Capitol officials had come to pick Haymitch and I up to board the hovercraft that'll transport Peeta out of the arena.

This doesn't happen, it isn't custom. But they said that President Snow insisted that I be with Peeta the moment that he gets out of the arena.

I would have been ecstatic if I was sure that he was still alive. Also, if it's on President Snow's request, I know that it's meant to be a personal message to me.

'I gave him back to you. Now, you'll do whatever I want.'

He's positive that he owns me. I'm determined to show that I'm more than a pawn in his game of chess.

I can see Peeta's limp body being airlifted into the hovercraft. He's so still, and his chest isn't beating up or down. It's steady as a rock.

A lump begins to form in my throat. I cannot lose him, not after all this.

I might have repaid my debt, but it appears to be in vain. And if he does live, it won't be in paradise.

As soon as he's dragged into the hovercraft, I scream out to him, begging for him to wake up. He looks worse in person than he did onscreen.

His once golden hair has turned brown because of the matted blood. His face is hollow and scarred. His clothes are ripped and bloody. And his features are skeletal, despite having a sufficient amount of food in the arena.

Haymitch restrains me, pulling me back from Peeta.

I can see the doctors lift him onto a table and hook him up to wires and begin to work on him. But I don't want them touching him, or making any changes as well, their kind has done enough already.

Once they hook him up to the heart monitor, the line is already flat.

He's gone. The Seventy-fourth Hunger Games is the year with no victor.

I fall to my knees, and I hold my hand to my chest, I seem to be unable to breath. I let out choked sobs and hit the floor. I scream at the top of my lungs. No, this can't be happening, he can't be gone.

But he is.

Glass separates the doctors working on Peeta from Haymitch and I. I so badly want to kiss him again, to feel his arms around me, to see his smile, to hear his laugh. I want him again.

I stop thrashing and admit defeat, I have failed.

I touch the glass gently and outline Peeta's figure with my fingers. I lean my head against the glass, staining it with my tears. For the second time ever, I see Haymitch cry.

I think he viewed Peeta as a son, just like he views me as a daughter.

Because perhaps, we were the only two people that he had left.

Now there's only me left. Me, who is selfish, angry, spiteful and heartless. I pity anyone who is stuck with me.

Then I hear beeping.

I whip my head up and I see that Peeta's heart monitor has begun to show a slow heartbeat. It's weak, but it's a heartbeat. And then relief washes over me. Perhaps tonight, I can feel his lips on mine again.

Fatigue overwhelms me, for I have not slept in days, and for the first time since the reaping, I sleep soundly knowing that Peeta is alive.

He's still in danger. But he's alive.

And that's all that matters to me right now.

They say that his heart stopped twice more after I fell asleep.

And that they were barely able to revive him after the second time.

But when they asked him to think of something to hold on to, the only thing that he said was my name. Over and over and over again.

Now he's in the hospital room, asleep. The doctors said that he's not allowed any visitors, but I know that it's a lie because they allowed Haymitch in a couple of hours ago.

I know what they want. They want our reunion to be on TV.

But I can't wait any longer.

After the doctors leave, I sneak into Peeta's room.

My heart stops when I see him sleeping. He looks so peaceful, but I already know that he's not the same boy that he almost a month ago. A week and a half in the arena has taken its toll on him.

Though he looks peaceful, his features appear to have aged greatly. His eyes have dark circles, his lips tremble even when asleep, and I can see the outline of his collarbone. It seems like he has the burden of the world resting on his scarred shoulders.

It breaks my heart to see him so weak and vulnerable.

After Haymitch's visit, he told me that he requested not to have any alterations on Peeta. Apparently the doctors wanted to give him tattoos to cover up his scars.

No, he's perfect just the way that he is. Even after being put through a deadly game.

I don't know what I feel for him. All I know is that there's this longing burning inside of me aching for his touch, for his lips to be on mine. I know that I need him to survive, just like he helped me survive many years ago, just like I helped him survive now.

Both times though, the price was the same if we failed – the price was our life.

I trace the outline of his face, running my hands along his jawline, his lips, his eyebrows and his eyelids.

I sit down beside his bed and stare at him. I grab his hand gently in mine and rub small circles on the back of his hand. I bring his hand to my lips and I kiss it gently. I linger for longer than necessary, and then I proceed to kiss his wrist.

I close my eyes and when I open them, I can see a drop of water on his hand, I must be crying, I'm not shocked, it seemed to be a regular occurrence nowadays.

I whisper against his wrist, "Please stay with me Peeta."

After a couple moments of silence, I stand up and turn, but I stop in my tracks when I feel a pressure on my wrist.

I turn around and see him looking at me, with so much love in his eyes, "Always."

I smile in happiness, and I run back towards him.

I kiss every section of his face, his eyelid, his temple, his jaw until I reach his lips.

The warm sensation fills my body, putting me at peace.

His warm lips kiss me gently, slowly grazing over every inch of my own. But after being deprived of him for so long, I am persistent and kiss him fiercely. It seems to take him by surprise because he opens his mouth in protest and I use this as an opportunity to slip my tongue in. Peeta soon calms down and begins to move his lips with mine. I knot my hands into his hair and continue to kiss him, ignoring my need for air.

Soon, Peeta pulls away, and I begin to close the gap again before he makes his hand a barrier between us.

He chuckles and says, "I missed you too, Katniss."

I begin to shake my head like a little girl and snuggle my head into the crook of his neck. I smell his scent, "Not as much as I missed you. I'm so glad that you're out of there."

I kiss his earlobe gently before I can feel him quivering.

I perk up and look at him, his face is in his hands, "Peeta?"

He shakes his head and looks up at me, tears streaming down his face, "I couldn't save her Katniss. It's my fault."

My heart breaks at the sight of him crying, I rub his back with my hand and kiss every single tear that trickles down his face, "Hey, no. It's not your fault Peeta. Nothing is your fault."

"Yes it is, I wasn't there to save her."

"Maybe not, but you were there during her last moments, at least she was with someone that cared about her while she was dying. At least the last thing she saw wasn't evil, it was good."

Peeta nods, but tears still pour out of his eyes, "Thanks Katniss."

I slightly smile at him before kissing him again.

"They're not happy with him."

I look at Haymitch, confused. "What do you mean?"

He sighs, "I mean, that the Capitol isn't happy with him. What did you notice about him that differentiates him from every other victor?"

I furrow my eyebrows in thought, then it comes to me, "He didn't kill anyone."

Haymitch nods, "Yes, exactly. He did something that completely defeats the purpose of the Games. It's supposed to turn you into a killing machine, not a peace symbol."

"A peace symbol?"

"Yes. Peeta has become a peace symbol. Aside from the fact of being one of the symbols of the rebellion, the Districts see him as a symbol of peace, because he showed that there can be good people to win the Games, that if he can get out of the Games without becoming a monster, then maybe they can fight for what's right. Because let's face it, even if someone isn't reaped, the Capitol has already taken their life away from them, don't people have the right to fight for their lives?"

I stare out at the city, "Yes, they do."

We stare at the Capitol in silence, I can hear the cheers as the final battle is replayed endlessly.

"President Snow is out for his blood you know, he'll stop at nothing until Peeta's dead."

"Why?"

Haymitch looks at me dead in the eyes, "Because he wants to extinguish the fire that you two have started. He wants to end the symbol of the rebellion, to stop the Districts from rebelling. But honestly, with the damage that you two have made, it'll only add fuel to the flames."

I look down at my hands, "He knows about the rebellion doesn't he?"

Haymitch nods slowly, he eyes divert from me back to the city, "Yeah, he does. He won't stop until he wins. He doesn't know that Peeta isn't the only symbol of the rebellion, though. But he suspects that you play a part in the rebellion as well."

I smirk, "He doesn't know that I'm the Mockingjay huh? So, tell me Haymitch, does Peeta have a name?"

He nods, "Yes, he does."

I look at him, "What is it?"

"The Phoenix."

"Phoenix? Why is he called that? I mean, I know why I'm called the Mockingjay, it's because of my token."

"Not only that, it's because mockingjays were never meant to exist. Also, he's called the Phoenix because no matter how much pain the Capitol put him through, how much he's been beaten down, he rose from his ashes and came back stronger than ever. Strong because he did the honourable, he refused to play the game other than his own terms."

I huff, "Yeah, seems about right. He's better than any of us combined. President Snow is definitely going to take advantage of his good heart and use it against him, especially since he showed vulnerability when he saw me dying. He knows that he'll do anything to save the ones that he holds close to his heart."

Haymitch sighs, "I suppose that he's going to use you to get to Peeta then, to break him."

"He can't break him more than he already has. Listen Haymitch, he needs me to play his game. He wants to control me like the pawn that I am. But not anymore. If there's something that I've learned from Peeta, it's that I'm more than just a piece in his game. But he's pushed me around and pulled my strings so much, that the girl on fire has almost burnt out. I refuse to be a part of his game, because the pawn has transformed into a Queen. And this year, someone's going to beat him at his own game, this year, someone is going to say 'checkmate.'"

"So what's your next move?"

"Protecting the king."

The 'game' that I'm referring to in Katniss' monologue is when President Snow uses people to harm his enemies. Like in the real book, when he uses Peeta to break Katniss. When he uses Haymitch's family to break Haymitch and so forth. XD Thanks for reading! Reviews are welcome! Two more chapters! :D