Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games or anything associated.

Summary: Katniss relives the moments when she claws out Haymitch's face in a nightmare. She then has the impulse to apologize to him.

The nightmare of the first day in the hovercraft haunts me tonight. I remember the unfaithful day for Haymitch so well.

I lunged across the table. Screams of curses upon curses escaped my lips as well as Haymitch's.

My nails began to collect his skin as we started.

"You ungrateful bitch!" He yelled.

"You drunken asshole!" I screamed.

"Get the hell off me!" He yelled trying to push me off.

Once they pried me away, I could see that there was six or seven bloody drips from my claws. "We had a promise to protect Peeta!" I hollered.

"I did what I had to do!" He exclaimed.

"Looks like you failed the one who trusted you most." I hissed before they pinned me down. Then I caught a glimpse of his face.

His mouth was hanging open slightly. His lips and eyes were spared of my nail attack. Haymitch's eyebrows and cheeks were dripping with blood.

That's when I started screaming again.

Peeta wakes me up. "Hush. Katniss, it's okay; I'm right here." He whispers.

I start breathing normally. "Thank you Peeta."

"For what?" He asks quietly.


I remember Peeta's lips on mine, but right after we separated, we both fell back into a deep slumber.

The next morning, I went over to Haymitch's. I walked right in and poured ice water on him.

"Will you stop doing that?" He asks groggily.

I shake my head no and pull his face close. I start moving his hairy eyebrows around.

"What are you doing?" Haymitch questions.

"Shut up and let me look."

I find what I'm looking for. Just a few scars now though. "I'm done," I say.

"What were you looking for?" He asks. I think it's the soft look I give him or maybe it's the way my mouth forms a grim line or maybe it's because we're so alike and he can read my mind or something, but he does figure it out. "Oh…"

"Yeah," I agree.

We sit there for a few minutes before we both blurt out, "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for? I'm the one who disobeyed your orders and gave you the right to claw my face," Haymitch replies.

"No, it was wrong of me to do that," I say.

We go on like that for a few minutes before Peeta walks into the kitchen. I say, "I'm the one who should be sorry; I clawed your face out."

Peeta says, "Hey! Who wants to explain the clawing and faces?" He asks.

And that's when I have to tell him about my nightmare.