Title: From the Ashes

Rating: MA

Genre: Angst/Drama/Romance

Characters: Katniss/Haymitch; Katniss/Peeta

Summary: What could possibly be more dangerous for Katniss Everdeen than The Hunger Games?

Author's Note: Haymitch's P.O.V. This chapter makes me feel like an asshole, but I still hope you enjoy it.

There's nothing quite like waiting for someone else to decide your fate. There's an element of needless anxiety, like to Sword of Damocles is swinging over your head and you're just waiting to see if it's going to drop on you. There's nothing you can do about; no amount of willing things to change will make any difference. So why does anyone bother being anxious? I've decided to be a trailblazer and take the path of least resistance. If Katniss chooses me, great; if she chooses Peeta, fine. I have no control over it now, so I'm not going to waste my time with trivial pursuits.

Instead, I turn on the projector screen to an image of the oceanfront, dim the lights in the room and listen to the sounds of waves crashing on the shore. I hover just on the cusp of sleep, still in too much pain to ever lose full consciousness, so when the waves abruptly cut off I immediately open my eyes to find myself shrouded in darkness—the only light entering my room from the glow of city lights. My automatic response is to jerk upright, to figure out what's going on, but my body has no problem reminding me of my injuries. I wince, and take a minute to let the pain subside a little before I move a little slower, using my other senses to detect any potential threats as I peer through the darkness. I hear someone order a watch at my door while the other guards are ordered to positions around the apartment preparing for an ambush.

As I'm nearing the door, as eager to find out what's going on as the guards are, I hear a quiet struggle followed by a thump, and the door swings in slowly.

"Haymitch?" Katniss's whisper is like music to my ears and I'm at the door in an instant. There's no time for heartfelt reunions, as I can hear the other guards still searching the apartment. "We have to go. Now."

I do my best to follow her quick, cat-like retreat through the darkened hallway, leading me towards the Avox station. I'm biting my lip to keep from groaning in pain, my ribs protesting the movement and stealing my breath. I press my hand against my side, pressing on, and then we're slipping out a door and into the stairwell. I lean heavily against the wall, needing a minute to catch my breath, but Katniss is right there, holding onto my arm.

"Come on, Haymitch! We don't have any time to waste!"

"Give me a second, sweetheart." I growl, annoyed and in pain despite however glad I am to see her.

"What's wrong?" She finally asks, looking me over for injuries.

"My ribs are broken."

Katniss looks down the way we need to go, then up to the next flight of stairs. "I need you to run, just up that flight of stairs. That's all. Can you do it?"

I look at the stairs, knowing this is going to hurt like hell, but nod.

"I'll be back. Just stay there." She holds the handle of her knife out towards me. "You're better with a knife than I am. I'm going to find Peeta. Then we have to go back up for Effie. I'm getting you all out."

How did I know… "Katniss…"

"Haymitch, don't argue. Go!"

She's down the flight of stairs before I can blink, looking up at me pleadingly from the landing for only a moment before she continues running down to find Peeta. I hold my breath, press my hand more firmly against my ribs, then take the steps two at a time. When I reach the landing, I don't stop; instead I force myself up to the top floor. To Effie.

If Katniss is going to do this, she can't do it alone. My face is wet with tears and sweat and I can only take shallow gasps of air, but I reach my goal. I'm lightheaded and in excruciating agony when I fall through the door, dropping the knife and collapsing to the floor as lack of oxygen finally wins out and my body gives out.

"Who's there?!" Effie's shaky voice demands from another room. "Who is it?! Answer me! I-I-I'm armed!"

"Ef…"I wheeze, unable to speak. "Effie…" I try again, with not much more result.

"Haymitch?" She's on her knees in front of me in an instant, dropping a butter knife to the floor as her arms like a vice around me that make me scream in pain. She lets go at once. "Haymitch…oh, I'm sorry. What have they done to you? What can I do?"

She's firing questions at me left and right as I sit there unable to speak, still clutching my ribs and trying to catch my breath before I pass out.

"Speak to me, Haymitch!"

"Shut. Up." I manage to finally grind out. Effie stops at once, taken aback by my rudeness, but says nothing. I find a shallow breath after a moment, and try to quickly fill her in. "Katniss came for me. She killed one guard that I know off. She's gone for Peeta."

"What should we do?"

"I don't know." I grunt. Effie helps ease my back against the wall, which helps—though not much—and I try to formulate the next leg of our plan. "How did Katniss get out?"

"The Avoxes." Effie tells me. "They disguised her as one of them and informed me what floors you and Peeta were being held on. But that's all I know."

"The Avoxes aren't likely to act on their own." I try to think of the likely causes behind their actions and the black out, but only two possibilities seem probable. "Either the resistance has organized a rescue attempt once they realized what Plutarch was up to…or this is also part of his game."

A strangled sob escapes Effie's throat and she clamps her hands over her mouth. I pity her in this moment. Effie's dream had always been to be the escort of a winning district like 1 or 2. An escort for the Hunger Games was a posh career, one that brought a certain degree of celebrity. Effie was just as clueless as the rest of the Capitol people when it came to the real atrocities and horrors—she truly believed that the tributes were privileged to be selected for the Games. Now that she had been imprisoned and was now part of Plutarch's game, she'd had more than a taste of what it was all really about. She'd been traumatized. To think we were so close to being rescued now, only to consider the possibility of another trap was something she couldn't handle. I listen to her cry, reaching out to hold her hand, as I try to figure out what our next move should be.

I'm too injured for any type of physical escape—be it fighting our way out or simply running as fast and as far as we can. Unless Peeta and Katniss can get down to the weapons storage, the only defense we have is Katniss' knife. I see the butter knife next to Effie and I laugh, despite how much it kills me.

"You were going to try and kill me with a butter knife?" I ask her. She wipes her eyes, giving me a cross look.

"It was the best I could find in the dark."

I squeeze her hand gently, still amused, and let go to point at Katniss' dagger. "Take that. It'll do a bit more damage with less effort."

"What about you? You need a weapon."

"Look at me, sweetheart…I can't even stand up."

"What are we going to do, Haymitch?"

Before I can respond, the door kicks in next to us. Effie shrieks, and brandishes Katniss' knife out in front of her as she looks away, slashing wildly in an attempt to cut her attacker to ribbons. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness enough that I can plainly see Peeta in the doorway, carrying Katniss over his shoulder. I try to get to my feet as concern for Katniss takes over, but the pain is too much now.

"Effie! Knock it off and help Peeta with Katniss."

Peeta carries Katniss in and slams the door behind him, dropping two guns next to me. "They'll be coming. We have to barricade the door. Effie, I need something to make bandages out of."

"What's wrong with her?" I ask, feeling helpless as Katniss hangs down his back like a rag down.

"She's been shot." Peeta says shortly before whisking Katniss away to the living room.

I shove the pain deep inside me and force myself to get to my feet. I stagger for a moment, catching myself on the wall, then move as quickly as I can towards Katniss. Effie is rushing around, trying to find anything she can possibly make into a bandage. Peeta lays Katniss on the couch, then rips her shirt off without hesitation.

Grunting in pain, I lower myself to my knees at Katniss' side, seeing the large hole that's ripped through her shoulder. "Is she shot anywhere else?"

"Not that I know of. She passed out on the way up the stairs."

"She's lost a lot of blood." I tell him. "You go barricade the door, I'll take care of Katniss." Peeta nods and moves off.

I carefully lift Katniss' shoulder and feel around for an exit wound. My fingers brush against the wet flesh and I know it was a clean shot. I can't tell if they've hit an artery or not, but it doesn't seem like it. Effie rushes over to me, holding out an armful of items she's found. I reach for a clean, white sheet and begin to tear it into shreds, folding thick squares of fabric.

"Come here," I tell Effie, indicating for her to move around me to Katniss' head. I put one square of fabric under her, cover the wound on her back and slid Effie's hand over it, then do the same from the entry wound. "Press as tightly as you can. Keep pressure."

She nods, though she looks like she's about to hyperventilate. I turn my focus back to Katniss, running my hands over her to feel for any other gunshots, but I don't find any. Peeta returns, panting as he stands over my shoulder and watches me wind long strips of the sheet around her arm and shoulder to hold the makeshift gauze in place. I take another sheet Effie has brought over and cover Katniss' exposed upper body.

"The door?"

"Blocked. I don't think they'll get through unless they have a battering ram."

"Good, that buys us a few more minutes, then. Did Katniss happen to share with you her plan?"

"No." He says and sits down on the edge of the coffee table. "She came to me earlier to try and work out a plan, but I told her you were the strategist and she needed to find you. It was probably an hour or so later that the power went out. I figured that had to be you and Katniss, but she came back for me alone, so I had no idea what was going on. I only had two guards with me so it wasn't too hard to take them out and get their guns. I guess the guards from your floor were coming after you or Katniss, because they started shooting at us in the stairwell when we were coming back up. That's when Katniss got shot. I picked off 3 or 4, but there were a couple of guys who got away—I guess they took cover back in the apartment. We made it up a couple flights of stairs before Katniss started feeling woozy. I threw her over my shoulder and she passed out before we got here."

The more I learn about the situation, the more I feel that Plutarch's name is written all over this. "I think we're still in the game."

"What do you mean?" Effie and Peeta ask at the same time.

"The Avoxes have to be conspiring with someone. If it was someone from the resistance, don't you think they'd be here by now? Helping to take control of the situation? Plutarch would be frothing at the mouth to get power back—even if it's just the generator—so that his cameras would be filming us and there's no way it'd be out this long when every building around us still has power. And Katniss' wound…it's not a wound meant to kill. It was perfectly aimed. Everything that's happening is deliberately planned."

"But why?" Peeta asks. "A game within a game? Making us think we're winning when in all reality we're probably right where they want us."

"Haymitch is right." Katniss' hollow voice startles us all and our heads all whip around to look at her face. Her eyes are open and I can see the glistening trails of tears even in the darkness. "They're calling us to the cornucopia."

I brush loose strands of hair away from her face as I lean down to look at her. She looks ridiculous as an Avox and I fight the urge to wipe the ugly makeup off of her face. "Getting shot wasn't part of the plan, sweetheart." I tease lightly.

"Change of plans." She tries to joke back, but fresh tears fall. "Haymitch…It all makes sense now. This is the cornucopia… this is where I'm supposed to kill one of you."

TBC