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: Katniss' P.O.V. As always, ignore the typos. I'll go back and fix them eventually. Thanks to everyone who's favorited and reviewed the story thus far. I'm enjoying your comments. I'm even slacking off at work to write while the ideas are fresh in my mind. Shhh...don't tell my boss!

Enjoy.

At breakfast that next morning, Haymitch looks worse than I've ever seen him. It's obvious he didn't go back to sleep after I left his room, and everyone else seems content to think that this is just Haymitch sobering up, but I know him better than that. I try to make eye contact with him several times during breakfast, but he refuses to look at me and says nothing as Effie goes on and on about the wedding plans.

They plan to use one of Cinna's dresses—one of the few that weren't destroyed on Snow's order—and want us to be married in front of the President's mansion. Plutarch wants as much symbolism as possible to make an impact on everyone in Panem.

I tune Effie out when she starts talking about how each District is going to be represented in the wedding and look across the table at Peeta. His mind seems to be otherwise occupied as well, and I wonder if he's marrying me because he feels he has to, or because he really loves me. Effie continues to chatter on, oblivious to the fact that none of us is listening to her, and I can't take it anymore. I feel like I'm going to explode if I sit there any longer.

"I need some air." I blurt out, cutting Effie off and throwing my napkin down on my untouched plate of food.

"Must be pre-wedding jitters," I hear her tell the others before I'm out of earshot and heading up to the roof. The sun is warm on my skin and I suck in a lungful of air as I try to quell the urge to vomit. Everything is happening too fast—Peeta coming back home, me finding out I'm pregnant, Effie calling about Plutarch wanting to go ahead with the wedding. Peeta and I had talked about it—at length—and tried to figure out if we should go through with it.

"Real or not real," he had asked me, "You love me."

"Real." I had told him.

It was true, I suppose. I did love Peeta, but did I want to marry him? The first thought in my head was a resounding: No. I didn't want to marry anyone. Not yet, at least. Not with everything still so…dark. At least helping Peeta battle his demons has kept my own at bay, but I'm not ready for this. Any of this.

Haymitch appears next to me, leaning against the half-wall railing us back from the ledge. "You don't have to do this, Katniss."

I laugh dryly. "Marry Peeta or have your baby?"

"Either…both." He shrugs. "If I'd known there was even the slightest chance that I could have knocked you up, I would never have—"

"I know." I cut him off, not wanting to hear him tell me that everything had been a mistake. We fall silent for a minute and I can tell Haymitch wants to say something, but is restraining himself. He seems to make some sort of internal decision and lets out the breath he'd been holding.

"If you want to go through with it—marry Peeta, have the baby—then I have an idea."

I practically go deaf trying to listen to what he's about to tell me.

"Tell Peeta that you want to have a baby." He says slowly, obviously trying to find any flaws in his plan as he relays it to me. "But tell him that you're afraid of what the hijacking might have done to him—that you're worried it might affect any offspring you might have with him for the next few years. Then tell him that you think the two of you should ask me to be the surrogate father; that it's the least I could do after everything else I've failed you at."

"You haven't failed us, Haymitch."

When he looks at me, his eyes are deep grey pools of hopelessness. "Haven't I?"

When I say nothing, he looks away.

"You deserve to be happy, Katniss."

"So do you." I reach over and take Haymitch's hand, and see the pain on his face. He pulls his hand away from mine.

"Don't kid yourself, sweetheart." That caustic tone is back, but his voice sounds strained. "I gave up any chance I had at happiness the day I became a victor."

He turns to leave, and I find I don't want him to go. "Haymitch…"

He waits, looking at me expectantly. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but the words that tumble out are not what either of us expects.

"I love you."

I can see his face fall at my admission, but he closes the space between us, taking me into his arms as he kisses me fiercely. I cling to him desperately—afraid of what happens now that the words are out there. The choice is down to Peeta and Haymitch and I can't lose either, but I know I can't have both.

"Don't." Haymitch's voice is still strained when he breaks the kiss. "Do yourself a favor, sweetheart, and don't love me."

"It's too late." I tell him, refusing to let him go, literally and figuratively.

"Katniss…" his voice breaks slightly and he presses his forehead to mine.

"Tell me you don't feel the same," I challenge him. "And I'll walk away and marry Peeta."

"Don't do this to me." He growls.

"It's up to you, Haymitch."

He breaks away from me, gripping the half-wall with his fingernails. I can see his entire body trembling under the extreme tension in his muscles. His face is obscured by his hair, but I see a teardrop splatter on the concrete between his hands. "I. Don't. Love. You."

Each word is spoken clearly, with great effort, but I know it's a lie and all it does is anger me. "Liar." I shove his arm, but he catches himself and barely budges. "Liar!"

Without looking at me, Haymitch speaks through clenched teeth. "I've made my choice, sweetheart."

I'm crying hysterically, pounding my fists against him, screaming profanities at him, begging him to take it back, but Haymitch doesn't move, not even to deflect my attacks. I can't understand why he would deny how he feels about me, especially knowing I would stop the wedding if he would just tell me to, but he doesn't. He expects me to marry Peeta.

When he finally turns and wordlessly leaves, I collapse on the ground. I feel dazed—like I must have given myself another concussion somehow. My heart is racing again and I can't catch my breath, but this time Haymitch isn't there to catch me as I pass out.

Someone is stroking my hair when I come to. I feel warm and exhausted, my head aching. When I open my eyes, I find Peeta stretched out beside me on our shared bed. He smiles gently down at me.

"Welcome back."

"What happened?" I ask, though I know full well what happened.

"When you left breakfast this morning, Effie and I figured Haymitch might be able to talk to you better than either of us could. I guess we were wrong. He said all you two did was fight—as usual—and that you tried to pummel him into a pulp before he finally decided to leave you alone."

"Sounds about right." I say flatly.

Peeta takes my hand in his and holds it gently. "Katniss, if you don't want to marry me…I'll understand. We could even wait a while…until things are better."

I want to tell him everything—about Haymitch, about the baby—but I know I can't. Haymitch made his choice to be without me, and I have no choice now but to be with Peeta. I can't help the tears of sadness that start to fall, so I try to use them instead to convince Peeta of Haymitch's plan.

"It isn't that…" I sniffle.

"Then what?" He asks with sincere concern.

I've never been a good actress, but I hope the tears are helping to cover that up. "When you told everyone I was pregnant…I really wanted it to be true. I want a baby with you, Peeta, but…" I pause for effect, trying to look torn.

"But what?" He's buying into it.

"I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"What if the hijacking has…done something to you? What if affects our baby?"

"Oh…" He's quiet for a minute and I pull him down to me in an attempt to show him how much I care for him and how sad this makes me. "I didn't even think about that…What do you think we should do?"

"I don't know." I take a deep breath, pretending to think about it for a minute, and concoct the next part of my lie. "When I was in 13, they were telling us about the pox epidemic and how some families decided to use surrogates to conceive children. What if we found a surrogate who would be willing to do that for us?"

"That's asking a lot of someone, Katniss. Where would we even find someone who would be willing to do that; who would want nothing to do with the baby once it was born?"

I pause again, pretending to pick through a list of possibilities before I offer up the only name there is. "Haymitch."

"Haymitch?" Peeta's face registers shock, and even a little revulsion.

"He owes us, Peeta. For everything. And, he's the last person who would want anything to do with me or a baby."

Peeta considers this for a long time. "Do you think he would do it?"

"If he's drunk enough, I think he would do anything."

"True." Peeta agrees, then looks at me carefully. "Is that what you want, Katniss? I mean…you hate Haymitch. Would you be able to love his kid?"

"It would be our child, Peeta. Not his. It doesn't matter if he's the one to do it, you'll always be the father."

"If this is what you want, Katniss, then how can I say no?"

I start crying harder, but it's not tears of joy that I'm pretending them to be. I feel utterly hollowed out inside. I may love Peeta, but it's Haymitch I want to be with. Drunken, crass, sarcastic Haymitch, who knows exactly what I've been through, who can be funny and witty when he wants to be, who is so beautiful when he's smiling, who loves me…and still let me go.

Peeta kisses me, trying to dry my tears even though they keep falling. "When do you want to…do it?" He says, somewhat uncomfortably.

I manage to pull myself together and act happy, but nervous. "As soon as possible, I think. The thought of being with Haymitch is—"

"Unbearable?" He grins.

I try to laugh, but I know it sounds forced. "Something like that. I don't want to lose my nerve."

"Alright." Peeta smiles and brings my hand up to his lips. "You get some rest, and…I'll go ask Haymitch how he feels about being a surrogate."

I'm eternally grateful that Peeta's willing to take on this task without me. I'm not sure I want to face Haymitch right now. When Peeta talks to him, Haymitch will know that there's no going back.

My stomach feels like it's in knots. I curl up as Peeta leaves and will myself to fall asleep. This time, when I dream, I dream of the future. Of a small, blonde haired girl with grey eyes, running through a thicket of wildflowers as she chases a butterfly.

"Don't go too far, Prim!" The voice beside me booms, and I look up to see Haymitch standing beside me, his fingers laced with mine as we watch our daughter play. I'm so happy that when I wake up again, I burst into tears, knowing my dream will never come true.

TBC