Chapter 1—Gone

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I was in the Hunger games, twice. I was the girl on fire. My fiancée was captured by the Capitol, hijacked into thinking that I would kill him, that I was the enemy. I helped lead the revolution that killed hundreds of people. It all started when I pulled out those damned berries. I have returned to twelve, mentally, emotionally, and physically scarred, even with the Capitol made cream smeared all over my body every day. My sister died doing the thing she loves, helping and healing. It took a talking with the dying President Snow, to figure out that it was all Coins fault. I killed the President of the revolution, with the arrow that was supposed to go through President Snow. My best friend left because he couldn't stand to see me.

But Peeta hasn't returned. To him, everyone is an enemy; he sees demons everywhere, even in me. I've tried everything I can to help, but yesterday he nearly tore my throat out with his own teeth, and I saw only terror in his eyes. He is too far gone for anyone to save him. Ironically, Coin ordered the execution of the one person who probably could've reversed it, and in return, saved me. Primrose Everdeen, the young healer, she ran for the dying in the Capitol. They all knew what the parachutes meant, even though they hadn't been in the games. At least, they thought they did. Instead of food, or medicine, all that was concealed in the container was death. I saw her duck-tail coat just a moment too late. Now I miss her every day.

Today is Peeta's execution. We've given up, there's no hope for him. He doesn't love me, barely even knows me, and I no longer love him. He's gone. The boy with the bread is gone. The boy in the cave is gone. So is the boy who listened to me sing when I was five. Peeta is gone. He's no more human than the mutts that killed Cato in my first games. My Peeta, my loverboy, is dead. This tracker-jacker venom controlled shell is all that remains. Even Haymitch agrees that this is for the best.

Neither of us can watch, sitting with our shared bottles of white wine in the hob, we listen for the gun shot that will mean he's dead. There's no chance of them missing, he is bound and trussed. I walked by him this morning, when they had him sedated. He finally looked...peaceful.

Unbidden, tears start to fall. Without a word, Haymitch wraps his arms around me. Quietly, I sob into his chest. "Oh sweetheart, he was gone the moment Snow captured him, you know that. You know he's gone. This is what he would've wanted, Katniss. Breadboy is gone." His voice breaks on the last words, and I know he's saying it to convince himself as well.

Bang.

Chapter 2-Sunset

I let out a half sob half wail. Haymitch just holds me tighter, understanding. Slowly my breathing calms and I am left feeling hollow inside. Pulling myself away from him I reach for a napkin, but freeze when I see his face. Tears fall seemingly endlessly down his cheeks. I watch, stunned, as they make tracks in the grime on his face, then drip onto his vest. Slowly, I reach out a hand, and with my thumb, wipe away the salt water that continues to fall from his eyes. When he doesn't respond, I scoot my bar stool closer, and wrap my arms around him.

I don't know how long we sit there. We take comfort in each other's warmth. We both feel the loss of Peeta. Until the Capitol hijacked him, he was a source of purity, innocence, and strength. I hadn't realized how much I relied on him, until the day he went for my throat. We had hoped, we had prayed, that he would somehow come back. A fleeting hope though it was, it was all we had left to hold on to. We gave him paints, things for camouflage, frosting and dough, praying that something would jog his memory, and the mutt that was Peeta would back down, leaving only the boy who had risked his mother's wrath to give me a piece of bread.

He's gone. Slowly I untangle myself from Haymitch, and stand up, my legs protesting the entire time. I ask Ripper for some water, and when she comes with it, she clasps my hand warmly. I freeze for a moment at the touch, and then give her a weary smile. Taking a clean napkin, I soak an end of it in the water and begin to wash of Haymitch's face. We are both dry eyed and hoarse when we finally walk out of the Hob.

"Haymitch, I want to go to the funeral." I look at him pleadingly. I knew it would be starting soon, we would bury him near the fence, by my old house.

"Are you sure, sweetheart? It might make things worse." Haymitch looks at me questioningly.

"I want to say goodbye." Pain flashes across his face at my words.

Slowly, he takes my hand, and starts walking, leading me to where the funeral has already started.

Men and women dressed in black stand around a small plot of earth. Taking the casket off their shoulders, they lay him in the ground. Surrounded by the white cloth he looks peaceful, for the first time since Effie called his name. Suddenly, the air around us seems to glow. Looking to the east, I see the sun setting and gasp. The color is perfect, his color. Peeta Mellark's favorite color was sunset orange, and this sunset was the skies tribute to his death. I catch one last glimpse of him, before the lid shuts with an audible snap. Shovel after shovel, dumps dirt upon him, burying him, a blanket for his final rest. Just as the last bit of dirt is patted down, the sunset fades into a gray darkness that strays into my heart. My legs crumple, refusing to hold me. High above my body, I watch as Haymitch grabs me, lips' moving in what I assume is my name. The crowd of black coats and black suits swarm around, and then everything goes dark.

Chapter 3—Thankful

I wake up screaming. Haymitch is holding me down, and I lash out and hit him in the eye before I realize what's happening. I relax, and stop yelling. Haymitch is holding his eye, saying, "Not real, it's not real. You were dreaming Katniss."

Then, seeing that I am not fighting anymore, he takes me into his arms and holds me, rocking me back and forth. The tears spill over once again, and I turn bury my face once again in Haymitch's chest once again. I don't know how long I cry, but after a while, I fall asleep, with him still holding me. I wake up later that day, and he is still there, hold on to me, just as I am holding on to him. We are the two broken victors. We have conquered the games, the capitol, and President Snow, but neither of us can conquer our demons that attack every night.

We eat the breakfast that Hazelle made us without a word. It's a comfortable silence, one look conveying everything to the other. I live over at Haymitch's house now. Without Primrose here I can't stand to stay at my old house in the seam, and my mansion just feels empty.

"I'm going hunting." I say, firmly, sure he will disagree. Instead he just looks at me with his shrewd gaze, and I feel exposed, naked.

"Alright, sweetheart. You take care of yourself." I am honestly shocked that he's letting me go, but have no chance to comment on this, as he swiftly gets up, and pulls me into a hug. I let my arms go around him, and for the first time, I notice that even after all the years of alcohol, he is in very good shape, and pretty muscular.

Before I let my head get away from me, I pull away say a swift goodbye, and get scorched one more time by the gaze of a man with a permanent smirk on his lips.

Grabbing my bow and quiver, I stomp out of the house, and quickly stop when I realize its freezing. I quickly dart back inside and grab my jacket that's hanging from the post. I am off.

I move quickly through the district, getting a bit of warmth from the autumn sun. I see a couple people, I know, and return their waves. Inside however, a tempest rages. I wish I could kill President Snow again, but make him suffer this time; watch him twitch as the life bleeds out of him. I feel like sobbing when the memories of Peeta come roaring back. I don't fight it this time, though. I ride it out, letting Peeta's words roll over me like a tidal wave, leaving me tossed upon the beach. With that I realize how many times he's been there for me, comforted me, known exactly what I needed, and when. The one who really understood me is…Haymitch.

I feel a sudden surge of affection for the old drunk, who is like me in so many ways. Slipping under the fence and beginning to move quietly through the woods, I ponder. What can I do for him? Then when I see a squirrel chattering on a branch just ahead of me, I smile, a plan formulated in my head.

I quickly kill the squirrel, shooting it right through the eye. I go through the woods, taking down every piece of game I see. Then, with my game bag over flowing, I go down to the hob, and ask Ripper for her finest.

Chapter 4—Experiments

Smiling, I walk back to Haymitch's house; it is now around four in the afternoon. I step in the door, taking my heavy bags with me. Listening closely, I hear the water running. Haymitch is in the shower, perfect. I put the bottles on the table, and make dinner using the meat the butcher was nice enough to prepare for me. Because of his care with the spices, all I have to do is stick it in the oven. I cut the bread Peeta's father gave me with sad eyes.

I even set the table, taking the time to use the nice plates that Hazelle keeps clean for us. I take the steak out of the oven just as Haymitch comes downstairs. His mouth falls open when he sees the full plates, and me hopping around with my fingers in my mouth, having just burned them on the oven.

"Katniss, what is this? And put some cold water on your fingers!" I do as I'm told and explain.

"I wanted to thank you, for everything. I bought us Rippers best."

Haymitch just shakes his head, and sits down. After a couple minutes of cool water bliss, I join him. We eat in silence.

We leave the plates in the sink, and sit on the couch, enjoying the wine, not even bothering for glasses. Haymitch's hands slip on the bottle, and spill some on the couch.

"Shit." He mutters.

"Now, now Haymitch, no need to swear. Your manners really are atrocious!" I say laughing tipsily, doing my best imitation of Effie.

He laughs at me, a scowl firmly planted on his face, and suddenly, I feel warmth spread through my body as look at him. It's not the alcohol though… I've only felt this once before, when Peeta had kissed me on the roof of the training center, but never before had I acted on it.

Slowly, I slide closer to him. I grab the bottle from him, and drain the last of it. He looks at me, and before I can stop myself, I kiss him. He is obviously shocked, but when I pull away, thinking to explain, he takes my face in his hands and kisses me. His lips mold with mine, and all I can think is how good it feels to do this. Acting on impulse, I slide a leg over his lap, so I'm straddling him, my knees pressed into the couch. I hesitate as his tongue demands entrance to my mouth, and then let him in. His hand slide down my back, caressing me, and then grabbing the bottom of my shirt, he breaks away, eyes asking for permission, I nod. He gently lifts my shirt up over my head, and gazes at me.

"Beautiful." he murmurs. I blush, and kiss him again, this time however, his hands find the clasp of my bra, undoing it swiftly, and even though I'm on top, I know instantly that he's the one in charge here. He takes my breasts in his hands, massing gently at first, then when I don't protest, rougher. He takes one into his mouth, lightly biting it, and I moan, a wordless hum spilling from my lips.

I pull away from him, grinning. "You're wearing too much, Haymitch. Don't you know that cotton kills?" He looks at me wordlessly, desire filling his eyes. I kiss him lightly on the cheek, and slowly bring his shirt up and over his head. Sure enough, he is still well built, even after years of alcohol poisoning, and mentoring the games, which must be no easy task.

Wordlessly gaze at him, feeling his gaze sear into me. Suddenly he pushes me off him; I stumble backwards onto my feet, but manage to keep my balance. He stands up, grabs my wrist and pulls me towards him. He kisses me deeply, and my body alights with a fire that I never knew I was capable of feeling. His hands slide slowly down my back, and I can feel the rough calluses on his palms. I wrap my arms around my neck, letting him take the lead as he undoes the buttons on my pants. Stepping out of them, I turn away from him and sprint away, laughing. He catches me half-way down the hall, and pulls me into the bedroom, closing the door swiftly behind him. He stands, staring at me. Slowly, he takes a step forward, and I back up a step. We continue like this until I feel the back of my knees hit the bed. Moving quicker than I thought possible, as tipsy as we are, he crosses the distance between us. Standing before me, he makes a half growling noise, and pushes me back onto the bed with one hand. I swear I feel tingles to the ends of my toes.

Quickly, he strips out of his pants, and climbs into the bed with me. I back up on my elbows until I can lay my head on the white pillows. Staring at me the whole time, he slowly slides off my panties, and spreads my legs, so I'm totally exposed in front of him. Only the remnants of the white wine in my system keep me brave enough. Then, leaning in again, he kisses me lightly, tantalizingly, and at the same time, slides his hand from my collar-bone, over my breasts, down the small slope of my stomach, to my center. Unable to help myself, I gasp. Hearing, he smirks against my mouth. Then, slowly, he slides a finger into me. I moan, my back arching to press my breasts against his chest. Taking my moan as a sign of encouragement, he starts to slide the same finger in and out of him. I have never felt anything like this before, but I love it. I writhe underneath it, and finally he can't seem to stand it anymore. Still looking at me, he slides off his boxers, and without meaning to, I gasp, suddenly a little afraid of what I knew would come next.

"Are you alri-" He starts to question, before I sit up slightly, and kiss him. He tastes of rainwater, and wine, and the smell he leaves on my skin reminds me of home. He positions himself over me, and looking into my eyes, slowly slides himself into me. I gasp and moan at the pain suddenly searing through me. He slides all the way in, and begins to roll his hips slightly, which helps, and after a minute, the pain has faded to a dull ache.

"Fuck me, Haymitch." I whisper the command through gritted teeth. With all too much willingness he begins thrusting slowly into me, almost pulling completely out each time. The sensation is unlike any other. Ecstasy is the only word that can describe this. Now I see what all the fuss is about. Soon he begins to move faster, and faster. I moan over and over, panting, almost screaming, as something deep within me builds.

"Let go, sweetheart." He growls, and his words are my undoing. I scream, before his mouth finds mine for one last burning kiss. My body feels like it's bathed in fire. My eyes roll back, as I unravel beneath him. Stars burst behind my eyes, as he groans, eyes closed, evidently feeling the same thing.

Slowly, he pulls out of me. I lie limply on the bed, slowly coming back to reality. Lying down on the bed beside me he asks, "You alright, sweetheart?" All I can do to reply, is turn my head and smile, I can think of no words that would do what just happened, justice. He wraps an arm around me from behind, and pulls me closer to him, so we're pressed together.

For the first time since I left the games, I sleep without dreaming.

Chapter 5- Helping Hand