Title: From the Ashes

Rating: MA

Genre: Angst/Drama/Romance

Characters: Katniss/Haymitch; Katniss/Peeta

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

Author's Note: Haymitch's P.O.V. Been thinking hard about where to take this the last few days, so I hope what I came up with meets your approval. Thanks to all who have been reading and reviewing. I'm enjoying your comments and hope you're all still pleased with the story. - RW

As seems to always happen when I sleep with Katniss, I don't dream. Awareness begins to creep into me slowly and I feel no hurry to leave this bed. I reach over for her, wanting to pull her closer just for a while longer, but find the bed empty and cold next to me. My eyes fly open to confirm that she's not there, her name automatically on my lips.

"Katniss?"

"She's not here."

I startle at the closeness of the voice, flipping over to see Effie perched on the edge of the bed. "Gee, sweetheart, what are you trying to do, give me a damn heart attack?"

"I'm sorry." She said tremulously, looking somewhat sheepish behind her pink eye shadow.

Then her words sink in. "What do you mean Katniss isn't here? Where is she?"

Effie bites her lip, looking close to tears and I sit up, reaching my hand out to her. "Oh, Haymitch…"

Tears spring from her eyes as she begins to break down and I have no choice but to gather her in my arms and let her have her cry. Her obnoxious wig is crunched against my face as she weeps against my shoulder and I sigh into the light pink curls, trying to quell my annoyance. I find myself thinking about how ridiculous Effie's style is when I remember I don't care and that there are much more important matters at hand.

"Where is Katniss, Effie?" I ask again.

"They came early." She sobs.

"Who's 'they?'"

"Peacekeepers, I think. Guards anyways. They weren't dressed like Peacekeepers, but they said Plutarch had arranged an interview for Katniss with Caesar. I think they intend to air it before the ceremony."

"Of course they do." I grumble. "Did Katniss say anything to you when they took her?"

"No." Effie's tears have finally stopped and she's dabbing at her eyes to a corner of the sheet.

I quietly take all of this in, wondering how it was that I never woke up through all of this. I know I'm a heavy sleeper, but I'm not that out of it when I sleep. I let out a heavy breath. I had fallen asleep before Katniss last night. Ten to one says that after I was out, Katniss slipped out of bed and probably didn't sleep. Not that I really blame her, but I would have stayed up with her if I'd have known…

"What's going to happen, Haymitch?" Effie breaks my thoughts and I know she's referring to the ceremony.

"I don't know." I try to think of every scenario I can: Katniss killing Peeta; Katniss killing me; Katniss killing Plutarch; Katniss killing Caesar during the interview; the rebel alliance swooping in at the last minute; Paylor stepping in to stop the madness. Somehow I don't see any of these things happening and I realize I truly don't know what to expect. "I don't know…"

Effie starts sobbing again. "I just want to go home. What did I do to deserve this?"

"It's not like you're the one on the chopping block, sweetheart." I can't keep the edge out of my voice. While I agree that Effie shouldn't be a part of this, I can't help but feel slighted by her blubbering. "After today, when all is said and done, you get to go home to your stupid Capitol apartment; to your pathetic, naïve little life, but one of us won't be so lucky. In fact, none of us will be so lucky because we'll all have to live—or die—with Katniss' choice. But not you. So, stop crying, Effie, because I can't feel sorry for you right now."

Two blue eyes rimmed with baby pink blink slowly at me as if it suddenly dawns on her that she's being selfish. "I…Haymitch, I'm—"

"Don't apologize." I cut her off. "Just try to remember what's really going to happen here today."

Her eyes close, releasing two final tears.

"Now, if you don't mind…I'd like to get dressed."

I see another realization dawn in Effie's eyes and she her cheeks tinge with pink under her heavy application of white powder. "Oh…" Her eyes shift to where the sheet covers me at the waist. "Yes…of course." She gets to her feet, trying to avoid looking at me as she gracefully tries to exit the room.

I don't give myself time to wallow in the misery of how this day will end, and simply get up. I return to my room for a shower, and even knock down my whiskers a little just to buy more time before I have to face Peeta without Katniss as a buffer between us. He and I have never had much of a problem with each other, but I can't imagine he's too keen on me stealing Katniss away from him, and I don't want to spend what little time either of us has left with his resentment hanging over my head.

As I dress, I keep thinking back to last night. I feel I know Katniss well enough to know that no matter what I've said, she's still going to do something stupid, but I haven't yet figure out what stunt she may try to pull. I do know, though, that if Katniss thinks she can save both of us, she's still going to try. No matter how many steps ahead Plutarch may be.

By the time I make it out to the living room, they're airing last night's escape attempt, but I don't bother watching. Peeta and Effie are both sitting at the table, pushing food around their bowls and I join them, managing only a few bites before I start poking at my own breakfast.

"Do you think people are rooting for us to make it out?" Peeta asks suddenly.

"Some, I'm sure. But, like any of the Games, most people probably want to see a good death."

I see Peeta's jaw clench and he drops his spoon against his bowl, pinning me with a near-murderous scowl. "I'm sure they won't be disappointed."

I can hear the threat in the words and I gently lay my own spoon down as I look at him with a neutral expression. "Go on. Say what you want to say."

"How long have you been fucking Katniss?" The words make Effie gasp and she drops her own spoon and covers her ears.

"Peeta!" She hisses in reprimand.

"Not as long as you think." I reply in a non-answer.

"How long, Haymitch? Were you two screwing around while I was imprisoned? While they tortured me? Killed everyone around me? Fed me memories warped my brain?"

"No."

"Yeah right." He scoffs.

"Look, I know you feel royally fucked over, but we didn't plan on any of this, okay? I wasn't sitting around thinking, 'Gee, how can I mess up Peeta's life today?' She needed someone and you weren't there."

"So you thought you'd just step in."

"She came to me!"

"And it never occurred to you to say 'no?'" He gives a derisive laugh. "No, of course not. Why would it? Beautiful, young girl, throwing herself at you. Bet you've never had anything like that, have you? She must have had no one else if she went to you."

I know I could throw everything back in his own face, brag about how I deflowered Katniss, about how she was carrying my child, how she loved me, but I don't see the point. One of us is going to die today and I'd rather not have any more regrets on my conscience.

"Look, Peeta. You can believe what you want to believe, but I never intended for any of this to happen. Am I sorry it has? Not really. I'm sorry you were hurt by it, but I'm not sorry for the way I feel for Katniss."

"I just can't wrap my mind around it." He says, almost defeated. "You two hate each other. Was that just an act for my benefit?"

"No…but I never hated her. Thoroughly disliked her, yes. Infuriated by her, oh yeah. Frustrated as hell by her, you betcha. But as intensely as I feel all of that for her, I feel just as strongly on the other end of the spectrum."

Peeta falls quiet for a few minutes, observing me with unreadable eyes as he mulls everything over. "You know she's going to save you, don't you?"

I can't help but have my doubts. "Don't put all your chips down on me, Lover Boy. Katniss may think she loves me, but even that can't hold a candle to you."

The challenging glint is back in his eye. "Then may the best man win."

I can only swallow around the tightness in my throat. If Katniss makes her choice based on who the better man is, then Peeta win will by a long shot. I can't meet his eyes as I speak around the lump still strangling me. "Do me a favor…don't let her turn into me."

Our conversation is interrupted by the musical intro that always precedes an appearance by Caesar Flickerman. All three of our gazes turn towards the screen in the common room and we find ourselves almost floating over the couch as if entranced by the images flashing across the screen.

Caesar is his usual, all-smiling self. His electric blue hair coifed back into a stupid looking stub of ponytail at the base of his neck. His blue suit looks like it's been rolled in diamond dust as it sparkles and gleams under the stage lights.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen!" He exclaims. A live audience goes wild and the cameras pan around the studio to show a full house—all Capitol residents—in attendance. "We first met Katniss Everdeen after she volunteered as Tribute in the 74th Hunger Games. Endeared by her sacrifice in place of her sister—may she rest in peace—we cheered for her victory as the Girl on Fire! We fell in love with the romance between her and Peeta Mellark. Some of us may have even quietly supported her during the rebellion. But now, on the brink of her wedding to Peeta—a wedding we have all anticipated, whether we love her, hate her, or envy her—we find that there has been more going on than anyone could have imagined!"

Several people in the crowd ooh and ahh, some even catcalling. Caesar wiggles his eyebrows and grins into the camera wolfishly. "How I envy Haymitch Abernathy… Don't you?" More catcalls and cheers.

"Live tonight, we will watch as Katniss finally decides the fate of her two loves, but now—ladies and gentlemen—a very special treat. In studio with us, right now, is none other than Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire!"

As Caesar throws his arm out towards the wing of the stage where Katniss would be entering, there's a deafening explosion and a flash from the fireball that envelops the stage. The cameras crackle in and out of static as they start to short circuit, but the sound of the crowd screaming in panic leaves no doubt as to the chaos going on in the studio. The entire building shudders from the force of the explosion, and all three of us reach out to grasp something to steady ourselves as we gape at the screen, wondering what has just happened.

The focus on the camera swims in and out as it tries to automatically center on the fire eating away the heavy curtains on the stage, and Caesar's flaming body lying motionless on the floor, his dead eyes opened in horror as the flames lick away his flesh.

Out of the smoldering flames, steps an imposing figure and the camera focuses in on the hard, cold gaze in Katniss' eyes. She's wearing her Mockingjay armor and holding her special bow, a quiver of arrows visible over her shoulder, one explosive arrow notched onto the bowstring. My mouth runs dry at the sight of her. She's beautiful, but deadly.

I can see Peeta's mouth hanging open next to me, as shocked at this turn in events as I am and I glance quickly at Effie, not wanting to miss a single second of what's being broadcast.

"Effie…what'd you say those guards looked like?"

TBC