We are rescued by the S.S. Carpathia shortly before dawn. After climbing through fixed rope-ladders and being offered tea and biscuits, Peeta and I lean against the railing as we watch the lifeboats row in the middle of the ice field. We try to find the Mellarks in the boats that keep arriving.

Johanna doesn't stay with us. Outwardly, she's the one who has taken things worse. She goes with the Odairs to the saloon, where crew and passengers offer food and medical care to the rescued.

The morning starts with a beautiful rosy dawn. We are joined by some of the Carpathia's passengers on the deck to see the crew lifting the lifeboats after emptying them of people and leaving the collapsibles on the sea.

The lifeboats keep coming for a while. The Mellarks take long to arrive, but we don't deem their delay unreasonable. The boats that departed from the port side have to row across the place of the sinking, through the debris of wooden deck-chairs, small pieces of other wood and wreckage of all kinds. Probably other things I don't want to think about, too.

Other ships arrive nearby. Their names are Californian and Birma. Since the captain of the Carpathia decides to turn back to New York, from where the ship was coming from, an officer informs us that the Californian is going to look for more survivors.

The passengers of the Carpathia put themselves entirely in our service. They offer us combs, hairpins, toothbrushes, coffee, biscuits and everything they have in their possession. Finnick Odair approaches us a while later with a group of men to say:

"These gentlemen have vacated their cabin so that women can sleep there. There's one bed left, will you take it?"

Johanna and I agree to share that bed. We'll share the room with Annie, her baby and three Nordic women, seven people in a four-berth cabin. How precious and spacious was our cabin back on the Titanic in comparison to this one, I think. We're lucky to have met Mr. Odair, though, because most women will have to sleep on the floor of the saloons and in the library.

Peeta and Mr. Odair are not so lucky. The men are only given the smoking-room floor and a supply of blankets. Upon looking at how small the room is, they elect to sleep out on the deck.

We go check our new cabin, but the men stay outside. Johanna and I decide to try our berth to see how we fit together.

"Do you think these are better than the others on the Titanic?" Annie asks me.

"They're both good," I say, starting to doze off as soon as my legs feel the comfort of a bed.

I wake up to find Johanna sitting beside me.

"How long have I slept?" I ask.

Johanna laughs.

"A whole day," she says.

I don't believe her at first, but she swears it's true. Taking a glance at her watch, I realize it's already past noon.

I need to find Peeta and Mellarks. I can't believe I left Peeta alone to search for them among the survivors. I want to kick myself for that.

"Do you want to come to the deck with me?" I ask Johanna.

"No, sorry."

"Have you eaten, at least?" I ask.

"Yes, mother," she rolls her eyes.

I can see Johanna isn't well. She looks much worse than Annie or the Nordic women and I think I know why. As our lifeboat had been lowered away, we passed by a condenser exhaust which had a big stream of water coming out of it, and some water poured into the boat before washing us away. I don't know if it was the fear of being swamped, the idea of the cold or the water in the dark, but Johanna went into a panic and has barely been able to speak after that.

Ashamed, I go to the deck to look for Peeta. I wonder how I can possibly apologize for this. It seems that I don't care about his family, but it's not true at all. After a while, I see him with his back against a wall, smiling and waving at me. Alone. The vision of him gives me butterflies in my stomach, but I ignore them and run to him.

"Peeta, I'm so sorry. I overslept," I say.

Peeta smiles.

"That's what Johanna said at breakfast, but I thought you were trying to avoid me," he says. "That is, until Annie Odair told her husband that no one could wake you up."

"I would never leave you alone here willingly," I say. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize," he says. "I know you didn't sleep for two nights in a row and it was my fault for one of them."

I blush when I remember that one night, but Peeta doesn't see it. He's staring at the horizon with hollowness in his eyes.

"Did you find them?" I ask, alluding to his family.

After a moment of hesitation Peeta shakes his head, unable to face me.

I feel s pang of fear. It's the first time I consider their lives to be in danger.

"Did you ask to see the survivor list?" I ask him.

"Finnick offered to go with me, but I couldn't do it," Peeta says. "Will you help me?"

"Of course I will. Do you want me to go with you?"

"Yes," he says. "But you must eat something first, it's a long line."

"Have you eaten?" I ask.

He shakes his head.

We go to the saloon to grab coffee and biscuits and wait in the line that will let us know the name of the people who were rescued. A man - I don't know if he's an officer or a steward - has the survivor's list and people are always around him in an orderly queue. It takes some time until Peeta and I can talk to him; our cold and sweaty hands are joined together as we get closer to the man.

"Names, Miss?" the man asks me.

"Mellark," I say. "Second class."

"Branson Mellark, Lucille Mellark, Graham Mellark, Rye Mellark," Peeta adds.

The man takes a good look at the provisory list, which takes him some time, and in the end smiles.

"I found one."

"Who?" Peeta jumps.

"Peeta Mellark."

Peeta frowns. "That's me."

The man loses his smile and looks truly sorrowful for the mistake.

"I'm very sorry, Sir. This is all I've got."

I want to demand an explanation. If their names are not on the list, then where are they? I decide to ask the man for a clarification, to know what the possibilities are, but he's already talking to the next person in line.

"Maybe they were rescued by the Californian," I suggest, and Peeta nods slowly.

With the deck chairs full of people, Peeta and I decide to sit on the pavement on the deck.

"Have you slept?" I ask him softly.

He shakes his head.

"No," he replies. "I've been looking for them."

Of course he has, and I've been neglecting him the whole time.

"I'll keep watch from now on," I assure him. "Try to sleep, I'm here with you."

He nods. I lay his head on my lap and watch as he positions himself in a comfortable position. He seems so fragile and childlike right now. I cover his body with the blanket, rub his cheekbone and say:

"I'll be here the whole time. You're safe now."

"Thank you," he replies.

I rub his blonde curls until he falls asleep.

Everyone here is uncharacteristically calm for the situation we're in. We spent three days and four nights on a beautifully calm sea; two days away from New York, already preparing ourselves mentally to say goodbye to the sea, when the journey was abruptly interrupted. Then there was the iceberg, the lifeboats, the chaos, but we remained tranquil during all the process. Everything seemed exaggerated and unreal while we were still on the ship but, once we boarded the lifeboat, the sinking of the Titanic was a natural consequence of everything we had experienced and seen that night.

I had never expected to hear the cries of people when all was over. I had assumed, until then, that it was possible everyone had been saved. With nothing else to do, and the boat overcrowded, we accepted our fate and rowed away.

I had also assumed that the people who went into the sea were the happy third class passengers I had seen playing on the deck, because all the lifeboats were on the first and second class decks, which were restricted to steerage. Never before today had I allowed myself to consider that the Mellarks had been in danger too.

But right now we take things as they come.

Peeta wakes up hours later and excuses himself for a while. I don't hear where he's going because my mind is full of thoughts but, once he leaves, I take the chance to ask an officer:

"Sir, do you know how many people were rescued by the Californian?"

The officer looks at me gently.

"Not one, Miss," he replies. "All the passengers that were rescued are here."

"Thank you," I whisper.

I can't name or express what I feel; I don't know. Although my mind can't process the news, I feel my eyes burn. Maybe the other ship, Birma, was looking for survivors too.

Peeta comes back with food for both of us. We eat it until I realize by his demeanor that he's still very tired.

"You need to rest a little bit more," I say, and he lays his head on my legs obediently.

Some time later I realize Peeta isn't sleeping. His eyes stare, shiny, at the darkening sky, until he sees me looking and brings my hand to him.

"They are not coming back, Katniss," he says.

"I know."

My chest tightens. It's the first time I admit it even to myself.

Although I never allowed myself to consider the idea before, this is when it hits me. The Mellarks are not coming back. We'll never see them again; they will never live the dreams they dreamed of. Their story was cut in the middle and we'll never be able to comprehend or even accept their demise.

Rye will never get to tell me what he feared.

Graham will never get to see Delly.

The mother won't get into high society.

The father won't open a new bakery.

The only thing that's left of them rests in my arms, looking as pathetic and defenseless as a lonely child.

But he squeezes my hand reassuringly. You'll be fine, that's what his body tells me. As much as their deaths are damaging to me too, it was his family that died. I brush his hair off his eyes and bite my bottom lip to stop myself from crying in front of him.

He sits in front of me with a blank face and gently pulls my whole body to rest in his arms.

"It's all right, Katniss," Peeta says. "It's okay to cry."

But I shake my head. I refuse to cry when he's being stoic.

The insane part of me, which is much bigger than its sane counterpart, still believes Peeta's family is safe on the deck of the Titanic, waiting to be rescued.

They were fine, they were healthy. I see them as if they were in front of me right now. Graham laughing and throwing me a block of ice. Rye dancing with me at the sound of the band. The baker hugging me like a father would. The mother refusing to save herself to stay with the sons she would spank as children. I see them all, so real, smiling and waving goodbye at me, happy and unharmed.

I can't see Peeta's face, but his grip is shaky now that he has admitted their loss.

"It's okay to cry in front of me too," I say. "You won't be any less of a man for that."

I look up to see him biting his bottom lip and shaking his head.

"It doesn't seem real. My mind knows they won't come, but for some reason I'm still waiting for them."

I look away so that he can't see pity in my eyes. I know how it feels to lose someone; I can't imagine losing my entire family.

"Do you want me to stay with you tonight?" I ask.

"No," he smiles sadly. "You'll be warmer in a bed, and Johanna needs you too. But I'll be grateful if you come back to me tomorrow."

Understanding his need to be alone, I get up. He gets up too and escorts me to my cabin.

"You're the strong one, you always were," he says.

I don't tell him that it's easy to be strong when he's here with me. Had Peeta been lost, my strength would have been lost as well.

On the next day, we join the crowd of people that fills the telegraph forms to be sent by the Marconigram. It's very expensive and only Peeta has money, but he's the first to suggest that my mother and sister need to know I'm alive. So we send a message in hopes that it will eventually get to the Justice Building, the only place in Twelve City that has the capability of receiving telegrams, with the words:

Safe. . .

Everyone there will know what it means. Although Peeta has no one to communicate to except uncles and cousins, we agree it's important for my family to know I'm not alone, that there's a familiar face with me. By sending this telegram together we say that we're taking care of each other.

Since he's been barely able to rest in my absence, I help Peeta sleep again on the pavement, his head lying on my legs while I read a book I rented at the library.

Something feels different this time.

The touch of his face on my upper legs brings me a strange sensation. It starts slowly, but the intensity shoots up when he moves and his face comes closer to a certain part of my body. I experience a mad desire to tug his curls and pull him closer to me. It makes me feel ashamed: Peeta would be repulsed if he knew what I'm thinking while we grieve his family. I feel something liquid pooling in my panties and the desperate need to have a bath. Peeta's face is so close, what if he can sense or smell it? He'll think I'm dirty.

Finnick Odair passes us by and smiles at me with the mischievous look of someone who knows exactly what I'm feeling. My heart races and I look around to see if other people know it as well, but no one is paying attention. Finnick puts his finger in front of his mouth and points to Peeta. I get it: he won't say anything because he doesn't want to wake him up.

Peeta has been resting for hours when his voice interrupts my thoughts.

"Thank you for saving my life."

I'm surprised.

"I thought you'd be angry," I say.

"For saving me?" he asks with wide eyes.

"For almost forcing you into the boat. For using your leg," I reply, and start stroking his hair to ease my nervousness.

"I just couldn't believe it at first, that you were risking your life to help me. It was the bravest thing someone has ever done for me."

"I would have never entered the lifeboat if that officer had refused to let you in," I say.

Peeta smiles sickly and brings his thumb to rub my cheek.

"I know. I would have put you there by force and you would be very angry."

"I had the right to stay with you, Peeta."

"I would never allow it. Why would you die for someone like me?"

"Because I owed you."

Peeta blinks twice.

"What do you mean?"

"You saved my life with the bread, so I had to save yours."

Peeta blinks again.

"I didn't even know that debt existed," he mutters. "I never wanted you to repay me."

"I know, but I never forgot it."

"You could have given me squirrels for free on your best days of hunting. Were you willing to die because of… bread?" he asks with a grimace.

I nod.

"You had given me nine more years to live and hope to start again. I could never pay you with money or squirrels, Peeta."

Peeta sighs and shakes his head. All of a sudden he has the look of someone who has lost everything.

"I thought you had done it all because you loved me," he says. "I'm so stupid. It makes sense now, everything you did. You and your endless debts… I should have known."

I don't answer. After a moment of hesitation I keep fondling his hair, but he looks pained at my touch until he gently removes my hand and sits.

"It's probably better that you don't do this anymore," he says softly.

My heart rips in half as he withdraws from me and looks away.

"It was all because of that debt, wasn't it? Those nights on the ship," he asks with dejection.

"I enjoyed your company," I say, embarrassed.

"I see. Then what part was for the debt and what part was for my company?"

He's not being fair. I spent those nights with Peeta because I liked him. But I can't bring myself to say it, not after the conversation I overheard between him and his brothers. I'm the one who has the right to be upset, not him.

"I don't know what to tell you, Peeta."

Seeing that no explanation is forthcoming, Peeta gets up and takes the crutch.

"I need to be alone. Will you be fine?"

I mutter a yes. I feel angry as I see him go away. How can he be upset over something like this?

Immediately after Peeta disappears, Finnick Odair comes from nowhere and sits next to me.

"Problems with your beau?"

"Peeta is not my beau," I say.

"It seemed a lovers' quarrel to me," he replies.

"Don't ever say that. I'm engaged to someone else."

Finnick snorts.

"I don't believe you."

I shrug. That's his problem. "Don't you have better things to do than watching me?"

I know the answer. There are not many men whose company he can choose from. Over the last few days we learned that only fourteen second class men were rescued, much less than even third class men, and Finnick would appreciate talking to a fellow survivor. The Carpathia's passengers are very nice, but they don't know how we feel.

"No, I'm bored. Annie is sleeping with Charlie, I don't have anything in common with any of these men besides Peeta, and Peeta seems to want to be alone or with you. What else can be better than watching you and finding out your secrets?"

I remember having a similar conversation with Rye hours before the sinking. My eyes burn with unshed tears.

"The last person who wanted to know my secrets died within hours of uncovering them," I say blankly. "You should leave them buried. Maybe they aren't meant to be revealed."

I don't mean to tease, it's the truth. I destroy everything that gets close to me. But Finnick looks at me with compassion.

"I used to sit at the table next to your group and wonder about all of you. Believe me, I'm sorry that they didn't make it."

I nod. "I'm sorry too. They died because of me, you know. They were escorting me to my wedding."

He shakes his head rapidly. "I'm sure they had their own plans. They wouldn't bring the whole family just to escort you," says Finnick, and I know he's right, but I can't shake the feeling that it was my fault that they boarded the Titanic and not another ship. "Tell me about your fiancé."

"His name is Gale. Gale Hawthorne," I say.

Finnick lets his jaw fall. He gasps, looks at me and shakes his head in disbelief.

"What? Gale Hawthorne, owner of the armament factories?"

I nod again and Finnick whistles, sizing me up as if he's meeting me for the first time.

"So you're not just Katniss. You're Katniss Everdeen," he says with admiration, and I realize I had never told him my surname. It's unsettling.

"Do you know Gale?" I ask.

"Of course, we're good friends. In fact, we're travelling to your wedding."

"Oh," I say. I hope it's a prank, but I can't avoid blushing and looking down. This man thought Peeta was my boyfriend minutes ago and now he says he knows Gale.

"What about Miss Mason?" he asks. "Does she belong to your family or Gale's?"

"Gale hired her to be my sister-in-law's governess."

Finnick chuckles.

"Who would say that in the middle of this ordeal I would finally uncover Gale's best hidden secret?" says Finnick. "Hazelle and the boys must be ecstatic, they adore you."

Hazelle is my future mother-in-law. I don't think Peeta or Johanna know her name. If Finnick knows her, then what he says is true.

"He talked about me?" I ask.

"He did, but I wasn't expecting that girl to be you."

I snort. "You thought I was prettier and more interesting."

He shakes his head. "Very wrong. You're a remarkable character, Miss Everdeen. You sit on the floor, take care of your companions and share a bed with Johanna Mason. No one in your position would share a bed with a subordinate. Now I can see why Gale never paid attention to any of the girls I tried to show him. And if I remember well, you're a good shoot."

"Only with a bow and an arrow," I smile.

"And now you'll marry a man who produces guns. It will be frightening to be in the same room as the two of you."

"I hope so," I chuckle.

Finnick is silent for a while. He seems to be pondering something.

"As a friend of Gale I think you must distance yourself from Peeta," he says at last.

"Why do you say that?" I ask.

"Why, one would think you were married. There's no denying his intentions go far beyond escorting you, and you can't have him believe you encourage it."

"His whole family was lost," I say. "What do you want me to do?"

"I know you must help him. But Gale Hawthorne is a great guy, Katniss. He wouldn't be pleased to know that another man sleeps with his head on his fiancée's legs."

I blush heavily, remembering how it felt between my legs and the knowing look Finnick gave me then. At this point Annie arrives with baby Charlie. Finnick jumps to kiss his wife and hold his son. I couldn't be more thankful for the interruption.

"Annie, did you know that Katniss is Gale's bride?"

Annie smirks.

"You're making fun of me."

"It's true. She's the huntress," Finnick says, and turns to me. "Tell her."

"It's true, Annie."

Annie frowns and her lips part in disappointment.

"No! What about poor Peeta?"

"See what I told you?" Finnick asks me before exchanging a meaningful look with Annie. "Peeta is only escorting her."

"But he likes you so much," Annie says. "You take such good care of him."

"I take care of him for his family's sake," I mumble, feeling the need to explain.

"I think from now on you should let us deal with him," Finnick says. "I'll take good care of the boy, trust me. You must distance yourself from him as much as you possibly can. Don't you agree, Annie?"

"I do," says Annie. "Let Finnick escort you."

Peeta can't sleep without me. He didn't even want to check the lists with Finnick. But we'll be separated in one day or so and Peeta won't have my help after that. He's upset with me now, so perhaps he'll want this too, after all. So I sigh and say:

"All right."

The night is hard. Flashes of lightning keep me awake for a long time. I wonder if our men are safe on the deck, but Annie tells me they must be under a covered surface.

I don't talk to Peeta for the remainder of the journey. He doesn't seem to be confused by my lack of communication, so I reckon Finnick must have had a talk with him. Finnick acts as a mediator, always having me by his arm and putting some space between Peeta and I when the later is around. It makes me self conscious that a friend of Gale seems to think I'm not trustworthy.

Finnick decides that I'm one of the most capable and sane survivors around, so he finds a way to employ my time. The survivors have formed a committee to collect subscriptions for a general fund to provide for the destitute among the steerage passengers, to present a cup to the Captain of the Carpathia and medals to its officers. Working for that committee, I visit the steerage in company of a fellow passenger to confirm the names in the survivor list and to inquire everyone if they have means for survival.

On Thursday, April 18th, the day of our arrival, I try in vain to convince Johanna to take a bath. She's interested in it, but complains of chest pain and dizziness every time she tries to actually take one. In the end, I convince her to at least find an alternative manner of washing by saying:

"Gale values cleanliness. He won't like it if you're dirty."

This elicits her full attention. I manage to get her soap and wet washcloths so she can clean herself. I wash her hair in the washbasin we have in our cabin but she's terrified of that small portion of water. I can't avoid thinking this will be a problem in the future.

We arrive in New York on that night. The Carpathia docks in her station at the Cunard pier and the gangways are pushed across. The survivors rush outside, seemingly anxious to end this journey once and for all.

I look for Johanna, but I don't find her anywhere. In the confusion I lose the Odairs too. But I find Peeta waiting, watching passengers and crew pass until he sees my confused face and joins me.

"Where is Johanna?" I ask.

"She was one of the first to leave. Finnick and Annie have left too."

I had imagined that Johanna wanted to disembark as soon as we docked; she's frightened of water and boats. Finnick and Annie must have thought that I left with her, so they left too.

The boy with the bread faces me with sadness and worry in his blue eyes.

"So this is goodbye," I say.

Peeta nods, but takes his time to respond.

"Walk with me one last time?" he finally asks.

I smile. Some steps after we set foot on American soil, at last. We could have been here with his family one day ago.

We walk together with our almost inexistent possessions. He has a blanket; we both have toothbrushes, that's all. The place is full of reporters, passengers, the rescued and families of the rescued. I look in awe at the magnesium bombs shot off by photographers, wondering if Gale is waiting for me here.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Peeta says. "Take this."

He uncovers his arm and fumbles with the clasp on the chain to remove my bracelet from his wrist. He puts it in me and my whole body shivers at the light touch of his fingertips.

"Thank you," I mumble.

Suddenly we're startled by a flash of light and approached by a heavyset man.

"I'm a reporter from the Tribute. Is it true that the Titanic's officers shot people dead so that millionaire men could get into the boats?"

"What?" I ask.

"That's a lie," says Peeta.

"Is it true that there were people picked up floating on lumps of ice?" a reporter with blue hair inquires. Is that a wig?

"Leave us alone," Peeta replies, guiding me through the reporters.

"This is a bigger reception than when the late King of England visited Panem," I muse, perplexed by the confusion.

Peeta smiles sadly.

"I'm sorry for everything," I blurt. "I didn't know your family well, but I admire them."

"I know," he says. "They cared about you a great deal too. Even my mother."

I smile, remembering the woman I used to call 'witch'. I find it hard to believe.

"What are your plans now?" I ask.

"The plan to stay in my room waiting to die won't be viable anymore. I shall see what happens."

"Will you go back to Panem?"

"I don't think so," he replies. "There's nothing left for me there."

Somehow, I think there's much less left for him here, but I don't say it.

"You have a house and a business. Girls will line at up your door. You can be a baker, get married and have children, as you want," I say, hoping to motivate him and hoping at the same time to wound him with my indifference.

He looks hurt.

"With someone who wants me for greed?"

He doesn't understand how handsome he is, or how special he can make people feel when he wants to. Many women would want him for real.

"It won't come to that," I say.

"I don't care," he replies. "Right now I'm worried about finding work. I don't think there are many people who want to employ an amputee."

"You can use a replacement leg."

Peeta laughs darkly.

"A peg leg? To look like a beggar? Hell, I already look like one now."

I feel anger building up inside me. Back in Panem, sometimes we would go for school trips at the Capitol. There used to be a man with a wooden leg sitting in front of the main church, and I vaguely remember a group of merchant kids making fun of him and kicking away his hat with alms. Although I don't think Peeta was one of them, I know he saw it, and this comment shows me he partakes in that prejudice.

It also shows what he really thinks about poor people. It is demonstrative of what he must have thought of me all these years. It must be disgusting to remember me in his family's trash. Being able to throw me two loaves of bread made him superior to me, thus I'm not an equal, but a sort of pet to him. And he has given me alms on this trip, alms that were kicked away from me when I heard him talking to his brothers on that dreadful day.

Fighting back my tears, I snort in disgust.

"How does a beggar look like?" I ask in a low voice. "Like a filthy, scrawny girl looking for food in your trash bin? Is the sight too repulsive to you?"

Peeta's face turns red. He looks at me, wide-eyed, his mouth open to speak.

"Did you know that my father never bought this bracelet?" I ask. "He found it next to someone's trash. I would have never made you wear it if I knew how disgusting it was to you."

Peeta shakes his head.

"I didn't mean it," he stutters. "I –"

"Is that why you think you have the right to make fun of me? That I'm worth less than you are? Did you have fun trying to make me love you so that you could tell your brothers what a piece of work I am, how plain I look? That me falling for you would be Gale's problem?"

Tears sting in my eyes. He looks frightened, but I don't care. His hand comes to hold mine, but I yank it away from him before it closes; he's so weak it slides between his fingers.

"Katniss –"

"You're a phony, Peeta Mellark. To think that I regarded you as my hero all these years," I shake my head. "My debt is settled. I don't owe you anymore; we're even. If I ever see you, I'll cross the street to the other side. We are not to talk ever again."

"Katniss."

I only face him for as long as it takes to say:

"Goodbye, Peeta."

I walk away at a quick pace. As much as I want to hear his explanation, it would be hurtful to know why he thinks so poorly of me. It's best to be ignorant. Something has been eating me inside since we started speaking to each other; now the feeling will settle. I know this is the right choice.

I hear Peeta's heavy tread on the pavement, foot and crutch rushing after me while he calls my name. I'm overcome by the desire of being reached by him. It would be good if he could run after me, wrap me in his strong arms and tell me everything had been a misunderstanding. My resolve almost vanishes, but it would be stupid of me to give in to an illusion, so I force my legs to go on. Besides, it wouldn't be possible for him to reach me: I'm much faster.

His voice gets more and more distant, as the sound of his quick steps. In the end, the crutch stops and he tries to call me one last time.

Aware that he's about to give up, my body loses its resolve to move. My shoulders sag as I wipe the tears from my eyes. Peeta's steps are audible again, the beat of the crutch fast, hopeful, nearer and nearer.

I don't look at him, I'm too tired to react. His arms come around me and I let my face rest on his chest. I can hear his heartbeat faster than ever. My own heart tightens when he breaks down and starts sobbing like a child.

"I still want to be your hero," he says. "My God, I thought I lost you."

"Peeta…"

"I'm so sorry. I know I don't have a lot to offer, but please, come with me. Let me explain what you heard."

Not knowing what to say and feeling my whole body shuddering and tightening at his touch, I separate myself from Peeta's embrace.

Peeta tries to hide his hurt. He thinks I'm rejecting him. I'm tired and confused, but I want to give him this opportunity, so I nod.

"All right. Explain."

Before he has a chance to speak, though, I feel a bump against me. I look down to see Posy Hawthorne, Gale's sister, hugging my waist, and I stroke her hair in response. Moments later, her brother Vick hugs me as well.

"Catnip!" I hear behind me. "Look at you."

The first people I see when I turn around are Johanna and the Odairs, but they are not alone. Next to them I see Hazelle, my future mother-in-law, holding her son Rory's arm and giving me a big smile.

In the front, beaming, there's Gale.