A/N: Yes, this chapter is terribly short, but I will make it up to you by adding a second chapter up! This one's Katniss' POV.

Review Response:
Nemue:I'm so glad you're enjoying! I'm getting pretty attached to this universe, so it's pretty cool to hear that other people are as well. And Peeta is so easy to love, ne? Also, hopefully this chapter will help you a little with figuring out Katniss. :) Thanks for the review!
KatnissMellark:Aww, it's okay Katniss was there for him! x) It's a big compliment to hear that it made you sad, so yay! Thanks for taking the time to review, it's muchly appreciated!

INTERMISSION: katCAM

It took him hours to finally return to sleep and when he did, his fingers remained clasped around my wrist. I don't know why I stayed. Why I even barged into his room to begin with.

Just a lingering memory of shutting out the world and curling into a ball of taut nerves that tingled in pain that I could show no one, not even Gale. Just the remembrance of crying alone on that same bed, so much softer, so much nicer, than my own, and wishing for nothing more than to be home once again.

The scream I heard only because I never slept much when I was at the Capitol. Sometimes I thought the real reason for Haymitch's drinking was just so he finally managed to sleep.

I wondered how long it would take me to reach that point. If Haymitch had once been a mentor like me who strove to see at least one tribute make it home, or if he had always been as he was. From the day he returned home, forever changed and deformed into something almost not human.

Certainly the Games could do that.

But I would never know for certain. No one would talk about the year Haymitch won for District 12. And I would never find the courage to ask for the details.

I didn't need them anyway.

Peeta's fitful cries had drawn me to him in a blind panic. It's hard to explain why to anyone who doesn't already know, and for those that already know they don't want to talk about it. But it is because even awake, the screams of long-gone tributes haunted me. Their screams were ghosts that would never leave, their torment something I could never change, never alter, never prevent.

But Peeta was still here, still alive. I could change his outcome. Maybe I wouldn't add his voice to the list of those that had the right to punish me for the rest of my wretched life.

I had no right surviving.

That was why I trained with him, why I pushed him so much harder, and maybe that was why I went into his room that night. To keep one last scream out of my waking nightmares and sleepless evenings.

But I doubted it.

As I stared at him, his blonde curls washed clean of the Capitol concoctions, haphazardly strewn across his face and the eyes that I knew were blue closed, lids lined with the lightest, softest looking lashes I had ever seen... As I watched him work into what was hopefully a peaceful sleep, I knew, this wasn't about my nightmares.

It was about saving the boy with the bread, because I wouldn't get another chance to repay my debt.