DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Hunger Games and am making no profit off of this story.

A/N: Hello, guys! So, this the first fanfic I've posted online, though I have written many more in notebooks. I'm proud of this one because I haven't encountered writer's block with it, yet. Maybe that won't happen…. Anyway, this is basically my take on what Peeta would have done if Katniss was taken by the Capitol at the end of Catching Fire. Since I'm trying to keep it true to the plot and feeling of the book, I'll use some direct quotes from Mockingjay. Feel free to comment on what could be improved, but don't hate. Thanks, and see you at the end!

PEETA P.O.V.

PART 1: "THE ASHES"

CHAPTER 1

I stare down at my shoes, watching as a fine layer of ash settles on the worn leather. This is where the front counter of the bakery stood. Over there is the melted lump of the oven. Everything else has vanished in the sea of gray. There are no signs of my family. Only a few of my neighbors got out of the fire alive. Most were caught in the swarms of people trying to escape. There's almost nothing left of the shops and the whole square is desolate, devoid of life. Except for me, who had to see the remains of my district, although I haven't felt alive since I found out that they had gotten to her first. They had taken Katniss.

Pain radiates in my chest as I think of her, as I breathe in the smells of smoke and death. I back away from my home, my whole body going numb. My whole family is dead. And Katniss, who may as well be. Plutarch has reassured me that she probably won't be killed. After all, what better way to crush the districts' morale than to break the spirit of their symbol?

That's what hurts the most. The thought that they won't kill her. I'm haunted by the image of her smoldering gray eyes being rendered dull and broken. They couldn't do that, could they? She is the girl on fire. They can't smother her flames. They won't break her.

I don't know if I believe that though.

I turn on my heel and head towards the Victors' Village, the only place to escape the flames. I avoid the main roads, as those are clogged with the bodies of fleeing people. When I had first landed in the Meadow I wasn't careful about where I stepped, and my prosthetic leg caught in something. It was only when I jerked it free that I realized what it was. Someone's ribcage. I was careful after that, and I avoided the areas that people had passed through to escape.

I'm not a stranger to gore. After all, I had been in the arena twice and killed Brutus with my knife in the past one. But the number of bodies filling District 12 is stupefying. It makes my knees weak and my throat tighten. It makes me hate the Capitol even more for what they have done.

I kick the ash off of my boots like snow as I reach my house in the Victors' Village. It's eerily quiet inside. There's nothing of importance here really, just my paintings of the Games and a few family pictures that I brought over to make the spacious house feel homey. My mother, my brothers, my father. Alive and smiling. I was just little in some of the pictures, and in others my brothers have thrown their weight around my broad shoulders and we're grinning into the camera. I'll miss them.

I tuck the pictures under my arm. I don't bother to look at the paintings before I exit the house and cross the charred grass to Katniss's. I take a deep breath before I turn the knob and enter. The house is tidy and it still smells like cooked meals and strong tinctures, but it is just as eerie as my home. I go through the house picking up things the Everdeens may want. A picture of Katniss's mother and father on their wedding day, the plant book I helped Katniss with, some of Mrs. Everdeen's medicines. In the kitchen I come across Katniss's game bag, and put the stuff inside. My pictures lay on top so I can get them easily when I hand the bag to Katniss's family.

I know they'll appreciate the things. Both of them are devastated by Katniss being taken prisoner. Her mother buries her grief in her work as a nurse, and that leaves Prim alone a lot. I've taken to visiting her and making sure she's okay. We get along well, and she has even come to see the drawings I've done on the spare sheets of paper my doctor managed to supply me with. They're not too loose on supplies in 13 and definitely don't put much into the arts. But my doctor suggested I draw as a sort of therapy. I can at least get my thoughts out.

A hiss snaps me out of my thoughts and I whirl around. Buttercup, Prim's scruffy old tomcat, sits on the window sill. His yellow eyes look wild and regard me with suspicion. He must be terrified from his abandonment. I cross the room and hold a hand out to him. He tentatively sniffs it, then meows and I scratch him behind the ears.

"Wanna see Prim, boy?" I ask, and he perks up. He lets me pick him up and I carry him with me as I go upstairs.

Buttercup squirms as we reach Katniss's room and it is only when I open the door that I know why. The smells hit me hard and I gag. Roses and blood.

President Snow.

There, on the bed where I had tucked Katniss in the night she hurt her ankle, sits a perfect white rose. I hold my breath as I bend to look at it. It is nearly flawless, down to the last thorn and silken petal, except for the tiny flecks of blood spotting it. Tied to the stem with pretty green ribbon is Katniss's pin. The gold is smeared with blood the color of rust. Beside it sits the pearl I gave her, also slick with red.

I feel nauseous. Is it Katniss's blood? Snow has obviously done this to get to me. Only, how long has it been here? I whip around and scan the room, Buttercup clawing at my arms. Are there cameras? Is this house still bugged? Is Snow laughing as he watches from his study? No. The rebels scanned the whole place before I landed. Would they detect a camera or a microphone? Wouldn't the team have thought this little setup was odd?

My neck tingling with paranoia, I pull the Mockingjay pin off the rose and pick up the pearl. I drop both into my pants pocket and get ready to clear out before I remember what I came up here for. I go to the closet and pull out Katniss's hunting jacket. The brown leather is supple and warm, and it smells like her. Greenery and smoke and earth. I hold it to my nose a moment, blocking out the rose smell, then sling it over my shoulder and thunder downstairs. Buttercup thrashes in my arm, but I hold him steady as I shut the front door behind me.

I signal to the hovercraft, ready to get out of here. It materializes and a ladder drops down. I step on and the current freezes Buttercup and I until we're safely inside the craft.

I drop the cat and double over, my hands on my knees, and suck in fresh air. Sweat tickles my brow and I try hard not to give in to the panic that's welling up in me. I'm considering just collapsing on the cool metal floor when Gale and Plutarch appear.

Gale picks up Buttercup and claps me on the shoulder. "You alright?"

I straighten and rub my temples, the panic subsiding a little. "Yeah." I watch him stroke Buttercup a moment, then look at his face. I see my own grief reflected in it. We've both lost the same girl, the same home. We're friendly to each other now. I think it's because we found common ground.

Plutarch smiles a little. "Did it help to see it?"

"I can't say it put me at peace, but it did, I think."

It did give me a new set of nightmares, but I don't say anything else and Plutarch wanders away. I think about Katniss, about the pin and the pearl tucked in my pocket. Is it a message? Telling me she's dead? Maybe it's just Snow's way of reminding me where she is. How powerless I am.

How I can't help her.

A/N: The next chapter is coming shortly, as I've already written it. Any constructive comments welcome. Thank you for reading!