“No, I want to go. I want to be part of the rescue mission.”

Katniss was adamant, her eyes a little crazy, her movements a little robotic.

Jessica could understand how she felt.

Her, Finnick, Katniss, all glorious victors of the arena, all stuck behind because Plutarch can’t risk losing two of his victors and Jessica isn’t important enough to warrant a spot on the rescue team. Instead, the blonde was asked to stay back, to keep an eye on both Finnick and Katniss (for good reason) as one was fraught with worry and the other, on his good days, could hardly make it an hour without his knotting rope.

(Jessica’s frame of mind was probably a lot more fragile as compared to both Finnick and Katniss.

Plutarch will rescue Peeta and Annie because they were victors, they were symbols that could be used in a rebellion, to rally support of those who are still on the Capitol’s side.

Jessica’s loved one, Jessica’s important one, she’s an Avox, a slave under the Capitol.

On the off chance Snow does know that Jessica is with the rebels and had Tiffany captured, Plutarch would not save this girl.

And once again, Jessica would’ve failed to save anything important to her.)

“Do you want me to sedate you until it’s over?”

Haymitch was serious on this case, afraid that the Girl on Fire was stubborn enough to maneuver a jet on her own towards the Capitol. Jessica watched from her corner as they both debated with fervor, Haymitch adamant that Katniss was not strong enough, physically or mentally to aid with the rescue, Katniss desperate enough to cajole Haymitch into talking with Plutarch.

Once Haymitch was gone, Katniss immediately went to find Finnick, the older man studying Katniss intently before speaking excitedly, the worry that Katniss was holding in her chest not present with Finnick.

“Don't you see, Katniss, this will decide things. One way or the other. By the end of the day, they'll either be dead or with us. It's...it's more than we could hope for!"

At once, Katniss’s body lost  its tension and the girl practically collapsed next to Finnick on the bed, the both of them just staring into space.

Jessica continued to stand quietly, not trusting herself to speak without malice (Why yours? Why not mine?) when Haymitch came back into the room, stating about the way the both of them can help with the mission, for them to air a proposition to distract Snow from the fact that the rebels were breaking into his dungeon.

"What we really need is something so riveting that even President Snow won't be able to tear himself away. Got anything like that?"

What he really meant was whether they could handle that.

Katniss and Finnick practically leapt up, eager to help. Haymitch ushered them out of the sick bay, murmuring soft instructions to them before turning back around to Jessica, his dull eyes flashing slightly.

“You think you can help?”

She did not need to know how Haymitch managed to figure out that she was also a victor (It has been a long time since her Game, most people recognising her only when her hair was streaked black, chin raised high and staring them down like scum. Normal Jessica was more demure, shyer, only really coming out of her shell when she’s around Tiffany) or why he thought she could help. But she agreed, Jessica’s feet taking her towards Katniss and Finnick, both victors being prepped into their Game persona, Finnick transforming into the seductive man the Capitol loved, Katniss the unflappable Girl on Fire.

Katniss’ prep team was confused when Jessica was seated down, Cressida practically humming with excitement as she spoke to them.

“She’s Jessica.”

At once, their attitude changed, a slight awe overcoming the team as they flittered around Jessica.

(It’s odd really, how people react when they realise that Jessica was Jessica.

They don’t really notice her until someone recognised her and then it was pandemonium.

Jessica did not know if it was because the mermaid princess persona was not something they expect from someone so quiet or if they could not place the shy girl in front of them with the ruthless, beautiful killer they had witnessed on screen.)

As they turned her from foot soldier to her mermaid persona once again, she wondered about what she could contribute to this particular proposition. Jessica did not have any secrets from the citizens of Capitol like Finnick nor was she the face of the rebellion like Katniss.

She did not have much time to think as Katniss was already geared in her Mockingjay suit, glaring straight into the camera and answering Cressida’s questions. The only time her visage broke was when Cressida asked about Peeta, a soft smile overtaking her face and the worry making its way back into the creases of her forehead. But she was strong, her act unbreakable as she openly declared her own war with Snow for what he did to Peeta, what he was still doing to Peeta.

"Not well. I know at any moment Snow could kill him. Especially since he warned Thirteen about the bombing. It's a terrible thing to live with. But because of what they're putting him through, I don't have any reservations anymore. About doing whatever it takes to destroy the Capitol. I'm finally free."

She turned her face towards the sky and watched a bird fly across, her gaze still as hard.

"President Snow once admitted to me that the Capitol was fragile. At the time, I didn't know what he meant. It was hard to see clearly because I was so afraid. Now I'm not. The Capitol's fragile because it depends on the districts for everything. Food, energy, even the Peacekeepers that police us. If we declare our freedom, the Capitol collapses. President Snow, thanks to you, I'm officially declaring mine today."

With her last words, she looked back at the camera, as though staring straight into Snow’s soul.

Her words seemed to have stirred something in Plutarch’s brain because he immediately turned towards Haymitch and Finnick, Haymitch listening with a scowl on his face and Finnick agreeing slowly. Haymitch sighed and shook his head, the older mentor moving away from Finnick.

Jessica watched in apprehension as Finnick made his way towards her, her old mentor’s head hung low and his face filled with guilt.

“Jessica.”

“Yeah?”

He looked at her and then the camera, a silent plea to understand what was going through his brain right now.

She got it straight away.

Can you handle it?

On one hand, she’d be helping in a way she never had coming to Thirteen. On the other, it’d be reopening wounds that never healed properly.

Can she handle it?

Can she rehash every bit of that day, every single second from the time she was forced to look into their eyes till Snow whispered distastefully in her ear?

She nodded.

Relieved, Finnick opened his hand for her to take, Jessica pressing her palm to his and both District Four victors walked towards the camera, Cressida observing them intently. Jessica caught sight of a screen with both her and Finnick on it (for observation?) and was taken aback by what she saw.

Blonde, tanned and beautiful, Finnick and her looked every bit the same as they were when they were playing their Games.

It was an image Jessica never thought she would see outside of the Capitol ever again.

The Capitol’s Darling and the unattainable mermaid princess.

Finnick cleared his throat and glanced towards her, Jessica inhaling sharply, trying to reclaim that girl who charmed Caesar and the rest of the Capitol with a few words and side glances.

Finnick started off low, his voice flat and removed.

"President Snow used to...sell me...my body, that is. I wasn't the only one. If a victor is considered desirable, the president gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them for an exorbitant amount of money. If you refuse, he kills someone you love. So you do it."

Jessica would’ve tuned him out if she could but the images replaying in her head was overwhelming. She listened as Finnick talked about how his patrons would pay him with secrets and in turn he spilled these secrets to the camera.

And then he turned towards Jessica, his hand tight around Jessica’s fingers, his eyes apologetic.

“But sometimes, Snow likes to make an example of some of the victors. They would not bend to his will and so he tried to break them.”

Cressida coughed slightly and regained her control of the camera, asking her question somberly.

“And how did he try to break them?”

Finnick squeezed her hand once, encouraging her to speak. Breathing in, Jessica began to speak, a wound that was years old being torn open and it felt like her heart was bursting from her chest.

“Just like Finnick, I got ... propositions from some of the more affluent of Capitol citizens. But unlike Finnick, I did not accept. I rejected all of them because I was a victor, I was a survivor and I thought that there was nothing they could do to me now that hasn’t been done to me in the Games.”

Jessica took in another breath and continued monotonously.

“President Snow did not like the way I was being so ... stubborn about it and had my father killed. It was subtle but impacting. At that time, I did not realise that my father’s death was because I had rejected one of Snow’s relatives’ offer to bed me. At that time, I still thought that I had finally exited the Games.”

Finnick’s hand tightened and she looked over to him, squeezing back comfortingly (It’s not your fault, it’s Snow’s).

“And I kept rejecting. And at the end of my Victory tour, Snow had men bring me to a pure white room.”

Jessica realised she was crying.

“And in this room, he had my sister and mother tied up, men at the ready to slit their throats.”

She wiped at her face and continued on fiercely.

“He told me that it was my fault for not being a good girl and made me watch as he slit their throats.”

Jessica stared into the camera, her eyes burning with tears and anger.

“My sister was only thirteen.”

Cressida spoke softly.

“And then?”

“I was left alone. I became the unattainable victor. I was the hallmark  for those victors that weren’t good.”

“Is this why you’ve decided to step forward now?”

Jessica stood up, face red with ire and fists clenched.

“I’ve always stood forward. I’m choosing now to show myself in front of the people because they need to know what their esteemed president has done, what people with money think they can do. It’s bad enough that they make children kill each other for sport. Now to e and kill people when they refuse?”

She put her face close to the camera.

“Snow is a snake. And snakes poison everyone around them.”

Cressida signalled for the cut and both Finnick and Jessica left their positions shakily, still holding on to each other for support. A little way to the side, Katniss tried to go towards them but was stopped by Haymitch, the older man shaking his head and blocking her.

Jessica was glad for that.

She doubted her ability to not break down and cry if anyone came to talk to her right now.

“Finnick.”

The older man hummed in response.

“Do you think it worked?”

There was a pause and then he answered slowly.

“It will. It has to.”

*

On her last day as a free person, Jessica sat on the roof of the Tribute building.

Despite the force field surrounding the area to ward of potential suicide jumpers, the wind was actually very calming and the night sky was almost like District Four’s when Jessica was out in the open sea.

A soft knock tore her attention away from the stars.

Tiffany stood near the elevator doors, the Avox gesturing to come closer, a cloth of sorts hanging over her arm. Smiling, Jessica nodded, shifting to make space for the brunette on the ledge. The Capitol native sat down gingerly, Tiffany reaching out to give Jessica a shawl. The blonde took it gratefully, pulling it around her shoulders. The both of them resumed staring at the sky, Jessica breaking the silence with a soft sigh.

“Can’t believe it’s going to be my last day enjoying a sight like this.”

There was no answer from Tiffany, only a soft scratching noise.

“This time tomorrow, I’ll be hiding somewhere, hopefully with a weapon in hand and trying to get some sleep without someone stabbing through my eye. It’s quite crippling now that I think about it. And yet, I can’t sleep.”

Tiffany poked her in the arm and she looked down, Tiffany holding a piece of paper in her hands.

You’ll win this. I believe in you.

“Why?”

Tiffany turned the page around and started writing again, flipping the thing around again.

Because you have something to fight for.

“Everyone in this building has something to fight for.”

The other girl shook her head and her pen lined the surface of the paper again, the brunette seemingly agitated that Jessica wasn’t getting what she was saying.

Not for the first time, Jessica wondered how it must feel to have so much to say but can’t do anything about it.

Some are fighting for glory. Others just to survive, maybe to get a better life if they won. You already accepted the fact that you’re going to die but you’re still fighting because you have something to go back for. Family, a loved one... That is what is going to get you through.

Jessica nodded and continued to read.

You talked about your sister. She made you happy, maybe a little less lost in a world that’s unfair. It looked as though you promised her to come back, so do that.”

Jessica chuckled.

“How is it that you know that?”

Tiffany grinned.

You seemed like the type.

Jessica rested her head on her knees and smiled softly.

“I don’t make promises that I can’t keep.”

Tiffany’s eyes curved again.

And that’s why you’ll win.

Jessica laughed at that and shook her head disbelievingly.

“You’re terribly optimistic. I am glad that we became friends.”

Me too.

“I’ll try to come and see you, if I make it out.”

Please do. You’re the first person who tried to befriend me.

Tiffany was blushing as she showed this, her face hiding behind the rapidly filled paper she was holding. Jessica chuckled again and pushed the paper down, allowing her fingers to linger on Tiffany’s reddened cheek.

“While I find that hard to believe, I’m glad that I’m your first friend. If I get out, I promise I’ll come to see you.”

And you’ll keep this promise?

“Like I said, I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

It was these promises that Jessica took into the arena, her position now mirroring the night on top of that roof. The blonde perched on her ledge, willing herself to be as quiet as she could lest she awakened the mutts that were sleeping at the bottom of the building. Her hair was streaked with mud and dirt, having found out that the colour was a beacon for both beasts and tributes alike, the rest of her arena mates already targeting her due to her score. She shifted into a slightly more comfortable position and held onto her knife tightly, eyes darting about for any sign of movement.

Jessica had never seen a non-nature themed arena in more than four Games.

The last time, it was within a maze, a design borrowed from an ancient myth coupled with several massive starving mutts with a taste for human flesh, the maze itself filled with traps with both physical and mental crippling abilities.

That Game only lasted three days, the last tribute standing reduced into a snivelling mess.

The time before that, the Gamemaker had locked every single tribute in a large area filled with muttations, all kept completely in the dark as they d their way around blind, killing anything that touched them the wrong way be it friend, foe or monster. Jessica remembered watching the entire Game through a skeleton night view.

That particular Game only lasted for six hours.

And her arena was the ruin of what used to be New York. The buildings were all damaged, military weaponry littering the streets. There was no wild game for them to hunt, the only food source coming from the broken shops that also hosted a variety of monster bugs, dogs and cats. Their only source of water was from a nearby river filled with crocodiles that could fly.

And worst of all, Jessica knew that this arena wasn’t man made.

Seneca Crane had them flown over to the ruins of their past and left them there with the new additions that Capitol made.

This made the Cornucopia bloodbath even worse.

Each and every tribute knew that without the supplies that the Capitol gave, they wouldn’t last long enough to navigate the arena.

Jessica had barely gotten out alive and even then, she only got a knife and a couple of things in the backpack she made off with. She had gotten lucky the first day in, stabbing one of the crocodiles straight in the eye with the knife near the river and thus, increasing her food supply. The blood that she had caked onto her seemed to serve as a deterrent for the rest of the crocodiles and this allowed her some measure of safety when she went to go get water.

But that was about it.

Jessica had avoided all contact with the rest of the tributes and this somehow translated into her so called fans not sponsoring her (because obviously, the main issue here that Jessica did not shed any human blood nor did she portray the strong, fierce mermaid that she played on television). It’s her third day in and more than half the tributes are still alive, a sort of record in the history of the Games.

She knew that sooner or later, Seneca Crane was going to gummy up some sort of disaster to pool the tributes together.

No sooner after she thought that, an earthquake shook the building she was in. Startled, Jessica almost slipped off the ledge, only managing to catch her balance when the earth shattering movement ceased for a moment. Her ears caught the growls and hisses of the muttations that was soon followed by the screams of the tributes, the silent night alive with action once again.

Jessica hurriedly scrambled down from her perch, carefully avoiding all the main roads and the lights that were flickering on and off, hoping to avoid a run in with either muttation or tribute.

She was not so lucky.

A Career found her skulking through the shadows, half mad from dehydration and hunger and threw himself at her, Jessica having the space of mind to dodge the attack.

But however malnourished the boy was, he was still better trained and he was also bigger and stronger, soon cornering Jessica into a street filled with dead mutts and discarded weapons. The boy managed to grab ahold of Jessica and flung her across the street, Jessica groaning in pain when her back hit the granite hard. She had no time to gauge her wounds, only scraping her palms enough to avoid the boy’s bodyslam which was quickly followed up by a dirty punch. The punch landed near her ear and it shook her entire balance off (the terms seeing stars came to mind before a very intense throbbing wiped out all thought and also her vision). Blinded by the sudden pain, Jessica fumbled around for a knife, her ears ringing with not only the aching jolt but also the Career’s mad laugh.

Her fingers closed around something cylindrical.

She held it tightly and it towards the direction of the laugh, the sound suddenly stopping with a loud squelch. Blinking rapidly, Jessica’s vision was restored slightly, though littered with black spots and she was greeted with the sight of a dying Career, the cylindrical object that happened to be a broken piece of a fence stabbed straight through his throat.

Forcing herself not to throw up, Jessica gathered all the things that she could including a crude wooden spear.

She picked it up gingerly, the palms of her hands molding against the staff easily, the weight balanced in her arms. Coughing, she left the dying boy behind, limping away as fast as she could.

A cannon ran through the night and the birds screeched their protests.

Jessica held on to her promises.

She will make it back.

She will not think of how dirty her hands will be when she does.