We slowly make our way through the packed train to the Comm room. Haymitch shakes his head. "It's nuts to butts in here," he mutters as we fight through the exhausted, panicky crowd. Finally we reach the Comm room and enter.

The Comm room is the nerve center of the Tribute Train. It's packed with sophisticated electronic equipment and several viewing screens. Most of these are on now, displaying grainy, skipping pictures of what looks to be different districts.

Jackson looks up as we enter. Leeg, busy at a control console, glances up, smiles and nods, but says nothing.

"What's up?" Haymitch asks casually.

"We're in touch with Darius Potter," Jackson replies. "All vehicles have cleared the fence and are in the forest, along with several hundred refugees on foot." She examines a chronometer strapped to her wrist. "We made better time than I would have expected. Capitol hovercraft are still about twenty to twenty-five minutes out."

"What's all this?" I ask, pointing to the screens.

Jackson smiles grimly. "The fruits of our labors." She begins to point at different screens. "Uprisings in Districts Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, and Eleven. No video from Four or Ten but audio reports of 'problems.' Of course, nothing from One and Two."

"What about Three and Five?" Haymitch asks.

Jackson shakes her head. "Nothing either visual or audio. But we know that Beetee Latier is active." She smiles grimly. "He's the one managing to punch these broadcasts through Capitol jamming."

"And now that Capitol knows he's involved," I say angrily. "These trains are all bugged!"

Leeg spins around in her chair. "And the bugs are controlled from here," she says calmly, "and I've disabled them all."

I should have known. "Sorry," I mutter.

"Anyway," Jackson says impatiently, ignoring me, "we've been in contact with Thirteen. They'll begin picking up refugees from Twelve at first light." She pauses for a moment. "It will take a while. We don't want to commit the entire fleet to recovery operations, in case the Capitol launches another attack."

"How do you know they won't?" Haymitch asks.

"We don't," Jackson replies. "But our stealth bird hasn't picked up any more inbound hovercraft other than the original eight. Right now Snow probably has his hands full. He probably doesn't have any more assets to commit to Twelve with everything else that's going on."

"I see," Haymitch replies, sounding unconvinced.

"There's one more thing," Jackson says before we leave. "President Coin has directed that you three Victors, along with your Escort, be on the first evac bird tomorrow morning."

Haymitch looks at Jackson for a moment before replying. "We'll let Katniss know."

I suddenly realize what's been bugging me ever since Haymitch and I had come forward to the Comm room. "Lieutenant," I say, as Haymitch and I turn to leave, "where's the others? Mitchell and Homes?"

"The doctor, along with Mrs. Everdeen and Primrose, should be seeing to them now," Jackson replies grimly. "They were both wounded in the final battle before we evacuated. I've been told their wounds are superficial, but painful. And Homes will have to be carried." She pauses and fixes us with her eyes. "We've bled for your district. Don't think we aren't committed to this."

Haymitch and I have nothing more to say after that.

Cressida died a few minutes before we reached the ruined bridge.

She never awakened after that one time on the stage. She had barely made a sound, even when we had to pick her up and carry her to the truck that took her to the train. And she died so quietly that no one was ever quite sure exactly when she died. She just...stopped breathing.

I wish I had the luxury to grieve right now.

The train stops with a lurch. Gently, Katniss lays Cressida's hand across her chest before standing up. She's dry-eyed and calm as she gathers up her bag, along with her bow and arrows, and then turns to me.

"We're taking her with us."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The door opens behind us and Prim bursts into the room. She takes one look at the still, broken body on the bed before looking up at Katniss and I with wide, sorrowful eyes.

"She's -"

"- dead," Katniss finishes in a flat, emotionless voice. "Where's Mom?"

"Observation car," Prim replies. "With the doctor. Most of the litter cases are there."

Katniss nods. "Find Messalla," she says, turning to me. "We're taking her with us."

"Katniss -" I begin.

"Now!" Katniss barks. Her face instantly softens. "Peeta. Please."

I nod, and step into the chaos of the corridor. Finding Messalla is easy. He, along with Castor and Pollux, were in the lounge car, along with Haymitch.

"End of the line, kid," Haymitch says cheerfully. "We're assembling right out here." He points out the line of windows. I see a tree line a couple hundred meters away. "We're gonna hunker down in the woods until everyone else catches up with us and -"

"Cressida's dead," I say abruptly. I turn to Messalla. "Katniss is asking for you."

Messalla's face screws up in grief for a second or two before he, too, settles into an impassive mask. He nods and beckons to Castor and Pollux. The three men make their way through the packed lounge car towards my old berth.

"I'm sorry, kid," Haymitch says sincerely, and then adds, "What does Katniss want with Messalla?"

"She's taking Cressida with us," I reply simply.

Haymitch shakes his head. "Jackson ain't gonna like that. Cressida's gone, kid. We've got living people to worry about." He absently scratches his chin. "But I know why she's doin' it."

"I doubt if Katniss cares one way or another what Jackson thinks," I mutter.

"You got a point, kid," Haymitch says. "Come on, let's get these people off the train.

"We have everybody?" Jackson asks.

We're hunkered down in the tree line. The train, now abandoned, sits on the tracks. All around us, District Twelve refugees are milling about, most still in shock, confused and frightened by the unknowns that the forest holds. Almost all of these people had never so much been outside the perimeter fence before today.

"I think so," Haymitch replies. In the distance, back toward District Twelve, we can all hear a series of deep rumblings and see a mushroom cloud of dense, black smoke rising into the sky. The hovercraft hadn't been bringing Peacekeepers to Twelve, after all.

Instead, they had brought bombs.

"We have a status update," Jackson continues. "Leeg?"

Leeg steps forward. "Some of the bombers tried to attack the refugees that are escaping on foot. We don't think they were expecting any resistance. Our security squad shot two down with surface to air missiles, and a third was damaged by machine gun fire from the Peacekeeper squad carriers. There've been no further attacks on the refugees since."

"Fucking cowards," Jackson spits. "No stomach for a real fight!"

"It's a good thing they aren't, ma'am," Leeg adds softly. "Colonel Boggs reports that he's expended all of his surface to air missiles."

"What's the word on the foot refugees?" Haymitch asks. "Any more casualties, and any estimates on when they'll get here?"

"No further casualties," Leeg replies. "And it'll probably be nightfall by the time they arrive here."

"Okay, then," Jackson glances around at the disorganized group huddling forlornly in the forest. "Wounded and caregivers in the center of camp. Able bodied on the perimeter. Tell 'em to not get trigger happy and shoot up the others when they arrive." She glances over at Katniss, sitting a short distance away next to the mattress-cover wrapped body of Cressida. "Does she know that she's on the first evac tomorrow?"

"No," I admit. "We...just never got around to telling her. And she's insisting on bringing Cressida with us."

"Out of the question," Jackson snaps. "We bury her here."

"With what, ma'am?" Leeg asks softly. "We don't have shovels, or picks."

"And Katniss won't let you just leave her out here," Haymitch points out. "Like it or not, Missy...Cressida's comin' to Thirteen with us."

For a moment, Jackson looks like she's inclined to argue. "Fine," she finally says in a flat tone. "You can deal with her, Abernathy."

Haymitch watches Jackson stalk away. "For some reason, that woman is strangely unlikable," he mutters. He sighs deeply. "Guess I better go talk to Katniss."

I put my hand on his arm. "Let me."

"Me, too," Leeg adds.

Haymitch nods. "Best idea I've heard all day."

PART VII

"Feel like company?"

I glance up in the gloom, barely able to make out Haymitch standing over me. "Pull up some dirt," I reply.

Slowly, Haymitch settles down next to me. He pulls a flask from his coat pocket, takes a deep pull, and then carefully replaces it. "Homes tells me there's no liquor in Thirteen. I may have to re-think this whole Rebellion thing."

Haymitch's attempt at a joke falls flat and I say nothing as I continue to stare back at the glow on the horizon that marks where District Twelve used to be. My mother and my brother are there, in that inferno. I try to feel grief but I can't. I just hope it was quick for them both.

"I...kid, I'm no good at this sorta thing," Haymitch mutters. "But you did good today." He points off at Katniss sitting a short distance away with her mother and sister...and Cressida's shroud-wrapped body. "She did, too."

"I did good," I repeat softly. "Yeah, people keep coming by and telling me how good I did." I shake my head.

"You did," Haymitch insists. "These people are grateful to you both."

"We'll see how 'grateful' they are if they end up dead because of me," I reply bitterly.

"You don't see it, do you?" Haymitch asks.

"See what?"

"Two years ago," Haymitch continues, "these people readily believed every lie being told about you. You were on a universal shit list, kid. And now look. You're a hero...you and Katniss both...but especially you. You've finally got it."

I look at Haymitch in confusion. "Got what?"

"Affirmation. Redemption. Absolution." Haymitch pauses for a moment. "You got it. You got what you wanted."

"Absolution," I mutter. "Two years ago I would have given anything to hear that. But it means nothing to me. Not anymore. But there's one person that received absolution today."

"Who?"

I point at Cressida's still form, lying so securely wrapped in a stained mattress cover. "Her. She was the only one that believed me, and believed in me, from the beginning. She tried her hardest to protect me from the lies. She did what she could to help and protect Katniss, too." I feel tears springing to my eyes as my grief finally begins to bubble to the surface. "She did all that, and she didn't have to. And even when she made a...mistake...it was because of how badly she felt for me!" I wipe my eyes clumsily on my shirtsleeve. "She was human. She was flawed. She was kind. She was selfless. And now she's dead." I stare for a moment at the pathetic bundle that was once Cressida.

"It's Cressida, not me, that's earned absolution."

EPILOGUE

"You've redone your hair again, Andromeda." President Coriolanus Snow smiles fondly as his granddaughter settles onto the plush couch in front of the large Holo viewer.

Andromeda Snow blushes slightly as she tugs on the thick braid. "Yes, Grandpa," she admits softly.

"Well, I'm happy that you've made your peace with Katniss Everdeen," Snow remarks dryly.

Andromeda says nothing. Grandpa is too old. He doesn't understand. Katniss and Peeta are...well, they're special. The blood-soaked lovers of District Twelve! And I was acting like a child when I took my braid out. A spoiled, love-struck, petulant child.

Andromeda's friends don't really understand, either. They tease her...gently, of course, considering who her grandfather is...but they don't understand the bond that Andromeda shares with the two Victors.

Andromeda has done a lot of thinking since her birthday trip to Twelve. Did people really live like that? Without a decent home, or enough to eat? Grandpa had always said that each district had a specific responsibility to keep Panem healthy. But doesn't that mean that the Capitol has a responsibility to keep the districts healthy?

These questions, and others, have bothered Andromeda for a long time. At first, she thought that what she saw in Twelve was a lie...carefully constructed for her benefit. But then she realized that what she saw was too extensive to have been thrown together just to make her question the status quo. It was real. And if it was happening in District Twelve, did that mean it was happening in other districts as well?

Andromeda was looking forward to the Games. Not because of all the build-up, even though she enjoyed watching the Reapings, and the Tribute Parade, and the announcement of the training scores, and the Interviews. She was looking forward to seeing Katniss and Peeta again, and maybe talking to them more about life in Twelve.

And, if they couldn't have an adult conversation, then just being able to spend time with Peeta would be enough.

On the Holo, Caesar Flickerman is announcing that the Reapings were about to begin. Andromeda puts Katniss and Peeta to the back of her mind and pays rapt attention. There they are! Sitting on the stage next to Haymitch Abernathy! And Miss Trinket is announcing the name of the girl and -

Wait! Primrose Everdeen just Volunteered? Yes! Yes, she did! Andromeda steals a look at grandpa and she sees that he's just as shocked as she is! Hold on...what's Katniss saying now?

It can't be! But it is! Katniss is calling for an uprising! There's shooting and the image flickers, fades, dies for a moment, and surges back to life.

"Andromeda," Grandpa is saying quietly. "To your room. Now."

"But -"

"Now, Andromeda!"

Andromeda recognizes the tone in Grandpa's voice. She knew further argument would be useless. One thing was evident, though. There wasn't going to be a Reaping today.

Coriolanus Snow presses a button on the arm of his chair even before Andromeda leaves the room. His chief of staff appears instantly.

"Sir," the man stammers, "I...I saw what happened in Twelve...I -"

Snow holds up one hand. "In order, I wish to speak to the Minister of Security, the Minister of Information, the Head Gamemaker, and I wish the entire cabinet to assemble here in one hour."

"Right away, sir," the chief says, turning and barking an order to a subordinate in another room to get the Ministers and Seneca Crane on the phone right now!

Snow turns away and returns his attention to the Holo. Katniss Everdeen is kneeling now, cradling the head of the blonde resident director in her lap. The woman has obviously been shot and is bleeding profusely. And, as he watches, a small smile creeps across his face.

"You're full of surprises," he murmurs. "Bravo! Well played, Miss Everdeen. Well played indeed."

THE END