A/N: Another for Mellie, this one taking place during the movie. Enjoy!


It had been agonizing, watching Peeta, who she'd irrevocably fallen in love with, heal so slowly. His leg looked downright awful, and he winced every time he moved. Katniss hated to have to clean it every day, watching him turn white as a sheet and grimace, sucking in air through his teeth as a sweat broke over his brow. She didn't dislike it because it was disgusting. By now especially, if she was proven to have a queasy stomach, it would've been a miracle that she'd made it this far.

She hated it because of how much damn pain he was in. She could see it, feel it. His body quivered as she let water wash over the wound, his flesh a smarting pink. The blood had dried by now, his pants stained a rich crimson from when it was fresh.

"I love you," Peeta had said, the pain evident in his eyes.

Katniss could only smile sadly and press a kiss to his clammy cheek, returning the words on her lips, but not with her voice.

It was that same day she'd broken her promise to not go after the bag of supplies at the Cornucopia the Gamemakers had left. When Clove slammed into her, she thought she'd made a grave mistake. The sight of a knife confirmed that- so she thought- her adrenaline spiking as she ended up on the bottom of a very angry brunette from District 2.

The weight, all of a sudden, was gone. Looking up, breathing hard from the struggle that she felt had lasted an eternity, was the face of Thresh, a blur as he slammed Clove repeatedly against the wall of the Cornucopia. She screamed for Cato— until she didn't.

Her body crumpled to the ground, eyes still open, her face blank. She was dead.

"Just this time, 12. For Rue!" Thresh's eyes were brimming with fury, and at the same time, sorrow, before he bolted for his own safety.

Katniss was able to get back with nothing but a slash to her forehead that she didn't even notice, that is, until Peeta pointed it out.


The mutts were horrifying as all hell.

Their large, blocky heads snapped their mangled teeth, their stocky bodies having no trouble weaving to follow Peeta and Katniss through the arena. Their eyes were too human, and it was to their disgust to discover they were the eyes of their fallen victims. They had to get to the Cornucopia; if they didn't, they were dead. Just like President Snow wanted.

She knew exactly what she started when she saluted the cameras after Rue's death.

She thanked the programmed stars above that Peeta's limp had subsided after being given time to heal- even though it was still noticeable. Katniss herself had suffered some sort of wound she hadn't been able to take much time to look at, what, with being chased under the threat of her life is all. One of the mutts had jumped on her when they popped out of the Gamemakers' sick minds and into this hell of a reality, and she was lucky it didn't all end right there. Her back ached, and she'd hit her now pounding head. She had no doubt that she was bleeding. Somewhere.

The Cornucopia, damn that thing, she hated the sight of it now, but it came into view and Katniss knew it was their only hope.

Grabbing Peeta's hand, she gave it everything she had, throwing herself at the structure that gleamed so cruelly in the fake moonlight, not bothering to look back to see how close the mutts were. She helped him up first before he pulled her up—

Searing pain. One of the dogs had latched onto her leg, whipping its head back and forth, pulling...she thought she was losing her grip— no, no, just a little more, wait...!

Peeta pulled her up, panic having flooded him at the sight of her slipping from his grasp. As soon as he'd hauled her up, he pulled her into his arms, tightly, pressing desperate kisses into her hair. He breathed deeply, trying to calm down, and Katniss heard his heart pound in his chest. She also heard how voracious the mutts were, having tasted her blood. Pain shot up her leg. She couldn't look down at it. They had to do this now.

Kneeling on her good leg, she reached around to grab her quiver.

...

It was gone.

Her eyes caught sight of it then, dread filling her and making her want to vomit as her stomach lurched. It was on the ground, a few feet behind the mutts. Peeta had backed up, without a weapon, but still looking around wildly for something to end this nightmare, a spear, a stick, something.

Shit...shit shit shit.

Katniss felt her throat tighten, and she struggled to get on two feet. He was at her side immediately, and gave her a once over. He instantly knew what was wrong, but didn't expect this.

"I need you to shoot straight."

What?

His head spun.

"I'm serious, Peeta." Her voice broke, and, and...he'd never heard her sound so defeated.

"Wait, Katniss-"

He was silenced with just a look, and his dark gaze, usually so warm when he looked at her, trailing down to look at how bad her wound was. He paled.

"I don't have a chance. I know I'm not long even if we do kill all of them." She sounded frustrated, impatient, disappointed. In herself. This was the last thing she'd planned on doing.

By the expression on his face, he begged to differ. Begged. But it would do no good, his chest- his heart- ached too much to speak anyways.

She promised. She'd promised Prim. She'd promised him.

"I love you." There. She'd said it. Out loud.

He needed to know.

Her legs numbed, and she clambered down the opposite side while Peeta distracted the mutts. She made a run for it then, hurling her quiver up to him with all the strength she had left in her, before the mutts smelled her blood. Just as she knew they would.

They were on top of Katniss in an instant, and she didn't want to, she hadn't wanted to, but she couldn't help but scream as they ripped, tore, pounced, crushed...

Katniss screamed his name. It echoed in the arena, in agony. Broken, her voice was. With pain. He winced and froze, feeling as though his organs had been heaved from his chest. In a frenzy, he shot, hoping that maybe...if he killed them all fast enough, that she would still be alive...

The canon sounded, a picture of Katniss coming to life in the sky.

Peeta felt his heart sink and he fell to his knees, unable to come close to describing the pain...god...the loss...this was all his fault...

The mutts fell silent, peeling off to vanish in the forest. Oh god...what had he done...no, this wasn't supposed to happen.

This wasn't how it was supposed to end.

...

"Ladies and gentlemen," came Seneca Crane's voice overhead.

"May I present the victor...of the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games."