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.

"It doesn't make any sense." Peeta argues. "They can't anticipate what we're going to do. We've killed people, you were shot, Haymitch! Look what they did to him!"

"They're adapting." Haymitch tells Peeta, trying to hold me down as I fight him to sit up. "They 'roughed' me up to get to Katniss. The guards are expendible—in Plutarch's mind. And I told you…Katniss wouldn't have died from her wound unless whoever shot her missed and hit an artery."

I finally win the battle and sit up, but I hold onto Haymitch's hand. He looks pale and ragged underneath all the bruises and I can see how shallow he's breathing. "We need to tape up your ribs. I've seen my mother do it before."

"This is the best medical supplies we have." Haymitch tells me, pointing to the pile of rags, sheets and towels. "Don't worry about me, sweetheart. I'll live."

I grimace at his choice of words and see the look of regret as he realizes how poorly timed they were. "Then at least lie down." He doesn't argue with me there and Peeta helps me get Haymitch onto the couch, Effie stuffing a pillow under his head.

"Effie," he says, sounding tired. "My clothes must still be in my room, get Katniss one of my shirts. A button up would probably be better than something she has to lift her arm for."

We watch Effie hurry off in the dark, and the tension suddenly mounts—we've always tried to keep Effie out of loop when it came to bad news. I guess some things don't change. I speak first. "What do we do? Call Plutarch out? Tell him we know how the game works?"

"Nah, if we do that, he's likely to take us by surprise and I really don't need any more surprises right now."

"What if we just don't play?" Peeta offers. "Like Katniss and I did with the nightlock."

"What? Like a murder-suicide pact." Haymitch asks.

"More like we wait them out." Peeta tells him.

"We wouldn't be waiting long. Plutarch isn't patient. He'll find some way to move things along."

Peeta and Haymitch go back and forth and I simply listen, watching them. Peeta is leaning over the back of the couch. He's a little disheveled and sweaty, but he looks like the Peeta I remember—the Peeta before the hijacking. If he holds any sort of grudge against Haymitch, he's hiding it well. I want so badly for Peeta to find happiness, but I know now that he and I would never be truly happy together. I love Peeta, but only as a friend now.

My eyes shift down to Haymitch as I sit next to him on the edge of the couch. Our hands are still clasped together and I see his other hand clutching his ribs. When I'd told him to move up the flight of stairs, I had been thinking his guards would come after me, thinking we'd gone down the stairwell. I had hoped they wouldn't think to look for anyone on any floors above that. I hadn't expected that Haymitch would make it all the way to the penthouse, all the way back to get Effie. I know he did it for me, risking his own health and safety to carry out my plan and I feel my heart swell with love for him. To know that they did this to him because of me burns me up with anger, but what hurts more is knowing that Haymitch probably didn't fight back because he didn't want to make it any worse on me.

Effie returns with one of Haymitch's shirt, chastising him on how he folds—"They're all wrinkled, Haymitch."—and helps me slip it on. I see Haymitch's eyes shift up to Effie with a scornful look on his face, knowing he's about to make some snippy comment, but I squeeze his hand again to stop him.

"We're not waiting." I finally announce. Effie stops as she's buttoning the shirt down my front. "I've had enough of this. It's time to end it."

Almost as if Plutarch was waiting for the most dramatic moment possible, the lights kick on. The four of us blink and squint against the sudden light, and I shield my eyes as I look around the room, expecting him to be there. Peeta is looking at me with an unreadable expression.

"So you've chosen then." It's not a question.

I look at him sadly. "Yes."

He nods as if he knows what my choice is and pushes off the couch. He directs his next words to whoever is listening. "Got enough footage for tonight? Think we could have one night without any surprises so we can get some sleep?"

I hear the defeat in his voice and it breaks my heart.

In answer to Peeta's question, the elevator doors ding and several medics come into the common room. As they swarm Haymitch and I, Peeta leaves the room, moving off towards the bedrooms. I want to call to him, but I feel like my stomach is in my throat and all I can do is swallow compulsively as tears leak from my eyes.

Effie hovers nearby, obviously feeling lost and upset by everything that's happened. As the medics work to patch me up, I watch them work on Haymitch. He's grimacing, sitting up as they make sure his ribs are in place before they run some sort of infrared gadget over him. He almost sighs pleasantly and I realize they must have just healed the broken bones. They work on his nose next, setting the bone as he growls in pain, then heal it. They use another tool to heal the cuts, and another that seems to buff out some of his bruises. He's still beat up, but he doesn't look like death warmed over anymore. They continue to work on him as I'm given the all clear, and I meet his eyes. He gives a slight flick of his head, indicating the bedrooms and silently telling me I should go to Peeta.

'Thank you.' I mouth the words and he gives me a wink. As I head towards Peeta's room, I hear Haymitch giving Effie a hard time to help cheer her up a little. Despite everything, it makes me laugh.

Peeta is showered and in pajamas when I enter his room, but he's sitting by the window rather than laying in bed. I move to sit beside him, daring to move in as close as he'll let me and lean my head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around my shoulder and we sit quietly for a long time.

"It's never going to end, is it?" He asks as we look out over the city.

"No…Not while the Gamemakers still exist. Somehow it wouldn't surprise me if Paylor has struck some kind of bargain with Plutarch. What better what to punish criminals and traitors than to force them to play the Games over and over again?"

"You're not a traitor, Katniss."

"I'm the Mockingjay, Peeta…I doubt there's any higher form of rebellion than that."

We lapse into another silence before Peeta speaks again. "If you and Haymitch hadn't…done whatever…and if the wedding had been real, would you have married me?"

"Yes." My voice sounds thick. I don't want to talk about this, but I know we have to. Soon there won't be any chance to. "If Haymitch had gotten us both out of the arena, I think things would have been very different for you and I. That's my fault. I left you there with Finnick and Beetee."

"You told me you wanted to leave the others. I should have listened to you. You've been saving my ass for too long, Katniss. I'm not your responsibility anymore."

I sigh in annoyance. "What is it with you guys? Haymitch doesn't want to be my liability, you don't want to be my responsibility. Can't either of you just accept that I love you? That I care for you?"

"Don't do that." Peeta says sullenly.

"What?"

"Tell me you still love me."

"Why not? It's true. Maybe it's not that kind of love anymore, but I do love you, Peeta."

"The way you love Gale." Resignation.

"Why can't that be enough?"

"I guess it won't matter for much longer." He drops his arm and gets up. "I'm tired, Katniss."

It's a dismissal and I feel the tears running down my face. There's nothing else to say, nothing Peeta wants to hear from me, so I have no choice but to leave his room. I can hear Effie and Haymitch talking in the common room in quiet voices. The medics must have left. As much as I want to see Haymitch, I need to deal with Peeta first.

I go to my room and close the door, then head straight for the bathroom. The face of an Avox stares back at me in the mirror and I pull the faux eyebrows off angrily, nearly ripping out my own eyebrows in the process. I wet a hand towel and scrub at the white makeup and the red lips until enough of it is off that I look a little more like myself. My hair is still died with the red gel, so I turn on the shower as hot as I can stand it, then climb under, letting the hot water wash everything down the drain with the tears I cry for Peeta.

By the time I pull myself together, shampoo my hair, and wash my body, I feel drained. I climb out and wrap myself in a fluffy towel, grabbing my comb and raking it through my hair before I brush my teeth. I hear a soft knock on the bedroom door and immediately know it's Haymitch. I spit, rinse, spit again, then move to open the door.

His hair is damp, and he's wearing a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt. He looks whole again, except for the sadness in his eyes. He eyes the towel I'm wearing for just a moment before he speaks. "I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"Pretty far from it, I think." I reach out and take his hand, gently pulling him into my room. I don't have to ask him for what I want. He pushes the door closed behind him and then wraps his arms around me as he kisses me. Tender at first, then with such urgency that neither of us can seem to get enough. I'm aware of the cameras, but my need is far greater than any sense of propriety I might have had.

I drop the towel and pull Haymitch to the bed, our lips still locked together. He's working his pants off, letting gravity do most of the work and kicking them off his ankles. I break the kiss long enough to pull his shirt off, and then we're falling into bed. Our lovemaking is frantic and beautiful and fierce and wonderful and I just want to stay in this moment with him forever.

He holds me in the afterglow, stroking my hair, caressing my skin, and laying soft kisses along my brow. We don't speak for a long time—with too much to say and no way to say it all, it's hard to say anything. Haymitch shifts in the bed until we're both laying on our sides, gazing into each other's eyes.

"I wish I could hear your thoughts." He says softly. "To know what you've decided so that I can talk you out of it."

"Why would you try to talk me out of it if you don't even know what 'it' is?"

"Because I know how you think, sweetheart. You're still trying to figure out a way to save Peeta and me both."

"You still think I should save Peeta."

Haymitch hesitates for a long moment, breaking out eye contact. I can read the shame and guilt on his face and it makes me curious as he quietly answers. "No."

I wait for him to explain, knowing he will when the right words come to him.

"You and I know what it's like to lose everything, Katniss. I died that day I lost my family and Mica. I watched you die the day you lost Prim. Peeta's lost his parents, I know, but…it's not the same as what we've been through."

Cruel as it is to compare our losses to Peeta's in such a way, I know that Haymitch is right and I understand what he isn't saying. Haymitch and I need each other in a way Peeta will never understand. Maybe that's the glue in this relationship, the thing that holds us together even when all we want to do is rip each other apart.

I crush Haymitch's lips under mine, rolling him onto his back and moving to straddle his lap. I can't tell Haymitch what my decision is, but I want to try and make it up to him now and hope that when the time comes, he will forgive me and know that I loved him so much.

Our bodies join and our hands lock together as I rock my hips against him. Whether Haymitch realizes what I've chosen to do or not, he doesn't say. He simply pulls me down until his lips are near my ear.

"I love you, Katniss."

The words hold so much meaning that I can't miss the unspoken goodbye in them, but—Haymitch being Haymitch—he finds a way to spoil the mood with a cutting remark.

"But don't do anything stupid, sweetheart."

TBC