While walking through District Thirteen's cafeteria, Katniss struggles to find a spot to sit. She can feel everyone's eyes and hear their whispers, which stop as soon as she is in earshot. She knows exactly what they are whispering about, Snow's message for them. A death threat to them all, because they had rescued Peeta and the other victors. They call him a traitor and her one by demanding immunity for him and the others. They don't know Peeta like she does, though, the baker's boy who only ever wanted peace, love, and safety. The very opposite of the man he has been turned into at Snow's hand.

Katniss's eyes scan the room, falling on a man sitting alone at a table. There is a dark, closed-off demeanor to him, but also something strangely familiar. Katniss takes her chances and walks towards him. What's the worst that could happen? He gets up and leaves, or tells her to fuck off? Either way, Katniss couldn't care less about this stranger's opinion of her.

He is chewing his food with a seriousness, his jaw dramatically clenching and unclenching with each bite. His eyes are glazed over, unblinking as if he is deep in thought. Katniss almost reconsiders her choice, not wanting to disturb him. That is what she would want anyway, to be left alone.

However, she is already at his table and setting her tray down in front of him. His face remains unchanged, not even a little disturbed by her presence. This brings Katniss some comfort but also stirs up curiosity. Who is this man? What has he gone through to make him so dismissive of those around him? Katniss feels almost the opposite of him, severely aware of everyone around her.

Katniss begins to eat, letting the questions of her curiosity flood her mind until she is drowning in them.

"I'm Katniss." She says dryly while playing with her food.

"I know who you are." The man responds gruffly while taking a sip from his canteen.

Katniss remains silent, unsure of his tone. He must hate me, she thinks to herself. Just another member of District Thirteen who thinks I'm a traitor.

"I'm sorry about your husband... or partner, whoever he is to you." The man states. Catching Katniss off guard, she looks up from her food, meeting his eyes. They're a nostalgic shade of blue, it reminds her of Prim's reaping day dress, and the beach where she had her last real conversation with Peeta.

"Thank you." She says meekly but wholeheartedly. Not used to anyone apologizing for what happened in that arena or the atrocities that followed it. Not that she deserves an apology, she knows it's all her fault anyway. She could have saved Peeta, she just should have fought harder for them to be together when they were orchestrating Beete's plan.

"I'm Bucky, by the way." He says while wiping his mouth with a napkin. Katniss nods, now realizing why he is so familiar. He is a victor too, or more a victim of the games and Snow's torment.

"You're a victor." Katniss comments, taking notice of his one-gloved hand. She has heard the stories of the metal prosthetic that lies beneath the fabric. How it was a "gift" from Snow after he lost his real arm in the games. She wonders what the real intended purpose of it was, as Snow does not just give away "gifts" freely. Not to mention deadly ones.

"I wouldn't call myself that," Bucky responds, shaking his head.

"Me either." Katniss retorts with a snort.

"We're survivors... or murderous puppets, just depends on how you look at it." Katniss nods her head in agreement.

"What are you doing here? In Thirteen, I mean?" She asks.

Bucky sighs, "The same as you, I guess. Trying to take down Snow and the Capitol for what they have done to us." He ever so slightly lifts his metal arm, signaling that it was not something he had ever wanted for himself. Katniss's curiosity boils over again.

"What's with your arm?" Katniss half expects him to get up and leave right then and there, knowing how invasive her question was. Instead, he flexes his fingers and curls them into a fist. It's just quiet enough in the cafeteria for Katniss to hear the whirling of the advanced technology.

"Snow gave it to me, said it was a reward for my heroics in the arena. And that I was the capitols greatest soldier, enhanced, efficient... obedient."

Katniss understands what he means. Knowing Snow, and how he warps his words to make them sound like you should be grateful for everything he has done for you. But there's always a sinister underlying twist to it. He never actually wants you to be grateful; he wants you to be afraid.

"What'd you do to earn such an honor?" Katniss pushes, at first not caring about her curiosity getting the best of her. However, the stretch of silence that follows fills her with nothing but regret.

Bucky stares at his covered arm, he looks at it with such disdain, it's like he is looking at Snow himself. Finally, he swallows and shifts his gaze down to his tray.

"I killed the love of my life."

Katniss feels a phantom pain in her chest, as if someone is squeezing all the air out of her lungs.

"He was a tribute from District Four, named Steve." Bucky pauses, his voice rough like he might break down at the thought. "He saved me in the arena, and we both paid for it."

He picks up his fork with his flesh hand and starts moving the food around on his plate, trying to distract himself from such raw emotion. He coughs, attempting to clear his voice, then continues, "Our Arena was modeled to be like snowy mountains, a terrain neither of us knew how to survive in. And there were these massive Grizzly Bear-like mutts, one had gotten the jump on me while I was seeking shelter in a cave. Steve was nearby, also looking for shelter, and followed me in. With him being a career and all, he was able to get an axe and shield out of the bloodbath, he used that axe to kill the mutt. Not before it had shredded my arm to pieces though, then he used that same axe to amputate and cauterize my arm. Saving my life." Bucky stops for a second and just stares at his food like it might anchor him. "He took care of me for a while until I had enough strength to leave the cave with him. We didn’t even make a pact or talk much. It was just... small things. Sharing water. Watching each other’s backs. Not killing each other when we had the chance. That’s how you show love in the arena, I guess."

Katniss holds her breath, the pressure on her chest growing with each sentence. Her own guilt suffocating her from the inside out.

"We made it to the end, just the two of us in that frozen hellscape. We didn't get the option to both make it out of there, not that we didn't try. I had suggested that we could just wait it out until the game makers got bored with us. That didn't happen, though; it just made them get more creative on how they could pit us against one another."

Bucky drops his fork and picks up his canteen, chugging the rest of it like he needs to wash all his emotions down with its contents. Once he finished, he slammed it back down on the table, making an echo in the now empty cafeteria.

"I hadn't received a single sponsor while in there, but on our last night, I did. It was two rolls of bread and a little milk carton, Steve was so happy for me, he wouldn't even let me share it with him. We had our first kiss right then and there." Bucky slightly lights up at the thought of it, but then his expression gets even darker.

"Little did we know, it was laced with some aggression-inducing drug. I killed him soon after. He died pleading with me, begging me to stop. He died thinking that I never truly loved him, that I was just some homicidal maniac waiting for the right moment." Bucky let out an exasperated breath, like he was choking on his own feelings.

"Snow wanted me to remember what happens when you challenge him and his games. So he built me into a weapon, one that could be used whenever he pleased. All it took was some aggression serum. Never letting me forget what I did." Bucky then picks up his canteen and crushes it with his metal fingers, the whirling now deafening in the silence.

Katniss struggling to breathe now, being filled to the brim with guilt. For both her and Bucky's experiences, knowing she is the lucky one because at least Peeta is still alive.

"I'm sor-"

"Don't say you're sorry." Bucky's voice now hollow, depleted of emotion, like he had used all of it up to tell her his story.

"He knew Bucky. Steve knew it wasn't really you that night."

Bucky scoffs and shakes his head in pure disbelief. Shaking out any thoughts that could somehow minimize his guilt. "He died at my hands, screaming my name like I was a monster."

Katniss, still holding her breath, feeling nothing but overwhelmed with emotion, let it all out at once. Her rugged voice coming out barely above a whisper, "Peeta almost killed me one time. After the hijacking. He looked me in the eye and saw someone else, something dangerous. Not someone he loved... but I still saw him. Every day, I think about who he was before Snow changed everything. It's important to remember who they were and who we were before Snow."

Bucky stares at her, his expression unreadable, like he’s trying to decide whether her words are a lifeline or just another illusion.

“Do you still love him?” he asks, voice low but inked with hope.

Katniss staring into his eyes. “I never stopped.”

That softens something in him, his shoulders relax slightly, and for the first time, he looks like someone young. Not a tribute. Not a weapon of destruction. Just a boy with too many scars who never had enough time to let them heal.

“I didn’t think I deserved to,” he says. “Not after what I did.”

“You didn’t choose that,” Katniss says. “Snow did.”

Bucky scoffs again, but this time it’s quieter. Almost reluctant. “You talk like you’re not still carrying the same guilt.”

“I am,” she admits. “But I can’t keep letting it be the only thing I feel.” Katniss pauses for a moment. “Neither should you.”

The silence stretches between them again, but it feels different now. Like something has shifted, not strained, not healed, but acknowledged.

“You’re lucky, you know,” he murmurs.

Katniss raises an eyebrow. “Why? Because he’s still alive?”

“No,” Bucky says. “Because he might still remember.” He stands slowly, the chair scraping against the concrete floor. “I hope he does,” he adds. “For both your sakes.”

He walks off without waiting for a response, leaving Katniss sitting alone at the table, her tray hardly touched, her chest hollow and full all at once. She doesn’t follow him, but she watches him go, and for the first time since the rescue mission, she doesn't feel so alone.