Katniss had done the interview. It had gone badly, with her still feeling like a zombie. The Interviewer knew about Prim; and kept the conversation about Peeta. Tributes were rarely discussed once they were... out of the Games.

Madge had been present, and piped up, telling the cameras that Katniss was a heartbreaker; with almost a dozen guys in school chasing her. But Peeta was different, because he'd kept it a secret until the Reaping.

Katniss repeated Madge's words mechanically; and the Interviewer promised to edit the final product enough that it wouldn't hurt Peeta's chances.

"Personally, I think he'd be glad to fake the whole thing if it gets him out of Twelve faster." Madge commented to an exhausted Katniss. "Capitol people always act like this place is toxic."

"Can't say as I blame them." Katniss groaned.

Katniss shuffled in the door to her home, and found her mother washing her hands. There was the smell of sulphur and moss. The kind of minerals and plants that her mother used to clean a wound. "How is he?"

"Only three strikes. The usual punishment for an attack on a Capitol Justice Building is to keep whipping until you're dead." Her mother said grimly. "He's going to be okay. I don't know how you pulled it off, but he only has three lacerations. It could have been a lot worse."

Katniss stared at her mother. "You're… okay?"

Her mother winced a bit. "Yeah. I'm still here." She held her arms open to her last daughter, but Katniss shied away from her. Her mother took it on the chin, as she always did when Katniss rejected her. "Peeta's still in it." She offered. "Gale asked to be moved in here, so that he could follow the Games."

Katniss said nothing for a long time. "I handled the interview. With Prim…" murdered brutally by a District Two killing machine "-gone, they didn't need to interview her family. But because of Peeta's…" expression of undying love for me "-play to the crowd, I still had to make an appearance."

"How did it go?" Her mother asked.

"I don't care."

"Y'know, with Prim…" Her mother choked on the next word too. "With her gone, Peeta's unrequited love story got thrown into a whole other gear by the commentators. The Interview could be the difference between life and death for him now."

Katniss said nothing.

"Do you even care if Peeta lives anymore?" Her mother asked, not judging, but genuinely curious.

I wish I knew. Katniss thought, but didn't say. "I'm tired." She said finally. "I'm going to get some sleep."

She shuffled towards her room. She knew that if she lay down she'd never get up again. Maybe not ever. But she just couldn't stop herself. She wanted to sleep forever. Sweet oblivion was the most beautiful thing the world had to offer her now.

"Catnip…" Gale groaned from the cot. "Watch with me a little while?"

Katniss froze in the doorway. It would have been so easy to ignore Gale. To just put her head down and vanish into her pillow and have her brain switch off, far away from this terrible, awful world where Prim was gone. A world that only awake people had to deal with...

"Please?" Gale croaked.

I almost hate you for that. She thought weakly, but her heart wasn't in that either, and she shuffled over to sit by the cot, ignoring Gale's outstretched hand; and the Games played out on screen.

In the Capitol, the Games was the event of the Year. The Mentors always watched it in the most exclusive viewing rooms. One District at a time, the Mentors would leave, as their charges were eliminated.

In a lot of ways, the Games were won or lost in these rooms. These were the rooms where the biggest donors all watched, judged, schemed...

Haymitch had friends in this room. Other Victors who also hid their pain in drink; and since drunkenness loved company as much as misery, there were lifelong partnerships formed at the bottom of a bottle.

Effie came over. "Where's Chaff?"

"He went back to his rooms. He lost both kids in a day." Haymitch's eyes were glued to the screens, and his hands were gripping the sides of his chair tight enough to break his fingernails. "Effie." He said hoarsely. "I need you to slap me very hard."

Effie didn't hesitate. Crack! She struck him hard enough that the sound rang out across the room enough to draw attention. "You didn't even ask why." He groaned.

"I know why." Effie said softly. "You don't dare take your eyes off the screens, because if you do, you'll notice the open bar."

"I can't let go of the chair because my hands are shaking. I haven't been sober this long in twenty years, Effie. We've never had a kid make it this far."

"Peeta's lost whatever Sponsors he had." Effie shook her head. "He made a mistake, staying with the younger Tributes."

"Their names were-"

"And that's how he lost them." She cut him off. "I want Peeta to win as much as you do, Haymitch. He's my best hope too. But he shamed the people in this room. They were twelve years old. They never had a chance; and all the Gamemakers, all the Sponsors, all the audience knew it. Peeta made them... He made them weep over the only two people in that Arena who never had a chance. Peeta's a Baker's son; he should know: You don't shame people who eat cake if you're selling it to them. Peeta's whole 'image' is that he's likeable. Nobody likes the one who makes them feel bad about themselves."

Haymitch stared at her. "I honestly can't tell if you're mad at Peeta for making you think of Rue like a person; or if you're just mad that he killed your chances at a transfer to a more upscale District."

Effie blinked. "I don't understand the question."

"No. I'm sure you don't."

Katniss was next to Gale's cot, eyes closed, curled in a ball beside him. He wasn't there for moral support anymore. He was there so that her mother could monitor his recovery. Madge had dropped in something called Morpha, and Mama Everdeen had dosed Gale immediately. He slept, Katniss dozed. Hazel had stopped in, in a mild panic over her eldest son.

"He was lucky." Katniss heard her mother say to Hazel. "No infection."

"What was the boy trying to do?!" Hazel moaned. It was a sound that Katniss knew well. It was a helpless, hopeless, animal sound of grief. A sound that had been ringing in Katniss' ears constantly.

"He was trying to Change something." Mama Everdeen sighed hard. "The kids aren't like us, Hazel. They don't get how long the Capitol has had their boot on our throat; they don't remember how it was before Cray took over."

"I know. Oh, gods; he only got three strokes. It could have been so much-"

"I know. I know."

"I never should have let him watch the Games here." Hazel sighed. "I should have kept him home. Being around Katniss was only going to get his blood up, and since he was already raging about Prim going to the Arena in the first place..."

"And then Peeta's interview changed everything." Mrs Everdeen sniffed. "For a moment, I wondered if Prim actually had a shot. Goddamn me for hoping to be hopeful."

"It's not so bad, is it? To do what we do; and just stay alive? I remember back when David and Usul were alive. There was always some mangled body stretched out on your table. Every day."

"I remember. Usually more than one. Hazel, we had such a good streak of going without this sort of thing. I'm so sorry it was Gale who broke the trend."

Long silence.

"I have to get back to the kids. Don't let Gale leave, no matter what he says. Next time, they won't stop till he's dead." Hazel said finally. "Your... usual payment?"

"Been a while, I was wondering if you remembered."

"You don't forget such things." Hazel murmured. "I'm so sorry about Prim. Obviously, if there's anything I can do..."

"Thank you."

Hazel came over and put a kiss to her unconscious son's hair.

Katniss stirred as Hazel left, giving up on pretending to rest. "So. It was like this before?"

"No." Her mother admitted. "It was a great deal worse. Back before you were born."

"You should sleep." Katniss said finally. "If Gale is going to be out for a while, you should get whatever rest you can."

"You were listening?" Her mother checked.

Katniss considered lying, before she nodded. "I still can't believe it. Why would Gale try to... I mean, you and Hazel talked like you were expecting it. The arson, the whip... You talk like it was inevitable."

Her mother nodded. "Gale blames himself for Prim."

"Why?" Katniss blinked.

"Because he didn't volunteer. Because Peeta vowed to do what Gale wanted to do; and they both failed. Peeta to save Prim, and Gale to avenge her."

"That's stupid." Katniss declared profoundly.

"I know. But Prim has always been the way to your heart, Katniss. And if you try hard enough, you can blame yourself for anything." Her mother told her. "Especially for someone like Peeta, who grew up wondering why his mom slapped him around."

Katniss glanced back at the screen, where the Games were following Cato, setting up a camp; surrounding himself with traps. "Do you blame Peeta?"

"For Prim? No." Her mother said without hesitation. "Do you?"

Katniss bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. "I don't know anymore. At first I did. But when I saw Gale getting whipped, it... That feeling I got when I saw Cato stab Prim, it was exactly the same thing I felt when I saw Darius whip Gale... And I can't blame Peeta for a whipping." Katniss looked up, asking her mother for advice, for the first time in years and years. "Mom, why does it feel the same? Why don't I hate Peeta?"

"It's because Peeta's not the bad guy." Her mother counselled. "And despite the uniform, neither is Darius. You think he wanted to hurt Gale?"

"I know he didn't." Katniss admitted. "He even told me so." She wiped her eyes. "But if Peeta had just killed Cato when he had the chance..."

"Peeta didn't kill Cato for the same reason he didn't kill Rue." Her mother told her.

"That not the same thing at all!" Katniss spluttered.

"Isn't it?" Her mother pressed. "If Prim was going to come home, she would have had to go through Peeta and Rue at some point, or hope someone else got there first. You think you'd be okay with that?"

My wonderful, gentle baby sister? A killer of sweet children like Rue? Katniss put her hands on both sides of her head, and tried to squeeze that idea out of her brain. "I am not smart enough for this." She groaned, and curled back into her ball on the floor. "My head hurts, and I just wanna sleep for a million years."

"Exciting stuff, Panem. Cato has established a new camp by the river, and built several defences, totally unaware that Peeta is already in the camp, hidden against the rock wall by camouflage. How long can Peeta go unnoticed?"

"We've seen camoflauge used as a tactic before, Ceaser. As a rule, if the one being stalked doesn't notice in the first half hour, then he doesn't notice at all. The eye misses things it doesn't expect to see. After that, it's on the one in hiding to keep it up. Peeta's a good wrestler, but not a hunter. His only food supply is that bread, and he can only eat, or chew, or swallow, when Cato's back is turned."

"I'm amazed Cato hasn't spotted him."

"Cato's whole strategy in this game is Frontal. Full attack, head on. Cato fights like a prizefighter in the ring. We're told that's how he trained. In Cagefights. No rules, no rounds, nobody gets let out until someone's unconscious or dead. Cato is apparently undefeated."

"He was defeated by Peeta a few days ago."

"Hard to tell if either of those times was more than luck, but in any event, letting Cato live cost Peeta his entire Alliance."

"Wait! This just in... The District Two Mentor has been disqualified for trying to add a note to the next Sponsor gift. As a consequence, Cato is no longer allowed to receive gifts from sponsors! What a twist!"

"It's true. District Two sponsors have some of the deepest pockets in the game. Cato's on his own from here on out."

A day passed. Food and drink started appearing on the Everdeen doorstep. It was Twelve's way, to look after the families of a fallen Tribute as best they could, even if only for a day. Lots of wildflowers were left, a few letters. Mama Everdeen had gone to visit a few people and express gratitude. She'd also received an invitation to join a small group of mothers who had all lost their kids to the Reaping. There was a new addition every year. This year it was happening to them, and Katniss was glad to stay with Gale, purely to avoid the whole thing.

Gale slept fitfully around his injuries. He woke up from a doze, and noticed Katniss, still watching the screen. "Anything new?"

"Stalemate." Katniss said without looking away. "Peeta's been snacking on that bread from Eleven. Cato's had nothing. He's a ridiculously bad hunter for a Career."

"I'd think he'd be good at it."

"He's impatient. He can't wait out game, can't lead a fish onto a hook. He won't stop moving."

"Staying still in the Arena is traditionally a bad move."

"Staying still has put Peeta right at his freakin' ear for over a day. They switch to thermal cameras every few minutes, just to make sure he's there. Cato's practically standing on top of him; can't even see him."

Gale watched the screen. "Can you?"

Katniss kept staring. "No. His camoflague is amazing. I want to learn how to do that for when we hunt."

Gale bit his lip. "We'll still be doing that, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"Katniss, most of the commentators are talking about his 'tragic love' thing like it's a strategy. You and I both know it's not."

Katniss said nothing to that.

Gale kept going. "We're down to the final three, and we both know the girl from Eight won't last another day unless her Sponsors send her something fast. With these two getting so much attention, that won't happen. Peeta's put Cato and Thresh down in a joint lock before. If Cato doesn't eat soon, it's going to be the biggest upset in twenty four years."

"Which has what to do with us hunting again?"

Gale regarded her, and gestured for her to come closer. She came over and crouched next to him. Gale was still laid flat on his stomach; a thin gauze on his back. Katniss came closer, and waved the flies away from his back automatically.

"Katniss, we both know that even if you turn him down, Peeta will not let you starve." Gale said, quiet and firm. "After Prim, I think he'd carve out his heart and serve it to you raw, the minute he gets back."

"What about you, Gale? We both know Darius would have flogged you to death if those cameras hadn't shown up for the final eight. You owe Peeta your life, too."

"Yeah, but it's not me he'll be looking for if he comes back."

Katniss finally looked at him. "I... I had no idea, Gale. You have to believe me."

"I do." Gale said honestly. "You have no idea the effect you have."

"What?"

Gale sighed. "Ahh, what the hell. Catnip, I know you're all messed up right now, and it must feel like the whole world is speaking gibberish around you, but..." Gale leaned closer, and reached to pull her close enough that he kissed her softly. The squeak that came out of her throat was the cutest thing he'd ever heard.

They broke for air, and Gale settled back, giving her space. "When you decide what to do, let me know."

Katniss stared blankly at him, eyes wide, more confused than anything else. "Wha... What the hell are you boys trying to do to me?!"

"Panem, this is thrilling! It's clear by now that Wild Card Tribute, Peeta has chosen his strategy. He's wearing Cato down with hunger. Cato hasn't managed to catch a single fish or bird; hasn't scrounged anything but Nightlock berries that he knows he can't eat; and with his Mentors disqualified, he's receiving no replacement supplies. Thermal cameras show you at home what Cato can't see: Peeta is flat out stalking the heavy favorite... With us now is hand-to-hand expert, Donner Mobile. Donner, what do you think?"

"I have examined the footage of their various fighting styles. Cato fights with a style of fighting known as savate. it's a particularly brutal method of fighting. One that favors raw power and quick strikes. But Peeta is a wrestler. His style of fighting is to get in close and pin the opponent. This style is still taught in a few school competitions for the impoverished districts."

"We're told that Peeta holds near-champion status in Twelve's Wrestling Competitions."

"That doesn't surprise me. In his match with Thresh, Mellark avoided several opportunities to inflict pain, and chose instead to stay inside the longer reach. It's clear that Peeta's had practise fighting opponents much bigger and stronger than him."

"If you've got several older brothers, I imagine you learn that fast; ahahahah!"

"Quite. I've watched how these Tributes fight, and in my opinion, Cato has one weakness in his style. He's not used to an enemy that isn't trying to get out of reach. His whole method in this game is to be overpowering, and to catch those that try to evade or escape. Peeta's style is to get in so close that raw power can't gather any force. After that, it's just a matter of who wears down fastest."

"I'll tell you this, the bookmakers are going crazy. There's never been an upset like this before! But now it seems... we might have a fight on our hands... Yes, Cato has finally noticed Peeta's position! This is it!"

"There! You see? Cato struck out with everything he had, and Peeta was already too close to get hit! Cato's not going for the knee shot because he's going for the head. A move that has worked with every other opponent, but Peeta is smaller than him, not as strong, and he knows it. He's forcing Cato to grapple; and-"

"There! There it is! He flipped him! Cato is down!"

"That headlock is the same trick Peeta used on Thresh. If he took Cato's legs out, he'd break the neck right there!"

"Cato knows it too! He's going crazy, trying to break that headlock, but I think... He's weakening! Donner, is he faking this?"

"If he's smart, that's exactly what he's doing. But Peeta hasn't released him yet. He may be trying to smother Cato, rather than break him. It's a much slower method, but harder to break out of!"

"Panem, I've just received telemetry from the Gamemakers, and they say... YES! Cato is unconscious! Mellark has him! And now... Oh my word, we have to go picture-in-picture for this! It looks like the Tribute from Eight, Crystal Daley is hungry enough to go for the berries! Nightlock is about to claim another victim!"

Katniss was on her feet, almost climbing into the picture as Peeta dropped Cato, and then bent to check his pulse.

Cato didn't get up, and the two of them stayed like that as Peeta got his breath back. The cannon went off and Peeta jumped, checking Cato's pulse again. He knew they were the final two.

"Come on, Peeta." Gale whispered beside her. "Don't be nice, just this once. Just one time, be brutal!"

"I can't watch this." Katniss groaned sickly.

Gale caught her wrist. "You have to." He said seriously, eyes still on the screen.

"Why?!"

"Because if I was Reaped instead of Peeta, I'd want to know you were watching over me."

Peeta looked up at the sky, then down at Cato's still form, before he turned and walked back to Cato's campfire, dragging his final opponent along with him, arranging him to lay more comfortably.

"Just do it, you idiot! What are you waiting for!?" Gale raged at the screen with low, hard intensity. "Three times?! Three times?!"

But then they both froze. With a blackened stick from the fire, Peeta had drawn something on Cato's face. It was the letter 'K'.

For Katniss. She realized. He's... what? Dedicating the kill to me? Letting me know I'm on his mind? Is he apologizing to me? To Prim? What?! What on Earth is going on in his brain?

Gale saw the letter too. "What's he saying, Catnip?"

And then, all of a sudden, it came to her. "It's goodbye. He's telling me that he's not coming back. He's telling the world that he could have done it, and he didn't." She looked at Gale. "Three times. Peeta's the only one left in the Arena that hasn't killed anyone yet."

And he said he won't come home without Prim. Katniss felt a wave of shame go through her. He'll do it, too. Just to be nice, he'll let Cato kill him, so that he'll keep that promise. Katniss started crying for the first time since Prim got on the train. Don't die, Boy With The Bread. I lost Prim. You were her friend. It's the final tiny straw that will break me. I'll let you off the hook, I won't hate you. Just please don't die.

"Very, very exciting, Panem! There has never been a grudge match like this in Hunger Games history! We're here now with Gamemaker Seneca Crane. Tell me, how does this affect things for you?"

"I'll be honest, Ceaser, we're all scratching our heads. We've seen competitors spare each other before, either tactically or for alliance. Peeta and Cato are the final two, so we don't know what's going on in Mellark's mind."

"Well, how about we go to the viewers! What do you think, Panem? All our lines are open!"

"While they give us their input, Ceaser; I will tell you that we've actually been monitoring the Sponsors for the last six hours. They all agree, Cato's a massive disappointment. They expected a war, and they got nap time. Even if Mellark's luck changes, Cato will go down in history as the first Victor for Two who blundered into it."

"A huge letdown for his District. Districts One and Two have a long parade of triumphs, and suddenly their star for this year is... I'm trying not to use the words 'toyed with', but it's the only thing that fits. Who would have expected a contender like Mellark to come out of District Twelve?"

"Certainly the sponsors never did. I've been receiving calls in the Control Room from some of the wealthiest names in Panem, telling me to either force a showdown, or just finish off Cato. It's not like anyone can see him as a Victor now, win or lose."

"Seneca, I'm going to interrupt you there for a moment. We've got a caller on the line, with a truly unique idea. Go ahead, caller."

"Hi, Ceaser. I'm a big fan... Um, you guys have been talking about Peeta's interest in Primrose's sister like it was a tactical move during the Interview, but after watching this, I think it's for real. See, if Peeta wins, then he has to go back to Twelve and face Prim's family. But if he loses, he's a dead man. So he can't do it."

"Well, there's an interesting ending for the 74th Games, hey Panem? A Victor who won't win, and a challenger who can't win. Your thoughts, Seneca?"

"Remember when we thought of the Tributes from 12 as 'the challengers'?"

"Remember? It was yesterday. Hahaha! I love it!"

"What I will say, Ceaser; is that we've never let a stalemate last for long, and I think we know the audience is getting restless."

There was nothing to do until Cato woke up. Peeta knew it, just waiting. The Commentators talked endlessly, but they were just marking time. Katniss and Gale said nothing for a long while, just... waiting. Everyone was waiting for the finale.

But in the Everdeen household, the silence was growing oppressive. "Katniss?" Gale asked finally, though he couldn't think of anything else to be said.

Katniss didn't look at him. "I want Cato to die." She said, soft and simple. "He killed Prim, and I want him to die."

Gale nodded.

"I've never met Cato. But I hate him. And I hate District Two, just for sending him to the Games." Katniss was working it out like a math puzzle, just trying to get to the end of the equation she'd never considered. "And yet, if it wasn't him, it'd be someone else. And if it hadn't been Prim, it'd be someone else. How can this be so clinical to the Gamemakers, when it's life and death to us?"

"Because it's not their life, or their death." Gale said darkly. "They do the betting, we do the dying."

"That's it!" Katniss lurched to her feet. "That's really it! That's the thing I've been trying to figure out since my mom asked me if I blamed Peeta for Prim!"

"What?"

"Something changed, between Prim getting stabbed and you getting whipped. It felt... It felt the same, and I finally get why! We do the dying. And we do the killing! But Darius didn't want to whip you, any more than Peeta wanted to fight Thresh, or any more than Prim wanted to kill Rue!" She looked at Gale. "But we're all doing it anyway! Because that's what the Games are all about!"

Gale nodded. "We do it to each other, and then The Capitol doesn't have to."

"And Peeta won't do it at all!" Katniss pointed at the screen. "You know why he let Cato live? Because he doesn't want anyone to die. Not even his enemy. I finally get it. The Game is meant to make me hate Cato, and make District Two hate Peeta... But Peeta's not playing by the rules, because he doesn't have any hatred for Cato. Anger, sure; but hate? He just doesn't have that in him."

Cato woke up with a groan, sat up. Peeta was five feet to his left, toasting the last of his bread over the fire. Peeta held it out to him. "Eat." Peeta said simply. "You haven't had a meal in two days. I'm from Twelve. I know how to be hungry. You don't."

Cato's hands were shaking a bit from dizziness and hunger when he reached for the food automatically. He froze, with the bread halfway to his lips, and put it down. "I don't want it."

"You want it. I can smell how much you want it." Peeta told him. "Look, I swear to you, it's not poisoned. That wasn't me. If I'd wanted you dead, I had three opportunities."

Cato ate, practically inhaling the thing. He was on his knees, shoving the toast into his mouth, totally without dignity or self control. Peeta stood upright beside him, looking down. It was impossible not to look at them and see Cato as a rabid animal on a leash, beside the very civilized Peeta. Cato sucked his fingers clean, while Peeta watched him, unreadable.

Cato stood up, but didn't move. He'd charged twice and fallen into a trap. And now Peeta was just... standing there. "What's going on?" Cato asked finally.

"We're the final two." Peeta told him.

"We have been for longer than I've been awake." Cato countered. "What are you playing at? Why didn't you do it?! It was yours! You had it! You must have tasted it!"

"Tasted it. Didn't like it." Peeta nodded. "What about you? Did you like it? They were babies, both of them. Was it fun?"

Cato glowered at him, and took one threatening step forward, eyes still roving around.

Peeta read his mind. "No." He said. "No more traps, no more snares. No more running. The river drained a few minutes before you woke up, the sky has gone dark. The audience is fed up with waiting. They want their Victor." Peeta doused the campfire with the last of their water. "Congratulations."

Cato froze. "What?"

"You thought I was waiting to give you a fair fight? Pistols at dawn, and all that? One problem: I'm not going to fight you." Peeta said simply. "You want it? Go for it."

Cato was still frozen, waiting for the trick.

Peeta stepped right up to Cato, and rolled his head back, baring his throat. "There it is, go for it! They're waiting."

"What are you playing at?" Cato hissed. "What game is this?!"

"This is the Hunger Games, Cato." Peeta said simply. "Last man to scream wins. That's what they want, right? To watch us murder each other? Only I'm not going to."

"He's serious, isn't he?" Gale was stunned.

Katniss didn't move as a single tear rolled down her cheek. "He said… Gawd, he said that he 'didn't want them to change him'. He said he 'wanted to show them that he was more than a piece in their games'." She turned her haunted, tear-filled eyes to Gale. "I didn't understand then, but I do now. Because if Peeta 'plays his part'? If he's just a piece in their Game, then so was Prim, and so was Rue…" She clenched her fists so tight she felt her palms bleed. "And they were more than that!"

"I'm nobody's executioner. I came in here with one goal, and I failed." Peeta said heavily. "You came in here for... what? The glory? The fame? The title? Well, you can have it."

Cato's eyes blazed. "Not like this."

"Why? You've killed helpless people before." Peeta needled him. "You want the crowds, the fawning groupies, the wealth? All you have to do is finish me, and I won't even fight you."

Cato's face changed, and he suddenly realized exactly what game Peeta was playing.

Katniss didn't move, but Gale burst out laughing. It was a dark, cruel, hateful laugh. They both got the point instantly. So did all of Panem.

"Crazy sonaofabitch did it!" Gale crowed. "He won the Game by refusing to play."

Katniss stared intently. "Cato's gonna kill him."

"Somehow, I don't think that's what Peeta considers a 'win'." Her mother said. She'd been so quiet the two of them forgot she was still watching. "And from the looks of it, I don't think Cato does either. Not anymore."

On the screen, Cato was still tensed for a straight up fight that wasn't coming. "Finish the game!" He yelled at Peeta. "Fight me!"

"Look, I'll make it easier for you." Peeta turned his back on Cato completely, and gazed up at the sky, towards the cameras. "Hear ye!" He shouted to all of Panem. "I, Peeta Mellark, hereby declare to one and all, that THIS! IS! CATO! The Winner of the 74th Annual Hunger Games! Prepare your feasts, your glory, your adulation! Send him his women, his parades and his prize! Cato, the boy who won the Hunger Games..." He turned to face Cato at last. "...because The Man from Twelve showed him mercy, three times!"

Cato howled and went berserk. In seconds, he had Peeta flat on his back, and was beating him senseless. Peeta put his hands up to cover his face, brought his knees up to cover his stomach. Cato didn't care. He was kicking and hitting like a deranged lunatic.

"GET! UP!" Cato screamed. "FIGHT! BACK!"

Peeta gave him nothing. Didn't even look at him.

"YYYYAAAAARGH!" Cato screamed like a madman, and kept thrashing until he broke down gasping. He hadn't eaten in a while, and his energy was at its limit.

"I get worse than that from my mom when I burn bread rolls. Not used to hunger. Guess that includes weakness, low blood sugar, dehydration..." Peeta got back up, slowly. He was a messy stack of bruises and bloodied gashes, but he wasn't bowed. "Years of training and preparation, did you never consider what might happen if someone didn't run or try to kill you first?"

Cato collapsed, out of energy, head still spinning from being out cold for so long. "Can you hear them, Storyteller?"

"Hear who?"

"The audience. They're laughing at me. What you said, about my parades, my harem, my..." Cato groaned. "They'll be laughing the rest of my life."

Peeta said nothing. He didn't have to.

"You stole it from me, Loverboy." Cato groaned. "You have any idea how hard I worked for this? How long I've wanted this?! I've been looking forward to this my whole life! Status is everything back home. If I can't have a glorious victory, at least I should have had a glorious death, and now I got neither; because of you."

Peeta nodded. "Yeah."

"Bet they're having a great show now, huh?" Cato raged at the open sky. "Are you all having fun?! Are you entertained?!"

Haymitch looked around at the Sponsors. The most wealthy and powerful people in the world, and none of them were smiling. The Final Two was usually a festival, with everyone screaming and shadow-boxing with the screen. But this time, they were just... staring, numbly. One or two were looking away. Others were looking ill. The final two was meant to be exciting, thrilling, the pivotal moment... But not like this.

No. Nobody was being entertained.

There was a sudden sound of movement from the trees. Both boys jumped up quickly. "Mutts!"

"One way or another, they need to end this and crown a winner." Cato growled.

The two of them ran. It was immediately apparent that the Mutts were toying with them.

"What are they doing?" Peeta called.

"Herding us." Cato called back. "They want us at the Lake."

"The Cornucopia?"

"More cameras there than anywhere." Cato growled. "Still some weapons, too."

The chase went on, all the way to the lake. Peeta scrambled on the side of the cornucopia. The top of it was just out of reach. He backed up and tried to get a running start, but the sides were too smooth, frictionless.

Cato boosted him up, and Peeta scrambled to the top. Peeta turned around swiftly, holding out a hand. "Here! I'll help you!"

Cato stared at the outstretched hand like it was diseased. "You would, wouldn't you?" He scoffed, ignoring Peeta and going to the last of the weapons. "How many would you say there are? Ten of them?"

"Eight, at least. All different sizes." Peeta pulled his hand back, suddenly realizing what was happening. "If you win... that's a story that'll be told for generations."

"Yes, it will. And if I don't, it'll still be awesome story. And you'll be telling it for the rest of your life." Cato grinned savagely. "It'll be amazing, Twelve. It'll be GLORIOUS!"

The boy from District Two turned to face the mutts, weapons drawn, body armor secure. He charged, howling.

It lasted for hours. Long enough that Mrs Everdeen made it home, and settled into a chair. The slavering gnashing sounds of the Mutts made her turn the volume down as far as it would go, which didn't do much. The screens were hardwired to force everyone to tune in for the Games.

There was one camera on Peeta the whole time. He didn't watch.

The other cameras were all on Cato. He had defeated five of them before he was finally overwhelmed. The body armor kept him protected enough that they had to chew their way into him, but he kept swinging away at them until he couldn't any more.

Katniss kept her eyes on Peeta, as if keeping eye contact with him over television would make the difference. Hang on. Just hang on.

"I'm half expecting Peeta to jump down and try to help him anyway." Gale commented. "Come to think of it... the scorecard. He hasn't killed anyone yet. Fought a few, escaped a few..."

"Nobody can say he didn't beat Thresh or Cato." Katniss pointed out.

"I know. But... His score is Zero. No kills."

Mrs Everdeen nodded. "He's no killer."

"He's the first one to win a Hunger Games without killing anyone. Even that guy from Six had his hiding place found once." Gale sounded awed. "Who would have thought you could win the Hunger Games by not playing?"

Katniss was still watching the screen intently. "Gale... The Mutts. Do they look..." She shook her head. "No. They wouldn't. They couldn't!" She turned to Gale. "Tell me I'm imagining it."

But Gale had seen it already, and was looking back at Katniss' mother. The older woman was staring at the screen, at one of the smallest Mutts. "Prim." She croaked. "What did those butchers do to you, baby girl?"

At first Peeta thought it was because Cato was in easy reach. But two of the beasts were sitting at the base of the Cornucopia, eyes glued to him. They weren't howling, or trying to climb. In fact, none of the Mutts were even giving him a second look.

Peeta, moving in a dream, strung out eight different ways, with Cato's death hows ringing in his ears, slid down to the ground; looking closer.

But the Mutts made no move to attack Peeta.

"Panem, I'm hearing from the control room now. They want to make it clear that the Mutts were not told to target Cato. In fact, the Mutts are specifically bred to hone in on the trackers, using the Game's Kill Count as a way of defining their first target. With a score of Zero, Peeta Mellark is actually borderline invisible to them! Can you believe that, Panem? I've never seen anything like this! It's one twist after another! What are they going to do to top it next year?!"

"Next year." Haymitch repeated the magic words. He very deliberately rose from his chair and went to the bar; taking a whole bottle; not even bothering with a glass. Without a word, and a dour expression, Effie walked up beside him, took the bottle from his hand before he could sip; and slugged back a huge gulp of her own.

Peeta was staring numbly at the smaller two Mutts. One was small and dark, the other with blonde fur; and familiar eyes. "Prim?" He whispered brokenly. "Rue?"

The two Mutts came up and started sniffing Peeta softly, nuzzling him, examining his wounds. The one with Prim's features started licking at the wounds Cato had opened.

"Little Nurse." Peeta whispered, and hugged the furry beast tightly. "Oh gods, Prim. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I couldn't save you..."

And then the cannon finally went off. Peeta didn't look up from the fur he'd buried his face in. The Mutts all fled instantly. The smallest two pulled away from Peeta, and ran away without so much as a glance back at him. Peeta still hand his arms extended out after them, when the sun came back.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I Present to you: Peeta Mellark! The winner of the 74th Annual Hunger Games!"

The Hovercraft was a blur. The medical team worked quickly and efficiently. The needle went in his arm and he slept. He woke up feeling warm and cosy, with silk sheets over him. After the last week, the luxury felt like a dream. A bad, worrying dream that would turn into a nightmare any second.

Peeta opened his eyes, and looked around. He was back in his room at the Capitol.

The dream-like quality continued as he came out to the living space, and found his Prep Team waiting, cheering for him excitedly, crowding around with their congratulations, their adulation.

Peeta felt like he could see through them, floating on his feet. Part of him wondered if he was still feeling the drugs.

But eventually, he figured out where Haymitch was. On the Roof.

"You haven't left the one place we can talk without being overheard." Peeta said as he came into the rooftop. "I must have screwed up worse than I thought."

Haymitch turned to him, with his flask in his hand. It looked like he'd had a few already. "Hey, kid."

"Not a word of congratulation?" Peeta quipped. "Everyone else seems to be happy for me."

"And yet you're up here, instead of downstairs, enjoying the attention."

Peeta sighed. "Seemed like that was the sort of thing Cato would do."

Haymitch nodded. "They're mad at you." He said simply. "Some of the things you said in the Arena? You don't say those things where people can hear them."

Peeta nodded. "It would have been a lot easier for everyone if I had just bashed his brains out while he was unconscious."

"Yes." Haymitch said seriously. "Yes, it would have. You actually went one further. Being a wildcard winner is tolerable. Doing it without killing anyone? That's a whole other level of different. People in power don't like things to be different, Peeta."

Peeta said nothing for a while. "If I had done it... Could I have saved Prim?"

"I don't know, but I do know you wouldn't be here if you had."

Peeta said nothing for a while. "I am haunted by the sounds of Cato getting gnawed to death."

"Kid, as much as I'd like to let you process that, we don't have the time. The nightmare is over, wake up and smell the much worse aftermath. I shouldn't be telling you this, but there have been Riots in Eleven." Haymitch commented. "Because of Rue. Nobody will tell me what's happening in Twelve at all."

"They murder two kids from every District every year." Peeta objected. "Why is this different?"

"Because you made friends." Haymitch told him. "The whole country heard you and Rue and Prim trading stories, singing songs, going on a freakin' family camping trip in the Arena. Peeta… that bread you got from Eleven? Can you remember ever seeing people from one District support another enough to Sponsor them?!"

"No." Peeta admitted. "Sponsors are only ever Capitol citizens, or home team support."

"District Eleven likes you, Peeta. The Capitol doesn't approve of that! An Alliance that doesn't end in betrayal and murder? Bad news for them."

Peeta let a breath out between his teeth. "What would you have done?"

"Well, for starters, I would have picked anyone but the two smallest people for Allies." Haymitch groused. "But that can't be helped anymore. You saved yourself by hiding in Cato's camp. They wanted you put down, and through sheer dumb luck, you managed to avoid everything they had ready for you. They couldn't send the Poison snake Mutts into Cato's camp."

"Do me a favor, and don't ever say the word 'Mutts' again." Peeta growled.

Haymitch gave a grudging nod. "For what it's worth, that was a bridge too far, even for the Capitol."

Peeta looked over. "Yeah?"

"The iconic moment of the Games is you and the two smallest Beasties, having a tender, teary moment in the dark. After your little eulogy, it was too much for the Mentors. I may be the only Mentor in Twelve, but the Career Pack had a whole team of Capitol Darlings. The Mentors nearly threw a riot themselves; and none of us are Victors by accident."

"Did it make a difference?"

"To the Games? Not that much. The official ruling is that the bodies get sent back when 'their time in the Games are over'. The Gamemakers found a way to put them all back in for a final round." Haymitch pulled his flask. "It made a difference to Seneca Crane, though."

"The Head Gamemaker? How so?"

"Well, after the 'Official Ruling' blew up in their faces, we were given the 'Real Story', which is that the Mutts were designed to invoke the Tributes, but nothing to do with the bodies; and 'shame on you for suggesting the Gamemakers would treat their honored Tributes that way'. The Mentor Pack didn't by it, and we were all set to put a few 'questions' to Crane in person, but he had to cancel the appointment, on account of a slight case of death." Haymitch nudged the young man. "You keep all that to yourself."

Peeta almost laughed. "Well. Not exactly a 'win' to be proud of…"

"A win? Kid, what do you think is happening here?" Haymitch threw back his flask, gulping hard. "You managed to wipe out the favorites, you had two Districts united behind you, and you lived when they specifically wanted you to die. You shamed the Capitol Audience into weeping over their victims for the first time in seventy four years, you kept the moral high ground the whole time by not so much as scoring a single kill; and you even got the Head Gamemaker taken down, from inside his own Arena." Haymitch reached into Peeta's jacket pocket and produced the Mockingjay pin. "And you did it all while flying the colors of rebellion."

Peeta felt a thrill of horror go through him. "How bad is this going to get?"

"Hard to say, but trust me on this: Everything in the Capitol is about Status and Symbols of Status. You embarrassed them. You even made them feel bad, just for a heartbeat. You made them look at themselves, instead of whatever diversion they were throwing. This is the Capitol. Shame is a weapon, but not one that unwashed masses like District Twelve get to use."

Peeta couldn't meet his eyes. "They don't forget these things, do they?"

"No." Haymitch agreed. "I'm afraid The Game isn't over yet, Victor Mellark."

"It was a mistake, but it wasn't wrong. It was…" He rubbed his eyes. "Haymitch, they were babies, both of them."

"They were less than five years younger than you." Haymitch reminded him.

The tears started coming, finally; the rush of emotion, the drop of adrenaline, the near-death experiences, everything he'd been pushing away since the Reaping started hitting him. "It's wrong, Haymitch." His breathing hitched hard, came out as wet gasps. "They turned us all into murderers, and then they turn us all into Monsters!"

"All except you." Haymitch told him gently.

"Does Katniss even get a body to bury, or just a put-down Mutt?" Peeta snarled, tears forming. "This. Is. Not. Right!"

"I know." Haymitch said, and it was the gentlest Peeta had ever heard him. The grizzled man came over and put his hands on Peeta's shoulders. "I know it, kid. I know."

Peeta shivered hard, looking out over the city with his Mentor, sobbing.

Haymitch wasn't the only one to be afraid for him. As he came back to Twelve, Madge was the first face he saw, meeting him on the train. "My father will be in soon, to congratulate you and welcome you back. There are some papers to sign and some official words that he hasn't needed since Haymitch. After the speech, there's a Tour. Everyone turned out to see you." She said to Peeta, before reaching out and pulling him against her tightly. She turned her lips to his ear, her voice quiet and quick. "They're mad at you. Hug me back. They're almost certainly listening."

Peeta put his arms around her automatically. She was here for a reason, and he let her talk.

She clung back tightly, making it look like a joyous reunion. "Peeta, the day after the Games, we were all sent back to work. There was… A demonstration, in the Mines. Some of the workers? They pulled a sit-down. They didn't fight back, they didn't shout abuse. They just sat down and refused to work. They were matching your pose with Cato, at the end of the game."

Peeta swore under his breath. "And?"

"And it spread. Sit-Downs in the mines. Sit-Downs in the Yards. Peacekeepers responded by torching the Hob. Everyone had to go back to work or starve."

"My family?"

"Possibly the only safe ones in town." Madge took a breath. "Peeta, Gale was the first one whipped. He went berserk after Prim."

They'd pushed the embrace too far, but Peeta had to ask. "Katniss?"

"She didn't even cry. She just died inside. I had to slap her to get her moving when Gale was in trouble. Nobody's seen her since the Games ended. When that Hovercraft picked you up, she just walked off into the woods; and hasn't come back."

They broke the embrace, and Peeta had no trouble working up tears. "It's good to be home." He grit out for the benefit of those watching.

There was a huge crowd when Peeta stepped off the train. There were ten thousand people in Twelve, and it felt like all of them were trying to cram their way into the Square. The Victors were the only national celebrities left; and Peeta was the the only Hometown Hero they'd had in decades.

Everyone was cheering the instant Peeta came into view. The train attendants started unpacking the parcels of food. Being the winner meant Twelve would eat actual people-food for a while.

There was a hastily arranged stage and podium with a microphone. Peeta hadn't been born yet when the last victory speech was given at the Platform in Twelve.

Peeta stepped up to the microphone; the crowd settling enough to hear him speak. "Everyone from Twelve knows that what I'm about say is true: As I look around this place… It's still a trash dump just waitin' for someone to be careless with a match."

The crowd laughed, entertained. Peeta was the hometown hero now. He could say anything he wanted. But even that had an undercurrent of warning. The Hob being torched was fresh in everyone's mind. Peeta was warning them that it could happen again, and telling them that he knew what had happened in his absence.

"But I have to admit, I don't think I've ever seen anything more beautiful." Peeta continued, and the crowd went ballistic again. Once they settled, Peeta spoke, tears forming in his eyes. "I would also like to say…"

Peeta's voice suddenly went thin and dry. There was a sudden charged silence as people followed his gaze. At the back of the crowd, Peeta was the only one who could see her clearly from the stage.

Katniss had come to the station.

Her face was unreadable. She didn't come to him. Peeta nearly fell off the podium in his rush to get down to her. She didn't come any closer, letting him come to her, through the rapidly parting crowd.

The cameras were all glued to the moment they came face to face. It was later described as the most televised moment in the history of the Victory Tours. While required viewing, they were never the most exciting part of the Games. Except today.

Peeta came to Katniss, close enough to touch; but he did not reach out. Neither did she. Peeta finally made the first move, reaching into his jacket; and pulling out Prim's Mockingjay Pin. Peeta wept hot, silent tears without shame, as Katniss' eyes fixed on it, there in Peeta's hand. She stared at it like she could still see Prim's blood on the gold. There was still dead silence in the station when she finally reached out and took the pin from him.

Peeta was equally silent as she pinned the Mockingjay to her jacket, directly over her heart. She still said nothing, but she lifted her free hand enough to cup his cheek with her fingers. The cameras got a perfect angle to see the way he rocked on his feet, just from her lightest touch.

Without a word, Katniss turned and walked away from the whole scene. She hadn't so much as looked at anyone but Peeta since her arrival; and he'd forgotten the entire District immediately, staring after her until she was out of sight.

The cameras stayed on Peeta as he shuffled slowly to the microphones again. By the time he made it to the Podium, the entire crowd was saluting him, three fingers; thumb and little finger touching. They'd all done it as one.

Peeta returned the salute without hesitation. His speech was forgotten completely, as he gave the last word. "The Mockingjay Lives."

AN: The Reasoning for this chapter:

In Mockingjay, Katniss expressed most of the 'Who Is The Real Enemy' sentiments in the battle for Two. The Games and The War had similar themes, with the Districts being gamed into fighting each other. As an outside observer, Katniss got there faster than she did as a Tribute. Also, there's a lot of feedback demanding to know why Peeta and Katniss aren't in love yet. The answer is: Because they've had exactly one conversation. In the Trilogy, Katniss would have wound up with Gale, had she not tied herself to Peeta completely. (And that's assuming she'd let herself wind up with anyone, given her worst fear was losing her kids to the Arena.) The story is listed as a Katniss/Peeta fic because his love for her is still his entire motivation; and she dedicates a big chunk of her time in this fic to Peeta's life.

I haven't yet decided if I'll cover the next two books. There's a lot of baggage attached to Peeta now; at least for Katniss. Her epiphany lets her think of Peeta without homicide; but in the Canon, losing Prim was what drove her away from Gale; and they were lifelong friends. There's going to be a journey to take.

As to Cato's showdown with Peeta; it was inspired by the final showdown in the Canon. Cato raging at the sky as Katniss aimed her last arrow at him; he knew he wasn't going to win; and he hated the Audience for it, in his final moments. Also, in the Canon, Peeta didn't have a single Kill. He fought to protect Katniss, and took the fatal hit, and he left berries for Foxface to eat; but that was an accident. In this scenario, I decided to make it a deliberate strategic choice. Peeta was concerned with 'staying himself' in every version of the Hunger Games Trilogy.

If I elect to continue, it'll be added onto this story; and not a separate sequel; but as with the books and movies, this is the end of Part One. Hopefully, where it stands now, you can see how the progression will continue. Peeta is alive, Katniss has taken on the post of 'The Mockingjay' and the whole Country was watching as Peeta exposed the Games for what they are.

What happens next is still a somewhat open question; given that we haven't met any of the other most important players yet.

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