A/N: Hi everyone! I just wanted to say a big thank you to everyone who follows this series and has added it to their favorites. 12 of you lovely people (so far) have done so, making this my readers' collective favorite! I also love you all for your reviews, however, I feel that no one reads these. My challenge to you if you choose to review is to end your review with the word "squiggle". :D I've decided to add this one-shot onto the series, but I'm gonna add an epilogue in the next chapter, which I'll upload later on today. I'm basically cleaning up a little. I wrote it before I started the series, so it's time to put it where it should live. My original A/N is below.

-I was listening to one of my favourite songs by one of my favourite bands - The Civil Wars - C'est la Mort. While I was listening, I got this idea. I think the song fits their situation in my idea. Post Mockingjay Hayffie. Let me know what you think. :)

P.S. I advise finding the song on youtube and listening while reading this. It's not a "songfic", but the song really is beautiful, so I would advise listening to it anyways.

Disclaimer - The Hunger Games and all characters are owned by the lovely Suzanne Collins, and I am not her. I assume she wouldn't feel the need to write on FANfiction...?

**No lyrics are used in this story other than the title. The song C'est la Mort is property of The Civil Wars.**-

-Ellie.

He sits in his living room in Victor's Village. There are no lights on and the curtains are closed. He likes it that way. Light reminds him of her - the light that used to shine so brightly from those blue eyes. The light was lost somewhere in the dark depths of her Capitol cell. After all, how can a flower still stand tall and shining with colors, when there's no sunshine for it to feed on? No, her light faded more and more with every cut, shock and strike those monsters delivered. She told him about it once, when she cried all night the first night she awoke in District 13. He stayed at her bedside, holding her all night, fighting his own battle with alcohol withdrawal and sleep deprivation. He pushed all his pain aside for her, and it took him until it was too late to figure out why. It's clear to him now, what he denied for so many long years of working with her. All the lingering stares, looking into each others eyes, neither daring to speak the words they were both so afraid of. He hates himself now. He's a coward. He thinks that if he had just said the words she was longing to hear, the words he was longing to say, she might have come home. She belongs here with him so they can share their pain together. There is a deep connection between them. It remains there as an unspoken promise made on one of those nights in the hospital. They shared each others pain, and they swore, simply with an embrace, that they would fight together from now on. She belongs here with him. They both know it, but neither dared say it.

He takes a sip from his glass of water. He's sunk to new lows without her. He won't even drink. He's sober for two reasons: she asked him to be, and he doesn't feel he deserves the escape. He feels like he should have to deal with his pain. He feels he deserves to suffer. There will be no more pushing it aside for him. He deserves to hurt. He just sits there, day after day, in the same seat, staring at the same spot on the wall in the dark. He is lost in his thoughts, day after day, night after night. He won't even cry anymore. The tears never change anything. All he can do is sit there and wait for darkness to consume him. He doesn't know when it will happen, but he already lives surrounded by darkness. He longs for her comfortable light to engulf his life like a flame as it used to. He spends his days lost in his memories of her. On this particular day, it's like she's actually here, touching his hand. He can smell her expensive, sweet perfume. He can hear the softer voice of the real woman, and not the screech of the Capitol's puppet. He knows the real her from the days holding her in hospital, just listening to her and crying with her. Vaguely, he hears the kids come to his house every now and then, to clean and bring food, only to return the next day and sigh because he hasn't eaten again. Through the mist of his memories he sees their sympathetic faces, how they look at him with concern. He hates when they open the curtains and let in a light he doesn't deserve. There's only one light he wants.

Somewhere in distant reality, there's a soft tap. He thinks it's his door, which is strange because the kids don't knock. They know he won't answer. He ignores it, but can't escape back into peace because the knocking continues, but a little louder this time. With a grunt, he rises and makes his way to the front door. Before he knows it, he's looking into those deep blue eyes and it feels like his heart has stopped and broken at the same time. They are the eyes he grew to love, but there's something different about them. They are almost absent. It takes her voice softly saying his name for him to realize that these worn, miserable eyes and the bright, exuberant eyes of his past are one and the same. They stare; eyes fixed on each others – soft blue locked with shimmering gray. Without warning, he feels tears running down his face, silently, an image also reflected on her beautiful, natural face. He reaches out to feel her soft, long blonde curls that hang loosely around her face. Her hand finds his cheek and rests there, her fingertips lightly stroking his stubble. His hand drifts to lightly stroke her face. She's real. He can't lose her again. She has to stay with him this time. He leans in slowly, eyes locked on hers, and places a soft, delicate kiss on her lips, his hand gently caressing her face and hair. She responds immediately, returning the kiss with one of her own. His left hand finds her waist while his right remains in her hair. One of her hands drapes over his shoulder, the other still gently resting on his face. They find themselves pouring every suppressed emotion into this moment. They stand there on his doorstep for what feels like an eternity, yet it is still not long enough. When the need for air takes over, they remain in the embrace, foreheads resting together and eyes locked. He whispers the words against her lips, and her heart leaps. I love you. She responds with a kiss and breathes the words back at him against his lips. He stares into her eyes, and somewhere in their depths is a clear spark. He feels hope, a now alien feeling. All he can do is kiss her again, and she responds eagerly, a smile playing on both their lips.

"You and me, sweetheart." He mutters against her lips. She smiles and leans her forehead against his again.

"Forever?" She questions with pleading clear in her eyes. He kisses her again.

"Forever, I promise."

Let me know what you thought please? Reviews etc are very much appreciated. Remember the challenge. ;) Thank you guys. :)