A/N: Thank you for the reviews! I do apologize; this chapter isn't as long as the previous one. As always, I appreciate your reviews!

Chapter Two: [Not So] Alone

. . .

I wake up in the middle of the night to see Peeta hovering over me minus his hands being around my throat this time. I can only see him in the dim light of the moon but I'm pretty sure he just looks scared. I try and remain calm as I sit up and rub my eyes tiredly, looking up at him cautiously.

"Can't sleep…?"

I see him shake his head no and then hear his soft voice that reminds me of the old Peeta. "Every time I try to, I see Cato or… or Snow and they're trying to kill me again. They're trying to kill you…"

My heart melts and I pull the sheet back in a silent invitation for him to sleep in my bed tonight, just like I did for Prim when she had nightmares about our father. He takes the invitation eagerly and I find us facing each other. I reach out and begin to caress his cheek with my thumb softly, missing him holding him like he did on the train in our first Hunger Games. I hate feeling like our relationship had only turned one-sided, with me loving him. Could Haymitch have been right about him playing on my sympathies? This wasn't how it should be. Shouldn't two people equally love the other?

"We're safe, Peeta. We're home again. Snow's dead and so is Cato. We killed Cato and… Snow died on his own. They're both gone and we're still alive," I try to soothe him.

"R-Right… yeah," Peeta stammers in the dark but I can see the confusion back in his similar eyes. "What if we're not alive though? I can't tell what's real anymore, Katniss. I'm just guessing and grabbing at things blindly. I can't even remember us, if there was really ever an 'us.' I mean, we were just playing it up for the cameras, right?"

I feel my chest ache again as I remember our kiss in the hidden bedrock in the forest and the warm feel of his hand on my forehead as he spread the ointment on my skin to heal me. That had been real. That had been the most real feeling I've ever felt in my life after my father died and Peeta couldn't even remember that feeling anymore.

I'm quiet for awhile as I try to work out the best answer to his question. If I say that it was real, I run the risk of making him feel even worse than he already does and guilty that he can't remember it. If I agree with him and say we were, in fact, just playing our love up for the cameras, then I'm denying any feeling I ever felt for him and let him keep thinking that it was a false love. It's a lose-lose situation for both of us in one way or another. As always, I'm going to look out for him and forget about myself. He's worse off than I am.

"Y-Yeah, I guess we were," I whisper, giving him a weak smile to assure him that I'm not upset at him for not being able to remember anything. "We're still friends though, real or not real?"

"Real," Peeta answers instantly but in a solitary whisper. When he says this, I realize that Peeta and I can't be together, not when he's either trying to kill me or when he's trying to remember everything that took place.

I nod and kiss his forehead softly before I roll over so my back is facing him now so he can't see the tears that are falling down my face. I'm feeling angry at myself for being in denial and thinking that we could still be a couple after his hijacking. I'm angry that Haymitch was right and maybe Peeta really was just playing me to gain sympathy and pity. I feel pathetic and dumb and wish that the Capitol could just bomb my house and make the Girl on Fire a reality. Somehow, though, I manage to fall asleep into the land of nightmares.

OoOoOoOoOo

When I wake up again, I'm breathing hard and Peeta isn't lying beside me anymore. I look around frantically to see if my headless dead sister is next to me but of course she's not. I run my fingers through my head and wipe the fresh tears off my cheeks before I force myself to bathe and get dressed. When I manage to look halfway decent, I tiptoe out into the kitchen and smell the familiar smell of alcohol. Haymitch is standing at the stove and making bacon and hash.

"W-Where's Peeta?"

I hear him sigh and glance at me with soft eyes. "He wanted some time alone at the bakery. I told him that baking things would be good for him so he left,"

Haymitch set a mug of dark tea in front of me and I instantly wrapped my cold hands around it to warm them up. Peeta didn't want to be around me if we weren't a couple. I was alone just like he wanted to be too. I didn't know what to say so I just sipped my tea, feeling my stomach churning at the smell of the hash.

"What did you two talk about last night? Did you lovebirds fight?"

I felt my stomach churn again at the word 'lovebirds.' We weren't even that. Something had happened between the time we had came back home and last night and Peeta had decided that we weren't, or couldn't be in love. "I don't want to talk about him, Haymitch. Please… don't make me say it."

I saw a small smirk reach his face and he dished up the food and placed it on a plate in front of me before sitting down beside me at the table. He was still wearing the same clothes from last night and he hadn't shaved in at least a week, but for some reason, I didn't mind. The shadow on his face fit him and even looked halfway attractive.

"Alright, fair enough. Eat your breakfast. I made it especially for you," he urged, motioning at the plate. I just shook my head but realized I wanted him to know how much I appreciated his effort. "Thank you, Haymitch, really. I'm just… not hungry."

He didn't take the plate away or get angry. He didn't do anything except sit there and lean closer to me, resting on his arms as his eyes searched mine. "I didn't mean for you two to play star-crossed lovers your entire lives, you know. You two were supposed to actually drop the act and be in love, like normal people."

I felt a gratitude when Haymitch said this and I smiled weakly before shrugging. "I guess… it just isn't meant to work out. Things are just… so messed up and I wish it had been him but… he doesn't remember the important things, the things that matter to me, the things I can't forget," I say resignedly, taking another sip of my tea.

I feel his rough fingers brush the lingering hair out of my eyes and feel the heat rise in my cheeks and something in my stomach flutter but I blame both of these things on the warm tea.

"I suppose… you can tell what types of memories mean more to certain people than other memories and feelings. Maybe you love him more than he loves you, sweetheart," Haymitch says softly in a tone that doesn't convey sarcasm or pretentiousness but sincere sympathy and understanding.

"Maybe," I agree reluctantly before I finally dare to meet his eyes and realize for the first time today that he looks like he had been crying at some point this morning. His eyes are bloodshot in that way rather than from the alcohol. "How… are you doing, Haymitch?"

He bites his lip uncertainly and leans back in his chair before he runs a hand through his hair, sighing heavily as he shakes his head. "I can't even begin to answer that, Katniss. I think we're all in the same depression boat though. Peeta told me you had another nightmare," he said, sidestepping my concerned question for him and turning the situation on me.

I was stubbornly silent as I purposely took slow sips of my tea, not exactly willing to talk about myself or my nightmare. His eyes burned into me until I finally gave in. "I-It was Prim again. She… she was in it. The… package blew up in her face and… a-and she was decapitated."

I looked away as the tears formed in my eyes, not wanting Haymitch to see the weakness in them. This was the last thing I wanted to do and he knew it, but he continued to push me.

"What else happened in your nightmare, Katniss?"

"She told me… i-it was my fault. She said… s-she said that it was my fault about Peeta and her a-and… and about Finnick," I said quickly, feeling my voice begin to tremble and my chest ache painfully as I forced myself to swallow back a sob.

No, I couldn't cry in front of him, I won't. I can't show weakness in front of him or else he'll hold it over my head forever. I make a somewhat casual attempt to itch my tear-filled eyes as if dust crept into my cornea and nestled inside it but I can tell he knows me better than that. I feel him stand up and walk over to me before he wraps his arms around my small body and I suddenly feel like I'm eight years old in my fathers' arms again.

"Listen to me: None of their deaths are your fault and the Capitol hijacking Peeta wasn't your fault either. You couldn't help any of those things and I know that if you had it your way, you would've been able to help them. There was nothing you could've done about Finnick. You had Peeta and you had to get the hell out of there. Annie's hurting but she understands. You didn't know about Prim. You can't keep blaming yourself for those things, sweetheart, you just can't."

At this point, I let all hell break loose and I'm sobbing violently into his shoulder, my arms tightly around his neck, breathing in the alcohol that's perpetually absorbed into his skin by now. I welcome it though, with open arms. He's home… he's here with me and Peeta. He smells like home. Tears are pouring from my eyes and my entire body is shaking with panic, fear, and sadness all tornadoed into one massive storm. I no longer care if he thinks of me as weak because he's holding me close and gently stroking my hair soothingly.

"Recite what you're told to say when your mind gets clouded. Say it for me, won't you?"

"I-I'm… Katniss Everdeen… I-I killed m-my friends and… a-and everyone w-who ever took a c-chance and cared about me," I sob still. "I-I killed my s-sister a-and…. my mom a-abandoned me… I-I'm alone… P-Peeta doesn't love me and… I shouldn't b-be alive…."

It's the first dark thought I ever let past between my lips in front of anyone and it's Haymitch who hears it first. I feel his shoulders stiffen and his arms hold me closer to him before he forces himself away and then gently, but firmly, take my face into his hands again and force me to look into his eyes as tears cloud my own. I see the determination laced into his and feel bad for ever saying how I truly feel.

"No, Katniss. You're stronger than that. You're stronger than those feelings. You didn't kill anyone and it's not your fault that your mother is weak. You're the strongest person I've met, though, stronger than Peeta even. You can make it through this… and you have me to help you. You're not alone, no matter how many fights we have or how many nightmares you have. We're in this together. Do you understand?"

His words reach deep within my soul and bring me back to life, but only just. No one's ever had as much faith in me as much as Haymitch does, and his determination to keep me alive, in and out of the Hunger Games, is what makes me respect him, regardless of his drinking. He still knows what it's like, and he's still alive. I nod quickly as he gently thumbs my tears away and I almost feel whole again. Almost.

He holds me and I let out everything I've been holding in for what feels like days but in reality, it's only a couple of hours. Haymitch listens to me and confirms or denies what I say. Finally when I'm out of tears, I speak up but still hold his arm that's holding me to him.

"I don't want to be here alone," I whisper, barely audibly. I breathe in his jacket that he's still wearing and feel him inhale and exhale before he answers back.

"Then come and live with me until you're ready to live alone again. I doubt Peeta will be coming back here to play House with you anymore," he whispers back softly.

I think about his offer but feel a mess of feelings and confusion collide within me. I don't know what he means by this, or what his intentions are. I can't live with anyone; Peeta was an example of that. We're both sick of each others' night terrors and violent fits. I don't know what to say and I'm not afraid of hurting his feelings by saying no, but I honestly am not sure if I want this right now.

"Why?"

"Why what, sweetheart?"

"Why do you want me to stay with you? What are you getting this out of this?" I ask curiously as I force myself to remain calm.

He sighs again but patiently, and he begins to run his fingers through my hair again. "I don't want to be alone either," he admits, and I can tell he's telling the truth.

"I'm not sure what to do, Haymitch. I… don't want to be alone but… I'm afraid if I live with you, I'm going to ruin your life like I have with everyone else. You're already in a bad place; you don't need me to make you feel worse."

I hate that I'm sporting my own little pity party but I keep telling myself that I'm doing it for selfless reasons. I'm doing it because I don't want him to suffer. His fingers find my braid and he lingers on it for a long time before he searches my face and I find myself looking up at him as well.

"Don't worry about me, Miss Everdeen. I'm a grown man. I can take care of myself. You can do whatever you want to do and I'll support it but I just want to know you're safe. If you stay here tonight, are you going to feel safe?"

I ponder this and wonder what exactly he means. There's a chance Peeta might come around during one of his episodes and attempt to kill me again. There are still some people from the Capitol around; maybe they'll kidnap me and throw me back into the last Hunger Games. Then another thought crosses my mind. Haymitch is thinking of the unthinkable; he thinks I might end my own life. That would be the most selfish act I could probably ever do in my life but the fact that he's worried about this also fascinates me.

"I don't know, but… I want to stay here anyway. This is still the house me and Peeta had and…" I trail off, looking away. I don't want to say what I know Haymitch is already thinking.

"Good memories. Yeah, I get it, sweetheart."

He forces me to sit up and then helps me on my own feet before he dusts me off. "Be careful, and you know what I mean. If anything happened to you, I'd never forgive myself for not forcing you to live with me."

I narrow my eyes playfully and see his smile that I've found myself missing too often. His eyes look tired and sorrowful but his smile reminds me of the little good that is still alive in this world. It gives me hope. He leaves and I find myself alone in the cold house that Peeta and I played House in. I don't want to relive those memories again so I let my body drop on the couch and I force myself to sleep again. I forget about Peeta going back to his bakery and Haymitch going back to his own home and I dream about Prim again, except this time, they're good dreams.

Until I wake up to screaming and water running down my cheeks and drowning me. I jolt awake, breathing heavily and look around but I don't move. I let the darkness of the day consume the house and I realize just how alone I am. Finnick reached my dreams and twisted them into sick nightmares. He was screaming at me to help him just as he turned into a large reptile with sharp jagged teeth and cut Peeta into two. I close my eyes, count to ten and practice my breathing exercises but I'm still crying when I'm done. I slowly sit up and hear creaking of the old house but force myself to believe that I'm all alone, which isn't too hard to convince myself of since it's all I've ever really known my own whole.

I'm sitting in silence for almost an hour before I finally realize this is the last place I want to be. I don't want to be alone anymore. I don't want to be here where memories of Peeta invade every corner of my mind and spin webs of nostalgia and misery. It's just hell being here. The bad memories have outweighed the good ones at last. Darkness covers the clock but looking outside, I guess it must be around eleven. I hurry into my room, grab my extra morphling and throw it into a knapsack I have from the first Hunger Games, along with some changes of clean clothes and my hunting gear. Then I hurry out of the dark house and begin walking quickly in the direction of Haymitch's.

My ears are wide open and I search the darkness like a madwoman out of fear that Peeta is going to jump out and snap my neck with his strong, baker hands. I instinctively start running and don't stop until I get to his house and knock on the door, still keeping my wits about me. The warm air leaks out onto my cold, frozen body when he opens the door within seconds and his eyes express fear and warmness.

"Hey, is everything okay?"

I want to nod my head but the muscles have a different agenda. He gently grabs my hand and pulls me inside before closing the door again and he wraps his arms around me. He smells like liquor but I don't care right now. He reminds me of safety and love and home and I couldn't be more grateful he took me in this late at night.

"You had another nightmare," he says softly, knowingly.

I nod this time and he leads me over to his couch where his bottle of clear alcohol is with a glass already half full. I look at it curiously and scoot over on the couch so I'm not crowding him and watch him down the glass.

"I think being back here isn't good for you, Katniss. I think maybe you need to consider moving to some other District. Being here just makes memories resurface and with Peeta being like he is, staying here just puts your life in danger," Haymitch tells me calmly but in a tone of voice that tells me that I should take a hint and that he's giving me advice like he did for the Hunger Games.

He's still trying to keep me alive.

"If I leave, I'd be leaving Peeta though. I can't abandon him like my mother abandoned me. I was with him for this long and… and to leave him now would just be worse than that."

He pours himself another drink and then passes the bottle to me in invitation to drink. I ignore it as I hear him talk again. "He's never going to be completely normal, darling. You must know that by now. You're never going to be completely together either, just like how I'm always going to feel guilty about Snow killing my family and my girlfriend. We're both going to have nightmares and staying here won't make them go away."

I know he's right but I'm ready with a solid reply. "Neither will leaving to go somewhere else. I'm still always going to see my sister dying and everyone else who died for me. Everyone I loved will always be in my nightmares and nothing's going to change that," I sigh, letting that single dark thought creep back into the corners of my messed up mind.

We're both silent for a long time before I see him grab the three-quarters empty bottle. At first I think he's going to finish it off but he just holds it as he looks around and then searches my tired eyes with his own.

"It's been a long couple of weeks. You may not have Peeta anymore but… you still have me, and you know that I'll take care of you. I won't ever abandon you, I promise you that, sweetheart. Now drink up and sleep. You're going to gain back your muscle starting tomorrow."

Before I can argue or question this, he raises the glass bottle to my lips and slowly forces me to drink the burning fuel as it scalds my throat but I swallow it, welcoming the burn; it lets me know that I can still feel something amidst all this pain. He makes me finish it off and I swallow all of it without question, and soon enough, I'm feeling tired and not being used to drinking alcohol, it clouds my head. He smiles a small, understanding smile at me before he helps me to lie down on the couch in front of the furnace. Almost instantly, I feel my eyes close and recite my daily incantation as my bones begin to warm up.

My name is Katniss Everdeen.

I still live in District 12 with Peeta and Haymitch.

Peeta abandoned me even though I had pretty much already abandoned him.

I'm scared but not alone anymore.

Haymitch cares about my well-being and he's the closest thing I have to a friend right now.

I'm going to stay at his house until I sort everything out.

I'm not in a rush to leave him any time soon, though.