I'm going on vacation in a few days, but you'll get one last chapter first. I won't have time to write anything while I'm on holiday (no chance to relax when you have two boys aged 2 and 4, believe me!), so I probably won't update for a few weeks. In the meantime, please review, and you can always drop me a PM if there's a storyline you'd like me to explore. :)

More days pass.

I feel numb.

My body heals. My bruises fade. My body hurts less, slowly, day by day. I think they keep me longer in the hospital than strictly necessary. Dr Aurelius wants me to talk to him, but I don't answer him. Most of the time I just look right through him. At one point he probably gets tired of being ignored, and says sternly: "You'd perhaps feel better if you'd just open up to me, Katniss."

"Why don't you go talk to Peeta instead," I spit back at him, "He's the crazy one, remember?"

I returned the divorce papers – without a signature.

Do I sign? Should I sign? I don't know. My whole world has been turned upside down. All the things I thought I knew – I didn't. Snow made my husband rape me. And I know I shouldn't resent Peeta for it, because it wasn't his fault, he was hijacked and programmed, but I can't stop myself from being angry with Peeta, with my husband. Because it was his face, his hands, his body.

I can't think. Just thinking about it makes me sick.

My mother is here every day. She doesn't talk about what happened, or the future. It's a relief somehow. She should annoy me, I guess, but at least it's better than Dr Aurelius and his constant nagging about how I should open up.

And then there's Haymitch. He's here almost all the time. He's not drinking as much as usual, the nurses don't like him drinking, so he has to smuggle alcohol into the hospital. I know he visits Peeta, too. He doesn't talk much. He's just always here, looking at me. I think he blames himself for not hearing my screams that night. But how could he, through the thunder? And the fog of booze?

I wonder if Snow could control the weather, too. From his grave.

I shudder.

When it's time to go home, Haymitch insists that I move into his house. I protest, I want to go home. I know Peeta's not there. He's still in the psych ward. There's no word on when he's being released. When I ask, they won't tell me.

"There's no way you're going back into… that house," Haymitch says, and that's the end of the discussion. I don't have the strength to fight him. It turns out he's already discussed this plan with my mother, who's even cleaned his house. In fact, it seems like she's been living there for quite some time already. Two guest bedrooms are ready for me and my mother. I secretly wish that my mother would go back to district four, but it would seem I'm out of luck. Again.

I try to go hunting, but I end up running back to the village. Being alone terrifies me. I see… faces. Everywhere. I can hear the leaves whispering my name: "Katnisssssss… Katnisssssss…"

I miss Peeta. I'm furious at Peeta. I'm scared of Peeta.

One night, over dinner, I finally ask: "What's going to happen to Peeta?"

Haymitch is drunk. He's drinking a lot more now that I'm no longer in the hospital. My mother looks down at the food on her plate, refusing to meet my eyes. "We don't know."

"You don't know? But surely you must know what the… alternatives are?"

Haymitch tries to pour himself another glass of liquor, but I take the bottle, put it down on the table just in front of me, out of his reach, holding it hostage. I look him stubbornly in the eye. Haymitch grimaces. "Well, there's been quite a debate over at the psych department about what to do with him. Whether he should be prosecuted for assault, rape and attempted murder. Whether he should be locked in in a room in psych for life, because they can't know if there are any other tickers just waiting to go off in his head, and what he might be programmed to do. Or if he should be treated as a regular mentally ill patient and be released when he's well enough. The argument is that because he was hijacked, he was criminally insane at the time when he… did what he did, and as such he can't be prosecuted, but that he doesn't pose a danger to anyone anymore."

I don't know which alternative scares me more. "What do you think?" I ask him.

"I try not to think," he answers. "That's what this baby is for." He takes the bottle back from me, and pours himself another drink. I don't try to stop him.

"And what does Dr Aurelius think?"

"Dr Aurelius is the only reason they haven't thrown him in jail or thrown away the key to the nuthouse already."

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. If it hadn't been for his testimony in my defense, I probably would've been executed. He testified that I was traumatized and in one word: Insane. I got off. Now he's doing the same thing for Peeta. I don't know how to feel about that. It would seem that he's devoted to keeping victors alive and out of jail, although I don't understand why.

"I want to see him."

"No way."

"I want to see him!"

"He won't let you."

"Has he said that?"

"Yes."

"It's not his decision to make."

Many years ago, I was the girl on fire. I still know how to get what I want.

They've tried to make the psych ward more homely than the somatic part of the hospital. Pictures, more colors, even curtains and different furniture. But as I enter the hallway of the secure section, that changes. It's sterile, cold. There's nothing that can be removed from the walls, to be turned into a weapon. Everything is nailed down. The windows can't be opened. The doors are locked, there are guards.

They know who I am, of course. They stare at me.

I take a deep breath as I knock on the door. Haymitch is ever at my side.

Dr Aurelius is in there with Peeta. The guard unlocks the door. All the doors in the secure ward are locked around the clock. Peeta is sitting on the bed, looking out the window, his back turned towards me.

"Welcome, Katniss," Dr Aurelius says. I acknowledge that I heard what he said by a look, but don't answer. I feel done talking to him.

When I look down at my hands, I'm surprised to see that they are shaking. I'm still standing behind Peeta. "Hey Peeta," I say.

He doesn't react.

The silence in the room is heavy. I lick my lips. They are so dry. I feel dizzy. "Could you please look at me?" I whisper.

He shakes his head, slowly.

"Why didn't you sign the divorce papers?" he says, finally. His voice is dull. Devoid of emotion.

I don't answer his question, probably because I don't even know the answer to it myself. Instead I ask him a question back: "Why won't you look at me?"

Still no answer.

"Look at me!" I scream at him, at the top of my lungs. I find it hard to believe the voice is mine, it sounds like a mad person.

Finally, he does. Slowly.

I've never seen him look worse, not even when he was dying of infection in the arena, or when he had just been rescued from the Capitol after having been tortured. He's lost a lot of weight. He hasn't shaved. There are dark rings under his eyes, his hair is unkempt, and his skinn is pale and almost see-through. And his eyes… They are dull. I realize he must be on some kind of mood-altering drugs. The sparkle is gone.

Is Peeta gone?

He flinches when he sees me. Yet is face is devoid of emotion.

Tears are streaming down my cheeks now. My rage is a volcano, erupting. Before anyone has time to react and stop me, I've thrown myself on him, attacked him, my nails clawing at him, my fists hammering down on his body. He doesn't defend himself. And I'm screaming: "I won't let him take you away from me! I won't! I won't!"

The guards forcibly remove me, save Peeta from me. They want to take me out of the room, but Haymitch, thankfully, stops them. Blood is slowly running down from one of the scratches I made on Peeta's left cheek. I'm not screaming anymore, but I need him to understand. I say, slowly: "I won't let Snow take you from me. I can't let him take away the most important person in my life, the one person who holds it all together. I won't let him break me. And you can't let him break you."

As I speak the words, I realize they are the truth. I hadn't known until this moment how I'd feel, what I'd say. What he did should by all accounts be unforgiveable, and I would tell any other woman to leave, and never look back. Yet I'm unable to let go. He didn't do it out of hatred, anger, intoxication with drugs or alcohol.

He's as much a victim in this as I am.

I won't let that bastard Snow win.

"Can you please leave now?" Peeta says. Still no emotion. He's looking out of the window again.

I do.

We walk home to Haymitch's house in silence. We're nearly home before he finally speaks.

"Why?"

"Because it wasn't really him. It was… Someone else."

"How can you forgive him just like that?"

"I haven't. I'll never forgive. But Peeta isn't the one who should be forgiven."

Haymitch just shakes his head slowly.

"You never cease to surprise me, Katniss." He sighs heavily. "I don't know who to protect. I am – was – your mentor. I'm supposed to look out for you. I've failed you before, and I failed you again on… that night. And now I feel that whatever I do, I fail one of you. I was going to let him rot in jail, or the nuthouse, and concentrate on getting you back on your feet. I'd save you. I'd choose you."

I stop on the porch. Haymitch stops as well. Our eyes meet. "To save me, you also have to save Peeta. We're a team. I can't abandon him ever again."

"I don't think he wants to be saved, Katniss."

"I know," I whisper.