Taking What's Left

By Alexandra Spears

Disclaimer and Author's Note: The usual. Anything you recognize belongs to Suzanne Collins and not to me. Also, I'm basing this off the movies. I like how Woody Harrelson portrayed Haymitch (don't a lot of us?).

Chapter 1: End of an Era

So much has happened in the last two years. At least for me, and for those I love-or have loved, here in District 12 of Panem. Two years ago my little sister Primrose was reaped for the 74th Hunger Games. She was only twelve at the time and I was sixteen. Knowing that she wouldn't have survived two seconds in that arena, I volunteered for her. That act started a chain reaction of events which, ironically, led to the death of my sister at the young age of thirteen.

I found out that my friend, Gale Hawthorne, loved me; yet he showed a completely coldhearted side. He was also indirectly responsible for the death of Prim in the recent war against the Capitol. Last I heard, he's across the country, in District 2. Just as well.

To further muddy things up, my fellow tribute in the Games, baker's son Peeta Mellark, professed his love to me on national television. I'm still not really sure how I feel about him. I care about him, sure. We've been through a lot together. Peeta and I, along with our mentor Haymitch Abernathy, have been working on a book together about the fallen tributes of the Hunger Games. Haymitch is a rather prickly fellow-a lot like me, in fact, to be honest-and I'm really getting to enjoy his company. He was forced to dry out in District 13 during the recent war and I'm pleased that he isn't perpetually drunk anymore.

My mother moved to District 4, as this District 12 holds too many unpleasant memories, including my father's death in a mining accident when I was eleven and Prim was seven. Last I heard, she had invited Annie Cresta Odair, widow of Finnick Odair, to live with her, along with her infant son, Finnegan. That's good. Annie will have a mother figure and someone to help with the baby, who I'm told resembles his late father. If that kid grows up to be half as good-looking at his father, he's going to break a lot of hearts.

Back to Peeta. He's been having a lot of issues lately. When I was rescued from the arena during the Third Quarter Quell, Peeta, along with a few other tributes, were captured by the Capitol. Peeta had been hijacked-tortured with tracker jacker venom. Even now he has issues with going off into some other reality. And there are times when he'll actually try to attack me, thinking I'm a threat. The doctors here-many of them from the Capitol-are trying to help him and his episodes are getting to be fewer and farther between. But there are times when the attacks are really intense, and they're more or less scratching their heads, wondering if he'll be subject to the attacks for the rest of his life. Just last night he was rushed to the hospital that was set up. I was told that the venom has triggered a severe case of meningitis.

I'm at Haymitch's right now. He's my neighbor in the Victors' Village and he's told me that I'm the only real friend he has. I'm worried about Peeta and it was Haymitch's idea for us to get our minds off Peeta and work on the tribute book. Ever since he's sobered up some his house isn't quite the pig sty it used to be. We're sitting at his kitchen table, going over some notes. Occasionally I steal glances at him. He has longish blond hair that kind of hangs in his face, which goes well with his intense blue eyes. There are times when I completely forget that I'm eighteen and he's forty-two-old enough to be my father. Still, I'm no longer a minor, and like most kids growing up in the Seam, I've grown up rather quickly.

"Maybe we should go visit Peeta," Haymitch suggests as leans back in his chair and stretches his arms.

"What if seeing me triggers another attack?" I ask. "Every time he has an attack, he's seen me."

"I don't know, sweetheart," Haymitch sighs as we get to our feet.

Sweetheart. It seems the word has taken on a somewhat different meaning over the past couple of years. When I first met him and he called me that, it was meant sarcastically…but over time, it seems like he means it. And in a good way.

I don't know whether to be worried that it's not said in a fatherly way…but in a more romantic way. My mind races back over the past couple of years…the way Haymitch was admiring the dress that I wore when being interviewed by Caesar Flickerman two years ago…the way he'd gently touch my face, even the times he's comforted me-and even now, he has an arm around my shoulders as we get ready to leave his house.

When Haymitch and I arrive at the hospital, one of the doctors immediately takes us aside. "I'm afraid I have very bad news for you Mr. Abernathy, Miss Everdeen," he says quietly. "Mr. Mellark has just passed away. The venom-it was too much for him."

I start hyperventilating and Haymitch, standing behind me, gently grips my shoulders. "Easy, sweetheart," he says in a soothing tone.

"I want to see him!" I demand as I break away from him and into Peeta's room.

"Katniss-" Haymitch starts. He gives up and follows me into the room.

Entering Peeta's hospital room, I see him lying there, eyes closed, perfectly still, his blond hair the only splash of color against the white hospital linen. Somehow I can't help but think that this is for the best. He likely would have lived out his life being subject to the effects of that venom, and I would have been a target. The Capitol, in the end, had destroyed him.

I turn and start sobbing on Haymitch's shoulder. Even though Haymitch can be ornery and cantankerous, he seems to have a soft spot when it comes to me, and it shows as he puts his arms around me and comforts me. "He was my friend, too, Katniss," he says softly.

We stand like that for a long time. The Capitol's taken so much from me and it seems like President Snow is having his revenge from beyond the grave. Prim's gone. Peeta is gone. Gale's not the person I thought I knew. Finnick's left behind a wife and child. I can't help but wonder what would have happened if I hadn't volunteered for Prim. District 13, I now know, had been planning this for years, since before my birth. It seems that I'd been selected against my will to be the catalyst. When I volunteered, opportunity knocked and they answered the door.

I guess I should be glad that there will be no more Hunger Games. No longer will kids be forced to fight each other to the death. Under President Paylor, Panem is fast becoming a peaceful nation.

Haymitch finally leads me out of the room. "Let's go home," he says softly. "There's nothing more we can do here."

Three days later, Peeta is buried in the old cemetery, not too far from where the Hob used to stand. Effie Trinket, who was my and Peeta's escort for the Hunger Games, is there at the funeral, and I'm glad that she isn't wearing something garish-in fact, close to what she wore while living in District 13. She's accompanied by Plutarch Heavensbee, who is now Secretary of Communications. My mother made the journey from District 4 along with Annie and Finnegan. I'm a bit surprised Gale hasn't shown up.

After the funeral we meet at my house. We spend the afternoon talking about Peeta and catching up on things. Haymitch is falling off the wagon, no surprise there. I'm grieving and feeling lonely, but I know that drowning my sorrows in alcohol will make things worse. One can just look at what Haymitch has done to himself over the better part of twenty-five years and get an idea.

Not long after everyone leaves to go back to the Capitol or District 4 or wherever it is they're living, Haymitch passes out on the living room couch. I sigh. Might as well just leave him there to sleep it off. Besides, this house is a mansion compared to what I used to live in with my family, and it's nice to not be alone in it, especially with what has happened.

I go to my room and throw myself down on my bed. I loved Peeta-at least I cared for him. I admit I'm still confused about how I feel about him, and now it doesn't even matter. He's gone. I have basically no one.

I cry myself to sleep, wondering what I'm going to do now and what kind of future I'm going to have.