Author's Note: Hi guys. Here is part 2, I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. This is not the last chapter, so I hope you don't tune out. I look forward to reading your comments.

Peeta unlocked the door to what he supposed was now partly his apartment and slammed it shut behind him.

His hands continued to tremble despite his attempts and calming them by clenching his fists. Adrenaline coursed through his veins while the rage of discovering the man who left him for dead began to boil to the surface.

Finnick sat on the couch, his legs extended up to rest on the coffee table. He stared at Peeta in confusion. Why was he upset? What had happened to him?

"What happened?" Finnick asked, putting his legs down and sitting up.

Peeta didn't even realize Finnick was sitting there until he opened his mouth. He knew he wasn't thinking straight, that he should stop and assess the situation, but that was not how fits of rage worked. There was no logic, no reasoning. There was only anger fueling his every decision and action. Peeta knew there was nothing that could stop him from doing what he was planning.

"What's wrong, Peeta?" Finnick asked again, his voice more stern this time. An answer was required immediately.

Peeta was silent as he faced Finnick. He was completely unaware as to what his next course of action should be. He didn't know if he had it in him to tell Finnick that he planned to hurt the man who had caused him serious harm. He knew Finnick would never understand the concept of revenge this way. He didn't want to unleash his dark side onto the man, especially now that he was getting past his own.

Ultimately he decided to lie. Not only because he knew Finnick would try to stop him, but because he knew he would. Whether it was emotionally or physically, Finnick would stop Peeta from walking back through the door with a loaded gun in his hand.

"I had a crappy day at work," Peeta lied with a glance at the floor and a hand through his blonde hair.

The look of concern on Finnick's face softened but didn't completely falter. "Come here," he instructed.

Peeta smiled at the man who smiled warmly up at him. He promised himself no matter what would happen that Finnick was to never be hurt in the process. He closed the gap between them in a few steps. Finnick craned his neck and placed a soft kiss on Peeta's lips. "British comedy marathon?" he asked with a smile as he patted the cushion next to him invitingly.

The younger man smiled convincingly, hiding behind the façade of a happy and contented young man. "I'm gonna shower first."

Finnick smiled at him. "Okay."

The second Peeta closed the door, he moved for the dresser. Pulling it open and pushing the various items inside out of the way, he retrieved the gun and placed it in the back of his jeans. He pulled his shirt over his head and discarded it on the floor before he moved for the wardrobe and pulled out a black hoodie.

He eyed the window. The fire escape would provide him with an exit that wouldn't come full of questions from the man who guarded the main exit to the apartment. There would be plenty of time to answer Finnick's questions later, but not now.

Peeta pulled the window open and climbed through. He took a deep breath as he began to descend the clangy metallic frame as his thoughts turned to vengeance.

Finding the crumpled old packet with 2 cigarettes in the glove compartment was truly a blessing, Peeta thought as he sat behind the wheel of his car where he had been sitting for the past hour, watching door to the bar. His heart began beating faster in anxiety and disappointment when the door would open and a drunk patron would exit. The gun was held tightly in his left hand while a cigarette dangled from the fingers on his right. His phone sat in the passenger's seat, turned off to avoid any calls from Finnick which he assumed there would be many of.

His mind turned to Noah and how much he had disappointed him in the past. Though it wasn't enough to make him stop, he did regret the turmoil he would no doubt be putting his brother through should he be caught or apprehended by the authorities. He knew he had to be careful for that very reason, to protect the people he loved from himself.

If anyone had to understand his pain it would have to be Finnick. Finnick was a soldier, he had killed before, had almost been killed himself. Only they could understand the pain of feeling their lives slip away. Finnick had to understand that.

It was at that moment that Peeta heard the sound of footsteps approaching. As his head quickly turned, Peeta had just enough time to securely hide the gun in the back of his pants. The passenger's side door opened and Finnick climbed into the car, pulling the door closed behind him.

"Where's my gun?" Finnick asked angrily, cutting right to the chase.

Peeta stared at him in complete disbelief. The cigarette dropped from his fingers as he gaped. "How did you find me?"

"When I noticed you missing and the drawer open I figured you'd been drinking," Finnick replied with an anger laced tone. "What are you going to do, Peeta?"

There was something in his voice that made Peeta hesitate to answer. He still had no idea whether or not he simply wanted to scare the man, injure him or take his life away. In his head, Peeta could make as many rational justifications as he wanted, it didn't necessarily mean they were the least bit just or logical in reality.

He could lie to himself, but he knew Finnick wouldn't accept those lies as easily.

"Get even," he muttered, looking away from Finnick and back at the door.

Confused and slightly terrified Finnick stared at his young partner. "Even? Against who?"

"The fucker that ran me over," he muttered angrily, "You see that red car over there?" he asked with a tilt of his head.

The older man found himself as angry as the other man did. He did recognize that car. He let his anger get the better of him only for a few moments, before his logic and responsibility got the better of him.

Finnick shook his head, "You're not doing this. Do you really think I'm going to let you get out of this car when that door opens?"

Peeta looked at him, "You can try and stop me, Finnick, but it will happen, even if it's not tonight."

"For fuck sake," he muttered, "How do you know I won't just call the cops?"

The younger man scoffed, "You'd rather see me get arrested than him?"

"No," Finnick grumbled, "I'd rather see him get arrested which is why we're going to call the cops."

Peeta shook his head, "No," he said defiantly as he stared right into Finnick's green eyes. "I'm doing this. You can't stop me."

The older man saw the determination is the eyes of the younger man he loved with all his heart. He felt the urge to restrain the man, he would not allow Peeta to do this, to throw his entire life away because he couldn't get a handle on his anger. Finnick was an expert regarding the matter. He understood the anger and the dark place it came from, it didn't mean he was going to simply sit by and let it ruin Peeta.

"Give me the gun, Peeta." He spoke low but firmly with anger in his voice that Peeta rarely heard. "You won't like what happens if you don't."

Peeta frowned as his face burned red in despair, "What? You'll hurt me?"

"Not only that," he said sternly, "But you'll never see me again."

This finally made Peeta's heart stop in his chest. He let out a choked whimper as once again, the possibility dawned on him. He turned to Finnick, "I need to get past this, this is the only way I know how. Nothing will happen to me. No one needs to know. No one will find out."

Finnick frowned, "That's not what I'm talking about. If you step foot outside of this car we're over." He sighed heavily and preyed Peeta would not challenge his threat, "Do you really think I want to be with someone who is so reckless with his life?"

He felt his eyes fill with tears, stinging them as they filled and spilled from his eyes in a rush of misery. "I knew it," he muttered, "I knew you wouldn't support me."

Finnick blew off the comment. "Of course I'm not going to support this! Give me the fucking gun!" he yelled as he reached over and grabbed Peeta by the collar of his shirt. "I'm serious!"

"Get off me!" Peeta yelled, shoving Finnick hard in the chest before pushing the car door open and slamming it shut behind him. "Stay the hell away from me!"

"Peeta!" Finnick screamed as he too evacuated the vehicle in hot pursuit. He stormed over to the smaller man, barreling down on him with every step and noticing the gun stick out of the back of his jeans. He stood tall over the man. "I'm not asking you nicely, I'm not even trying to reason with you anymore. Give me the gun before I take it from you!"

Betrayal filled every part of him, only causing his anger to rise. Peeta felt his tears pour from his eyes as he held his stomach and bent forward, feeling as if he were going to be sick. He knew this wasn't the case though.

"You're an asshole! You're supposed to want to help me! You're supposed to want revenge for what he did to me! Or have you forgotten laying in the street with me after that cunt ran me over?!"

Finnick curled his lip in disgust, "I've heard enough of this shit!" he said as he lunged forward and ripped the gun from Peeta in one swift move. "Get in the fucking car! I'm taking you home!"

"FUCK!" Peeta screamed, lunging forward to shove Finnick in the chest with all his strength. "You're an asshole!" His breathing was ragged as was his movements. His fists clenched and he contemplated hitting Finnick before deciding against it.

"I don't give a shit," Finnick said, taking measured breaths. "I don't care if you hate me right now. I love you enough to let you, to put up with this kind of shit. Tomorrow when you wake up you'll thank me for intervening and stopping you from making a terrible mistake."

Peeta stared at him angrily as he continued to cry. "No I won't! All you've done is get in my fucking way! Damnit Finnick!"

Finnick gaped, staring at the younger man incredulously, "I promised you I'd do whatever it took to keep you safe, you little asshole! That includes standing back and watching you get arrested!"

"I'm not going to get arrested!" Peeta snarled, lunging forward and reaching for the gun, only to give up and realize his plans for revenge were not going to come to fruition. "I need to get even! He doesn't know who I am, there's no way to link anything I do here tonight back to me!"

Finnick closed in on him, grabbing him roughly by the arm. "I've had enough of this. We're going. Now."

Again, Peeta ripped himself out of Finnick's strong hold. He pointed an accusing finger at him, "You said there wasn't anything you wouldn't do for me!"

It was at that moment that both men froze. Silence fell on both of them, only pierced by sound of a large door opening. The man that Peeta was so hell bent on getting revenge on exited the building, a cigarette behind his ear, another one dangling from his lips.

Without a second thought, Finnick took Peeta by the arm and pushed him behind the dumpster, out of view from the man. As Peeta opened his mouth to continue yelling, Finnick covered it with his hand. Peeta fought, which was to be expected, but Finnick was stronger and able to hold him in place.

He stared into the younger man's deep blue eyes, the ones that pleaded to him to release the hold. Finnick remembered staring into those eyes the night Peeta laid bleeding and broken in the snow on the street. He remembered the terror in the pit of his stomach at the very idea that he may have never gotten another chance to stare into those incredible blue eyes of the man he didn't get a chance to properly love. Finnick understood Peeta's pain, but for the first time that night, he felt it too.

"I love you, Peeta," Finnick said quietly, only loud enough for him to hear as he released his hand from covering his mouth. "There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you," he said as he clutched the gun in his hand.

For the first time that night, Peeta found himself speechless. "W-What are you going to do?"

Finnick frowned, "Whatever it takes to make you feel better. There's already blood on my hands," he said softly as he placed the gun in the back of his pants, "I'll be damned if I'm going to let you get it all over your hands too, Peeta. So run."

"What?" He could feel his world spinning as everything started to get faster. His heart beat hard, he could feel it in his chest like it was going to burst out.

"Just fucking run," Finnick ordered.

Without another word, Finnick stepped out from behind the dumpster, walking fast toward the man whose back was turned to Finnick and the wind as he lit a cigarette.

"HEY!" Finnick yelled as he moved in on the man, the gun carefully placed in the back of his pants, hidden by a jacket.

The man turned around. Although surprised, there was an indifferent quality about him that Peeta immediately detested. He eyed Finnick as the man approached, even going as far as to take a step toward him, almost as if he could anticipate what was about to happen.

"There a problem?" The man asked with zero intimidation in his voice.

"Yeah there is," Finnick muttered as he grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt with his left hand to hold him in place as his right hand formed a fist and struck him in one hard blow.

The man who went by the name of Brutus managed to free himself from Finnick's grasp long enough to stumble back a few steps before Finnick moved in on him again and delivered another equally affective blow, crushing his nose with his fist.

As he listened to Finnick's loud grunts with each assault, and the other man's grunts of pain, Peeta felt a great deal of shame bloom inside of him from behind the dumpster as he watched it all go down. He hadn't wanted it to go down that way, with Finnick endangering himself. He had wanted to keep him in the dark, do what he needed to do before returning to lie in the man's arms and never speak another word about it.

He watched on feeling terrified and exhilarated at the same time. Shame and excitement were emotions fighting in his heart and Peeta couldn't decide which he wanted to feel as he watched Finnick stand over the now injured man, waiting for him to rise so he could continue his assault.

The man spluttered and groaned.

"I know you ran someone over," Finnick snarled before delivering a swift kick to the man's side causing him to emit a loud, pained scream.

"I'm sorry!" he exclaimed as he agonized in pain.

Finnick glowered, "For what?!" Another strike to the ribs followed by a pained scream.

The man coughed loudly and groaned as he clutched his stomach, "For running over that blonde kid… the one w-who came into the bar tonight."

Finnick threw his head back as right and wrong fought in his head to come to a decision. He crouched down over the man, lifting his upper body with the collar of his shirt before roughly smashing his head into the rough graveled ground.

He straightened himself up and pulled the gun from the back of his pants, pointing it down at the man.

"You almost killed him," Finnick muttered, "You left him there to die. You're a piece of shit." He took a moment to decide what he wanted to do, like Peeta, he was still undecided as to whether or not he would follow this through to the end. It was at the moment of the decision that he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's go," Peeta said, taking Finnick's free hand into his own and glaring down at the man who held his sides with his face down on the cement.

Finnick stared at Peeta, "Wait for me over there," he whispered, indicating the dumpster, "I don't want you involved in this."

Peeta shook his head, "It's too late," he replied.

The injured man on the ground looked up at Peeta.

"He's seen me here, I'm already involved," he mumbled as he grabbed Finnick's arm. "Let's just go home."

Finnick nodded and crouched down over the man again who instinctively shielded himself with his hands. His hand dove inside the man's pants and retrieved his wallet and removed his drivers license.

"This is some insurance," Finnick muttered, "If I see the cops at my door, I'll be sending them right back over to you, or I might finish you off myself now that I know where you live. You got that?"

The man nodded.

"Good."

Finnick took Peeta by the arm as they turned their backs on him and climbed back into the car.

They marched up the stairs in silence without a word. The whole time Peeta could feel Finnick's eyes on the back of his neck.

The silence that filled the apartment was palpable as Finnick unlocked the door and waited for Peeta to enter, before closing it behind him and locking it.

Instead of grasping for something to say, Peeta simply shrugged off his jacket and dropped it on the couch, saying nothing as he retreated to the bedroom, hoping Finnick wouldn't sleep on the couch, or worse, sleep somewhere else.

Peeta was almost certain that he had already destroyed what he had worked so hard for, invested so much time into, so much of his heart. He couldn't blame Finnick if leaving was what he chose to do. He couldn't expect anyone to take his side anymore. He didn't have a side.

He folded his hands in his lap and sat on the edge of the bed, already trying his best to form the words of an apology in his head, finding himself completely unable to come up with anything that even remotely begun to cover the irreparable damage he had caused that night.

It wasn't too long before Peeta heard Finnick's footsteps approach.

He looked up at the man who stood in the doorway with one hand firmly pressing the cold compress onto his damaged and bloodied hand.

"What can I say?" Peeta asked, eying Finnick's bruised hand. "Tell me what to say and I'll say it."

Finnick looked at him, his green eyes piercing, "What do you want me to tell you?" he asked, "You were ready to throw everything away tonight, and for what? To feel like a big man with a gun?"

The words hurt. They stung mainly because they were true.

"It was your gun," Peeta mumbled.

"Which I trusted you not to touch!" Finnick said loudly, "Then again, I never thought you'd try killing a man either. How could you do that?! You're fucking insane!"

Peeta was stunned. The events of the night had left him reeling in a state of disbelief. Now he was trying desperately hard to just hold on and stop the spinning in his head.

"What do I say to this, Finnick?" Peeta asked in legitimate confusion, "Am I supposed to apologize or thank you? Am I supposed to be afraid of you or admire you?"

The older man sighed heavily and impatiently, "I'm not to be thanked Peeta. I hurt him not only because he hurt you, but because I wanted to take that choice away from you." He looked away from Peeta as he entered the room and moved for the other side of the bed. "If you did something bad tonight, I'm not sure I could look at you the same way again. That's something I couldn't have let you do to me."

Peeta held his breath. "I was wrong. Everything I did tonight was wrong. You pulled me out of it. What can I do to stop you?" he pleaded.

Finnick turned to look at him, "Stop me? From what?"

"From kicking me out," Peeta mumbled.

Finnick's eyes stayed on the nape of the younger man's neck. "If I wanted to break things off, I wouldn't have started by beating the shit out of that fucker tonight."

The younger man felt a flood of relief wash over him as a smirk crept along his face. Despite how reprehensible his own actions had been that night, despite how bad Finnick's were, he couldn't help but feel happy that the man had been there to stop him, and there to fight for him.

"I'm so sorry, Finnick," Peeta said with a sigh, reaching behind him to take a hold of Finnick's hand. "He deserved it, he did. But I'm still sorry."

Finnick's anger began to wane as he felt Peeta's warm hand gently caress his bruised one. "This is why I'm in therapy, Peeta. Because I have something inside of me that makes me react in anger."

Peeta rose from the other side of the bed and crossed to Finnick's.

"That makes two of us," he said as he sat down next to Finnick, deliberately brushing his shoulder against his. "It's different. He could have killed me. You gave him a fat lip, a couple of bruises and a couple of cracked ribs if we're lucky. He won't be spending the night in intensive care, or the next week in a hospital bed, or the next month in physical therapy."

Finnick stared at Peeta with intensity, "Would you have killed him?"

Peeta didn't need time to pause, to think about his answer. He knew how he felt when he heard that back door open and saw the man before his eyes. The idea of revenge seemed so much simpler than following through with it.

"No. I would have taken the gun and made him think I would, let him know how it feels to think it's all over." He rested his hands in his lap, as his eyes caught Finnick's, "Would you have?"

Finnick shook his head, "No," he replied, "I wanted him hurt, not dead. I can't relive what I went through in the field. I didn't have to think about it twice."

Peeta chuckled, "Well, at least we're not killers."

The older man nodded solemnly, even as the small smirk on his face betrayed his demeanor. "We're not the best people, but we're not the worst."

"We can kind of justify our actions," Peeta offered before sighing and shaking his head.

Finnick pressed the compress down on his hand with more force causing him to grumble in pain as subtly as he could manage.

"Does it hurt a lot?" The younger man asked with concern in his voice.

"You should see the other guy," Finnick said with a sly smile.

Peeta smiled, leaning in and kissing the man softly but fall of passion, cupping his jaw as their lips parted and tongues roamed freely, sighing before breaking and pressing his forehead against Finnick's. "I love you."

"I love you too."