Clove was soaking wet and only semi-conscious, the bloodied water still in her hair. Katniss found it strange to see the almighty Clove as something so human and breakable, shivering in the starlight.

"Dump her there," Katniss ordered Peeta when they got inside, gesturing to one of the dead girl's beds. He laid Clove out on the clean sheets with care, like she was ready for the coffin.

"Okay, you go-" Katniss started, but trailed off. She had been about to order him to guard the door, but who from? Cato was dead. The bedroom was safe now.

"Just leave, I have to get her into dry clothes," she finished, averting her eyes.

"Thank you," Peeta said softly. She whipped around to look at him.

"Do not consider this finished. I'm going to get her dressed now. Then we're going into the kitchen, and you're going to explain why the fuck you thought it was necessary to save her-" She broke off again, her voice cracking unreasonably over the last few words.

"Katniss?" Peeta asked, the doubt clear in the short word.

Her head pounded and she snapped at him.
"Just go! I said leave!" With a pitiful look, he scampered diligently away like a dog that had been kicked by its owner.

Katniss ran her hands through her hair once, to steady herself, then went to dress Clove.

Peeta was waiting for her in the kitchen, and he rose to his feet when she came in. It was familiar scene, and Katniss recalled her mother, going out to see the families of the sick.

"Clove's fine," she stated briskly, "Now explain yourself."

"Explain what?" he asked innocently, and she couldn't tell if he was truly oblivious or was just lying again.

"Why did you just jump in to save Clove, huh? What could you possibly have to gain out of that?"

Peeta's gaze hardened. "Look Katniss, maybe I wasn't so comfortable with letting someone die unnecessarily, okay? Maybe I thought if I could save her, then I should at least try."

"I didn't see you so eager to save Cato just there. But then again, I guess that he wasn't as skinny and pretty as her."

Peeta looked at Katniss, something forceful in his eyes. "Is this what you're so worked up about? You're jealous?"

"I'm not jealous Peeta. I'm just saying, if you're such a pacifist, why not save Cato too?"

"Because he was choking me to death! I don't see why this is you hard for you to comprehend!"

"But of anyone Peeta, you had to save Clove-"

"Now you listen Katniss," he said, his voice louder than usual. "Clove killed Rue, I'm not denying it. But we left Rue alone, unprotected, and I hesitated before going in to get her. Maybe if I had got there faster I could have saved her. It's everybody fault."

"I didn't shove a knife into her Peeta! Don't you dare put this on me! It's Clove who killed her, not us."

"So you think I shouldn't have saved Clove tonight because she's a murderer, is that right? And yet you were willing to let her die tonight? How are you different?"

"It's not the same Peeta," she hissed.

"It is to me Katniss. We refused to let Clove in, and if I hadn't fished her out of that pool tonight she'd be dead, when it was well within our power to save her. It mightn't be murder but it's as good as."

"But she enjoyed murdering Rue-"

"Look at me Katniss, and tell me you wouldn't have rejoiced to see Clove dead tonight. Tell me that you wouldn't have enjoyed it. We're not gods, okay? We can't decide that we're better than her and just let her die."

She stared at Peeta for a long moment. Katniss had wrongly assumed that they would think alike because they were from the same district. She thought they would share the same convictions, yet right now Peeta was saying things that she just couldn't agree with.

Maybe it was a kinder streak within him that she was lacking, but she saw it as weakness. Pity was as good as any weapon in the Games. And maybe that meant Katniss was cold inside, but she wanted Clove dead. Whether it was right or wrong shouldn't matter. People killed people in the Games! Where did morality come into it?

"Peeta, will you stand in my way if I kill her?"

"You hypocritical bitch," he said slowly, like the air had been kicked out of his lungs. He stared at her like she was someone new, something terrible, a barefoot abomination before him, a monster.
"You never gave a damn about her being a murderer did you?" he continued, his voice rising like steam, "This is a just a what, a vendetta, and you're going to resort to murder to finish it. You're going to be worse than her, Katniss. She killed people for survival. You've won already. The Games are basically over. There is no risk. You're doing this just because you can."

"Move out of my way Peeta."

"Or what? Are you going to kill me too Katniss?"

A week ago that would have been a joke. No one could possibly imagine the lovers from district twelve killing each other. Why they'd rather kill themselves than harm the other.
It wasn't so funny now. Katniss knew in that moment that if Peeta made a move towards her, she would strike back.

He knew too. He was perceptive like that. "You would, wouldn't you? After everything, you'd still kill me if you felt like it."

He stepped back dramatically and waved a hand. "Go on, go in and kill her."

He elaborated at her look. "I'm being serious Katniss. I did what I could to protect her, but I can't fight you. I won't do that Katniss."

Something stirred inside of her then, a sound that under the cacophony of rage and revenge, that sounded pitiful and weak. She ignored that feeling in the same way she would squash an insect; cold and calculatingly, not counting the cost.
She did not need Peeta's morals right now.

She moved slowly, taking a knife from the drawer, Peeta's eyes following her every movement. Taking the knife would cost her, yes, but killing Clove would send those points and more all rushing back to her. It would be like an investment.

Katniss had never understood Clove's obsession with blades. The one she held now seemed dull, a muted grey rather than silver. The blade showed no evidence of the damage it had inflicted, the pain. It had been cleaned and was not evidence of Clove's crimes.

She tucked the knife into the waistband of her pants and pulled her t-shirt over it. Peeta said nothing, and yet his silence was painful, crashing into her again and again like waves. Katniss wanted to acknowledge what was about to happen but she had no words, and so she silently made her way to the bedroom.

She did not knock.

Clove was there where they left her. She was sleeping now, curled into herself like a cat, and Katniss halted.

She couldn't kill her when she was asleep. That was not fair, not even for the Games.

She hesitated another moment then shouted at Clove to get up, shaking her. Clove opened her eyes quickly, panicked.

"Katniss?" she asked, and Katniss pulled her up out of the bed, the blankets dropping away like water. Clove shivered and blinked rapidly.

"What do you want?" she asked, pulling a sheet back around herself.

Katniss couldn't very well say that she was there to kill her. The provoking point she needed to feel that rage just wasn't there. Clove was still on her feet but there was no animosity there, no instinct to fight her, to hurt her.

As clumsy as someone leaning in for their first kiss, Katniss didn't know how to move, to start the fight, how to move to begin to kill Clove. She raised a fist and lowered it again wordlessly.

"Well?" Clove asked, impatient as always. She turned back to the bed when she got no answer, and her dark hair flipped around around her back. Katniss imagined herself moving forward and grabbing that hair. She saw herself pulling Clove back, each strand strung tight, and yet she stayed where she was.

There was a silence, and Katniss realised she needed to reply. "It was nothing," she muttered and stalked out of the room. She ignored Peeta's questioning look as she passed him. Of course he had been standing outside the door. Coward.

And Clove laughed. It was high, tinkling laugh and it seemed to fill the air somehow.

"Don't Katniss-" Peeta urged, but she ignored him and marched back into the room.

Clove was still smiling when Katniss marched to her bedside. Without pausing to consider, Katniss grabbed Clove's hair and pulled her up. The smile slid off Clove's face when she saw Katniss' expression.

"This," Katniss said, retrieving the knife, "is for Rue."

"Peeta!" Clove yelled, her voice raw. "Peeta!"

"Oh do shut up Clove," Katniss snapped, and plunged the knife into Clove's neck. It slid into her skin as cleanly as an injection would. All of a sudden Katniss understood the fascination with knives, now that she saw firsthand what they could do.

Clove tried to speak but blood bubbled up into her mouth and dribbled down her chin. She flailed uselessly like a dying fish for a few more moments and then slumped against Katniss, weighing no more than a child.

"Katniss?" Peeta asked from behind her. "Katniss, what have you done?"