If I traded it all
If I gave it all away for one thing, just for one thing
If I sorted it out
If I knew all about this one thing, wouldn't that be something?
-Finger Eleven

The world ceases from spinning on its axis and all he could hear is the uneven rush of air as he breathes through his nose.

In between Finnick planning to kill him and Katniss' highly startling revelation, Peeta could swear the earth stood motionless. He teeters on hysteria as he struggles to emerge over his own emotions that are pulling him down. Instead of giving away anything that could potentially show Finnick a variety of what he feels inside, he suppresses rapture and chooses to clench his jaws.

The sight of Finnick's face is almost worth a chuckle. His eyes are peeled off wide at Peeta, mouth hanging fully open as a corner twitches in exaggeration. Peeta is finding it hard not to kick him in the face when Finnick lets out a quiet squeal and his lips form the word 'Oh my God', like he can't contain himself.

He watches hungrily after his cell phone as Finnick hangs it up abruptly while Katniss is still in the middle of her high-stressed pregnancy news. His eyes do not let go of the phone until Finnick pockets it in again, and he is finally aware that he has his own gun still pointed casually at him. Finnick is growing amused of Peeta's controlled, aloof expression.

"I'm assuming you are the father of the bun baking in the oven?," Finnick's eyes are glistening and so are his teeth. "What a tender moment. Congratulations. You're a daddy..."

As soon as Finnick mentions the word 'daddy', Peeta is hit with a gargantuan of a realization, bittersweet and blissful, wrapped in soft thoughts and fuzzy images of a flailing, bouncing baby. The fundamental thought of being a father overwhelms him and he is struck by how much he wants it. A vision comes to him; of Katniss in a flowing white wedding dress with flowers in her hair, and it emits a sound from him that is a cross between a sob and a choke. But the sparkling imagery is diffused by his flaring rage at Finnick, who is currently looking pleased and cocky at how much control he has over this situation and how one second can change everything.

His hand has furiously resumed slashing the rope now, unforgiving and urgent, the sharp stings from cutting into himself quickly being replaced by his burning need to knock Finnick's lights out.

"Listen. Katniss was able to raise Willow by herself for most of the years. I'm sure she could do the same with your kid," Finnick suggests, glancing at the water as if in deep contemplation.

Peeta is extremely disappointed and regretful by this stupid game he is tangled up in that it weakens him altogether, making him shrink inwards as he hangs his head in defeat. His shoulders heave slightly and Finnick could make out sounds that can only be of light sniffing, and by the time Peeta lifts his head to look at Finnick again, his cheek is marred by a single, slim trace of teardrop.

The stoic look on Peeta's face is gone, softened by whirlpools of caged emotions that broke their way out from behind the barriers inside, conflicting emotions that he can't quite categorize.

"Aww come on. It won't be that bad. Stop crying, the kid will turn out great, like you," Finnick tries to convince him, suddenly moving the gun away and pointing it towards the sea instead. Peeta is almost sure he is inching closer to the last threads of the rope as he feels the material loosening up around his bloody wrists.

"Don't you ever get that one wrong," Peeta is barely whispering, his slight Texan accent becoming more detectable. "I'm crying because you're an idiot..."

Finnick's eyebrows furrow at him as he cocks his head to the side. "What did you say?"

"I am crying because...," Peeta sniffs louder this time, but when he continues speaking, his voice is reduced down to a bare minimum. "...you're an idiot."

Finnick snorts. "I swear, bro, you have to speak up. This is not a prayer circle."

Peeta gestures for him to move forward and lean into him, as if he wants to talk directly into Finnick's left ear. To Finnick this is almost natural, keeping a conversation with Peeta within a close range, so he concedes. It is definitely not the first time they invade each other's personal space when they talk.

"I am crying, because..." Peeta repeats himself and pauses, still barely audible.

In a spur of the moment he swoops in, charging literally head first as he headbutts Finnick, catching him off-guard and making him drop the gun. Finnick lets out a pained huff and looks startled as if he didn't know what hit him, his hand quickly reacting and flying to cover the throbbing part of his forehead. He stands up swiftly that he makes his head spin even more, knocking back the folding chair with the back of his knees as he tries to remember where he is.

He has a dumfounded look on his face as he hazily watches Peeta emerge off of his chair after him, noting the scowl on his face. Peeta concentrates while he summons strength into his arms as he is finally able to separate his hands from each other, the rough material of the rope scratching away against his severely battered skin. He almost screams at the relief of stretching out his arms and aching wrists after being bound tightly together for an extensive period of time.

He steps back, compacting his fist into a ball and pulls before he lunges forward, targeting Finnick's eye, but what he doesn't realize is that the rope is still coiled loosely around his wrists. He is so excited to deposit his anger into Finnick's face that once he felt his skin could breathe again, he doesn't bother to shake completely free from it. The sliced end of the rope dangles halfway to the ground and as he pulls his arm back to stretch before hitting Finnick, the uncut section of the long material tightens the hold over his wrist again and stops him immobile from finishing his punch. He freezes halfway in mid-air, curled fist shaking, and before his face could mould into frustration, Finnick swings an uppercut into his chin and leaves Peeta staggering backwards.

He curses as he crashes painfully into the folding chair behind him, flattening it with all his body weight. While Finnick stalks a few feet across the narrow pier to reach him, who is squirming in a web of rope and broken chair and dried blood, Peeta lifts his ass up so he can loop the rope from underneath him and raises his arms until he is finally graced by the sight of his own hands. He winces with disgust and almost sobs at the bruises and slashes on his wrists, at the same time maintaining an eye on Finnick who is now lifting a leg angrily, positioned to kick him.

Peeta's fingers scramble to tear off the wretched rope and it gives way as it falls into a spiral all over his upper torso. While he is internally celebrating his full independence from the rope, he feels Finnick's shoe burying itself repeatedly into his sides, adding more bruises and probably arranging to injure half of his limp body.

Seagulls scamper and fly away towards the sea as Peeta searches the back of his throat and growls to boost himself up, yearning to block out the pain exuding from both of his wrists as he grabs Finnick's foot to stop it from being lodged forcefully into him. He attempts to yank Finnick down but he resists and maintains balance on his other leg, making Peeta's mind work desperately to figure out a way to counter. He thinks if his hands are too frail to function, he needs to use his uninjured legs. The chair he is spread thin over is poking into his back at odd, sharp angles.

As he holds a death grip on Finnick's right foot in mid-air, almost pulling it towards him but still keeps it at a distance; he packs energy into one of his legs and stretches it down to push hard into Finnick's standing left leg without reservation.

Finnick yelps as he finds himself doing a split and topples sideways, gravity claiming him as he falls over Peeta who is now more than ready to rise from idle. As Finnick closes the gap between them and prepares to hit Peeta in the nose as he falls down, Peeta greets him first with a curled, wound-laden fist and lands it snug in the area between his jaw and ear. He smears blood and drags it across his cheek as Finnick's head whips wildly to the side, choking as he clashes half on top of Peeta and half onto the wooden pier while his head ricochets like a boomerang.

Peeta takes a deep breath as he shoves Finnick off of him and flips over to locate his legs before he could gather himself together, picking up the destroyed folding chair as he stands upright. His knees wobble as he lifts the chair over his head before he pauses, and then gallantly swings it down and whacks it across Finnick's pretty face.

"I said…," Peeta grunts as he trembles with excitement and pent-up rage, bashing the chair right back but into the other side of Finnick's face this time. "…you were an idiot!"

Finnick chokes some more, eyes blinking rapidly as he manages to flash Peeta a confident grin.

"You got some balls to call me that since you're the one who's been clueless about everything in the past three years," Finnick wheezes out of breath by the end of the sentence. "I should've killed you already Peeta. I should've messed up the boss' agenda, the way you did all the time.

Peeta chuckles and shakes his head, mainly at the brave smile that Finnick insists on showcasing to further piss Peeta off.

"Here. Let me help erase that stupid ass smirk off your face," Peeta says, as if there is no other way, and the chair comes barreling down from high heavens and smashes hard into a dismayed Finnick whose mangled lips straighten into a line.

The overused folding chair is now tossed aside as Peeta looms over Finnick, who is writhing on the floor and spouting lazy trails of blood out of his mouth.

Katniss is ripping the roads doing almost twenty over speed limit without realizing it, her mind overly-active while her hands think separately and continue to move the steering wheel on its own. She can hear her own heartbeat up in her ear as she winces at the sudden red light in front of her. Her thoughts are consistently covered with a layer of prayer.

Our Father, Who art in heaven

Without her permission, she receives waves of flashbacks of the time she first met Finnick during the premier opening of Peeta's art studio. The kind of impression that Finnick left was that a soft-spoken gentleman geared with kind words and compliment. She also had the idea that he was somewhat of an art aficionado, in which he can read and articulate art well, just like Peeta.

Hallowed be Thy name

The fear that bubbles inside her is gradually boiling into resentment.

She once told Peeta she refused to lose him to the mob. She hopes he remembers when she told him that.

Thy kingdom come

Her eyes steal a sideway glance at the passenger seat.

Miraculously, and out of nowhere, Peeta is starting to feel squeamish from the sight of a blood-smothered Finnick squirming on his back. He turns around and perks up at his gun, suddenly clicking in him that Finnick had dropped it there in their earlier scuffle. The gun sits lonesome, hugging the edge of the pier a bit too tight.

He takes three steps and bends down to reach for it, contemplating that a gunshot wound to the head would probably be the best and most efficient way to finish Finnick off. He is surprised he is still wriggling on the floor after he almost destroyed his skull. He laughs inside, thinking Finnick is just like a cockroach. The thing doesn't die so easily.

Just as he is about to swivel around to have another meaningful conversation with Finnick, Peeta could feel the flesh of his calf muscle rip apart as it gets stabbed through his pant sleeve. He tilts aside and glares at Finnick who has sneaked towards him by crawling. He is lying on his stomach and in the middle of jabbing the Swiss knife he picked up on the pier into Peeta's leg. Not content with a shallow stab wound, Finnick tries to drag it across to inflict more pain on Peeta but the knife is almost blunt and he loses handle over it as it drops on the floor. Much to his chagrin, he realizes he can't exert more energy to shove it in further into Peeta's leg.

Peeta fumbles and his balance is thrown off, dropping the gun again in the process, falling on one knee as he hisses at Finnick. He swoops down and grabs him up by the collar, making Finnick stretch some under-worked back muscles. Peeta pummels away, interchanging between Finnick's stomach and face using his curled fist while Finnick counter attacks with swiping the knife at any of Peeta's exposed skin.

Both men gasp in agonizing pain as they start seeing flashing lights behind their eyes, tinged with a shade of red, just like the sky above them. Dusk looms and the sea is devoid of seagulls and wind, the air heavy with pending death. Peeta heaves as his hands continue to throb while swinging left and right hooks at Finnick, who does not have much offense but has proven to be quite resilient.

"Tell me, Finnick, do you know how to swim?" he asks as he pushes Finnick an inch over the edge of the pier, some drool mixed in with blood dripping from one side of his mouth.

"Fuck yeah. Like a champ. Like Tom Daley, fool," Finnick answers breathlessly.

"…Nah you can't be that good," Peeta merely gives him a light slap across his forehead. "Wrong answer."

Finnick has a sheepish look on his face as he brightens at an idea, one hand still wrapped around the knife while the other one is trying to strangle Peeta. "The million dollar question is; do you?"

The roaring sound of a car screeching to a halt demands both their attention as their heads dart up to look at a small and nimble Corolla sitting half-assed on the end of the parking lot, where the patch of grass that leads to the pier begins. Katniss jumps out of the car and quickly scans the whole area, and stands motionless as soon as she spots Peeta and Finnick on the far end of the pier.

Katniss. No. Katniss. No.

His heart is racing with his mind and it wants to shut down the rest of his body.

Peeta looks like he's having the grandmother of all nervous breakdown as he detaches himself from Finnick and struggles to stand up, all his bones and reason protesting. He is shaking his head wildly, and wonders where all his breath had gone to because he can't seem to get himself to speak so he could tell her to go away.

Katniss begins to move and her legs want to take her over to the water, but her feet are planted firmly onto the concrete. She squints as she slowly realizes the scenario ahead of her, and the sight of Peeta almost unrecognizable under the bruises and blood and sweat makes her heart drop to her stomach. She almost lurches forward while she covers her mouth, his name a faint murmur through her lips.

Suddenly, Finnick materializes tall behind Peeta and snakes one of his arms around him to keep him still, while the other hand holds the length of the dull knife and digs it into Peeta's neck, peeking comically over his shoulder at Katniss.

She takes a deep breath and tiptoes away from her car, slamming the door shut. And as she pulls further away from the car, the two men gawk at her with hanging jaws and widened eyes when she dramatically reveals the arm she is keeping behind her back.

Equipped with gloved hands, she swings her crossbow around and positions it at her eye level, squinting at the colliding heads of Peeta and Finnick who look awestruck and threatened at the same time. Peeta is overcome with heavy fatigue as he wiggles, trying to break free from Finnick's grip, his strength nearly depleted from their brawl.

Finnick chuckles like a mad man.

"Hey, it's Heath Junior," Finnick breathes into Peeta's ear.

"Drop it, Finnick," Katniss shouts calmly. She pulls an arrow back and holds it there, distracted by the shaking of her hands. She curses at the fact that she hasn't practiced using her crossbow since her father passed away, and for a long while she could not even bring herself to look at it.

Peeta demands to be heard. "Katniss! Get the hell outta here honey…" he falters as he begins to gasp for air. "Please…"

"Oh you two, stop it, this is making me very emotional," Finnick voice softens. "And that says a lot."

She is caught unaware by her own hands as she lets an arrow go, whizzing through the distance between them. Her accuracy is embarrassingly nonexistent as she misses Finnick muscling it out with Peeta on the tip of the pier, trying to get out of its way. She grimaces at the arrow landing in the water, and at how careless she thought that was because she could have shot at Peeta instead.

But that doesn't discourage her from lifting her bow again and squinting at the bronze haired man, or what she could see of him. Peeta is completely covering him in the front, and it also doesn't help that he keeps tossing around. She places another arrow on the arrow rest and slips in a prayer.

"Missed by a mile, sugar," Finnick says happily. He pauses as he turns to spit into the water. "Did you ever wonder why your dad was abnormally religious?"

Peeta has stopped fighting back and has fallen eerily calm under Finnick's hold and he doesn't even notice.

"There's nothing abnormal about having strong faith in God," she retorts, her nerves starting to slow down.

"He was a repeat sinner, he knew it. The moron thought it was okay to disappoint God all over and over again because he thought walking into a confession booth can redeem him." He subconsciously presses the knife a tad deeper into Peeta's skin. "Begging to have his soul saved."

"Yeah? Good for him," Katniss offers him a smile. "At least he walked out of church with a clean slate. Trimmed devil horns, huh?"

Peeta takes advantage of this moment to scan the mess they have made on the pier. A pile of rope a couple of feet ahead of them, the dented and bloodied folding chair laid out underneath the rope, the other folding chair still in mint condition, knocked backwards. He can't locate his gun. He concludes it must be somewhere behind them.

"Your father was a powerhouse of corruption. Feared and loathed and respected, just the way he earned it," Finnick glamorizes her father. "Someone had to take him out."

"I hope to God He pardons my French, but you're a piece of shit Finnick," Katniss feels thin and tense and one of her eyes closes as the other winces to focus in on her target.

"It was my pleasure. Killing your father was my best accomplishment," he says as a matter of fact.

Katniss is now quivering in outrage and wants to run into Finnick to skewer his throat instead.

Swiftly and unannounced, Peeta jerks his head backwards, amped with the last ounce of his strength as he jams the back of his head and crushes it into Finnick's face. He shakes free from him as he lunges forward, but as he staggers away, the knife held at his neck slightly buries itself into his skin and it leaves a shallow scratch across. Finnick pulls backwards as he grunts, stunned as he blinks and sees a screen of black.

While Finnick slowly tips over the edge of the pier, Katniss doesn't think twice and sends an eager arrow flying and aimed into his heart, omitting Peeta out and the rest of the visuals in front of her until it's just a clear view of Finnick. Peeta lets out a nervous huff as he ducks out of Katniss' aim as she proceeds to lodge another arrow and pierces it straight into Finnick's heart again. Two arrows stick out, the arrowheads embedded comfortably in his chest. Katniss lowers the crossbow and subconsciously takes two steps in reverse, apologizing to a saint in another set of prayer.

Peeta watches in half horror as Finnick's eyes roll upwards, instantly dead before he could even begin to take a plunge into the water below them. As Finnick's defunct body elegantly falls backwards, Peeta's attention switches back to Katniss, intrigued by a noise coming in, speeding from behind the warehouse.

A black car rolls in and stops a few yards away from her, its car doors kicked open as two masked men jump out. She catches the alarmed look on Peeta's face and she turns around, gaping as the men move to pull their weapons from inside their jackets. Peeta's mind leaps and frantically grabs his neglected gun still sitting on the edge of the pier, a few splashes of water hitting his face as Finnick finally gets swallowed by the sea, diffusing a harsh shade of red in the water.

Peeta whips around, gun in hand, and shouts at Katniss.

"Katniss! GET DOWN!" He sounds frightening, his voice scratchy and an octave lower. He raises his hand gripping the gun and points it at air, taking giant strides off the pier while wearing a straight face.

Katniss breaks in cold sweat and is overwhelmed from seeing too many guns pointed at her; two from behind, and the one that Peeta is waving around while he screams.

"MOVE!" He spits in distress as his finger twitches over the trigger.

She stubbornly swings her head back to the masked men who are lifting their arms and exposing their rifles, one of them zeroing in on Katniss and the other one on Peeta.

Katniss' lets go of her crossbow and her knees fold in automatically as she falls limp, hit with the urgency of having to be extremely close to the ground. Peeta is still galloping towards her in collected steps, looking angry at the world, and she marvels at how suddenly, the movements around her are trickling down to a sluggish pace. Her eyes shut when all the noises drown out completely from her system and she is left with haunting, sharp silence. She feels her back hit the ground as her hands come up to cover her ears as two shots are fired, but she has no sense of direction where the bullets are released from.

The two bursts of explosion are followed by the sick sound of two bodies slamming into the ground. She peels her eyes open and suppresses herself from vomiting as she sees the masked men lying down a small distance from her, shot in the head and bordered in by their own blood. As she turns away she sees a hand trying to reach for her, and she feels herself rise up.

Peeta's mouth is clamped shut and merely drags her across the parking lot in rushed steps, staring at her car. Katniss starts to take off her gloves and observes him from an angle, darting a quick glance at the crossbow she decides to leave behind in the crime scene. She is curious as to what Peeta is thinking because he looks like he's about to break.

"I can't believe you did that. This is a deadly game, Katniss, this is not a fucking party you just walk into fashionably late," Peeta looks utterly disappointed, and sneaks a peek at her stomach. He goes from disappointed to blissful to batshit angry in two seconds. "And, god, you're pregnant!"

Katniss' face sours as she scowls at Peeta from behind his head.

"Aww, honey. You're welcome and it was an honour contributing to your survival, you BIG MEANIE!" She curls her fingers in and squeezes Peeta's injured hand to further infuriate him.

He winces and, "Ow! Sweet, son of a—"

"No swearing in front of your son and or daughter. It can hear you. I wouldn't want them to have a potty mouth like yours."

"Katniss. You're driving me up the wall. You're pregnant…" he repeats, as if he's still trying to absorb all the shock and joy in.

Out of nowhere he pulls her into an embrace, burrowing his nose into her neck and she is certain he is sniffing her skin off as his free hand rests gingerly on her flat stomach. He stops himself from gleefully saying "We're going to have a baby!" out loud and suddenly detaches himself from her.

He continues to celebrate internally but covers the twinkle in his eyes under a hint of bravado. "…You're not supposed to be shooting arrows around like that and getting yourself in situations where you could've, I don't know, DIED?!" Peeta looks animatedly furious it's almost laughable.

"Oh I'm sorry. I only didn't want your neck sliced open, nor see you flounder to the bottom of the sea," she declares with a quick streak of hurt on her face. "Did I step on your ego?" Her voice is rising with each word.

"Damn it, Katniss, I can't risk losing you! If something bad happens to you, I will never be able to forgive myself," his eyebrows furrow at the ground. "I'll probably shrivel in a corner and die from self-hatred." He somewhat gestures to the space in his left.

They reach the car and Katniss merely glares at him while she picks her car keys out of her pocket. Peeta yanks his cell phone out of his pocket and dials Cato's number, looking dismayed when he gets his voice inbox. Katniss opens the car door but stands still, crossing her arms in front of her while watching Peeta almost throw his cell phone away when he dials for the second time and Cato still doesn't pick up. He tries again one last time as Katniss bends over to sit in the driver seat of her car, looking through the windshield and at nothing in particular.

Peeta turns around and clears his throat. He has no other option but to leave a message for Cato.

"Hey Cato. How's Utah? Anyway. I have made a couple of major revisions to your hit list. You may want to review it and perhaps change your objectives and planned targets," Peeta pauses to sigh out loud. "I revised the shit out of that list, I gotta tell you. It has been great three years working for you, and now I think it's time I venture out and see what else is out there for me, look for growth in new environment. Besides, there is no team spirit within your staff, your workplace is literally a dump, you're a rat bastard, and your pay rate per kill sucks. I quit!"

He hangs up the phone and jumps into the passenger seat, slamming the door close right before Katniss pushes down the gas. She swerves side to side as she looks for the exit out of the vicinity of the warehouse, and by the time they're out on the street, she is looking at him with slit eyes.

"Would you like to be a manly-man and drive my car also? Do you doubt my girly little legs could reach the pedal?" she asks, heavy with attitude.

"Alright Katniss, settle down," Peeta pleads in an exasperated tone. He looks out the window and rakes a hand through his hair. "I'm tired as hell."

Katniss exhales as her expression falls, and for a second she looks like she's about to cry.

"I just..." Katniss hiccups and then shakes her head, hypnotized by the back light of the car in front of them. "I want normal, Peeta. I know it's painstakingly boring and ordinary and there's lack of adrenaline rush in what I consider exciting...but I'm okay with normalcy."

The longest minutes unroll and let them simmer in much needed silence. Peeta runs a tired hand down his tired face. He almost forgets he has a small stab wound on the leg when it begins to throb for attention, glancing at his blood-stained pant leg and suddenly he's had way more than enough.

He takes in a lung full of breath. "That's what I want too. Listen, I'm going to be avoiding my condo and will be staying in a hotel for the next couple of days. I want you to pack up and I will book our flight to Kentucky. I will only call you with the details of the flight. I need you to make sure Willow stays at your mother's, and tell her not to take her outside that much." "We need to get out of here for a bit."

What he leaves out is the colossal amount of danger they're still in, and he will ultimately need to encounter the wrath of Cato Thorpe.

"Ok. Kentucky sounds normal. Kentucky sounds good," Katniss nods.

It feels like the first time in a long time when he allows his lips to break into a smile, glancing at Katniss driving focused and unruffled. He reaches out with his nearly pulverized hand and places it on top of Katniss' on the steering wheel. She looks at his hand and gives him a sad pout.

"This is going to be unhealthy and I will probably kick myself later for this, but wanna grab takeout from Taco Bell before I fix up your hands and your leg?" she recommends, a flickering light seeping through her eyes.

Peeta's smile widens that it literally hurts his bruised cheek.

"Taco Bell is normal. Taco Bell sounds good," he nods as well. He is looking around in the car now. "Here, let's listen to FM radio. Radio is normal!" He is really getting into it and starts to play with the audio component, pushing and turning different knobs on the dashboard. He stops at a station, recognizing Josh Turner's voice. Country music fills the space in and they sigh in unison as they sit back and watch the traffic they're currently stuck in with simple contentment.

"I've been thinking 'bout this all day long. Never felt a feeling quite this strong
I can't believe how much it turns me on. Just to be your man"

Manuntok man ng tao, basta ba nasa katuwiran ito
Manapak man ng gago, basta't di ba basagulero
Ang tipo kong lalake, maginoo pero medyo bastos
-DJ Alvaro

A/N: Writing action sequence is exhausting. It's almost like writing sex scenes.