Hunger Games 1. Something

Something

There was no escape from my nightmares.

No matter how hard I tried to stay awake sleep would eventually overtake me. There would be a brief period of blissful nothingness, a few minutes, a few hours, I could never tell, and then they started. Vision after horrific vision appeared, overtaking all my senses as I relived every horrific detail and created new horrors correlating with the past few years. The guttural sound that escaped her lips as the spear buried itself into Rue's stomach; the intertwining taste of blood and dehydration as I watched countless die around me while I lived, too weak to save a soul; the putrid stench of roses as giant white monsters feasting on Finnick's body suddenly metamorphosed into Snow, who continued devouring as he looked up at me with cold, mirthless eyes; the feel of strong hands clenching around my neck, hands that were once my only source of refuge, of love, wringing the wretched life out of me as I was absorbed in his hate; the sight of that un-tucked little duck's tail a moment before what was left of my miserable existence was demolished…

No matter what happened in my nightmares this is always how it ended. Me watching helplessly as the bomb…Gale's bomb… obliterated the life of my little sister. The life I had set out to save, the life that I had volunteered my own for that spurned the events leading up to this very moment, was gone. I had failed. Nothing else mattered. There was nothing left.

I usually awoke in a sweat to the sound of my own screams, my fists clenched tightly around my damp and tousled sheets as I was swallowed in my own despair. This night, however, I rose with a physical pain that caught my attention before the emotional set in. I awoke with a start, and immediately pressed my hand to my cheek. Even in the darkness I could feel the three short parallel lines across my face as blood started to trickle from my paper thin wounds.

"Dammit, Buttercup!" I cried, and from the end of the bed I could hear him hissing in reply. But before I scolded him further I felt the warmth of his residual body heat on my chest from where he had slept. From where he lay trying to protect me from my demons. From where his cat protection could only take so much of my flailing and where he swiped at me to get me to stop.

It was not comforting words, or the safety of a warm embrace from someone who would never stop holding you if you only asked, but it was something. And something was so much more than I had allowed myself to have since I had returned to District Twelve. I reached across the bed and grabbed the indignant creature gently, ignoring the growls of protest as I placed him in my lap. I pet him absentmindedly as his resentful purrs resonated through my body.

For the first time in what seemed like a lifetime I didn't need to sift through my nightmares after waking up.

And that, again, was something.

(A/N: To any of my readers from Truth Will Out, know that I have not given up on that story. I am just taking a temporary inspirational hiatus. It's been a long time since I've been so driven to write and I am so excited about this story!)


	2. Small Solace

Small Solace

Dawn was barely breaking when I stepped outside. The air was still and cold, laced with the usual sent of coal dust in spite of the mines being closed since the bombings. Victor's Village was silent as I walked through the neighborhood. Despite the years of this being the norm, now days this was quite the rarity. For the first time ever all twelve houses were occupied, nine filled with the new Victors from District Twelve, those that had survived the Second Rebellion and returned to start from scratch. No one ever stayed for very long. Most did not want to dwell in a building that symbolized the horrific reign of the Capitol. Instead the nine houses were treated like inns, allowing room for the steady flow of the newly returned to take refuge as they quickly rebuilt their homes.

As far as I knew no one disturbed the other three houses, but I couldn't quite be sure. The few times I ever heard a knock on the door I ignored it. The handful of people who came to visit me didn't bother knocking. Greasy Sae didn't even knock when she came into my room…or bathroom.

No one, I would imagine, would try to seek residence with Haymitch. Partly because the stench of his squalor was palpable from his lawn, but mostly from his reputation. For decades he was District Twelve's only Victor, and for years he made a point to be left alone, only making an appearance during the Reaping and the Hunger Games, and only because forced to by the Capitol. Even during his crucial role in the Second Rebellion he made it clear to most that he desired distance. Only a few were tolerated. Only two were ever occasionally welcomed.

And then there was Peeta.

My heart stumbled in its beats at the notion of him. So much was associated with him…too much. Thoughts of Peeta brought about waves of guilt and pain and regret. It was almost as bad as when I thought of Prim, as all those memories and emotions came rushing back, crippling whatever semblance of strength and will I had recently managed to forge. Only with Peeta there seemed to be so much more. A part of me knew that the feelings associated with him weren't all bad, and if I only allowed myself to sort through them I just might be able to feel…

Something. Something besides the empty anguish that was all that I ever seemed to feel.

But I could never bring myself to get past the pain on the surface. I was too frightened of what lay beneath, too afraid of the fresh hell that inevitably awaited me.

So instead I buried my feelings deep inside, spending most of my days trying to feel or think of nothing at all.

My eyes flitted back to Peeta's house. The light in his kitchen was already on despite the early hour. I could all too easily picture him laying out the dough he had set to rise the night before, shoveling the loaves into the brick oven he had installed before the Quell, taking inventory of his ingredients for the day. Unlike me or Haymitch, Peeta seemed to have found his purpose in the shaky new order of District Twelve.

He fed people.

Each morning he baked enough bread to fill the new bellies of Victor's Village, delivering them personally to each home as he asked about their previous days and future plans. Then he worked tirelessly to fill the needs of the steadily growing population as District Twelve's only baker. Bread was not as scarce as it once was. In fact no basic necessity was. The first order of the infant Panem government was to insure the recovering Districts didn't starve to death after the Rebellion. Food was sent out daily; rationed, but plentiful and with a variety hence unknown to the home of the coal miners. But despite this new abundance the population still wanted to go to a Mellark for their bread. It was for more than just sustenance, it was for just one more thing that made home home.

I imagined him alone in his big house as he worked, and I was struck with a seeping of sadness. Peeta would never turn anyone away if they asked to stay.

I jogged past his house quickly, determined not to lose whatever small momentum I had that morning as I headed past the Seam and into my old hunting grounds. Most of the fence had been rebuilt since the bombings, but all traces of electricity had been removed. It was strictly a barrier keeping predators out and not one keeping pray in. I did not hesitate as I ducked underneath it.

Hunting was the only solace I had. It seemed to be the only thing worth getting out of bed for these days. The crisp breeze in my hair and the winter sun on my face stirred what could appear to just be hibernating signs of life within me. It gave me a task, a purpose, and one of my own choosing. I was able to loose myself in my focus, blocking out every memory except those necessary for the hunt. And if I steered clear of the rock Gale and I used to rest on I didn't feel any pain about hunting the familiar woods alone.

It was a successful morning. I was able to bag three large fowl, two from the same escaping flock, and a few rabbits still plump from the long fall. I even caught sight of a deer after I managed to wander deep into the woods, but I could tell by the rounding in her belly she was with foal. I lowered my bow and watched her walk nervously away from me.

As the sun rose higher in the sky I felt the enjoyment of hunting slip away. It always did after a few hours. My bag was about as full as it could be anyhow. So with resign I headed slowly back towards the fence, trying only to focus on where I would go to sell my game.

And then I saw it. A grey bushy squirrel, blended in almost perfectly with the resting trees. I don't know what over took me, but my bow was loaded instantly. Twice I steadied my breathing against my bowstring before I let my arrow fly. The rodent was dead before it hit the ground, the arrow penetrating directly in the eye.

I examined my impromptu kill for a moment to ensure its state. Perfect. As I stuffed it in my bag I knew there was one kill whose destination I didn't need to contemplate.

Despite it being mid-morning on a work day my game sold quickly. It always did. I wasn't sure if it was because even though meat from District Ten's herds was widely available it was still unfamiliar in taste, or because like Peeta's bakery buying game from me was the norm at home. I didn't question. Greasy Sae bought two of the fowls and a couple rabbits with hardly a glance at their condition. She refused my protests of her paying me too much, even though both of us knew I would be eating this very meat the next day when she brought me dinner. To compensate for this I traded all but one of my rabbits and the squirrel to a few of the poorer, recently arrived booths. I did not refuse the scraps of fabric or the empty vellum of a red bound book when the bargaining commenced. The people who returned to District Twelve weren't looking for handouts. But kindness was always appreciated.

I turned my back away from the booths and headed towards Victor's Village. The large steel cover that shaded the remains of the old abandoned warehouse stayed with me for a minute. The rebuilding of the Districts encouraged the sale of local goods between neighbors, so the Capitol sent supplies to each urban area for a marketplace to be built. Officially these markets were known as The Forums, but seeing as it was strategically placed over the old ruins everyone in District Twelve reverted to calling it The Hob.

It didn't take long before I found myself standing in front of Peeta's house. I had placed myself in front of the door, close enough to knock, but for some reason I found myself frozen.

Peeta had visited me over two dozen times since his return nine weeks ago. Many of those times I had been incoherent, so wrapped up in my despair I was hardly aware of him. Usually he would try to gently coax me into conversation. He would update me in the latest news of the Districts, the new local powers we reaped, the small little victories he had gathered from the neighbors as they rebuilt our town.

But I never responded. I wasn't even aware I listened until a few days later when I would recall a processed bit of information like the new forms of rations or how the supplies for a school and hospital were to arrive any day. It was all I could do to focus on his bright yet sad blue eyes as he searched hopefully for some kind of response that never came.

Except for his last. After a half hour of one way conversation he rose from his seat. No one would blame him for simply walking out and leaving the useless cause behind. I surely didn't. But instead of walking towards the door he kneeled over my chair. I'm ashamed to say my eyes widened in fright, recalling the layers of pain that followed the last time he approached me so swiftly. But his hands did not go for my neck, but for under my arms. Before I knew it he was pulling me into an embrace. For a brief moment I felt his warmth engulf me and I fleetingly absorbed all the security and passion his hold used to offer.

"Peeta," my rusty voice croaked. I was unsure what I meant by calling his name as I issued no further proclamations. But the sentiment seemed to be interpreted, and he brushed his lips against my forehead sweetly.

"You're not lost, Katniss," he whispered, before slowly removing his hold and leaving me wracked with confusion.

That was three days ago and I was still unable to shake the experience. My forehead still burned from the lightest of kisses that was placed there. My lungs still ached from having held in air for what seemed like hours after he had left.

I didn't know what to say. More so than ever. How could I explain myself to him? Give him the explanation he more than deserved when I didn't know the answers myself? It seemed impossible that anyone would understand how guilty I felt focused on the living when so many were dead.

My feet were already poised to turn away when the front door opened. It was a second before Peeta looked up to see me on his front porch as he resettled the empty burlap sacks in his arms.

"Katniss!" he exclaimed, his voice bright with surprise. "You're up!"

I opened my mouth to speak but nothing but air escaped. The only thing I could think to do was present him the squirrel, feeling very much like Buttercup when he placed dead lizards by my shoes.

"Wow, Katniss! Right in the eye," he grinned, his blue eyes blazing with pride.

"It's my first time since I've been back," I explained shyly, and I realized the statement was true in many ways.

He quickly ushered me in, his hand brushing the small of my back as I crossed the threshold. His house was unlike mine in every way. The furniture was worn but cozy, the air was warm and smelled perpetually of fresh bread, and the atmosphere was friendly and inviting. I found myself hoping that others came to visit often.

We stopped in the kitchen where he urged me to try his latest creation. It was a fruit tart reminiscent of those served to us at the Capitol, only with the hearty unrefined grain of District Twelve rather than a fake perfect look. I thought of how rare fruit used to be here and now we actually had spare berries to bake with.

All thoughts of readjusted distribution fell out of my mind as I bit into the sweet and creamy pastry. I clapped my hand over my mouth to keep the morsel from falling out as I gasped. It was the most remarkable thing I had ever had.

Peeta laughed warmly at my reaction and instantly wrapped up the rest of the batch for me to take. As I half-heartedly tried to decline I felt a strange tightening in my face. It was only from the growing beam Peeta induced that I realized I was smiling. I couldn't remember the last time I actually smiled.

"What happened to your cheek?" he asked, holding out his hand and gently brushing the three lines with his thumb. Though his hands were strong and scared from war and work I couldn't help but notice how the tips of his fingers were as smooth as flour.

"Buttercup," I exclaimed in exasperation. "He did it this morning when I was struggling in my…"

Our smiles both dropped as I let the sentence hang out awkwardly. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about my nightmares on a day when I was starting to walk without them. Especially not with him.

"Have you been talking to Dr. Aurelius?" Peeta asked quietly. My eyes diverted to the floor.

"You should give it a try. He really helped me. He based his treatment off "Real or Not Real" because he saw it worked for me. I know we could find something that works for you. If nothing else he can prescribe medicine that takes the edge off your dreams."

I could hear the desperation in his voice. The desire to share with me the transformation that occurred bringing him back to his formal self. To prove that he was no longer mad or controlled by the hijacking. And, as always, he wanted to give me hope that I too could come around if I only let people help me.

"This pastry is amazing," I repeated lamely. "How many batches did you try before you came up with this one?"

Peeta sighed sadly as he answered with an impressive "just one". He explained the process as I continued to ask questions. His voice seemed to return to its usual lightness after a few moments, apparently taking my interest in anything as a good sign.

A beeping went off in the kitchen, signaling it was time to go feed Haymitch. While Greasy Sae seemed intent on keeping me alive, she had no such desire to do so with him. Peeta therefore took it upon himself to ensure their old mentor remembered to eat and drink something besides his liquor.

I agreed to tag along, offering up my rabbit along with his squirrel when he started collecting vegetables to make a stew. I had only seen Haymitch once in the months since our return. Once or twice I felt angered by his abandon until I realized he was further out of it then I was. His visit, when it eventually came, was not unwelcomed, and it turned out some of his absence had to do with us gripping reality at different times in the day. While I was the most functional in the morning during my hunts, Haymitch was at his best in the afternoon, when his hangover was as ebbed as it ever would be and the day's new buzz had just began to set in.

The stench of his house was not as bad as I remembered. It was clear Peeta had done his best to try and keep the place clean. But years of neglect would not be so readily beat by a few weeks of scrubbing. Still, it was an improvement.

We found Haymitch lying face down in the living room, his hands clutching an empty bottle. Peeta collected a pitcher of water from somewhere, grinning mischievously as he offered it to me. My lips flickered up into a smile, and I remembered to be wary of his knife as I dumped its contents on his head.

Peeta and I both jumped back as Haymitch was brought to life, waving his knife around viciously as he slowly came to his senses.

"This whole waterfall bit is really getting old, Peeta!" he groused, shaking his head like an old dog climbing out of a stream. He paused for a moment as his eyes focused on me.

"Well hello there, sweetheart. Nice of you to join us," he stated nonchalantly. "Peeta and I were sure you had checked out on us."

He emphasized his statement by rolling his eyes back in his head and walking in a deranged manner.

"We did not!" Peeta yelled sternly as he watched the man wobble around. "At least I didn't."

"Yeah? Well, that's because you're an idiot," Haymitch proclaimed before letting out a belch. "What the hell did you bring me to eat?"

Despite the jabs at my sanity I couldn't help but smile at Haymitch. It was good to see him again. Good to be with the two of them again. It had been too long.

Peeta set to making the stew quickly and I shared some of the pastries he had given me. Little conversation was exchanged but it was comfortable. We passed some of the time playing cards until Haymitch swiped them all off the table after losing a hand and staggered indignantly up the stairs. His window for visitors was closed.

Peeta walked me to my house, insisting again that I take the left over stew. The loaf of bread that he had left me during my hunt sat stale from neglect and the cold since I had yet to return. Peeta left me with a promise of a new loaf and a quick but reassuring hug before he set off home. I watched him walk away for a while before turning to the solitude of my house.

As I climbed into bed that night, once more stroking Buttercup absentmindedly, I was struck with the thought that this was the best day I had had in months. Maybe even in years since it was not one marred by looming death.

It was a small solace, but one I was happy to take. Especially since I was to spend the next two weeks fixed to my chair, unmoving as I willed myself to be dead to the world.


	3. Fire Catching

Fire Catching

The day had started off well enough. I still woke up with a gasp, clutching my chest as I took in my surroundings. I was sure I had dreamed. My heart raced as though it had been trying to outrun my demons. Only this morning I did not remember what had happened. This hardly seemed any better as I could have spent hours poring through my past in my waking moments, bringing my nightmares into the day as I tried to recall what had tormented me at night. But instead I decided to push that masochistic desire out of my mind. Perhaps today, like yesterday, could be different. Better.

The sun was already well on its way into the sky as I made my way to my kitchen. It was almost too late to start my morning hunt. This put a damper on my plans until I reminded myself I could return to the woods in the evening. Or perhaps I would even leave the prey of District Twelve in peace tonight and visit Haymitch instead. Sharing time with he and Peeta had felt so light and natural in a life that had been filled with dark, artificial (yet no less real) horrors. Maybe we could even pick up our card game. I had been winning after all…

And then I noticed the package on the kitchen table. It was placed next to a bowl of Greasy Sae's porridge and Peeta's bread. The loaf was still slightly warm, meaning my caretaker was not long gone. The parcel was wrapped only once, tied with a frugal amount of string. The top simply said "Everdeen", and only the smallest of stamps proclaimed where it had originated from.

District Thirteen.

I froze. Was this some sort of threat? Up until now I had hardly thought of the repercussions of killing Coin when it came to those following her. She had been well respected as a leader. Could this be a form of retribution from a loyalist?

I opened the package immediately. I was never one for what ifs or maybes. I would face whatever danger had been sent head on. No use prolonging the fight.

But nothing could have prepared me for what I discovered.

A ragged, grass stuffed cat doll, a kit of basic healing herbs you could slip into your pocket, a worn picture of my father, and a diary.

Prim's diary.

I heaved into sobs on the spot, all but collapsing on to the ground as I held my sister's prized possessions to my chest. All the pain and anguish I had felt on that soul stripping day at the Capitol came rushing back. I gasped and struggled painfully for breath as I shamelessly read every word of her diary, immersing myself in her deepest thoughts and hopeful dreams of a new life.

After reading her last entry proclaiming Prim's joy in getting to go help people in the Rebellion "_just like Katniss does_", I threw the book against the wall and dropped my head onto the ground. I laid there still as death, hoping it would find me.

Unfortunately someone else did first.

* * *

The shrill of Greasy Sae's scream echoed around in my head hollowly. The fact that I had never seen the hardened woman react in such away did nothing to deter me from my stupor. Nor did when she shook me, shouting my name over and over again until her voice went hoarse.

It should have been me. I was the one who was prepared to die. I had accepted the inevitability. For with death would come a relief of the pain and the guilt and the memories that could send anyone over the brink sanity dozens of times. For what really awaited me on the other side of the Rebellion? I'd become a shriveled MockingJay, obsolete in a world that no longer needed me. I had two Hunger Games and thousands of deaths on my hands. I had turned my back on my mother, on those intent on helping me. I had broken the hearts of the two men who loved me unconditionally as I bounced between them, only to run away from them both.

But Prim had everything to live for. She could be free from the torment of surviving the games. She had an essence that made even those absorbed by the deepest parts of the Seam smile. She had dreams of a new future. One where she could be a great Healer. Where she would save the lives of others, including her forlorn sister. She was inspired and driven by love, something she hoped to experience with the dark haired boy from District Thirteen who had kissed her while studying for their Nuclear History test. Every word in that diary was so teaming with life and hopes and dreams it seemed impossible that the author was gone; that the few pieces of her flesh that survived the explosion were now decomposing into the harsh ground.

It should have been Prim that lived because she loved and looked forward to life. Not me, who resented every breath and the people who prolonged my misery by ensuring that I continued to take them.

Eventually I was moved to my chair. A blanket was wrapped around me to keep me warm. I didn't sleep but was never awake. I saw days' worth, weeks' worth of scenes unfold before my eyes, but only rarely did I acknowledge them:

Peeta and Grease Sae trying to get me to eat something.

Peeta and Delly Cartwright reading to me out of an old story book.

Peeta and Hazelle delicately wiping away the layer of grime and coal dust that eventually covered everything that sat too still in District Twelve.

Peeta…Peeta…Always Peeta.

_Always_.

I didn't know if he ever left. He should have. He should have left me far behind to decompose like Prim's remains as he steadily rebuilt his life. But every time I grasped at consciousness he was there, his blue eyes holding back tears as he talked to me firmly…gently…lovingly.

"Alright, sweetheart. Time to end this tea party!"

I was roused from my nothingness as a bucket of water was dumped unceremoniously over my head.

"Haymitch!" Peeta scolded. "I told you not to!"

"How do you like it now?" Haymitch asked me with a grin, though only after he had jumped back expecting retribution. I remained still, my excessive blinking the only sign registering my soaked state.

"It's no use, Haymitch," Peeta stated sadly. "She's been like this for over two weeks."

Instead of igniting pity these words only seemed to infuriate Haymitch.

"Fine! You want to just sit there and be nothing because something new reminded you that your fucking sister is dead? Then fine. I don't need this."

Haymitch threw the water pitcher against the wall as he stormed out, cursing and stumbling with every step. Peeta watched him go for a moment before returning his gaze to mine. Alone, he held my hand in his, rubbing his soft thumb across my bony knuckles.

"Come back to me, Katniss," he pleaded, his voice breaking in his whisper. "Please."

I answered him with silence as my gaze dropped to the ground. We sat there in my living room for untold minutes, frozen in the crushing moment.

A crack. Barely audible, but I definitely heard a cracking sound in my left ear. I don't know why this sound out of all the sounds I had heard in the last few weeks meant anything to me, but it caused me to turn my head and face the covered window. Peeta perked up at the movement, watching me with undivided astonishment.

"Katniss? What is it?" he asked. I only continued to look at the window. He followed my gaze and was met with a faint glow permeating the otherwise snowy darkness of the night. Peeta got up and pulled the curtains back to reveal a view of the eleven other houses of Victor's Village. One of which was on fire.

"Haymitch!" Peeta yelled, before bolting frantically out the door. The flames began to grow, licking the night sky as they engulfed more and more of the dilapidated house. I could just barely hear Peeta call for Haymitch as he rushed into the collapsing building.

The realization struck me like a bolt of lightning.

"PEETA!"

I was out of my chair and running barefoot in the snow as I dashed into the burning structure. Smoke met me on the lawn, choking my rusted lungs as I forged on deeper.

Peeta and Haymitch were in there. And I couldn't let them go.

"Peeta!" I cried, coughing into my sleeve as I pushed my way blindly into the broiling house. "Peeta! Haymitch!"

"Katniss!" Peeta shouted, and I could just make out his outline in the flames of the kitchen. "Katniss, get out of here! Go!"

I sailed over the smoking couch and stumbled into the kitchen. A beam from the ceiling had fallen on top of Haymitch's legs, pinning him to the ground. The log was wedged between the wall and island counter so tightly Peeta's strength failed him. I instantly joined his side, dodging the flaming bits of ceiling that fell around me.

"Katniss," Peeta moaned as I pushed against the wood with all my strength. It didn't budge.

"Fancy meeting you here, sweetheart. Have a nice nap?" Haymitch groaned as the roof on the other side of the house started crashing to the floor. I pushed again, desperate to get him free, but weeks of inactivity had zapped me of my muscle. It was all I could do to keep from coughing my lungs out from the sweltering smoke.

Peeta heaved loudly, dimly causing me to think he had been hurt. But then I saw him re-gripping the fallen beam, picking it up a few feet off the ground to clear it of Haymitch's legs before dropping it. Without wasting a second he had Haymitch slung over his shoulder. I gasped as smoke clouded my lungs and vision, but Peeta's spare hand found my arm and tugged me along. Even as I tripped my way through the living room I felt myself blacking out.

I was brought back to consciousness as I felt my body being dropped in the snow. I hacked out clouds of smoke, knocking into Haymitch as he did the same. He cried in pain and I noticed the long burn that covered his arm. I immediately grabbed some snow and packed it on the wound.

A second later I heard the whirl of District Twelve's only emergency vehicle as it rushed to the remains of Haymitch's house.

"So there's that impressive response time Paylor keeps babbling about," Haymitch cursed as he dropped his head in the snow.

I almost laughed. But I was glad I didn't.

I had never seen the likes of fury that Peeta held in his eyes as he stared down at us. It was not like when he had attacked me after his hijacking and hated me for weeks after. That look had been so foreign on his face, like a mask someone from the Capitol had replicated in one of their precious machines. The dimensions had been perfect, but no bothered to get the feeling right.

But this look, although being so rare in his warm blue eyes, was all too real. Anger and disgust blended with pain and fatigue as he seethed at the two of us.

"That's enough!" he yelled, his voice snapping through the night. Even Haymitch couldn't help but straighten up despite his pain and personality. "I'm through with the two of you intent on killing yourselves after all we've made it through. Don't you realize you are all I have left?"

Peeta dropped himself in the snow as medics rushed towards us with supplies. They berated us with questions they didn't wait to hear the answers to. Not that I could speak anyways. My mind was still reeling from what he had just said. I was still trying to take in the meaning of the harsh yet crushing look on his strong face.

"Yeah? So what do you want us to do about it? Get that shit away from me!" Haymitch demanded, pushing away the young medic who tried to put an oxygen mask on him. I watched the resolve form on Peeta's face as I slowly breathed in to my own mask.

"The two of you can either decide to give up on life and get as far away from me as possible," he began harshly, staring mercilessly at Haymitch. And then he softened, finally defaulting to his normal kind features as he switched his gaze over to me. "Or you can try, really try to get better, and come stay with me."

I inhaled sharply as the offer hit me.

"Who the hell do you think you are, making an ultimatum like that?" Haymitch snarled proudly as the medics cut off his pants. His drunken gaze deviated as he snapped at the medic, telling her to keep her hands to herself unless she was going to make it worth his while.

"I'm saying I'm done watching you will and drink yourselves into oblivion. I can't take it anymore," he said sadly. Peeta cast his gaze away from me, staring determinedly into space as his medics checked him thoroughly.

Haymitch responded with a uproar, telling Peeta he had been drinking himself into oblivion before he was even born, throwing fits about how he didn't need anyone as the medics placed him on the stretcher.

All I could do was sit, fixated by the intense gaze in Peeta's eyes, his words rebounding over and over in my head.

_Don't you realize you are all I have left?_

"I'll stay."

The words were out of my mouth before I even knew where they had come from. Peeta and Haymitch quit their one sided argument and stared at me in disbelief. Even the medics slowed down their efforts to hear what I had to say.

"You'll…you'll stay with me?" Peeta ask with a quiet eagerness. "You really mean it?"

"Yes," I said firmly, nodding my head curtly. "I'll stay and I'll…try."

Life resounded in Peeta's face at my reply. My own lips flickered up into a smile at the sight. Suddenly I felt certain that this was the right thing to do. The best thing for me to do. As the air glowed a muted orange as the last of the flames died down I took Peeta's extended hand, letting him pull me to my feet. His strong hand squeezed mine with certainty.

We both then turned to look at Haymitch. He gawked back, the drunken haze in his eyes desperately trying to grasp the situation. His eyes met mine as we exchanged a silent conversation. As always our communication was the most impactful when no words were exchanged at all.

The medics picked up the stretcher and carried him to Peeta's house, cementing his decision for him. Without a hospital people needed to be treated in their homes.

Haymitch, for once, did not argue with them.


	4. Sparks of Reality

Sparks of Reality

I never imagined it would be so difficult to live with Peeta.

Back during the Victory Tour, before the Quarter Quell, when I realized the rest of my life was to be forcibly tied to him, I occasionally thought about what this would mean. Mostly I felt angry at having my entire existence revolve around the Capitol and Snow's desires. My stomach would split at the expectation of us having children, knowing without a doubt that their names would be drawn in order to teach us a lesson. But sometimes, usually right when I was about to fall asleep with Peeta's arms wrapped around me, shielding me from the horrors of the world and the nightmares in my head, I felt something else. It was a peaceful feeling, a security, knowing that I would forever have this man's embrace. Though I had always been steadfast in my decision to never marry or have children I knew that there was so much I would miss with that sacrifice. With Peeta as my husband I would have an affectionate and trustworthy companion. Someone who would give me hope and love. I would never have to be alone.

I was happy.

But now happiness felt like an allusion. It was just another lie fed to us by the Capitol, something to hope for in order to distract us from our complete servitude. I would never be happy, because thanks to my promise to Peeta I stopped myself from retreating into my stupor. Without my shield of numbing indifference to everything I carried my pain around perpetually. All the terrors from the Hunger Games, the Quell and the Rebellion circulated through my head, adding up the pressure as I sorted through them one by one until I could no longer take it and would all but collapse. Alone, I would pick myself up, remembering my promise, and start the process all over again.

For I really was alone despite being in a house filled with people. Haymitch was quarantined to the third floor, kept in his bed as his broken legs healed. The doctor from Thirteen who treated him was strict in his belief that alcohol would drastically slow down the healing process. I heard Peeta argue in his defense, knowing what going stone sober would do to him. He was able to eke out a compromise, and Haymitch's alcohol consumption was tightly rationed to keep him buzzed but never drunk.

The walls shook with Haymitch's proclamations of hate for his caregiver.

After a few days of unsuccessfully getting into our old mentor's room Peeta hired a nursemaid. Hazelle Hawthorne became a regular fixture at the house. She admitted to Peeta that she didn't know the first thing about medicine, that she had always been a washer and cleaner. Peeta responded that Haymitch hated medics, and more needed a mother-figure to keep him clean and well then anything else. Once placed in that mind frame Hazelle seemed much more confidant in her duties.

She had one extra job, one that was meant to be just between the two of them and not accidentally overheard as I walked by the slightly ajar door. Through the crack I watched as Peeta gave her a silver flask and instructed her to fill and give it to Haymitch each day. He must think that she had been stealing it from Peeta's supplies, and then only to get him to shut up while she worked.

For a moment this gave me a touching hope that Peeta's unfailing kindness would take pity on me as well. Certainly if he saw my pain he would rush to comfort me, giving me permission to sink back into my numbing state so I could escape the hurt.

But no such offer came. Peeta seemed to elude the temptation by avoiding me whenever he could. His abandonment was just one more thing to break down over.

I started to clean the house frantically, manically scrubbing the floors Hazelle had just treated. I would spend hours digging out the decades old soot that caked the corners of the first floor rooms. My hands would crack and brake as I plunged them into heated water as I washed, washed, washed our clothes. Haymitch's vomit soaked tunics were always something to look forward to.

Hazelle would often sit with me, joining silently in whatever chore I wandered over to. This gave the temporary allusion that we were working together as a team, and not just me working myself into exhaustion. Because that was what I was doing, pushing myself past the point of depravity so at night I would collapse into bed. If I felt so insanely wretched during my waking hours, I was terrified of what my uncontrolled subconscious would bring.

For a while this worked. There were no dreams, no memories of falling asleep. When I woke up I felt exhausted, more worn out then the day before, but at least there were no nightmares. And this suited me just fine, until two weeks later when Delly Cartwright shattered everything.

It was starting to get late. I was covered head to toe in cleaning product and I couldn't remember the last time I had showered. The crushing fatigue that meant the relief of sleep was nearing enveloped me. Yet my stomach growled above it, crying for its denied substance. Three times that day I had come across a warm meal laid out for me in the house, and three times that day I ignored it. Now paying the price I found myself making my way to the kitchen. This, and Peeta's bedroom, were the only places I stayed clear of at all costs. But I knew if I didn't eat my hunger would keep me awake until my nightmares dragged me into unconsciousness.

The door to the kitchen was open. I meant to get in quickly, grabbing whatever food I could before escaping to my room. I did not expect Peeta, who woke up so early for his bread, to still be awake. Nor did I expect a visitor.

I hung back as I watched Peeta and Delly talk. I almost didn't recognize her. She had lost the last of her childish weight and now stood slim yet curvy. Her blonde hair was twisted into a pretty braid that curled endearingly at the ends. I could not hear what they said as they spoke in low, intimate tones. They did not note my presence, seemingly having eyes only for each other. Peeta's head hung low, clearly pained and lost. Delly looked up at him, her face full of pity and affection. She raised her hand to gently lie on his muscular arm, speaking unknown words of comfort.

And then she moved forward, wrapping her arms around his neck to hug. Peeta hesitated only for a moment before pulling her in tightly, securing her in his comforting embrace I knew so well. I barely caught a glimpse of him burying his face into her neck before I bolted away from the scene as fast as I could.

* * *

I hardly dared to breathe as I launched myself onto my bed. My heart wrenched causing bolts of pain to split apart my stomach. As I gasped and sobbed I recognized that this was a new kind of pain. It was so active, so real, I literally felt as though a knife were ripping out my insides. Though I allowed myself to sob without restraint, I refused to acknowledge why I hurt so badly.

The nightmare felt as though it started instantly.

Without the reprieving feeling of a few hours of empty sleep I was launched back into the arena. Only this time the whole of my existence rested on Peeta's survival. I fought helplessly as Cato's overbearing strength sliced his leg with his sword. I worked frantically to find him medicine, but to no avail. My wicked life was not worth the notice and funds of sponsors, so I could only watch as the infection engulfed his wound. I listened as he cried out in pain, sweating through fever as he repeated the same name over and over again.

"Delly…Delly…Delly…"

My heart wrenched at his pain when he somehow made his way back home, only to watch Delly abandon him for a life in the woods with Gale. Only then did he turn to me, his second choice, needing me for survival. I continued my role without falter.

However this caused him more and more pain, throwing him back into the arena without hope of survival. I watched as he drowned in the tidal wave, was speared through with Finnick's golden trident, went mad over Delly's screams echoing out of a JabberJay's beak, and was electrocuted with Beetee's wire.

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick…

Then the garden. That foul smelling garden laced with poisonous white roses that kept me imprisoned on my knees. I could just make out Peeta, paralyzed against a tree, a Tracker Jacket nest just above his head. And standing menacingly on that branch, dressed in a crisp white suit stained with blood, was President Snow, holding a serrated knife.

"Peeta!" I cried out, struggling against my confines as I watched Snow saw at the branch to the hostilities of the Jackets. "Peeta! Run!"

"Katniss!" Peeta cried, his blue eyes growing wide with fear. "Help me, Katniss, please!"

Snow's laugh and the breaking of a branch. The Tracker Jackets swarmed, all centering around Peeta's head. I heard him scream in pain as the hive all stung his forehead, President Snow whispering vicious lies and hateful truths about me as Peeta continued to cry my name.

"Katniss! Katniss! Kat…Katniss. Katniss. Katniss! KATNISS!"

"Katniss, wake up!"

I was shook awake, the sound of my name being hatefully called out still reverberating in my ears. The fact that Peeta's name repeatedly clung to my lips was not registered until I realized he already knelt in front of me, his strong hands cupping my drained face. His blue eyes, so frightened yet so warm, locked on to mine as he called my name soothingly.

"Peeta!"

I launched myself into his arms without thought, crying hysterically as I gripped his shirt tightly, desperately trying to find a way to get him closer to me. There was no sign of hesitation as his arms engulfed me tightly, rocking me back and forth as his steady breathing filled my ears.

Peeta was alive. He was whole. And he was here.

That alone was enough to eventually calm me down. But then Peeta, in his truest form, comforted me further with his gift of words. He did not try to convince me to stop crying, or tell me everything would be alright. We both knew that was an impossibility. But he did say the one true thing that could possibly bring about placation in my life. And he said it over and over again in his reassuring voice, holding me safely until I drifted back to sleep.

"I'm right here, Katniss. I've got you."

* * *

My eyes fluttered open, the pinks and oranges of dawn slowly creeping through my window. Peeta's arms were still firmly wrapped around me, holding me close and bringing about a flood of comfort as I felt the strong beats of his heart against my back. It felt like lifetimes since we had slept like this, and I felt a stabbing in my chest as I realized how true that statement was. The final night of the Quarter Quell was the last night I had slept with his comfort. Strange how dearly I missed something that was otherwise so awful.

I hadn't understood how much I missed him until now. The thought caused me to choke on a sob. I needed to be quiet. Peeta usually was up by now, and the last thing I wanted was for him to leave my bed to start his day. Selfishly I lay still, closing my eyes as I lost myself in his warmth. Slowly he began to stir, causing my heart to stop.

_It's too soon_, I thought. I wasn't ready for him to go.

But all he did was pull me in closer, sleepily rubbing his face against mine.

"Katniss," he moaned, his breathing instantly slowing as he fell back asleep.

Consumed with joy I smiled as I settled in to do the same.

* * *

The next time I awoke I was alone. The curtains were pulled back slightly so my usually dark room was flooded with sunlight. It was warm; causing me to believe the time was well past noon.

I searched my memory, vaguely remembering Peeta whispering something to me as he finally got out of bed. Unless I imagined it, I felt my cheek still burn slightly where he kissed me goodbye.

There was no animosity against him leaving me to sleep. I know he stayed with me as long as he could. It was only rational for him to let me rest as he tended to his duties, leaving a well-fed Buttercup in his place.

My mind sparked at my last thought.

Rational? Now there was a word I hadn't used in a while. I smiled at my silent joke, causing my mind to send another strange signal to my body. It was like an unknown, terribly heavy weight had been lifted from my mind. Suddenly I felt like I could see clearly for the first time. I noticed the sunbathing Buttercup curled up contently on the worn white quilt, purring as he dreamed. I heard the MockingJays outside copying the melody of Haymitch's latest rant. And I felt the sadness inside me, knowing that it would always be present, but also sensing that I might just be able to live with it after all.

Who knew a couple of natural, dream-free hours could cause such clarity?

Peeta, of course.

I smiled again as I rose from my bed, donning clean clothes and pulling my hair back into a tidy braid. As I looked at my reflection I noted my appearance. I looked gaunt and almost as thin as I had after the first Games. I definitely looked older than eighteen, but reasoned that I hardly ever looked girlish. And though my grey eyes were slightly sunken in I hoped they could portray signs of life rather than despair. I felt certain that would make Peeta happy.

I made my way through the house, headed towards the kitchen to find him. I wasn't sure what I'd say, I'd thank him probably, and maybe we could find a way to make my clarity stick around more. Surely that would help.

Naturally he was in the kitchen, the air hot and filled with the comforting scent of fresh bread. His back was turned to me as he leaned over the kitchen table, presumably reading something. I opened my mouth to call out to him when I noticed his stance. His body was rigid and shaking. He did not lean over the table to follow a recipe but gripped it for support. His hand clenched his chair as he rocked himself back and forth muttering something under his breath.

"Real…Not Real…Not…Real? Real…Not Real…Re…Katniss…"

Without warning he grabbed a glass mixing bowl and threw it against the far wall. It shattered into a hundred pieces, covering up the sound of my gasp. Peeta stared at the shards, his back heaving as he collected his breath. A few moments later he grabbed his broom and dustpan and started cleaning up.

I backed away silently. Every part of me wanted to go to him and offer comfort, help him sort through his reality. But then I realized what his reality entailed: the majority of my horrors, the slow striping of his sanity, the loss of his entire family. And then surviving the Rebellion, completing his therapy, only to return to a destroyed home and the depressed remains of the two people he had left.

I could not offer comfort because this was something I was not meant to see. I could not offer comfort because I was the problem.

The thought killed me. Before I knew it I was running to the stairs, taking them two at a time as I passed my floor and climbed to the third.

I found Haymitch out of his bed, crawling on the floor with a bottle of rubbing alcohol in his hand.

"Haymitch!" I yelled, snatching the bottle before he could guzzle down anymore. "You trying to go blind?"

"What's to see?" he argued, looking me up and down. "You're not looking too hot these days, sweetheart."

"Haymitch, you can't keep doing this," I pleaded, sitting down next to him and taking his hand.

"And why the hell not?" he demanded, though he allowed the touch.

"Because, we're killing Peeta," I said simply. "He's the only good thing we have and we're killing him."

Haymitch stared at me for a while, the pain of his legs and withdraws present in his eyes even if it was nowhere else. For a moment I felt like he had heard me. We were enough alike, had the same need for Peeta. But then he started to laugh, the sound filling my ears cruelly.

"What do you mean 'we', sweetheart?" he asked, pulling his hand away as he sat back jovially. "It's not my name he calls out when he has his little episodes."

I straightened out, filling with guilt and anger at his statement.

"We still have to do something!"

"Like what? You think if I stop drinking and you quit your little trips into Insanityland that Peeta will be happy?" he inquired. "Think again. You've been tormenting that boy for years, and now are just using him to make yourself feel better. Own up to that, it's okay. You're a survivor, like me. Just know even if you begged to be his little wifey and offered to spit out a couple of his kids he's still always going to hate you."

I jumped to my feet immediately, craving to have my bow or even a knife to force him to take back those words. He just continued to laugh, reading the desire in my face as he reached back for the bottle.

"It's time you embrace your inevitability. You and me are the same. You won't have anyone because they won't have you after all you've done to them. And you know better than to go after anyone new. So drink up, and toast your future!"

He raised the bottle of rubbing alcohol to me as he went to take another sip. I slapped the bottle out of his hand before he could even move. As the liquid seeped into the floor he cried out, desperately trying to drink the fluid to numb his pain.

"Fuck you, Katniss!" he hissed. "I want to go home!"

"You can't go home, you burned it to the ground you drunk asshole!" I screamed, kicking the bottle far under his bed with my boot as I turned away.

"That's right! Go! Run away from reality just like you always do!" he shouted through the slammed door. "You'll see I'm right!"

I stopped my decent down the stairs as his words hit my ears. Could he be right? Unfortunately he often was. The notion that Peeta hated me tore through my soul, hitting me harder than before due to my new found clarity. What if I was destined to end up like Haymitch? Bitter, drunk and determinedly alone?

I wanted to run. Far away from this house and District Twelve. I wanted to get lost, abandon this awful reality until I was encompassed in insanity or death. Every instinct I had told me to flee. Except…

Peeta.

Even if Haymitch was right, even if he did hate me, I couldn't abandon Peeta. Not again. Not when he still wanted me to stay. I owed him everything. Every shred of hope I ever had was because of him. I couldn't leave.

But what to do? Again I felt trapped between the two men in my life, one crying out in pain from withdraws, probably licking the floor and cursing my name. And the other silently suffering as he tried to hold together what little life he had.

It was only then that I realized Peeta didn't have to come back to District Twelve after his release. He could have gone anywhere in Panem and been accepted, loved. But instead he decided to come back, confronting all the memories, and take care of the only two people in the country who didn't appreciate him properly.

I felt horrible. Peeta was so wonderful and I was just an awful, selfish person…

I snapped my head up immediately, instantly knowing what I would do. And it was not berate myself with self-pity.

I stayed on the second floor and for the first time entered Peeta's room. The windows were still open from the night before and the MockingJays' blissful tune carried from somewhere out in the distance. It was clean, comforting, and quiet.

And it had a phone.

I sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to mess up the sheets as I dialed the number I knew by heart for the first time.

"Hello, Dr. Aurelius' office," a cheery woman with a Capitol accent answered.

"Hello," I replied back, my throat dry from uncertainty. "I'd like to talk to…Dr. Aurelius."

"I'm sorry but the Doctor is in a meeting right now!" she squeaked sympathetically. "Who may I ask is calling?"

"It's Katniss," I stated with a numbing disappointment. "Katniss Everdeen."

There was silence on the other end.

"Hold please!" the receptionist ordered, a little more harshly than her accent could dictate. I sat on the phone for a minute, enough time to feel stupid and contemplate abandoning my efforts when another voice appeared.

"Hello?" a sleepy yet familiar voice greeted.

"Dr. Aurelius?" I asked, filling with relief. "It's Katniss."

"Katniss!" he exclaimed, and in the background I heard a commotion indicating he might have fallen off his couch.

"Katniss! It is so good to hear from you. Can I help you?" he asked pleasantly.

I thought about his question for a moment, letting the first thing that came to mind escape my lips.

"I hope so."

**(A/N: First off I'd like to thank you for sticking with my story so far and leaving me some good reviews! I'm excited to post this chapter because as much as I understand how much pain she went through after everything, I still love Kicking Ass Katniss more than Weepy Katniss and am excited about moving forward. I'm trying to update pretty regularly, but my sister is getting married next weekend and as Maid of Honor I'm gonna be a bit busy toward the end of the week. I hope to update once more before I get consumed but just a heads up on my absence in case I don't. Thanks again!)**


	5. Chutes Too Narrow

**(A/N: Sorry if there are a few more errors than usual. I just finished this morning and didn't have a lot of time to go over it, but I wanted to post before I left for the wedding. Thanks as always for your reviews and I hope you enjoy!)**

Chutes Too Narrow

Meaning.

That's what Dr. Aurelius suggested I find. Something that gave me a purpose. There were times I found this advice so ridiculous I would burst out into muted laughs when alone. Other times it just made me angry.

"And how am I just supposed to find meaning?" I demanded during our third call when he finally doled out some guidance.

I suppose it wasn't really his fault. I hadn't exactly been what you would call loquacious during our sessions. Mostly he would start off the conversation by talking about himself. He had moved from Thirteen to the Capitol shortly after the rebellion to offer council to survivors. Apparently he found the natives to be "fascinatingly lacking", but he was rather fond of having a view and an un-rationed supply of coffee and liquor. I would listen to him quietly, filling his spaces in conversation with silence or the tiniest of phrases when he went looking for feedback. He asked me how hunting fared, and I replied that most days I didn't see a reason to go. He asked about the people in my life, and I simply stated Haymitch was still a drunk and that he probably knew more about how Peeta was doing than I did. I talked to my mother once a week just to hear her voice and saw Gale when he was on TV. Pretty short list.

So I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when his sage advice was to find purpose. Maybe he figured if I found something worth living for I'd actually have something to talk about. Doubtful. People my age and older found meaning in their lives through jobs and families. I was a high school drop out with no real marketable skills. No one needed me to provide for them, no one needed me as a symbol. I couldn't do anything. What was left of my family was across the country and seemed hardly able to talk to me, let alone see me. The idea of starting my own family was absurd.

Therefore I thought little of his response to my question.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll find you something. Until then just go through the motions.

* * *

"You want me to do what?"

It was midafternoon a few days later and I was walking the street in order to escape the screams and curses that filled the house. Haymitch's doctor had decided it was time to get him to start walking again and the therapy wasn't going well. Due to the pain and forced prohibition Haymitch was a most unwilling patient. He spat and bit at the doctor any time he came near. The only progress that was made was when the doctor fitfully relayed his information to one of us, as we were the only ones who the "wild brute" would tolerate. Or at least I used to be. Haymitch and I hadn't said a word since the night of the fight. He wouldn't even look me in the eyes.

So, once again, it fell on Peeta to do the lifting. Literally. He spent Haymitch's best hour working him through stretches and acting as a brace as he hobbled around the room. I did my part behind the scenes by doing Haymitch's laundry and grinding up extra pain killers in each meal against the doctor's strict regimen. But I couldn't take the screams of the injured. I never could. And now that my nights were consumed with countless of them I opted to leave during his rehab.

It was on one of my shameful escape walks that I ran into Greasy Sae. After a quick exchange of greetings she barked out her dumbfounding request, causing my need for repetition.

"I said I need you to start filling these game quotas for my new restaurant. Good God, child, I thought they fixed that ear of yours," she responded with grumble, shoving a scrawled list into my hand.

A restaurant? District Twelve had never had a restaurant. District Twelve had never had food. But apparently things were changing. Sae had been given license to build a café in the Hob, giving a place for construction workers and the returning population to eat.

"What do you need deer and fowl from me for?" I inquired. "Couldn't you get all your meat from Ten? You said yourself that beef was much better than anything I got for you."

"It's also much more expensive," Sae deflected, waving her grizzled hand in impatience. "Besides, you bringing in wildlife gives the place some local flavor."

I scanned the list again. I told her I hadn't been hunting lately. And even if I had I would never catch that much game even on my best day. She waved my concerns aside, telling me to get what I could and that I would be paid based on results. My catches were to be delivered by noon the next day so they could start serving them for dinner. A bonus was offered if I actually met my quota, but it was not revealed what said gratuity would be. It hardly mattered as I felt certain the offer was empty one.

Despite this I felt a cautious excitement as I agreed to the job. It would give me a reason to do something useful. Hunting had been meaningful before because it meant survival. Though I no longer needed to depend on the act as my only source of sustenance, it hit me how important being able to do something like this was. Dr. Aurelius would most likely comment how hunting was still imperative to my existence. The idea made me scowl. Still as I walked home I couldn't help but feel…

Better.

I rushed up the stairs to my room. The screams had stopped and Haymitch was most likely diving throat first into a bottle. I didn't know how I knew this, but I was unsurprised when I opened my closet to find that my boots and hunting supplies had migrated over to my new room. I hadn't been back to my old house since the fire, but I had been coming across items from there for weeks. Finally my head was clear enough to notice someone, most likely Peeta, had gone and moved them over.

And it wasn't just my clothes. Neatly placed on the top shelf was my father's bow, my family books, the goods I had traded my kills for in the Hob, and the silver parachute.

My breath hitched as I caught sight of it. Silver parachutes would forever burn in my memory from that night at the Capitol, with all those scared children looking up as they gracefully landed, bringing about an end to what I and countless parents loved most. They had always formed a symbol of hope when there was none, had always brought about relief. And even now, amongst the pain of Prim's death, I couldn't quite shake away the feeling that this parachute, my parachute, still contained hope inside it.

I tentatively reached out my hand and pulled it down from the shelf. Though hidden in darkness for months the parachute still glinted happily in the falling sun. I took it to my bed, placing it in my lap as I let my fingers run through the fabric slowly. Piece by piece I unrolled the chute to stare at the items I treasured.

I felt a guilty pang as I rolled the spiel through my fingers, thinking of the man who moaned in pain above me. We had had our words, but Haymitch had saved my life more times than I could count. Each gesture sent a message, sparked with the image of his "come on, sweetheart" glare. But what was he telling me now? Or worse, what was I telling him?

My eyes shifted over to my gold MockingJay pin. The smallest of tokens that ignited a country into Civil War. Yet to me it made me think of Madge and Rue. My life as the MockingJay was behind me, and I would spend the rest of my years trying to forget. But I would never forget them, or the man in Eleven who died whistling Rue's tune, or courageous and tragic Bonnie and Twill, or anyone else who impacted me so irreparably. I knew I would never wear this badge again, but it would always stay with me. The best I could do was try and hope they didn't die in vain.

New to my collection was the diary, medicine kit and cat doll that had belonged to Prim. Peeta must have found them and added them to the parachute. I tried not to sink into despair as I looked over them. The cat doll I set aside gingerly on my nightstand so it smiled down on me with its sweet and faded grin, enduring even as his live counterpart pawed at him curiously. Everything else, including the locket I hardly looked at, I put back neatly within the folds, keeping them safe for me to pour through another night.

Clink.

I froze in the middle of my journey back to my closet, the parachute in hand to be put up. Something had fallen out of my makeshift sack along the way. Something small and round, for even then I could hear it roll until it hit the wall. My heart began to pound louder and louder until I felt certain it was going to burst out of my chest.

It couldn't be real. I was imagining things. It couldn't be…

But it was.

Peeta's pearl lay nestled in the corner, staring back at me with its sheen surface. I instantly dropped to my knees and dashed towards it. I felt the familiar comfort as I rolled it lightly between my fingers. Tears spilled out of my eyes as I possessively clutched my ultimate symbol of hope I thought I had lost forever. I didn't question how it had come back to me after having misplaced it during the battle. I didn't think about how Effie would always state that pearls were to be the last thing you put on and the first thing you took off in order not to damage them with the skins' oils. Now that it had returned to me I felt certain I could never let it go.

A clanging sound from the kitchen brought my attention back to earth. I shook off my tears and threw my hunting attire on, slipping the pearl into my front pocket right beside my heart.

* * *

The heat from the kitchen caressed my face as I opened the swinging double doors. I strayed from my usual silent step in order to announce my presence. I still felt guilty having watched Peeta's private episode and had no idea what to say to him if he caught me. He turned towards me, his face and hands stained with flour. Immediately he broke into a warm smile. I decided to blame the ovens for my blush.

"Well isn't that a sight for sore eyes," he stated happily, commenting on my hunting clothes as he wiped off his hands. "Going out?"

"Yeah," I replied coyly, cocking an eyebrow at the accomplished smile on his face. "Greasy Sae wants me to bring her game for her restaurant. Funny how one day Dr. Aurelius is telling me I needed to find a purpose and the next Sae is coming to me with work."

Peeta shrugged nonchalantly, picking up and whisking his heavy tray into the open oven behind me.

"I don't know about all that. All I can say is I'm glad you found something to get you out of the house. You were really starting to smell."

"What!" I exclaimed, taken back by offense. "I do not smell!"

"Of course you do. Everyone does," he replied. "And I've spent my life learning how to tell if things are good or bad by their smell. And I'm sorry to say, Katniss, but you reek…"

"You do realize I'm holding a bow in my hand?" I interrupted darkly. My hollow threat only seemed to motivate the ends of his lips to curl .

"…of inactivity," he completed, his smile making its full ascent. I paused for a moment to think that over.

"You can't smell inactivity," I argued, my own smile threatening to appear at the ridiculousness of the conversation.

"Sure I can, especially on you," he countered. "You smell like inside and nothingness, when you're supposed to smell like outside when you go hunting."

"What like rocks and mud and sweat?" I demanded, rolling my eyes to keep from beaming.

"Like nature. Trees and flowers and fresh water. That's what you're supposed to smell like. It's when you smell the best."

Dammit.

A smile couldn't help but cross my face at his last statement, especially as he walked over and stood just in front of me, peering down at me with his playful, loving smirk. I tried to avoid his gaze but couldn't help but look into his eyes. For a moment I felt transfixed, glued to the spot as my heart raced and breathing slowed. His head leaned in for mine like it had done a thousand times before a lifetime ago. My lips parted on their own accord, awaiting his kiss and not the crinkled face he placed in front of me.

"Now get out of here before you stink up my kitchen and I have to throw my bread away," he demanded, pointing towards the door and giving me a gentle shove in its direction. My mouth dropped further out of shock. Reactively I picked up three of his fresh cheese rolls. Two I chucked at his face for retribution, one I shoved in my mouth because I was starving. Peeta laughed as he half dodged my ammo, stating how at least with bread on his face he could hide from that festering odor.

I slammed the door hard behind me, marching away at a furious pace. But dammit if I didn't smile well past ducking under the fence on my way to the forest.

* * *

As much as it pained me to admit it, Dr. Aurelius was right. Being out in the woods again in order to feed a hungry population brought about some meaning in my life. At first everything felt hollow. I would pass by game not on my list with a dragging foot. I didn't put near as much focus in my aim as I should have, making for some sloppy kills. There were times when the loneliness of the hunt coupled with the nostalgic familiarity of my old life almost sent me running back to the Village. But I stayed, hunting until I couldn't possibly carry any more.

Sae would take my game, mutter something about me getting soft, but paying me decently none the less. I would arrive each day at noon when her new place was packed to the brim with those rebuilding the town. Many faces were old, the same families I had known my entire life. Others were slightly less familiar, and for the first time I realized it wasn't just people born in District Twelve who had returned. A small population from Thirteen had come as well, lured either by the thought of living above ground without a stringent schedule, or tied to new companions. I saw many young children with the dark eyes of the Seam hesitantly holding the hands of the pale skinned adults from Thirteen. Amongst the tragedy of the bombings and the war there came about a strange coincidence. Waves of orphans who managed to escape due to the safety of the old school building were relocated into a population of adults who were unable to procreate. It seemed many of these new families had decided to move to their children's birthplace, feeling fresh air and the company of old friends would ease them into their new life.

At one table sat a group of clean looking men and women, who though trim looked as if they had never gone without a meal in their life. They must be the professionals from the Capitol, sent to each District as architects, teachers, nutritionists, and whatever else the government thought we were incapable of doing ourselves.

I ignored this group and instead focused on the others. Tables of Town and Seam residences lumped together, talking lightly as they filled themselves with my meat covered in Sae's sauces. Despite being surrounded by ash and rubble the survivors seemed…happy. Happier than I had ever noticed District Twelve to be. We had all lost so much, some everything, yet there was a feeling of hope in the air that was infectious. Lives were slowly being rebuilt, and with a full belly and new supplies coming by the train-full there was an optimism that never could have stuck in the old days.

After dropping off my game I started to walk around town. Most of the debris had been cleared and new structures were beginning to rise. A space was marked off for the school and a hospital was already being built. It was to be District Twelve's first locally built three story building. It seemed everyone was out on the streets, clearing paths, sawing wood, bringing food, teaching children under the shade of the Hob cover. It reminded me of the old days when someone's house would burn down. It seemed the whole District would get together, rebuilding the family a home, donating whatever sparse belongings could be spared, and everyone pitching in food. All hands were needed during a tragedy. All, except…

I was six years old. A family in town who I didn't know had lost everything from a knocked over kerosene lamp. A toddler Prim clutched my hand as we followed our mother to the scene, a basket of herbs held tightly to her hip. Everyone was out doing something for the family, except for a solitary man who staggered away from the Hob with a bottle in his hand. His physical appearance placed him as someone who had grown up in the Seam, but I had never seen him before.

"Who's that?" I asked my mother, pointing in his direction. My mother shushed me and told me it was impolite to point before she answered.

"That's Haymitch Abernathy. District Twelve's only Victor."

"Well why isn't he helping?" I asked, frowning as I watched him almost fall to the ground. My mother looked at him sadly, something I didn't understand at the time, before she knelt down and hugged us both.

"He's already done more than enough," she whispered.

As that moment came back to me I realized that the children and some of the adults on the street now looked at me that way. Whenever I caught their eyes I saw them filled with pity before they averted their gaze. A feeling of anxiousness and discomfort consumed me, and I instantly sought out some reprieve.

I found it in a nearby woodpile where Thom was measuring out and cutting new beams.

"Hey, Katniss," he greeted with a genuine smile. "It's been awhile."

"Yeah, how have you been?" I asked.

"Oh, busy," he shrugged, grabbing and marking a new length of wood. "I'm glad you're hunting again. My stomach doesn't seem to care for the meat brought from Ten."

"What are you working on?"

Thom pulled out a schematic and showed me how the support for the new school would require beams of both steel and wood. The steel was being sent precut by the Capitol, but it was cheaper for us to use the wood from here.

"Can I help?"

Thom seemed slightly taken aback by the offer, but he nodded and showed me the proper way to use the saw. For hours the two of us worked in comfortable silence, speaking only sporadically. By the end my arm burned from the exertion, my muscles having gone weak from disuse. I was exhausted, but in the good way. The way I made myself feel when I frantically cleaned only much more natural. As Thom and I were starting to clean up I saw Peeta across the road, talking to some of the engineers. They had given him tools and he was apparently drawing down some of their designs. Both parties seemed pleased with the results.

I caught his eye and watched the smile grow across his face. We waved to one another, and I knew that here, rebuilding the town, would help bring about more meaning.

* * *

So my days passed, hunting in the morning, helping out in town in the evening. I found odd jobs each day: cutting wood, serving food and water, teaching children. I wasn't much use for the older kids. I had left school two years early and didn't care for it much for years before that. Destinies were pretty much set in Twelve back then. If you were lucky enough to be from town you took over your parents' business. Those in the Seam were prepared to be and marry a coal miner. I had decided to be neither. I didn't know exactly what I would have done if the Hunger Games hadn't changed my life. Probably live the same as I had, scraping by with my hunting.

I was therefore given charge of a group of smaller kids who weren't quite of schooling age. I collected chalk rocks for them in the forest and set them to work, doodling hardly recognizable shapes on the new pavement of the Hob. I drew out and had them copy numbers and letters. I taught them the games from my childhood. But all of them seemed to favor story time more than anything.

It saddened me to see that hardly any of the books from Twelve had survived. Instead I was given a stack of donated stories from some of the richer Districts. The children liked the pictures from the Capitol books the best as they were the most vivid. I obliged them, but found the story and morals rather vapid. My preferences were the books from Four and Five, as they featured nature and good lessons. One book from Five was my particular favorite. It featured a white flower that folded in on itself, one whose name I could not place. But the story focused around universal hope, and ended with a short but lovely song. Each day I was asked to sing "the flower song" and each day I did right before the children were picked up, even if we didn't read the book. They all stood transfixed and smiling, silently singing along with my voice. Soon even parents would drop by early for story and song time, holding their children tight as they learned the new stories along with them.

It began to be easier to sleep. By the end of the day I was tired. I tried to take Dr. Aurelius' advice and think of pleasant things before I went to bed. I thought of my "class" and how the children would play and help one another. Of how surely the District was growing. How each day the parents from Thirteen became integrated in to the community and into their new families. And of course, Peeta.

After that one night of sleep he never came back to my bed. We seemed to be growing closer each day, sharing meals and conversation with one another. I still felt that stab of jealousy when I saw him with Delly and I felt like he seemed happier on the days when I didn't work alone with Thom. But that was about the extent of our relationship.

I still carried the pearl around with me everywhere, always placing it in my breast pocket. At night I kept it clutched in my hand as it seemed to ward off the nightmares a bit.

That night there was no sleep. I had plenty of pleasant things to think about. I had talked to my mother and was proud to hear she was given a scholarship to train to be a doctor. Dr. Aurelius seemed pleased with my progress. And best of all I had mended things with Haymitch.

After a month of distance and painful therapy we finally spoke. I found him alone in the stairwell, trying his best to take the stairs. Without thought I flew to him, taking his arm to give him balance. He did not push me away but pleaded with me to let him do it on his own. I nodded, staying on the step just below him to catch him if he fell. It was slow going, but eventually he made it to the bottom. His gray eyes were clouded with pain but his smirk was genuine.

"Success!" he proclaimed softly. I laughed and hugged him tightly. His arms wrapped around me, squeezing in reciprocation and holding me for a while.

"I'm sorry," he muttered to me after finally pulling away. "You were right about us needing Peeta. I shouldn't have said…"

"Forget it," I waved dismissively. "You were sober. I can't hold you accountable for your actions when you're in that state."

This caused Haymitch to throw his head back in laughter, proclaiming that he would ensure he never got that way again. For the first time since we all moved in together we shared dinner. As a family.

Yet still I could not sleep. I was filled with an unhealthy anxiousness. Dr. Aurelius had suggested that I try not to just lie in bed when this happened as it would most likely bring about new streams of nightmares. I found myself more and more inclined to listen to his advice, so I rose from my bed. I slipped on my boots and made my way outside. It was late, but the moon was full giving me some light. I didn't plan to stray very far, just walk around the house. I had almost completed the perimeter when I came across the old twisted tree. I don't know what overcame me but I found myself climbing it immediately. It was an easy climb as the branches were plentiful and smooth and I was up near the end of the trunk in no time.

An open window greeted me at the top and as I peered in I realized it was Peeta's room. I held my breath as I took a closer look. Peeta slept on his side facing me. Though he lay completely still I could see the flickering of pain on his face as the moonlight fell across it. He moaned and shook without control. No second thought crossed my mind as I slipped into his room and ran to his bed.

"Peeta," I whispered, wiping the sweat and hair away from his face. "Peeta, wake up."

His blue eyes flung open, fear filling them to the brim.

"Katniss?" he choked, his voice dry. I leaned back on my haunches as he sat up. "What are you doing here?"

"You were having a nightmare," I stated simply.

"Was I screaming?" he asked nervously, the thought seeming to horrify him almost as much as his dream.

"No. I just saw you through the window when I was climbing your tree."

Peeta stared at me with confusion before relaxing into his easy smile.

"You know you don't have to climb through my window to see me," he joked. "My door opens."

"It hasn't seemed to lately," I responded quietly before I had a chance to think about what I was saying. A pained look crossed his face at the implication. He answered by pulling back his sheets and making room for me next to him. I kicked off my shoes and immediately curled into him.

"I'm sorry," he croaked as he stroked my hair mindlessly. "I didn't mean to make you feel like you weren't welcomed."

"What was your dream about?" I asked as I lay my head against his chest to feel his heartbeat.

"Oh, the usual," he replied with a forced casualness. "How have you been sleeping?"

"Better. Not great, but better. I try to think of good things before I go to bed. Most of the time I end up reading those children's books," I admitted. "It's funny, some of the stories are so different than what I'm used to but they all seem to portray the same message of hope and goodwill. I'm starting to see how important it is to be raised with those stories because they stay with you when you're older and make you feel like things can always be better."

Peeta laughed gently at that comment, shaking his head as he squeezed me tightly.

"That reminds me of a song my dad used to sing to me. About those lofty tales so tried and true. I think that song impacted me more than anything growing up."

"Really?" I asked, looking up at him. It was the first time I had ever heard Peeta talk about his childhood. "Will you sing it to me?"

Peeta laughed nervously, shaking his head.

"I'm afraid the MockingJays don't stop for me," he answered. "They don't even pick up my tune."

"Please?" I asked simply. Peeta hesitated for a second, but breathed out a good-natured sigh of indulgence. He cleared his throat and placed his head back against the wall.

_A cold and wet November dawn,  
And there are no barking sparrows.  
Just emptiness to dwell upon._

_ I fell into a winter slide.  
And ended up the kind of kid who goes down chutes too narrow,  
Just eking out my measly pies. _

_ But I learned fast how to, keep my head up cause I  
Know I got this side of me, that  
Wants to grab the yoke from the pilot and just  
Fly the whole mess into the sea._

_ Another slow train to the coast.  
Some brand new glory art from way on high.  
I sink and then I swim all night._

_ I watch the ice melt on the glass,  
As the eloquent young pilgrims pass.  
And leave behind a trail, imploring us all not to fail._

_ Of course I was raised to, gather courage from those  
Lofty tales so tried and true, and  
If you're able, I'd suggest it cause this  
Modern thought can get the best of you._

_This rather simple epitaph can save your hide, your fallen mind.  
Fate isn't what we're up against, there's no design no flaws to find.  
There's no design, no flaws to find.*_

I found myself melting with each verse. Each pause seemed so perfect. As he sang the last two verses he began to stroke my hair affectionately, and I had a feeling that that motion was much a part of the song as were the lyrics. The tune was so essentially Peeta. Starting off slow and sad, but quickly getting to how you needed to be brave in spite of yourself if you wanted happiness. It spoke of learning and taking encouragement from others. How it was best to believe in the tales of your youth and past to get you through dark reality. And how when things went bad it wasn't because the universe was evil, but just because sometimes bad things happened. Just as more often than not good things happened too.

"Sing it again," I pleaded, smiling up at him. He laughed, obliging me twice more until I felt I had the lyrics in my head, joining him on those last two uplifting verses. As we finished he held me close, continuing to stroke my hair as we lay in silence.

"I've missed you, Katniss," he whispered as I slowly fell asleep.

"Peeta," I moaned with a desperateness, burying my head in the safety of his chest as I drifted off into blissful unconsciousness.

* * *

I started sleeping with Peeta every night. It was like back right before the Quell. Nothing happened between us. Some nights we would sing and talk lightly, most nights we just held each other until sleep took us. We both still had nightmares, but they were fewer and less powerful. In the mornings we would wake up and eat together before going our separate ways for the day. For the first time since my father died life seemed simple again. There was no impending threat of death, no starvation, and everything was blanketed in a cautious hope.

Until one day when I went to drop off my game at Sae's. I was just walking out of the restaurant when I heard the snapping sound. Mine and everyone else's eyes immediately swung to the hospital. A group of architects and designers stood on the roof and scaffold of the uncompleted third floor. The scaffold began to sway and crack under the weight of the three people standing on it. I could just make out one of them pushing the others onto the safety of the roof as the support gave way.

My heart cracked into my stomach as I watched Peeta fall thirty feet to the hard ground.

*Lyrics from "Young Pilgrims" by The Shins.


	6. Until and After

Until and After

I don't remember throwing my hunting supplies to the ground or running over to the dusty cloud of debris after the scaffold finished collapsing on itself. I don't even recall screaming Peeta's name as I pushed a crowd of shocked onlookers out of my way. The pain of all my nerves twisting and burning in excruciating agony was all that consumed me. The fragile state of my reconstructed sanity snapped as I reached the wooden pile that blanketed the street and stole any sighting of Peeta from my view. My throat tightened hard, causing me to choke as I ran through the white dust that filled the air. A few others had reached the scene before me, carefully shifting through the bulk of the pile where it was figured he lay. People were shouting, some from behind, others from far above. I refused to let any of this distract me. I held back the tears that so desperately wanted to fall in order to keep my vision clear for any kind of sign…

And then I saw it. A layer of blonde curls sticking out of the white ash of the construction site.

"Peeta!" I cried, rushing over to the spot my eyes were so keenly trained on. I furiously dug through the fallen beams to clear space around him, to save him. For a brief moment I saw his face: bruised, bleeding, and unmoving, when suddenly a pair of strong arms whisked me away from the scene.

"Katniss, wait!"

I didn't bother to process the sound of my captor's voice. All I knew was they were keeping me from Peeta. I wrestled my arm free and swung my fist against their head with all my might before turning back. This disoriented my assailant only for a moment and their grasp imprisoned me once more.

"Katniss, no! You have to wait!"

I spun around this time, ready to knock my attacker to the ground and spear through his neck with the first busted piece of wood I could get my hands on. I struggled like a wild animal as I felt his dirty hands on my face, forcing me to look in his eyes.

"Let me go!" I demanded, preparing to spit venom in those gray irises that stared down on me.

"Katniss," Thom repeated for a third time as he shook my shoulders. "It's not safe. We can't just pull the boards surrounding him. The structure might give in and bury him further. It's like when the mines collapse."

Thom's words penetrated through my adrenaline rush, shaking my very core. A collapsing mine, a man I loved and depended on, and the endless grief and suffering that followed. I was paralyzed, unable to breathe as this old reality set in. From somewhere out in the distance I could hear Thom continue to console me, his grip loosening from fastidious to comforting. I only felt the sinking, numbing feeling as my body went hollow, rejecting what I knew to be true because it would kill me.

Somehow I caught Thom speaking Peeta's name to me. I yearned to run and crash into oblivion, forgetting any cruel belief of progress that I fooled myself into and simply will myself into inexistence. But then the image of the curls of Peeta's hair sticking out of the white ash of destruction brought to mind something else. A small yet bright dandelion sticking out of the snow.

Hope.

Instantly I snapped to. I realized with Thom's training he would be essential in digging Peeta out safely. I urged him to go, promising to stay back as they unearthed him if he promised to wave me over the second I could be. Eons passed in the shrouds of minutes. As I paced back and forth I kept my heart rate slow by rolling the pearl between my fingers and holding the image of the dandelion in my head. I tripped when Thom finally called me over.

Peeta's body lay twisted in the rubble, his skin pale from blood loss. One of his legs stuck out in a horrifically unnatural angle, causing my stomach to turn over. But when my eyes focused on his chest, slowly but surely rising and falling with breath, I finally was able to release my own.

"Peeta," I called softly as I settled by his head, my voice catching on the first syllable. His eyes were open, searching back and forth as the rest of his face lay paralyzed in shock and pain. It took all of my strength not to cry as I gingerly wiped the blood and ash off his forehead.

"You're gonna be okay," I assured in a miraculously steady voice. "The medics are coming and they're gonna fix you up and everything will be fine."

Though his gaze focused on me his eyes still shifted back and forth, his look holding little comprehension.

"You're gonna be okay," I repeated, my heart plummeting as the medical team arrived with a stretcher. "The doctors are going to fix you."

I craved to be able to say more, for my words to magically comfort him like his had me so many times. But I had no gift when it came to my speech, and even if I did I felt certain nothing I could say would heal him. I had to watch helplessly as the emergency team gathered around us, a stern looking nurse frantically urging me out of the way. Every instinct I had told me to stay by his side, killing anything that tried to get between us. But I forced myself to remember I was not in an arena or a war zone, that these people could do more to help him than I could. I brushed Peeta's face once more, dying because I couldn't think of a single parting word to say to him, when his hand shot up and firmly grabbed my arm.

"Mech…mecha…" he sputtered, his eyes wide as he looked at me.

"Wait! Wait!" I screamed, pushing away the hands that tried pulling me out of the way. "He's trying to tell me something!"

"He's in shock, he doesn't know what he's saying," a medic spat as he began forcing me to the side. Peeta only held on tighter, screaming as he sat up more to insure his grip on me.

"Mechan…" he continued, pleading with me desperately. "Mechan…"

"Mechan?" I gasped out loud, my mind screaming to find meaning in his word. "Mechan…Mechanic! Your leg!"

Peeta gave the slightest of nods before his body went numb as he passed out.

"You need to bring in a medical mechanic or an engineer with you!" I ordered to the medical team. "His left leg is mechanical and out of socket. That's why he's bleeding so badly."

The medics looked at one another with blank stares of confusion. I jumped to my feet, ready to scream, when one of the men from the roof burst into the group.

"You heard the lady!" he asserted with his Capitol accent. "Put him on the stretcher and let's take a look at that prosthetic!"

He turned to me, giving me a worried yet reassuring look before ordering the medics around some more. It was then that I recognized him as one of the engineers Peeta had been working with. From his shaky stance I also gathered he was one of the men Peeta had pushed off the scaffold to save.

"Thank you!" I croaked out as soon as he finished overseeing Peeta being transferred to the stretcher.

"Don't thank me just yet," he replied sadly. "Now listen, I know Peeta is taking some different medications. Do you know what those are?"

"I…I don't…" I fumbled in my speech, my resolve slipping with every second.

"Do you know _where_ they are?" he cut in quickly, steadying my swaying body with his hand. Images of the bottle containing the red pills Peeta took every night before bed weighted my mind until I nodded in response.

"Okay. I need you to go get them and bring them back here to the hospital," he ordered. I immediately protested, stating I would not leave Peeta's side.

"We need to know what he's taking. It's imperative," he reasoned. "We can't have you in the tent where we're doing the surgery anyways. But I swear to you, Katniss Everdeen, on my unborn baby girl's life, that I'm going to make sure we save Peeta, and that you'll be holding his hand when he wakes up."

I was stunned by his sincerity as his dark brown eyes bore into mine. I nodded to him firmly, trusting this man with everything I had as I raced back to the Village.

* * *

I made it to the house in record time, sprinting as I distanced myself from the terrors behind me. When I burst into the living room I gasped to catch my breath. A veil of shame settled over me from running, and I barely caught myself on the edge of a spiral as I remembered for once I ran to something, not from. I heaved as I steadied my breathing, facing the still open door so the chilly new spring air could cool my heated face.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" Haymitch's grumpy and muffled voice called out from behind me. "Don't you know it's rude to go barging around the house at one in the afternoon while people are still sleeping?"

I turned around to face him. The playful sneer instantly vanished from his face as he saw me covered in white dust and blood.

"What happened?" he asked firmly, setting aside the pastry he had swiped from the kitchen.

"Peeta fell off the roof of the hospital," I choked out. And then the tears that had been threatening to fall all came out at once. For some reason, whether because the reality had sunk in or having to tell Peeta's other loved one about the accident, I suddenly broke down. I crouched down to the floor, covering my face with my hands as I gasped on my sobs. My heart jumped when seconds later I felt Haymitch's cold but steady hand on my shoulder. I looked up into his grave face, his skin drained of blood. He said nothing but motioned me to stand. I rose shakily, his hands laying firmly on my arms as he supported me.

"Tell me everything."

I took a deep breath, pushing past my shakes by focusing on the steadiness of Haymitch's face. I quickly launched into the accident: finding Peeta through the rubble, the medics, his leg, and the tall brown eyed man from the Capitol who brought order to the chaos.

"Okay," he nodded solemnly after I had finished. "You get the medicine. I'll get my coat."

He gave me one reassuring squeeze of my arm, pushing me into motion as I ran up the stairs.

* * *

Haymitch used Peeta's old walking stick as we trekked back to the hospital. I couldn't help but take this as a bad sign. For weeks Peeta had pressured him into using it to help increase his recovering mobility. For weeks Haymitch insistently declined, stating he would not use a cane and hobble like an old man, preferring to laze around instead. While inactivity had suffocated Peeta and I, Haymitch was more than accustomed to it. But him using it on the walk now made it seem like there was a significant hurry. Like if we didn't rush we might just miss a final opportunity. The thought made me want to vomit.

The large tent that acted as a makeshift hospital during the building's construction was teeming with activity. Nurses and doctors ran back and forth with purpose and it was all I could do to get attention long enough to hand someone Peeta's medication. The same fierce looking nurse from before snatched them out of my hand and directed us to the waiting room.

For the doctors being so busy there didn't seem to be a lot of people in the waiting area. A few parents fussing over small children and an old man whose skin was stained with fifty years of coal dust consisted of the majority. It took a second sweep of the room for me to notice the subdued couple sitting quietly in the back corner, intimately engaged in a hushed conversation.

Delly's face was streaked with red splotches from her tears. Her eyes, however, were clear as she focused on Thom's bruise with a cold compress in her hand. I felt another roll of guilt as Haymitch and I settled next to them.

"I'm sorry about punching you," I stated, bypassing any other form of greeting.

"I should have expected it," Thom grinned as Delly continued to wipe at his cheek.

"Any word?" I asked.

They shook their heads, saying he was still in surgery and it would take a few hours. The soundtrack of the hospital reception area played on without interruption as we sat in silence. I tried to keep my focus on the cheap tiles of the floor, counting the white spots against the sick green background. I ran my tongue against every single one of my teeth and tried to remember the first and last names of all the Presidents of Panem even before the First Rebellion. Anything to keep my mind off of what it really wanted to focus on. For I knew if I started thinking about him in surgery I would quickly wander to the emptiness of a life without him.

Only the pearl clutched tightly in my hand linked me to Peeta, and even then I had to occasionally remind myself not to hold it too hard, lest the pressure turn it back to coal. The joke almost made it seem like one day it would be possible to smile.

"I think he's going to be okay," Delly exclaimed optimistically after she could no longer take the silence. "Thom said he was aware enough when he was conscious. He knew to tell you about his leg!"

"Rue was pretty aware of what had happened too after I pulled the spear out of her chest," I stated flatly. Haymitch's laughter at my response only seemed to seal her lips tighter. Hours passed without another word.

Haymitch was the first of us to notice the doctor had arrived. He had settled into a slumped and uncomfortable looking state for the past hour, causing him to look either dead or naturally drunk despite being mostly sober. I had been spending the last twenty minutes contemplating his stance and his talent for appeared inebriation when suddenly his body jolted to life. My eyes immediately turned to the door, where a heavy man with spirals shaved into his beard awaited our attention.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Demetrius," he greeted with soppy and condescending voice. "It seems like your Mr. Mallark had quite the tumble, hmmm?"

He chuckled at his joke, oblivious to our stony looks of repulsion and outrage. He then went on to brag about how tricky the surgery was in such a "barbaric and tacky" place. He pinned for his state of the art facility back at the Capitol that could have saved the boy with a few carefully pressed buttons, and he lamented his lot in life for having no choice but to offer his services to such a sub-par District in order for his outstanding debt to be forgiven.

"Cut the shit, Giggles," Haymitch finally burst, taking to his feet and startling the doctor out of complaining about his "worse than a hole in the ground" lodgings. "Is Peeta okay or what?"

Shaken out of his pontificating rant, the doctor finally seemed to recognize his addresser was not only someone who had killed successfully before, but appeared more than willing to do so again.

"As I said, the surgery was tricky," the large man explained, a wave of sweat breaking over his brow. "The patient had lost a significant amount of blood after his prosthetic was ripped out and he shattered a large portion of his pelvis. We were able to successfully induce a blood transfusion as well as fuse together his pelvic bones with a metal alloy. He'll need a new prosthetic as the one he has now is pretty much useless, which will of course be very expensive so good luck. The pain will be great but he should have a nearly, if not totally, complete recovery."

Delly let out a squeal of joy over the news and immediately turned to hug Thom. Thom smiled and rocked her back and forth. The color returned to Haymitch's face and he released a small yet reserved look of relief. My face remained stoic and stern as I looked the man in front of me up and down.

"Let me see him," I ordered, my voice emotionless. The doctor hesitated.

"I'm afraid that is impossible," he stuttered, unable to look me in the eye. "We can't risk you contaminating…"

"Let her see him," Haymitch stepped in quickly as he abandoned his fleeting happiness. Like me, Haymitch didn't trust this artificial looking man from the Capitol. Not a word that fell out of his gluttonous mouth could be believed. I would only be satisfied when my own eyes deemed he was alive. Only then could I release myself into happiness and cast aside the empty and crushing blackness that threatened to obliterate me.

"I…I…"

It took only one menacing and simultaneous step forward from Haymitch and I to get the man to cave. Quivering he pointed to the door, giving me his access badge along with directions. Without a word I made my way.

An unnaturally white light filled three-quarters of the cramped and sterile room while the corners faded into darkness. The walls were lined with ancient looking machines that were top-of-the-line for District Twelve, all beeping regularly as they read the vitals of the unmoving figure in the bed. Peeta's face was cut and bruised in several places, yet his skin held its usual color. His hair was strange, and it bewildered me to see someone at the hospital had styled it with some sort of gel, smoothing and robbing him of his light curls. The blanket that contoured to the mold of his body fell short on his left-side, ending a few inches below his hips.

But again none of this mattered. I had been lured into the illusions of the Capitol too many times to simply trust my eyes. I settled by him carefully, taking a deep breath to block out the droning sounds of the machines. I slowly lay my head across his chest, holding my breath as I checked his. Slowly but steadily his body rose and fell, and though decelerated due to the Morphling his heart did beat.

My body convulsed, finally accepting the truth that he was alive. I gasped aloud, expecting tears to fall, but they never came. Instead I laughed. I laughed like I never had before. It was full of joy and relief and every good feeling that was ever possible. If the doctor had been right in saying he was alive, it was safe to say he would fully recover. This brought on wave after wave of ecstasy, causing me to laugh all the more. I climbed up his chest gently, cupping his face with a shaky hand.

"You're going to be alright," I proclaimed with a smile before bending over and kissing him. His lips were warm and wonderfully familiar despite being stationary. As I pulled away I swear I felt his heart rate accelerate in my hand that still lay on his chest.

"Peeta," I stated endearingly, shaking my head as I calmed myself down. Peeta was going to be okay, but the next few weeks were not going to be easy. I settled in permanently by his side, holding one of his hands while my other ran through his hair, diligently working out the gel until it lay in its usual style.

Doctors and nurses came and went. Thom and Delly paid their regards, as did dozens of others. Haymitch brought in his own chair and set up camp in the corner, but his involvement waned in and out with his level of sobriety. I stayed ever alert, determined to wait by his side until and after he woke up.

Nothing could compare to the tugging in my heart hours later when I felt the body below my arms slowly start to move, and heard a single word moan slowly out of his lips.

"Katniss."

**(a/n: Sorry about the long wait between chapters! Wedding went awesome, and I found out I got the big promotion I wanted! About to move and work different hours. Don't know if that is going to affect my writing or not, but it shouldn't be too bad. Thanks for all the great reviews!)**


	7. Shadows

Shadows

"I'm here, Peeta," I whispered to him, gently grabbing his hand as I watched him slowly stir. He moaned again, shaking his head back and forth as he fought for consciousness. I instinctively started to stroke his face calmingly. His breath hitched and for a moment he grimaced as if the sudden contact was painful. I started to pull away, cursing myself for my impulsive reaction, when his eyes finally opened.

"Ka…niss," he choked quietly, and I could tell from the wavering of his eyes he suffered from untold depths of pain.

"Shhh, it's okay," I stated pleadingly, desperately wanting to get him help but unwilling to leave his side.

"Wh… happened?" he mumbled, wincing in between his words and tightening the hold on my hand. I took a deep breath to try and sound calm despite my insides quivering with anxiety.

"You fell off the scaffold when it collapsed," I explained simply, my voice much stronger than I felt. "You saved two men before you did. We had to take you to the emergency tent right after. You shattered your pelvis and they had to fuse it with some kind of metal. But the doctors say you're going to be just fine."

I left out the hours of despair that had cast over the event, how I had been so close to losing him and how terrified I still felt over the possibility. I left out the upcoming weeks of pain and torture he would have to bare through since his Morphling would be rationed due to lack of supplies. Instead I gingerly fingered the ends of his curls, taking great care not to actually touch his skin for fear of hurting him.

Peeta stared up at me, his eyes clouded with agony. Suddenly a realization seemed to strike him and without warning he shot upwards with a start.

"Peeta!" I cried in horror, confused by the action and the sudden fierce crying of the surrounding machines. His large hand reached out to steady himself on my shoulder and he had to close his eyes and clench his jaw to bear through the new waves of pain that undoubtedly pulsed through his body.

"I seem to be missing one of my legs," he stated calmly through gritted teeth. "Please tell me it's the same one I lost before."

The request was a horrifying one, yet some outrageous part of me couldn't help but release a small smile.

"Yes, it's the same one," I confirmed. Instantly his tight grip on my shoulder loosened and he relaxed against his propped pillows.

"Well that certainly is a relief," he commented nonchalantly. "It would have been really embarrassing otherwise."

I couldn't help the choked out laugh that followed as relief spread through my veins. It was just such a quintessentially Peeta statement, as was the smile that followed as he happily watched my reaction. Filled with unbridled joy at this true sign of future recovery, I made to tell him everything I felt at that moment. How the life had all but drained out of me until I had felt him breathe with my own hands, and how my heart never felt lighter than when he went out of his way to make me laugh. But before I could even start we were interrupted by a barrage of nurses and doctors all responding to the beeps of the machine.

"So there's that impressive response time Paylor keeps babbling about," Peeta grinned slowly, weakly squeezing my hand before I was shunned to the side. Two nurses took my space beside him, blocking him from my view. A facetious curtain was pulled, dividing the room to where I could only stand between it and the door. Feeling bitter I stepped outside into the hallway, determined not to wander far but desperate for a breath of fresh air.

I turned down the corridor to see Haymitch walking towards me steadily. In the mess and growing joy of Peeta's waking I hadn't even noticed he had gone.

"What's going on?" he asked directly, his grey eyes alert and focused. Despite being cast out so rudely I couldn't help but smile.

"He's awake," I answered with tentative happiness. "He's in a lot of pain and the doctors are with him now, but I think he's going to be okay."

I backed up my statement by repeating his reaction to his injuries.

"That's my boy," Haymitch nodded fondly, his eyes flickering over to the shut door in front of us.

"Where did you go?" I inquired, unable to deduce his absence on my own. The only thing I could think of that would give cause for him to leave Peeta's room was to find alcohol, yet he seemed more sober and alert than I had seen him since our return to Twelve.

"I had a few phone calls to make," he replied simply, the ends of his lips curling slightly. A warm feeling spread across my chest as I absorbed the statement. I didn't need to ask any further questions to understand. Though set with a proclivity to wrap himself up in a drunken cloud against the world, Haymitch would always rise to his position of mentor when it came to saving us. I only hoped my small smile could portray the gratitude and love I felt for him.

"I hope you are out here on your own volition, Ms. Everdeen. I'd hate to see my promise not upheld."

I turned to face my addresser and was met by the tall man with dark brown eyes from the Capitol. He smiled at me before turning to face Haymitch.

"Mr. Abernathy," he greeted, holding out his hand.

"Dr. Sharp," Haymitch returned, a sly and testing smile on his face.

"It's just Mr. Sharp," the man corrected easily, though he seemed to know he wasn't going to get much past Haymitch from the way he smiled back.

"That's funny," Haymitch replied coyly. "Most people I've talked to today seem to think you're some kind of renowned surgeon."

"Most people are idiots," he retorted. "But how about we just settle and you can call me Lucien."

He garnished his statement with a friendly wink towards me.

"Works for me. I fucking hate doctors," Haymitch retorted with a grin. I joined in on the smiles, trusting this newcomer despite his accent. There were hardly a handful of people from the Capitol that I could say that about, but he had definitely begun to earn my loyalty. Even Haymitch seemed sure of him, which all but sealed the deal as his judgment was even more critical than my own.

"So how is he?" Lucien asked, nodding gently over to the door. I retold my tale, expressing a restrained delight over his hopeful recovery and his seemingly high spirits despite the pain. Lucien smiled happily at the news until I wrapped up my story at how I was pushed out of the room.

"Well that won't do," he expressed loudly, half pushing half kicking the door to Peeta's room.

"I think I love him," Haymitch declared to me with a grin, holding out his arm for me to take as we strolled behind Lucien.

"Excuse me!" Dr. Demetrius squeaked as Lucien ripped down the privacy curtain and wadded it up in a ball. "This is a private room and we are working with a patient!"

"Shut up, Ezra," Lucien declared, tossing him the curtain so it fell over his short, squat body. He then pushed aside what he seemed to deem superfluous medical machines and plopped down Haymitch's chair by Peeta's side. He stood over the two protesting nurses until they shied away due to his towering demeanor. Once cleared he smiled, dusting off the seat and presenting it to me graciously.

"You can't just barge in here when we're in the middle of informing the patient of his condition!" Dr. Demetrius challenged in a huff.

"Katniss! Haymitch!" Peeta declared happily upon finally espying us. Once I passed the crowd and was able to view him properly I could instantly see that the pain in his eyes had been taken over by the drugged glaze of Morphling.

"Have you seen the robots walking around the hospital?" he inquired loudly, pointing to the machines that lined the wall.

"How much Morphling did you give him?" Haymitch demanded sharply.

"Knowing Ezra he probably pumped him full of the stuff after siphoning off a hearty portion for himself," Lucien spat.

"Excuse me, _Mister_ Sharp, but you have absolutely no say in any medical matter here!" Demetrius protested, spinning into a long rant about the lack of security at the wretched establishment. I paid no mind to the intellectual pissing contest that ensued between the two men from the Capitol. I slipped my hand into Peeta's, squeezing it gently as I tried to give him a happy and reassuring look.

"How you doing, Stumpy?" Haymitch asked as he placed his hand on my shoulder. I cast him a dirty look and was about to scold him before I was interrupted by the sound of Peeta's giggles.

"I may only have one leg but my ass is made of gold!" Peeta softly decreed with wide eyes, continuing to heave in laughter.

"What are you talking about?" I inquired with concern, hating the absurd reaction he was having to the narcotic yet reminding myself it beat him having to bear through the pain.

"We fused the cracks in his pelvis with a gold alloy," informed the irritated nurse whose face was tattooed with purple and green stars. "It was injected into the bone in liquid form and should harden and meld with the pelvis in just a few hours."

"See, I always knew your ass was worth saving," Haymitch cracked. "Now it's probably valued at the same price as your house!"

The joke caused Peeta to roar with laughter. Haymitch joined in jovially, squeezing my shoulder painfully until I did the same.

"I'm just glad you're okay," I sighed after completing what I hope could pass as a bout of genuine amusement.

"You're so beautiful, Katniss," he stated suddenly, rolling his head to the side to look at me with deathly seriousness.

My heart staggered. I felt vulnerable and completely unprepared for such a statement. I struggled to even stutter in response. Haymitch pulled his hand away from my shoulder, abandoning our side and leaving me to my own devices.

"Beautiful," he repeated dreamily. "Like a shadow."

"Like a shadow?" I replied before I could stop myself.

"Yes!" he answered happily. "Like when the sun sets and everything is filled with oranges and shadows. And even though it looks like you disappear you never really do because you always come back."

This complement pained me more deeply than any insult or injury I had received. My heart weighed heavy with shame and guilt for all the times I had sank into despair when Peeta needed me. He had always been there, even when I was too stupid to recognize how badly I needed him.

"I'm not going to disappear," I stated and promised firmly, stroking his hair gently and wishing so badly that all the eyes in the room weren't focused on me. Maybe if Peeta and I were alone I'd be able to find the courage to say the kind of thing he always so easily said to me.

"I'm tired," he moaned suddenly, unfazed by my lack of reaction.

"Yes, I think it's time we let Mr. Mallory sleep!" Dr. Demetrius declared in a bold voice as he tried to regain his dominance.

"And me too," Peeta replied without missing a beat. I wasn't sure if he was messing with the doctor for forgetting his name or if he actually thought there was a Mr. Mallory, but I smiled genuinely all the same.

"You have an infallible bedside manner," Lucien sneered as Dr. Demetrius refilled Peeta's IV.

"Why don't you go tinker with your designs and let the actual life savers do their job!" Ezra retorted crossly.

"Can I get my medicine before I go to sleep?" Peeta asked me softly as he slowly started to fade. I smiled and brushed his hair, turning to the cross nurse to get the bottle of red pills I had given her earlier.

"I'm sorry, but while the patient is on Morphling he cannot take his sleeping medication," Dr. Demetrius informed matter-of-factly. The narcotic grin that had been plastered to Peeta's face since the drugs had kicked in instantly crumbled. He sat up quickly, completely alert with a look of terror in his eyes.

"What do you mean I can't have my medicine?" he yelled manically. "You have to give me my medicine before I fall asleep! I need it!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Mallory, but I simply cannot allow it," Dr. Demetrius said as he amped up the Morphling pulsing through Peeta's body.

"Katniss!" he pleaded, his pupils wide with dilation and panic. "I can't go to sleep without my medicine, don't let them make me sleep without it!"

"Let him have his medicine!" I demanded, fear and anger boiling up inside me as Peeta clung to me for hope. "Lucien, please!"

"I can't, Katniss," Lucien stated, his charming voice dripping with sorrow. "Not while he's on the Morphling. Taking his meds now would cause his heart to slow down and stop all together."

"Then get this stuff out of me!" Peeta yelled, yanking the IV lines out of his arm with a scream of pain.

"Medics," Dr. Demetrius said almost lazily, waving the two young and well-built doctors over. "Take care of this."

Both of them stepped forward, each holding a small but deadly looking needle in their hands. Peeta continued to struggle to get out of his bed, screaming in frantic agony as he rocked back and forth on his shattered pelvis and the exposed nerves of his open leg. The larger of the two medics came at him with a grin, holding the syringe up menacingly. I launched myself at him, throwing all my weight into him to take him by surprise. The man fell against the wall and was temporarily tangled in the machine's wire, giving me just enough time to grab my closest weapon, my chair, and raise it above my head to bring down on the attacker.

A fist found my stomach before I could, and I was able to see the second medic pull back his arm before he slapped me hard across the face causing me to fall to the ground. Gasping for air, I almost missed the incredibly satisfying sound of a nose breaking as Haymitch uppercut the smaller medic. The first man had risen to his feet and made to charge at the both of us. He stopped after one step when he noticed Haymitch's knife was mere inches from his throat.

"Enough!" Dr. Demetrius cried. He stood over Peeta and I could only watch with horror as he plunged the needle straight into his neck.

"NO!" I cried, leaping off the floor and scrambling to his side.

"Katniss…" Peeta struggled as the drug quickly took him. "Don't…go."

And with that his eyes closed, his breath shallow and concurrent with the steady beeping of a nearby machine.

"I'm going to kill you!" I screamed, turning to Demetrius as I grabbed a scalpel off a nearby table. A look of pure fear crossed his usually smug face as I ran towards him, aiming for the same place in his neck that he stabbed Peeta.

"Katniss, no!"

Lucien stepped forward, blocking my attack with his body and keeping me just far enough away from the good doctor. I screamed and yelled and cried for him to let me go, threatening to kill him too unless he did. He simply held on to me and turned me away from the struggling for dignified Demetrius as he and his crew exited the room.

"Control your savages, Sharp," Demetrius ordered before slamming the door behind him.

"Get off me!" I demanded hysterically, throwing off Lucien's hold with tears in my eyes. I staggered, flinging the scalpel to the ground as I turned to Peeta's bed. Sobs resonated in my throat but my lips remained sealed. I could feel Lucien's gaze upon me, seeing me for the deranged killer I truly was. After letting me go he made no further move to restrain me. There was no scolding or attempts to keep me from going after Dr. Demetrius. Perhaps he knew that as long as Peeta was stuck in that bed I was unable to go anywhere else. Perhaps he thought me so unstable he knew better than to try and touch me.

"Well that took a fairly interesting turn," Lucien whistled. I said nothing in reply and simply sat motionlessly in my seat.

"How about we all take some time out and then collectively think of what to do about Peeta and our dear friend Ezra?" he suggested when again silence filled the room.

"I already know what to do," Haymitch spat, sheathing his knife and walking determinedly out the door. Lucien struggled over whether or not to go after the armed and dangerous man strolling freely amongst the hospital staff. Apparently he felt the bigger threat lay with me as he decided to stay. I ignored him as I focused diligently on the rise and fall of Peeta's chest.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss," he stated solemnly. "I promise you I'll find a way to fix this mess…"

"Promises from the Capitol don't mean a damn thing to me," I spat dismissively, looking at the forlorn man with searing hatred. His brown eyes stayed still, staring at me steadily before he left without another word.

Choking silently on my outrage I gently picked up Peeta's hand and began to watch him sleep, studying his face for any sign of the nightmares that were sure to come. I was so tired of everything being so hard. I hated how everyone seemed to think they knew what was best for me and Peeta. I loathed being perceived as an unstable lunatic who wasn't worth listening to. But worst of all I despised how the Games and Rebellion had changed me into a murder, someone poised to kill at the first sign of trouble. It was like my humanity had been stripped away, leaving only a loose façade behind that was used to fool me during times of good and pulled away again to showcase my false hope. Yet even in this despair I knew I would always lose myself when it came to Peeta's survival.

I stroked his hair softly, praying that whatever they used to knock him out would protect him from his dreams. But I could tell by the furrow in his brow that the nightmares had begun, intensified by the hallucinations brought on by the Morphling. I knew all too well what hell the subconscious could bring and still I was plagued by one nagging question.

What horrors transpired in his mind where the raw pain of losing his leg and shattering his pelvis was preferable to his dreams?

I let my tears fall for him, laying my head against his chest and sobbing as I felt his heart race from internal fear. I tried in vain to wake him up until I could only watch him moan and whimper helplessly. Desperately I longed to climb next to him and cradle his tense frame into relaxation like we had countless nights before. But the bed was too small, and I was too cowardly to risk him further physical injuries by curling into him.

So I was forced to settle with holding his hand and stroking his face diligently.

* * *

I don't know how long I had sat there with him, nor when I had finally succumb to sleep. As the room was windowless I could not make out an hour. Yet I definitely felt a significant lapse in time had passed when I felt the stirring of the body beneath me.

"Katniss," Peeta breathed into a moan. Instantly I sat alert, tightening my hold on his hand.

"I'm right here, Peeta," I answered lightly, hoping that if he had found me in his dream then perhaps he might have found some peace.

"Katniss," he repeated louder, and I felt his grip began to squeeze my hand, searching for reassurance. I smiled at the gesture and began to declare that everything would be alright, when suddenly I was forced to stop and gasp. The hold Peeta had on my hand quickly abandoned one of comfort as he began crushing it with all his might. I struggled to pull away but his strength did not falter.

My screams filled the room as I felt the bones in my fingers snap.


	8. A Lie Of A Drug

**(A/N: Sorry it has taken me so long to update. Training for my new job takes up eleven hours a day after commute time and afterwords I'm pretty tired. Also my mom has been in and out of the ICU for the past week so I've been dealing with that. As of now it looks like she'll be okay though. Hopefully this long chapter will make up for it. I know I like to go into a lot of detail which makes for a slightly slow going story. Let me assure some of you that have remarked upon it that this story is rated M for a reason, it's just gonna take a few more chapters to get to the really good stuff :) Enjoy!)  
**

A Lie Of A Drug

Tears rolled down my face as I cradled my hand, finally securing it from Peeta's vice grip. The look on his face flashed signs of pain and hatred and even after this subsided the veins in his neck still protruded from the flow of adrenaline. I felt like I was back in Thirteen, when the desire for anticipated warmth and affection from a man whose absence had crippled me was crushed by those same deceivingly strong hands. Hands that had hence forth only held love, hope and bread were then unsheathed to show just how deadly they could be. Anger and betrayal encompassed me, ordering me to flee for my survival. Worse, a small part of me wanted to act out in revenge against the body that lay helplessly below me.

"_You're punishing him over and over for things that are out of his control…I think it's time you flipped this little scenario in your head… If you'd been taken by the Capitol, and hijacked, and then tried to kill Peeta, is this the way he would be treating you_?"

Haymitch's words reverberated in my ears, causing me to feel absolutely repulsed by myself. How could I have thought such things after all Peeta had done for me? How dare I? Self-loathing instantly filled my empty stomach, followed by irritation for me selfishly focusing on my own pain instead of Peeta's. He was the one who was trapped in the battlefield of his own head, unable to escape until whatever drug Demetrius had forced on him wore off. My only purpose was to comfort him, protect him. I would not allow myself to sabotage.

I obliged myself not to hesitate as I awkwardly slipped my uninjured hand back into his, biting my lip to overcome the throbbing pain. Peeta's breathing had steadied and his face settled into passivity.

All of a sudden I found myself pining for my father. He had always made hunger and pain and sadness not only bearable but nonexistent. He never lied or sugarcoated over stark realities, he just simply had an essence for persevering and the embracing hold that made you truly believe everything would be okay. I always assumed my father and I were exactly alike in demeanor, but as I thought about it more it struck me how he and Peeta both had this amazing gift.

Instead of this comparison comforting me I felt all the more terrified at the thought of losing him. The all too familiar feeling of crippling devastation slowly started to creep upon me, filling me with terror as I thought of all the ways Peeta could die in the near future…

I snapped myself to attention. It was useless for me to follow that path. All it would do was paralyze me. As I stood up firmly, physically shaking this dreaded feeling away, I made a decision. I was clearly unstable. With my bouts with sanity and the unshakable violent thoughts that filtered through my head I was the first to admit that. However Peeta had decided that he needed me and I swore that this time I would not fail. In order to be able to be there for anyone I would need support in times like these, and if I couldn't have my father or Peeta's embrace I needed the next best thing.

The fact that I had no idea where Haymitch was did not deter me. I would make a quick lap of the hospital searching him out, running over whatever snarky and brutally honest wisdom of his I had in my arsenal to tie me over until I found him.

I didn't even get the chance to turn before the door opened. However instead of Haymitch or Lucien or even Demetrius I was met with an odd yet still familiar face.

"Hello," the pale, skinny man said to his chart flatly. "I'm Dr. Elias."

It was the same strict and emotionless doctor from Thirteen who had been hired to treat Haymitch after the fire. When he finally looked up at me he granted a forced smile before returning to his default look of aloofness.

"I know. You came to our house every day for weeks," I reminded, willing the color to my face and doing my best to hide my swollen hand.

"Oh. You remember," he stated simply. Apparently this filled his quota of small talk and he turned to do his inspection of Peeta. Elias worked quietly, checking Peeta's vitals and charts, inspecting his leg and pelvis and replacing his bandages. Only once did he engage in further conversation with me, and that was only to ask me to pull back the sheets. He was impersonal but thorough, and I thought him a vast improvement over Demetrius.

After writing excruciatingly detailed notes he finally turned to face me. I got the feeling that the interaction with patients and their loved ones was his least favorite part of his profession.

"Mr. Mellark seems to have taken well to the surgery on his pelvis. The infusion has hardened by now and should cause him little to no pain. His leg however is still inflamed, and without an available prosthetic there are very few alternatives that do not result in massive amounts of anguish."

"He said he was going to refuse Morphling," I informed, gripping Peeta's hand and dreading the pain that would infest him when he woke up.

"So I've heard," Elias replied, staring at me as he pushed up his glasses. "It's none of my business what you do, but it is safe to say that it is unwise to start attacking doctors when your friend is in such a condition. Despite honorable intentions it does not make many medics want to work with you."

"Then why are you here?" I snapped defensively, instantly realizing this probably wasn't the best reaction to give the only doctor in the district that was still willing to help us. He stared at me blankly for a moment before his dull green eyes flickered over to Peeta.

"I like his cinnamon rolls," he informed.

My anger vanished immediately as I read between the lines. I pictured the weeks of interaction between the two of them while Haymitch fitfully recovered, how hard Peeta had worked to save his mentor by appeasing this strict man. The medic was clearly a professional, but Haymitch had made it his life goal to drive people away, especially doctors. Tact and emotional restraint were two traits I sorely lacked, but Peeta could meet and get along with anyone. It floored me how influential Peeta was just by being himself, and I told myself I shouldn't be amazed that this man still wanted to help him despite all Haymitch and I had done.

"Thank you," I told him genuinely, finding myself already developing a fondness for him. This was something I was doing more and more as people stepped forward to help Peeta. Thoughts of how poorly I had treated Lucien haunted me and I started to wonder if it had been he who had contacted Elias. While Haymitch had proclaimed he had a plan I doubted it included the doctor who had taken away his booze and forced him to get off his ass.

"Unnecessary," he answered. "Now let me see your hand."

I hesitated, almost forgetting about the shooting pain and how I had opted to hide it from the doctor's sight. Not seeing any other option I extended my arm for his inspection. His touches were gentle and skilled, yet I still could not help but grimace as he did his work.

"Your middle and ring fingers are dislocated," he diagnosed perfunctory.

"It happened during the fight with the medics," I lied quickly, casting my gaze away from him. He asked no further questions but continued to inspect my hand.

"The doctors from the Capitol have a relatively painless yet tedious technique to deal with these sorts of fractures," he explained. "I could go see if I could borrow their equipment."

"I'd rather you didn't," I scowled, spit forming in my mouth over the mention of those monsters.

"I do have another alternative that I typically practice which is much quicker," he offered as he lightly held my two fingers in one hand as the other steadied my arm. Without giving me any time to think about what this alternative might be he yanked and then pushed my fingers back into their sockets.

Once again my screams filled every corner of the room. I sobbed in choked gasps as the sharp pain shot through my arm.

"Now I'm going to pull a needle out of my pocket to inject a local anesthetic," he explained dryly when my cries died down. "I request that you please refrain from attacking me."

I instinctively pulled my hand away from him, the quick movement causing another round of pain. The doctor simply looked at me over his wireframe glasses, saying nothing until I presented my hand back to him.

"The worst is over," he assured as he stuck me with the syringe. I made to argue as the pinch from the needle caused my stomach to convulse, but a moment later I realized he was right. Instantly my hand began to numb. It felt cold and stiff and I could hardly move it but I felt no real pain.

"Your hand is still injured, of course, and needs time to heal properly," he informed as he began to wrap it for support. "The anesthetic merely blocks the nerves from sending pain signals to your brain."

"That's amazing," I couldn't help but express.

"Oh, it's not so special. It's rather like an ill-formed lie."

The doctor punctuated his statement by giving me an accusing look. It was clear he had seen right through my false story of how I injured my hand. How much he actually knew was up for debate, but it was obvious he was not a man to be trifled with.

The awkward silence was broken by a loud moan as Peeta fought for consciousness. Immediately I turned to his bed, forgetting my worries of the doctor revealing what he knew in order to help coax Peeta awake.

"Peeta," I called strongly, "Peeta it's alright."

The muscles in his body all began to contract wildly and his head shook back and forth. I steadied him with both hands, gently caressing his cheek as I continued to talk to him soothingly. Suddenly his eyes flew open with his expression filled with a mixture of anger and terror. There was no recognition in his face as he stared at me. He jerked upwards, his arms tensing as if preparing to escape…or fight.

"Peeta!" I exclaimed, bracing him with both hands so he had no choice but to stare straight. "Peeta look at me!"

His eyes focused on my face. Slowly his blue irises transformed as they began to waver with tears.

"Katniss!" he sobbed, instantly pulling me to him. My arms embraced him, planting kisses on his forehead as I continually assured him it had only been a dream.

After a few moments I was forced to pull away as he grimaced and once again shot forward. His hands gingerly touched his pelvis and his injured leg while he bit down on his lip to keep from crying out.

"You're in pain," I stated obviously, my face and voice growing numb so as not to succumb to sorrow.

"I'm not going back on Morphling," he groaned, staring at me intently as if daring me to challenge him.

"Technically you're still not off of it," Dr. Elias interjected. "The injection Demetrius gave you is only 72% maxed out. It will take a few more hours for the rest to flush out of your body and your true level of pain to surface."

The doctor accentuated his comment with another reproachful look, apparently hoping his blunt statement about the future increase of pain would cause the baker to see reason and accept more Morphling.

"Thanks, Doc," Peeta grimaced as he readjusted himself to sit up. I steadied his chest as his head rolled back in pain. "What happened to that other doctor?"

"I scared him off when I threatened to kill him," I replied, smiling sheepishly. I don't know how Peeta managed to focus his muscles enough to raise an eyebrow during his struggle, but my smile grew when he did.

"Careful, Katniss. You don't want to give yourself a reputation," he joked as he succumbed to the notion that it would be less painful to just lean up against the pillows. I sighed out a laugh as my thumb ran across the white knuckles of the hand I held.

"As I was telling Ms. Everdeen," Elias continued, irritated that the conversation had once again strayed from his results. "While your pelvis is healing neatly your leg will only continue to grow more and more painful. The prosthetic severed and exposed your nerves and bone. When the Morphling is completely out of your system it will be as if a blade just cut clean through your leg."

"Well it's not like I haven't lived through that before," Peeta responded, though I could hear the hitch of fear that was attached to his bold statement.

"Barely," the doctor replied stoically, spelling out the same dreadful thought I held. "Your best hope is to receive another implant. Those being non-existent in this part of the country and with your ever-so-wise decision to deny medication all I can do is monitor your heart rate in order to predict when the pain is going to send you into cardiac arrest."

"You're quite the charmer, Doc," Peeta mumbled before gritting his teeth in pain. Elias agreed. Before he left the room he shot us one last look. For a moment his dull green eyes flickered something, but as emotion seemed so foreign on his face it was hard to make out. Pity? Fear? Hope? Peeta would have known if he had seen, but he kept his eyes closed as he steadied his breathing.

"This isn't going to be good," I whispered to him, sadness lacing through my steady determination. Peeta only squeezed my fingers in reassurance, freezing right after he did so.

"What happened to your hand?" he demanded almost angrily, pulling it close to his face so he could inspect the bandages.

"It's fine," I assured. "I just injured it in the fight. But Elias fixed me right up. It doesn't even hurt now, see?"

I supported my statement by wiggling and flexing my fingers back and forth. I held my face steady as the lie of a drug waned during my performance and pain shot up my ligaments. Peeta did not seem to be convinced, and his gaze flickered from my eyes to my bandages fitfully.

"Peeta, I'm fine," I assured again, cupping his face to showcase my sincerity. His blue eyes did not calm. Instead he pulled away, fuming irately as he stared out in front of him. His distress was palpable, and while I couldn't paint the whole story I knew my injury was plaguing him more than it should.

"You should try and get more rest," I suggested, smoothing his sheets. "Sleep through some of the pain…"

"No!" he insisted sharply. "I'm not sleeping until the Morphling wears off."

"But then you'll be in too much pain to sleep," I reminded softly, my statement once again garnished with unappeasable sadness.

"I guess I won't be sleeping then," he responded bitterly, folding his arms across his chest. I watched as his shirt rippled with spasms as Peeta angrily fought the pain. I hated seeing him like this, stubbornly combating his anguish while he pulled away from me. Part of me wanted to yell at him, curse his idiocy, maybe even force him back into that induced sleep just so he could forget about his pain. But then another idea came to me. It was small, hardly worthy of the label, but it was worth a shot.

"You know, you're being really ornery today," I stated, allowing a playful grin to spread across my face. "I don't remember you being this bitter the last time your leg fell off."

Peeta continued to stare forward, and I worried my weak attempt at humor had failed miserably. But moments later the ends of his lips struggled as they flipped upwards into a smile, and when he turned to me his blue eyes were bright with silent laughter.

Grinning at my smallest of victories, I sat carefully on the edge of the bed in hopes I could get closer to him. Peeta leaned against my chest, laying his head down on my shoulder so his face buried lightly into my neck. I kissed his temple tenderly and protectively, gently placing my arms around him as I played with his hair.

"This must have been pretty boring for you," he said minutes later. "Having to sit here with me all day. You don't have to, you know."

"Don't be stupid," I spat quietly, kissing his forehead once more. This caused Peeta to laugh almost neurotically.

"Well there's one good thing about this mess," he chuckled as his hands clumsily ran through my messy braid. "At least when I'm in pain I get your kisses again."

He laughed once more, pressing his lips against my neck before he nestled back comfortably.

I froze as the waves of guilt sweated through my pores. The flippant statement tugged me in so many directions I grew nauseous. It spoke volumes of my regression and lack of affection, how I had been holding out on what I used to give easily, even if it wasn't necessarily all my choosing. It reminded me again how I constantly let Peeta down by ignoring his needs and desires while I selfishly let him pick me up.

But worst of all it made me think of Gale and how he had told me the same thing. I would only kiss him when he was in pain. And how many of those kisses had there been? How was it that doing the same motions with him as I had Peeta brought about different feelings and results of pleasure? And whose lips were he kissing now back in District Two?

My face grew red with shame as I found myself thinking of and missing Gale while Peeta clung to me for comfort. This day seemed to bring about ceaseless contradictions and complications with my emotions. So much of what I felt and how I wish I felt were at ends with another. Back before the Games it was much simpler to know what to do and how to be. I had to be strong, I had to survive. Only Prim brought out uncalculated emotions and I never worried about offending anyone.

Now everything was different. My life was no longer constantly threatened but it was too easy to see how I could be my own undoing. I was unable to check my emotions, could not control my thoughts. It would only be a matter of time before I slipped up and pushed away the growing list of people who I depended on. My body shuddered with anxiousness at the notion. I was an unstable time bomb. An utter and disastrous mess I had no clue how to fix.

I adjusted my hold on Peeta, bringing him closer as I listened to his hitched breathing. It didn't matter how clueless I felt inside, I knew I needed to be strong for Peeta. And as that was the only thing I felt really sure of I was determined to give him my all. I kept my hand steady as I ran it through his blonde curls, planting the occasional kiss as I tried not to notice how his muscle spasms continued to increase as the Morphling wore off.

The door opened, announcing Dr. Elias had returned. The irritated look on his face was quickly explained as a mocking Haymitch followed suit. He stopped at the threshold and stared at us, taking in the scene of me cradling a pained looking Peeta in a cramped and sorry looking bed. This seemed to amuse him and he smiled smugly.

"Hey, Peeta," Haymitch called with brazen casualness. "How's it hanging?"

"To the left and about three feet off the ground," Peeta responded without missing a beat. The energy exerted to make such a joke seemed to drain him as he hissed upon completion and laid his head back on my shoulder.

"Where have you been?" I demanded, furious at Haymitch's lengthy absence.

"I've been rounding up visitors," he replied simply, his grin growing at the question. "Isn't that right, Cage?"

A tan, middle-aged man in a well-tailored suit suddenly appeared at the door. He gave off the impression of one used to having a commanding presence suddenly transposed out of their comfort zone. His movements were calculated, slow, and it was only when he finally looked up that I recognized him as one of the men from the Capitol who did their best not to interact with anyone from the District.

"Hello Mr. Mellark," he greeted uncomfortably, his eyes shifting from us to the floor. "How are you feeling?"

"I've definitely felt better, Mr. Cage," Peeta responded meekly, though his smile was as warm as ever.

"You seem to be in a great deal of pain," Cage fidgeted, looking around until he caught sight of the frail looking Elias, whose white coat and pale skin made him easy to lose against the light colored walls. "Why haven't you been giving him Morphling?"

"The patient has declined all Morphling treatment," Dr. Elias explained emotionlessly.

"What? Why?" Cage demanded as if the statement were unthinkable.

"Between the effects of the Morphling and the prohibition of his usual medication while on the narcotic the patient suffers from extreme and reality-shaking night terrors," Elias summed up. "He has chosen instead to endure the physical pain in lieu of the emotional."

"Night terrors?" Cage repeated, sentiment continuing to pour into his voice. "You're refusing treatment for your leg because of a couple of bad dreams?"

"Yes."

Peeta's reply was simple and quiet, but everyone in the room seemed affected by its magnitude.

"Well…on behalf of the Capitol I would like to express our sincerest apologies for your accident," Cage fumbled, his eyes focused on the machine that stood on the other side of the bed. "Please be assured that all of our assets in this District are at your disposal in the hopes of a speedy recovery."

"All of your assets, you say?" Haymitch dangled in front of Cage with raised eyebrows.

"The typical treatment for such a case is Morphling Therapy," Cage professionally lashed out. "It is not the Capitol's fault that Mr. Mellark refuses said treatment."

"Not the Capitol's fault?" I demanded furiously. "Where do you think his nightmares came from?"

"Katniss," Peeta mumbled softly, "it's okay."

But my words had already had their effect. Cage stood frozen, unable to refute my question. The grin on Haymitch's face grew and my irritation only intensified as he winked at me proudly.

"Mr. Mellark," Cage began.

"Peeta," he interrupted softly, smiling as he readjusted to face his addresser.

"Peeta," he repeated almost painfully. "I am terribly sorry about what happened, but when an accident like this occurs in such a fiscally tight time there is only so much the government can do…"

"You mean the kind of accident where a national hero saves the lives of two prominent citizens before falling off a defective government structure?" Haymitch added lightly.

"May I remind you that the said scaffold was assembled in and by the people of this District?" Cage snapped irately.

"Using and following Capitol supplies and instructions," Haymitch retorted.

"Mr. Mellark of all people in this room understands the tight budget constraints we are plagued with!" Cage fumed, his tan face growing red with anger.

"Just like the people of Panem will understand how you allowed him to suffer after all he's done," Haymitch replied back calmly. Cage's brown eyes almost popped out of his head at the statement. He lost his cool and shouted at Haymitch that he did not need such abuse. I watched as Haymitch stood his ground, that infuriating smile holding steady on his face. Fed up, Cage announced to the room his intention to leave. However when he made it to the door his own hand shot out to stop himself. He turned slowly, some of the anger in his face replaced with sorrow as he finally met Peeta's eyes.

"Thank you," Cage said quietly, "for saving my life."

And with that he exited the room much quicker than he had come.

* * *

"What the hell was that about?" I demanded as soon as Cage had left. "What are you trying to pull by bringing him here?

My question to Haymitch was answered by Peeta's pained laughs.

"Isn't obvious?" Peeta inquired, grabbing my hand in his. "Haymitch is trying to get Cage to get me a new leg."

"What? How?" I inquired, my irritation instantly melting into hope.

"Because Cage is the financial advisor for the Outer Districts," Peeta continued. "He not only controls the money, he is probably the highest ranking government official on this side of the country."

"That's right," Haymitch nodded, the smirk fading from his face as he watched Peeta continue to struggle for his words.

"It's not going to work," Peeta stated simply.

"Why not?" I exclaimed in excitement. "You saved his life! He's indebted to you."

"Capitol people don't think like that," Peeta replied bitterly. "Besides, his whole reason for coming here was he thought we were hemorrhaging money on the hospital. He came here to cut spending, not to buy new legs for country peasants."

"Then we'll just have to make him change his mind!" I stated, scooting off the bed with a firm determination.

"Katniss, no!" Peeta demanded harshly, grabbing my arm. "He's a government bureaucrat. He's not going to care about me. Besides, you're not exactly a man like Cage's favorite person. He lost a fortune after the Rebellion."

"I don't care. If I can get you that implant I'm going to do it!" I replied sternly.

"Peeta's right," Haymitch interjected suddenly. My eyes snapped over to him, not at all believing what I just heard.

"How can you say that?" I shouted desperately. "How can you just give up when we have a chance?"

"We just lost our best chance," Haymitch lamented sadly. "My plan hinged upon Cage's cooperation."

"So you're just going to give up!" I cried. "It's your job…"

"To get sponsors?" he asked with an arched eyebrow. "This isn't the Games, Katniss. We've pissed a lot of people in the Capitol off. The fact that he is getting any kind of care at all is a miracle. We should be grateful for what we have."

"I'm not just going to sit around when I can do something to help him!" I exclaimed, rising to my feet before Peeta could try to stop me. Unfortunately Haymitch instantly appeared in front of me and placed both his hands firmly on my shoulders. It angered me to no end that the middle-aged alcoholic's grip was too strong for me to shake off.

"Trust me, Katniss, you're already doing more than what it take to help him," Haymitch stated, accentuating his words with the slyest of smiles. Even amidst my ire I recognized Haymitch's subtle attempt to send me a message. While this might have at one point given me hope at the moment I was too frustrated to care. I didn't need hidden messages. I needed Peeta to be okay.

I pulled away successfully this time, turning away from Haymitch to stare at Peeta. Haymitch must have made a farewell motion as Peeta nodded his head in goodbye. I did not return to my seat until I heard the door shut behind me.

"It'll be okay, Katniss," Peeta assured in an unfair switch of who was supposed to be comforting whom.

"I just refuse to sit here when we can do something for you," I replied helplessly, blinking out a tear of frustration. I tried to shake my face away from him before he saw but his quick hand caught my cheek before I could. His thumb lovingly brushed my tear away as he gently stroked my face.

"It's not the end of the world," he continued strongly. "A lot of people in this District have lived with one leg."

"But I'm sure they'd all rather have kept them if they could," I defended fiercely.

"It'll be okay," he repeated. "Eventually it'll lose feeling and I'll learn to live a normal life again."

I took a moment to picture his scenario. It was true that District Twelve had more than its fair share of amputees due to the danger of the mines. A few were lucky enough to have a family to support them or a trade to fall back on. Others however ended up starving or dying of infection. I was sure that of anyone I knew Peeta would be the one to perceiver in that lifestyle with his good humor intact. Still, I could not help but be crippled with sadness as I thought about the anguish he was in and how unfair it was that after all he had lost Peeta continued to have to make sacrifices.

"I just can't stand to see you in so much pain," I replied, my voice growing hollow to combat the tears that threatened to fall.

"Come here," he ordered, staring at me intently. He slowly scooted over, wincing as he made room for me on the cramped bed. I should have protested, but the desire to wrap my arms around him was too strong. I gently climbed in next to him, laying my head on his chest and feeling the spirit-raising rush of once again having his embrace.

It was like being back at the cave all over again. Only now it felt like it was more of a choice to be there. Now I needed Peeta so much more to survive. Now I felt even more helpless because there were so many more options to choose from and I was incapable of securing any of them.

But there was one thing I could do, wanted to do, needed to do, should have done ages ago. With a sudden sniff I gently pulled myself out of his hold so I could hover just above him. I looked into his eyes, allowing him to see the pool of tears that were soon to fall as I stroked his face. His hands went up into my unwashed hair, stroking my matted braid. With a half sob I finally leaned forward, finding his lips eagerly awaiting mine.

For a few blissful moments I felt a glowing of hope and passion well up in my chest. It was like the hunger that had consumed me on the beach. Though the kiss was soft and light I desired so much more. For a few blissful moments nothing else in the world mattered but that Peeta kept kissing me.

And then the moments ended as the piercing sound from the nearby machines startled me from his lips. Peeta's face contorted into a look of pure anguish and it seemed it was all he could do to keep from screaming. I leapt off the bed and yelled for help desperately.

I did not need to know how to read the charts that surrounded us to know what happened. Peeta's Morphling had finally worn off.


	9. Universal Truths

Universal Truths

I was going crazy.

And not the good kind either. The kind where you didn't care about anything and only wanted to succumb to your own insanity. I have had plenty of experience with that type of lunacy and honestly found it preferable to the hell I was placed in now. Now it was all I could do not to tear my hair out as I helplessly watched Peeta suffer. Elias had come and given him a mild sedative which seemed to ease the pain slightly. At least he had stopped screaming. But the torture in his eyes was clear. I begged for him to be given sleep syrup so he could get a small form of escape, but Elias informed that it wouldn't do much good for him at this point.

This point…and what point was that? I seemed to be the only one concerned with the fact that there appeared to be no end game for the direction Peeta was traveling down. No one was forcing him to take pain medication so he suffered. No one wanted to put him to sleep so he fell back into delirium. And no one was chasing after his best hope for recovery because they thought it fruitless. I was infuriated with the lack of action from the people who were supposed to care. I could accept giving up on the implant if I felt we had truly done everything we could on the matter. Helping Peeta through rehabilitation would be a sight better than simply watching him lay in agony.

I couldn't even pace back and forth in the small room as I could tell it made Peeta uneasy. He urged me to take a break from his side; to stretch my legs, maybe even go home and sleep for a night or take in a hunt. I refused. Sitting by him to make sure he wasn't alone was the only thing I had any power to do. Unfortunately it severely limited my options when it came to helping him further.

It had been almost twenty-four hours since his Morphling had worn off. Elias had given him eight doses of the sedative but it might as well have been a bandage for all the good it was doing. Peeta hadn't had a moment of sleep since he awoke from the drug induced coma Demetrius had forced him into. Though I hated that man with every fiber of my being, part of me wished we could place Peeta in that type of release again. But I knew it was not a real solution, and I could not do that to him when Peeta had so thoroughly expressed his fears of sleeping without his medication.

All I could do was hold Peeta's hand and think of Cage. I knew the answer lay within that man. I didn't know where I could find him or how to even go about convincing him to give us an implant but I couldn't think of any other solution.

Haymitch's presence irritated me to no end, but I kept silent on the matter for Peeta's sake. This was his area of expertise. He had always made it seem like when it came to something like this he would pull through for us. What was even more insulting was Haymitch wasn't even drunk, at least not by his usual standards. He simply sat on the other side of Peeta, occasionally rubbing his good leg and encouraging lewd conversation to raise his spirits.

I felt like I was about to explode with inactivity when the door opened. I was surprised to see Dr. Elias come in. Not because he wasn't a diligent doctor, but because since forth he had been thoroughly predictable. With the exception of when Haymitch hustled him in and when Peeta's Morphling first wore off he had checked on Peeta every ninety minutes exactly. It was an integral part of his Thirteen upbringing. You could have set your clock by it.

"What's wrong?" I inquired quickly, reading this unscheduled entrance as a bad sign.

"Nothing," he replied stoically yet a little too quickly for his character. "I just thought I'd come and check his IV."

"You did that twenty minutes ago," I reminded harshly, narrowing my eyes as my trust grew thin.

"Relax it, Sweetheart," Haymitch stated with a smirk. "You're getting too wound up."

I made to insult him back when I was stopped by Peeta lightly brushing my hand.

"Haymitch is right," Peeta said weakly. "I know you want to stay with me but you've been in that chair for days. You're going to drive yourself crazy if you don't go do something at least for a while."

"You and everyone else," Haymitch added helpfully.

"I'm not leaving you," I insisted stubbornly, folding my arms across my chest.

"I'll be okay, I have Haymitch and Elias here to watch over me," Peeta continued. "Even if it's just for a quick walk around the hospital I really think you should take a break."

I shrank back. Part of me wanted to argue, to firmly stand my ground and not break my promise. But my legs ached from disuse and it had been days since I had seen the sun. So I conceded, assuring Peeta I would not be gone long but I would go do something refreshing.

"Take your time," Haymitch urged, kicking back in his chair and laying his feet up on the space of the bed where Peeta's leg should have been. I knew it was time I left as this action made me want to attack him.

I gave Peeta one last look which earned me a pained smile. The image nearly broke my heart and sent me running back next to him. But I knew he (not Haymitch) was right. I was irritable and sleep deprived. My skin shone with excess oil and I couldn't remember the last time I had had a proper meal. Originally I had planned to go back to the house to eat, shower and perhaps nap, but as I traversed the small hallway outside Peeta's door and my eyes had to readjust from the dim light of the room to the unnaturally white light of the corridor I felt the pull to be outside. I would go home only to grab my bow and head to the woods. I could wash in the stream, stretch my legs, and collect my own food. It was the best way I knew to unwind. Besides, the thought of being alone in that house made me strangely sad.

Feeling slightly better with my decision I turned towards the exit where I was met with a shock. Cage stood at the nurses' station, talking with extreme exasperation to a young and exhausted looking nurse.

"I've been waiting here for half an hour!" he exclaimed for what did not appear to be the first time. The young nurse looked at him aloofly before returning to the mountains of paperwork in front of her.

"I'm sorry sir, but we are severely understaffed. All personnel are busy with patients right now."

"I don't understand then why you can't help me," he pressed irately.

"Because, _sir_, I'm busy filling out the necessary paperwork to be sent to the central government to justify why the patients are here and why they were given the treatment they were," she expressed bitterly without looking up.

"The Capitol Medicinal Records?" he pressed with indignation. "It's only one form!"

The nurse finally looked up, the ire in her worn face clear.

"Have you ever seen the Capitol Medicinal Records?" she inquired. Without waiting for his response she pulled up the folded form she had been working on. The attached sheets of paper tumbled to the floor until she held up a banner four feet long, fine print filling each side.

"And this is per person per day," she added. "Which is a fantastic use of hospital staff time, you know with there being about four doctors and ten nurses for an entire district. But let me stop this required paperwork due in less than an hour, which if not filled out properly will stop all meager funds that are barely keeping this circus tent afloat, and help you with whatever _you_ need."

The disdainful look that the nurse shot at Cage hardly seemed necessary as her speech did a thorough job at shutting him up. I however enjoyed it immensely.

Cage nodded to the nurse who rightfully ignored him and turned towards the waiting room. I caught a glimpse of a man who looked extremely uncomfortable and out of place before he noticed me.

"Ms. Everdeen," he greeted cordially. He remained standing at his spot and I got the distinct feeling he expected me to come to him without question. Suddenly the man who I knew had all the answers was the last man I wanted to talk to. I continued my trek out the door, suppressing my inner battle over what I knew was the right thing to do for Peeta and what I knew was the right thing to do for everyone else as far as this man was concerned.

"Wait!" he called, half in command and half in a semi-frantic need. It was the second part of this fraction that caused me to stop and face him as he walked to me.

"How…how is he?"

"Worse," I stated simply, still harboring no desire to talk to him.

"I just don't understand why he's refusing the Morphling," he expressed in what I assume was sympathetic frustration.

"Of course you wouldn't," I replied flippantly as the anger welled up in my chest. I was beyond done with the conversation and pushed past him to get to the exit.

"Excuse me?" he inquired indignantly to my retreating back. "Young lady!"

I halted instantly, spinning on the spot to go back and face that clueless man.

"I just don't understand you Capitol people!" I spat to him. "I never know whether to hate you or pity you."

"Now hold on just a minute…"

"How can you just sit back and watch someone who saved you suffer when you have the power to do something about it?" I shouted, hot tears stinging my face. "Are we really that disposable to you? Is empathy something you are just incapable of, or do you just have no idea what you do to us?"

Cage said nothing, his jaw clenched tight as my accusations reverberated through the empty waiting room.

"And that is why I can't help but feel sorry for you," I stated, my dynamics greatly subdued. "I don't know what kinds of morals are fashionable at the Capitol, but all I want is peace and justice. If you wrong someone you right it, and if someone saves you you are indebted to them and do whatever you can to pay that debt back."

Cage and I stared at one another for a moment, and I could feel my message getting lost in translation. The whole Capitol was based on going into debt you never intended to pay back. They wanted to be entertained and could not fathom simple needs such as food for hunger and comfort for pain not being readily and stylishly available. I shook my head, giving up on any hope of compassion or sense of right from this man. Without saying another word I walked away, feeling crushed and empty instead of fueled by passion and indignation like I should.

* * *

My hunt was fruitless. I couldn't focus and made far too much noise as I walked the woods aimlessly. I felt as if I had failed Peeta all over again. I should have tried to charm Cage, flatter him. I knew enough about people from the Capitol to know that was how you got somewhere with them. You did not go around insulting them or making them feel morally inferior. What little hope we could have had was lost, and all because I was too unstable to push my feelings aside and do what had to be done.

After about an hour of roaming I gave up. I washed up quickly in the stream and turned to head back to the hospital tent. When I returned to his room I found Elias and Haymitch standing over Peeta helplessly as he fought his agony. In an instant I was by his side, cursing myself for agreeing to leave and filling with guilt that I could not help him.

"Peeta," I cried softly, fresh tears filling my eyes. "Peeta I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about," he responded, squeezing my hand gently as he grimaced.

"I do," I replied stoically, suppressing all emotions that wanted to flood out except the tear that escaped my control. "I talked to Cage. I know I shouldn't have but I couldn't help myself. I'm scared that I might have made things worse…"

"You made it seem like there was no room to make it worse," a voice called from behind me. I snapped my head around to see Cage standing at the door. Dr. Elias turned his head away, now apparently immersed in signals the machines were giving off. Haymitch stood with a smug look upon his face, almost unsurprised that the man was there. I however couldn't help but become furious again.

"What do you want?" I snapped before I could help it.

"Katniss," Peeta pleaded. I immediately shrank back down.

"I want…" Cage replied hesitantly, his gaze moving from the anguish on Peeta's face to the anger in mine, "to right my wrong, and pay back my debt."

I froze, not daring to try to interpret what this meant. Peeta too seemed unmoving, as if unsure of if he heard the man correctly due to his pain. In fact the whole room seemed to be suspended as Elias stuck to the particular knobs he had been adjusting. Only Haymitch seemed to not have been affected, moving casually along the space behind Cage with a peculiarly smug expression.

"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to not let too much hope seep into my voice. Cage stood back for a moment as though painfully sorting through his thoughts.

"As you may know," he began slowly, "I was sent here to reevaluate the funds for District Twelve, principally those being spent on the hospital. This is the least populated region in Panem and those at the Budget Bureau believed that a misappropriated amount of funds were being sent here. The hospital seemed not be pulling its weight when resources were concerned so it was my job to search out and cut all inefficiencies. However, I have recently come to the conclusion that the only thing making this place inefficient is the lack of funding. It seemed easy to forget that this District had been bombed, and everything needed to be built up from scratch. I have therefore given my report to the Capitol that the funds for District Twelve should be drastically increased, starting with necessary supplies needed for Mr. Mallark to get his implant."

I blinked.

No emotion registered as his words sank in.

I blinked again.

I had to have misheard.

I blinked a third time and then a fourth, and then rapidly as Peeta sat up and did the unthinkable: he laughed. He laughed hard and joyfully, shaking me into excitement until I did the same. I turned to hold him and for the first time since the accident he held back without a sense of pain or terror but with simple joy.

"See," he whispered in my ear lovingly so only I could hear. "I told you everything would be okay."

This caused me to laugh again and kiss his fevered forehead happily. I turned to Cage who seemed slightly warmed by our scenes of affection. Self-consciousness got the better of me and I instantly straightened out. Despite the news he had just gifted us I did not want to drop my guard around him.

"Thank you," Peeta expressed to him with genuine appreciation, which I admitted was probably the correct response to give. "I know this goes against everything you were trying to do."

"I was appointed to help," Cage replied, a bit too much politician in his humble tone for me to swallow easily. "There are, of course, a few matters to attend to first…"

"Like what?" Haymitch inquired swiftly, stepping in to the conversation as though on cue.

"Well for one we'd need to get the supplies to build the implant," Cage started matter-of-factly. "Then we'll need find and replicate the designs from the last one, probably adjust for the fact that he's gotten taller since then, and we'll need to find a proper surgeon who will agree to come out here, which will undoubtedly take some time…"

"Why can't Elias do it?" I interrupted nervously. The last thing I wanted was another Capitol doctor like Demetrius coming here with no sense of urgency or compassion. I turned to Elias pleadingly, hoping for him to volunteer for the task.

"I am not properly qualified for that kind of surgery," he stated solemnly.

"I am though," a voice called out before I could showcase my disappointment. Our heads turned to see Lucien stroll in casually, a lazy smirk filling his handsome face. He and Haymitch shook hands before he placed himself in front of a very annoyed looking Cage.

"You are not qualified for any kind of surgery, _Mr._ Sharp," Cage spat with fire. "If I remember correctly you very publicly and very errantly revoked yourself of your medical privileges."

"Details," Lucien shrugged. "I'm still the best surgeon out of that group of ass-kissing peons you have working for the Capitol. Not only that but I can redesign the implant myself, free of charge."

"Really?" Peeta asked with excitement, sitting up again as pain and fatigue had overtaken his earlier stimulation.

"Of course," Lucien smiled affectionately. The awful words and resentment I had thrown at him days ago weighed down on me after such an offer.

"Thank you," I replied diligently, wishing I could say more but refusing to do so in front of Cage.

"This whole argument is simply out of the question!" Cage informed irately, Sharp's mere presence seeming to infuriate him more and more with each passing moment. "We will find and use a qualified surgeon from the Capitol after the implant has been built. We'll see that Mr. Mallark gets his surgery in 8 to 12 weeks."

"Twelve weeks!" I exploded, jumping off the bed in anger before Peeta could stop me. "You expect him to go through this for another three months?"

"Katniss, it's fine," Peeta muttered, though he seemed to have trouble blocking the pain from infiltrating his voice.

"It's not fine!" I objected, turning to the other men in the room desperately for help. Elias continued to look away from the scene, his face stoic. Sharp kept his confident smirk but seemed unwilling to jump into action.

"Haymitch!" I pleaded desperately, hoping against hope he had something hidden up his sleeve. It appeared, however, that he did not.

His something was hidden in his pocket.

Without another word he pulled out a sleek silver communicator. He popped open the top and without any further movements he spoke into it clearly.

"Yeah, Cage says it's going to take eight to twelve weeks," he stated into it. From across the room I could hear a high pitched uproar responding to Haymitch's statement. Grinning viciously, Haymitch calmly held out the device to the government official.

"It's for you," he said simply, not bothering to communicate further with the animated voice on the other line. Cage looked at the communicator with great suspicion before he answered it.

"Hello…why yes…yes I did…well you have to understand…of course I know who they are!...I…but…Miss Trinket, you must be reasonable…"

Peeta and I instantly perked up at the mention of Effie's name. Slowly it began to dawn on me what her help could mean. It was a universal truth that what Effie Trinket wanted, Effie Trinket got.

"Yes…yes I understand…but does he…of course…right…right away, ma'am."

Cage held down the communicator, a look of complete defeat covering his face as he turned to a patiently smiling Lucien Sharp.

"Send me the designs as soon as you are through with them. Mr. Mallark will have his implant in three to five business days," he stated, handing Haymitch back the communicator before exiting the room.

An explosion of excitement followed. I practically jumped on to Peeta as I rushed into hug him. Lucien followed suit, patting his back and promising to do his measurements and draw up his design right away. Haymitch grinned, told Effie "Good job, Princess," before ending the communication and joining Peeta's bedside. Only Elias seemed unfazed. In fact, as I looked up at him he almost seemed annoyed.

"Can I properly treat the patient now?" he asked with passive-aggressive irritation. My brow furrowed, at a loss of what he was asking until I realized his inquiry was directed at Haymitch.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" Haymitch demanded with a smirk. "Fix him!"

Dr. Elias rolled his eyes and pulled a syringe out of his coat. It held the same serum he had been giving me for my hand, though the shade of electric blue seemed darker, more concentrated.

"What is that?" Peeta questioned, a flash of fear crossing his blue eyes as another doctor approached him with a needle.

"This," Elias informed irritably as he pulled back Peeta's blanket to reveal his bandaged thigh, "is extremely overdue."

Without another word Elias gave him the injection. Peeta tensed up as the pinch of the needle punctured his raw nerves. Moments later his held breath was released slowly as the effects of the drug washed over him.

"I…I don't feel anything!" Peeta exclaimed with shock, rubbing his hand over his bandage. He looked up at all of us, joy and confusion filling every corner of his face.

"A modified and strong local anesthetic for the pain," Elias explained. "A temporary fix, but it will tie you over until you get your implant."

"Why haven't you given him this before?" I demanded wildly, outrage filling me as it became clear that he had been suffering for not. Elias said nothing but turned his attention to Haymitch. Our old mentor simply grinned as our attentions focused on him. A sense of what had just occurred struck me but I could not get over the anger I felt to really analyze it. With the crippling pain harnessed it seemed Peeta's facilities had returned quickly, for he began to laugh long before I could express my rage.

"This was all your plan, wasn't it?" Peeta asked in wonder. "For Cage to see me in pain to guilt him into getting me a new leg."

"Give me proper credit," Haymitch demanded with a grin. "I got us way more than a leg."

Peeta laughed in agreement, beaming as he pulled back his blankets so Lucien could inspect his right leg. He pulled tools out of his jacket to measure its length and muscle mass, clearly fully aware of Haymitch's ruse and prepared to take action instantly after it was carried out. Elias continued to check Peeta's vitals, seeming much more relaxed now that he no longer had to lie and keep the patient in pain. The whole room had a much lighter vibe to it.

I, however, continued to stew in darkness.

"What's wrong?" Peeta asked when he noticed my reserve.

"Nothing," I lied with what I hoped was a believable smile. To muddy my transparency I added a strong truth:

"I'm just so relieved you're going to be okay."

I grabbed and patted his hand reassuringly, finding it easier to smile when I focused on his tired but otherwise elated face. He pulled me in closer to him and I willingly followed. Hiding behind my braid, he brought his lips to my ear. I couldn't help but feel a pleasant shudder fall down my spine at the contact.

"He was just doing what he had to to look out for us," he whispered softly. "Don't be hard on him."

Instantly the pleasant feeling evaporated. It was troubling how easily Peeta could see through me even after all he had been through the past few days. I hadn't even come to a full understanding of why my chest burned with indignation.

His words only helped me hone in on my anger. My cheek warmed pleasantly from where he kissed it but the rest of my body remained cold and rigid. I barely remembered to smile when he pulled away. I knew he didn't buy my half-hearted assurance that I would not overreact, but he seemed to lie back with a sense of acceptance.

Sharp supplied a constant stream of jokes as he measured and logged his data. Elias hovered over him, impatiently waiting for his turn with the patient. The moment he pulled away Elias stepped forward, declaring that it was time for Peeta to finally get some sleep.

"You're the doc, Doc," Peeta smiled with absolutely no objection to the idea. Elias raised his eyebrow in amusement before pulling a bottle out of his pocket and handing it to me. My smile temporarily turned genuine when I recognized it as his sleep medication. A new wave of relief spread across Peeta's face as he watched the red pills spill into my hand.

"Thank you," he beamed, his attention on the three men in the back of the room. "I don't know what I would have done without all of you."

"Hell, I'd probably be dead if it weren't for you," Lucien proclaimed with a smile. "I'm going to go finish up and send the designs over right away."

He left, followed by Haymitch who only nodded in Peeta's direction without a word. Elias only tarried to set up an IV of sleep syrup he insisted Peeta take.

"How long are you going to knock me out?" Peeta inquired as he settled in comfortably.

"If I had my way three to five days, though I believe I would be met with some severe opposition," he stated dryly. Before he left he gave me a hint of a smile. It seemed almost like a spasm on his stoic face, but even I caught the gesture.

The moment the door closed and I found myself alone with a sober yet quickly fading Peeta I felt all my barriers kick out from under me. It was a fight to keep myself from collapsing on his bed from exhaustion and anxiety. My heart ached sorely and every exhalation threatened fresh tears. Only my anger stayed with me and kept me from breaking down. It shielded me from being completely and utterly vulnerable, and as Peeta's bright blue eyes stared up at me I felt grateful for the protection.

"I know this has been really hard for you," he said gently as his hand reached for mine. "After everything we've both been through and how you just started getting back on your feet…"

I shushed him softly and brushed his hair. I didn't want to think about everything we had been through or list all of the people we had lost. I couldn't bear to recreate the past or grasp at just how close I had been to losing the only stable thing in my life. So I held on to the anger in my chest.

"I'm just so tired of it all," I muttered, unable to look him in the face. "It's like every time I think I can't lose any more it just gets so much worse."

Peeta was quiet for a moment as he watched me struggle to contain my emotions. I forced myself to go cold, to block out thoughts of Prim, my father, Cinna, Finnick, and everyone else whom I loved and lost knowing I could not handle going through that again. Peeta's thumb rubbing across my knuckles was the only thing that kept me sentient of the room. The pull of his hand dragged me back to reality before I lost myself completely.

"Hey," he called out lightly, requesting my attention with a stroke of my cheek. "You can't afford to think like that."

"Yeah? And what am I supposed to think?" I asked almost bitterly.

"Think of how lucky you are to still have things to lose," he answered simply. "That's what I do."

My heart clenched at the statement. Some of my anger melted away and was quickly replaced by guilt. Peeta had lost even more than I had. His parents and two older brothers were all killed in the bombings. His leg and his reality had been stolen by the Capitol. And yet here he was, comforting me and offering up eternal hope as usual.

"I wish I could be more like you," I admitted sadly before I could stop myself.

"I think you do a pretty good job being you," Peeta smiled. "Besides, if you were me who am I supposed to like?"

I laughed softly as a real smile stuck to my face. The syrup and his sleep medication had started to kick in, and I could tell by the way his eyelids drew heavy that he would drift off within moments.

"Thank you," he murmured as he slowly succumbed to what he desperately needed, "for taking care of me."

I answered him by placing my lips on his gently. Peeta inhaled deeply as he tried to stay awake long enough to respond. His lips parted slightly, securing the kiss for one spine-tingling moment. But then the connection severed as his head rolled to the side, a slight smile fresh on his face as he breathed peacefully.

"I'll be here when you wake up," I promised, fidgeting with his blankets and pillows until he seemed comfortably situated. Only then did it truly sink in that Peeta was alright. The terror in my chest evaporated and was replaced with the tentatively gratifying feeling that, for now, everything was alright. There would be peace again. A sense of normality. Happiness.

It was for these reasons, and these reasons only, that I was able to contain the desire to snap the fingers of the hand that brazenly clutched my shoulder.

"So he's finally asleep," Haymitch stated, his breath stale with alcohol.

"No thanks to you," I spat, pulling my shoulder out of his reach.

"Excuse me, Sweetheart, but Peeta's going to be able to walk again because of me," he slurred, dumping himself unceremoniously into a luxuriously red chair he had stolen from who knows where.

"You let him suffer," I bristled, trying to fight away the residual anguish from the last agonizing week.

"I did what I knew would work," he defended. "You used to like that about me."

"You lied to him! You lied to us both! You let me think…" I stopped, too angry to continue without the threat of tears falling.

"You could have told us," I finally stated when I eventually composed myself.

"What, and watch you babel like an awkward maniac as you tried another go at acting?" Haymitch scoffed. "We had to sell the situation to Cage's emotions, and trust me nothing sells better to a guilty heart then watching the two of you when one of you is in pain. It's even better when you think the other is dying."

I took to my feet in an instant, causing my chair to fly back to the floor. Haymitch cocked an eyebrow in amusement over my outrage but made no further movement.

"You son of a bitch! I can't believe you…"

"Answer me this, Katniss. What would you do for Peeta if he needed you?" Haymitch asked casually.

"Anything," I growled in infuriation.

"You suffered for him," Haymitch stated passionately. "Which was the absolute best thing you could do for him. As was him playing strong to give you hope, Elias going against his oath to prescribe alternative pain meds, Sharp staying out of it until he was needed, and me calling every God damn person I know in the Capitol to find out Cage's game and rally funds for the District!"

"Rally funds?" I repeated. "For Twelve? Since when did you give a damn about funds for Twelve?"

"When I realized there wasn't even enough money to care for someone who was universally liked by the Districts after he saved people from the Capitol," Haymitch muttered. "But what if it had been you? Or Hazelle? Or Thom or Delly or someone who was still worth a damn to good people but not to the people who could actually help?"

I pulled back, not believing what I had just heard.

"It isn't just about Peeta," Haymitch muttered sadly, gently fingering the blankets on Peeta's bed. "It's about all of us."

Haymitch's drunk truth settled on me slowly like coal dust used to do on a still day. I had spent so much time wrapped up in my own shell reaching out to Peeta and Haymitch seemed like incorporating a galaxy. But Haymitch was right. There were still so many others who needed help, people who had helped and supported me. How could I have forgotten them? How could I be mad at Haymitch for extending Peeta's pain for a few days when it meant securing a viable future for everyone in the District? My home?

"You're right," I admitted softly.

"I always am," he replied confidently, adjusting himself smugly in his chair.

"I just…I can't stand it when you manipulate me like that," I continued, needing to unload the true source of my anger. "You are one of the few people I trust and I don't want to let that go. Promise me you won't lie to me anymore."

"I would," he replied dryly. "But I'd be lying."

"Haymitch!" I exclaimed irately, though I couldn't help but smile slightly at his brashness.

"Look, Sweetheart, you are and probably always will be a hot mess. You know I love you more than anything but the only way I can deal with your kind of crazy is to go behind your back and focus it on something constructive," he explained smugly. "But I can promise you this, I will always and only lie and manipulate you in your best interest."

I soaked in his statement. It made me angry, of course, for him to treat me like a child and talk so condescendingly. Yet once again I could not escape his truths or argue with his years of results living by such a mantra. I couldn't help but love and hate him for it.

"You make me want to spit in your face," I replied, sitting back with a hidden grin.

"You wouldn't be the first," he groaned as he sat up right. We sat in silence for a moment, watching Peeta breathe with comforting consistency. After a while Haymitch held out his hand and patted my back in clumsy paternal affection. I rubbed his knee in return, breathing loudly to slice through the silence.

"So what do we do now?" I asked, tilting my head to the side. Haymitch let out a small burp before pulling out a flask and a squashed paper cup out of his pocket. He popped the cup back into shape and filled it half way.

"We wait," he stated, passing the cup to me as he drained his flask. "And pray the trains don't break down in the next three to five business days."

_**(A/N: Sorry about the lag in update time, life's been busy! Anyways we finally have a mostly non-angsty ending. Yay! The whole plot line got a little sidetracked with Peeta being in the hospital. I meant it to be like a two chapter piece that turned into four. But I have big plans for this story and the action is really going to pick up in the next few chapters (in more ways than one!). Thank you all for your reviews, they fuel me so!) **_


	10. I Want It All

I Want It All

The days spent waiting for Peeta's implant to arrive were blissfully uneventful. Dr. Elias kept Peeta pain-free all day and asleep for most of it at that. I reluctantly returned home with Haymitch and tried to ease my mind of guilt by placating an abandoned-feeling Buttercup. Greasy Sae wasted no time reminding me of our employment deal and "encouraged" me to bring her game if I ever wanted another coin from her. While the Capitol was picking up the tab on the implant and Sharp was donating his services for the surgery there was still medicine and other expenses that needed to be thought of. The fortunes we had accrued as Victors disappeared during the Rebellion, and while beforehand money was virtually unheard of in Twelve it was swiftly becoming a necessity. With Peeta out of commission when it came to the bakery and with Haymitch being…well…Haymitch, it fell to me to provide for my ragtag surrogate family.

There was a weight on my chest that I knew would hold steady until I saw with my own eyes that Peeta would truly be back on his feet. My nights were still accentuated with terrors that caused me to wake up to my own screams in a lonely sweat drenched bed. Haymitch had secluded himself back to his room, stating that his leg still hurt from the fire and that he had to catch up on his drinking from the week he stayed sober in the hospital. It was safe to say things were not ideal, yet as I silently stocked a rather large buck through the woods I couldn't help but feel that a promise of good things lay just beyond the horizon.

I felt energized with the need for me to hunt. It increased my sense of purpose and gave me something to keep Aurelius happy on our weekly phone call. I forced Haymitch to eat dinner with me nightly as it kept him sober longer and made him more tolerable when he was drunk, and I spent my hours in between with Peeta, playing endless rounds of cards with him as we talked about what we would do after he got his implant.

Finally the morning came. Sharp informed me the surgery would take up most of the day and I needn't come around until the evening when I could actually see him. I was therefore surprised to see that a plush armchair equipped with books, a soft blanket and some food sat planted right outside Peeta's door when I arrived at dawn.

"You don't disappoint," Sharp commented from behind, grinning expectantly. He was as handsome as ever, dressed in fitted black scrubs with two cups of coffee in his hand.

"I don't drink coffee," I replied, otherwise taken aback by his hospitality. I still felt awkward around the man and with my mind so focused on Peeta I didn't feel like I had the ability to properly apologize for what I had said.

"Don't worry, they're both for me," he charmed, taking a sip of each. I laughed, feeling a little less anxious about the interaction.

"Do I still have time to see him?" I inquired, looking at the door that hopefully wouldn't case Peeta much longer.

"The nurse is prepping him now, you should be able to see him in a few minutes," he replied kindly. I nodded, thrilled that I would be able to sit with Peeta one last time but unwilling to show any emotion if I could help it. The chance that something could go wrong shadowed me and I was afraid that if I didn't balance myself carefully I would easily topple over.

"Lucien," I called out, my voice cracking despite my determination. "I never got a chance to apologize for how I acted…"

"No need for an apology," he replied swiftly. "You're right not to trust anything from the Capitol. Even now things aren't as they seem."

My mind perked up, catching the small allusion to something ominously large happening thousands of miles away. Had it been a different day, any other day, I might have asked more questions, pushed harder to satiate my suspicious curiosity when it came to the Capitol. But now was not a time to dwell on the distant actions of the "motherland". Today I needed to be here. Completely.

"But I should trust you," I responded carefully. "Peeta does."

Lucien stared at me for a moment as if soaking my statement in. He made as if to say something but immediately stopped himself thinking better of the situation. Instead he opted to hang his head down, staring humbly at his designer shoes as if consulting their wisdom.

"You are right to be wary of me too, Katniss Everdeen," he stated sadly, smiling despite the pain in his dark eyes.

"What do you mean?" I inquired, my guard instantly heightened at the cryptic response.

"I have…not always been the way I am now," he answered, and I could literally feel the pain the words inflicted upon his tongue. "In fact I have spent the majority of my life capitalizing on my ability to do truly horrific things."

With an involuntary jolt I stepped backwards, hardly able to contemplate what he had just said. A conflicting desire arose to silence the man whose trust I was delicately placing my world into and a need to know what he seemed to so desperately want to tell me.

"What things?" I whispered back, the words spilling from my lips before I even realized I had made a decision.

"Dr. Sharp?" a nurse called out from beside us, breaking the tense silence that followed my question.

"Mister," he reminded her calmly, his usual slick confidence backing his running joke.

"We're ready for you to prep," she replied before leaving us alone again. Lucien and I continued to stare at one another. The moment he was reminded of his impending responsibility his vulnerable cadence ceased. His usual lazy smile returned, and at the moment I realized what troubled me so much about this man. He could turn his charisma on and flood those surrounding him with light as easily as I could flick on a switch. People like that were hard to trust as they were impossible to truly read. Only snippets of the man behind the mask seemed to leek through uncontrolled. Even now he seemed to grin a little too convincingly, standing too comfortably as if compensating for his slip up.

"I should go wash up," he stated finally, "You should still have a few minutes before the procedure starts."

"Wait!" I exclaimed as he started to turn away. "How can you just leave after saying something like that?"

Lucien stared at me, and as the pleasing wrinkles around his eyes pressed themselves straight as his smile disappeared I could sense a heavy burden that weighted his words.

"Because I need to make things right," he stated hollowly. "I need you to be able to forgive me."

And with those words he left, the door closing behind him before I could even ask what he had done that I could forgive him for.

* * *

It was only the fact that I had mere minutes left with Peeta that stopped me from chasing after Lucien. Make things right? Forgive him? I couldn't even begin to understand what he was talking about. Up until two weeks ago I had no idea who Lucien Sharp was. When I thought about it more I realized I still didn't know much about him. My trust stemmed from his determination to help with the implant at all costs and Peeta's faith in him.

But Lucien had inferred a dark past followed him, due to his own misdoings. Having seen firsthand what the Capitol was capable of I could only imagine what he had done. Had he been part of Prim's bombing? The very thought made me sick to the point of fainting. It took me a moment to remember that those involved with that task were not from the Capitol, but the Rebels from District Thirteen…and Gale. It was a little easier to breathe after that, but still my mind spun with questions. Cage and Demetrius, Capitol men through and through who seemed to have not taken a side on the rebellion, seemed to hate Lucien for some sort of betrayal. It was easy for me to lump Lucien in with the likes of Cinna or even Effie; Capitol-borns who saw the fundamental flaws with the system as they had actual exposure to the Districts. Now it seemed apparent that was not the case. My anxiety and instincts of survival heightened as I entered the surgery room where that man was about to operate on my…Peeta.

"I was starting to think you weren't going to come," Peeta said slowly, his smile slightly sluggish as calming drugs pumped steadily through his system.

"Of course I'm here," I stated, as though his thought were ridiculous. I did my best to force a brave smile, trying to push my worries of Lucien out of my mind as I comforted Peeta.

"What's wrong, Katniss?" Peeta asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

"Nothing's wrong," I answered quickly. "Everything is fine."

"Man, you're a terrible liar," he laughed. "I'm sedated and I can still tell you're upset. What's wrong?"

I froze, cursing the way he could so easily see right through me and scrambling to find something to tell him. The easiest thing would be to state I was worried about the surgery. It was not a lie to say I was, the very thing had kept me up half the night before, but it wasn't that in particular that weighed my mind and it felt wrong to tell him otherwise. Yet I could not retell what I had just heard, plaguing Peeta's last waking moments with doubt over the man who was about to change his life. For some reason I did not fear that Lucien would try to hurt Peeta, not now anyhow. So instead I asked the question I didn't even realize was tearing at me.

"Do you think bad people can change?" I inquired, doing my best to keep things cryptic while attacking the concerning source of Lucien's mysterious admission.

"It depends on who you mean," he answered. "Do you actually mean a bad person, or a person who does bad things?"

"I don't think there is a difference," I replied, unable to grasp his comment.

"Sure there is. Snow was a bad person. Coin was a bad person. Haymitch is a good person who did bad things to keep people away. Effie is a good person who did bad things because she was ignorant. You and I did bad things because we had no choice…"

"How can you tell the difference?" I asked quickly, suddenly growing ashamed that Peeta thought I was asking about myself, or, heaven-forbid, him.

"It depends on the choices they make, I guess," he hypothesized slowly. "Snow and Coin seemed unable or unwilling to show remorse for what they had done. But if you do something bad, realize it, then try to make up for it, you aren't really a bad person."

"So you think if Snow apologized and opened up hospitals and orphanages for all the lives he damaged we should just forgive him?" I demanded, anger getting the best of me despite the situation.

"Now you're asking something else entirely," he stated calmly. "Are you asking if someone can change for the better? Or are you asking if they deserve a second chance?"

"I…"

My train of thought slammed into a barrier at the question. Lucien and Snow fled my mind as all memories of second chances rolled through. How many second chances had I been given? At life, in relationships, in forgiveness? How many times had I done something awful and still been received or protected by others?

How many times had I abandoned Peeta, for my own survival, for Gale, for anger at losing him from the Hijacking, only for him to return loyally and inconceivably by my side.

"Katniss?" Peeta called out kindly, and it was only when his hand wiped a tear away from my face that I realized I had started crying. I looked deeply into his blue eyes and was overcome with crippling emotion.

"I…I never told you," I began, choking back and swallowing my tears as I stared into his handsome, concerned face, "how grateful I am that you came back here. You didn't have to and this was the hardest life you could have chosen, but you came back for me and didn't give up even though I had, and I'm so…"

My rambling was cut short as Peeta's lips pressed against mine hungrily. I gasped, swallowing my clumsy words as I melted thoughtlessly into the kiss. His hands laced themselves in my hair, pulling me closer to deepen our connection. My chest burst with emotion as my knees all but gave out. Our bodies did not touch, but all it would take was me pulling back my arms to easily crash into his chest. Then I could wrap myself around him and release myself into the passion I always carried with me but buried deep inside. Yet I stayed back, terrified of giving in to such a powerful and all-encompassing emotion.

Sensing my hesitance, Peeta slowly sat up, never breaking the tempo of the kiss as he moved closer to me, urging me to do the same with him. He was very persuasive, and I felt my inhibition and my terror slip away as he lightly ran his hand along the soft skin of my lower back. I gasped again, the touch being so intimate and so electric I could no longer stand to be so far from him. I wanted it all. I wanted his hands on me, his arms around me, and for his kiss to never, ever stop.

The wooshing sound of the door opening stopped me as I started to climb on his bed. I broke the kiss immediately, staring with fight or flight fright at the nurses and Lucien who stood staring at the threshold. I looked down at Peeta who lay propped up on his arms, his chest rising heavily and his eyes wide in concern. My own heart beat furiously, and I knew it wasn't just from the adrenaline rush of being startled, or the breath I had been holding since my feet had been turned out from under me.

"I should go," I proclaimed suddenly, gluing my eyes to the floor as the stares of others sent me running.

"Katniss, wait!" Peeta called out from behind, severely weakening the quick barrier I had thrown up to block out the unchecked emotions that stirred. I rushed to the door, determined not to look back, when I saw Lucien staring at me with a dopy smile on his face. I immediately grew angry, faulting him for the predicament I was in. I turned on him fiercely; fully ready to berate him for his unprofessional actions and his obtrusive nature, yet even I was shocked by what was said.

"I don't care what you've done," I hissed to him manically. "If you just make him whole again I'll give you whatever you want."

After that I bolted out the door and out of the hospital, running as fast as I could to escape the tears that inevitably caught up with me.


	11. Go Home, Katniss

Go Home, Katniss

I found myself at the enclosure surrounding the woods before I even realized my feet carried me there. Tears stained my face and my sprinting heart was the only thing that kept me from properly sobbing. Instinctively I held up the bottom wire of the fence to slip through to the other side; a side which held escape from reality, where I could be alone and be myself and escape all my responsibilities while simultaneously fulfilling them, when suddenly a single worded question popped in front of me: why?

Why was I running away, into the woods and away from reality? No one was threatening me or trying to hurt the people I loved. My mother was safe and for all intents happy in District Four, Haymitch was the same as ever, Gale was slowly being pushed from my mind as a distant memory, and Peeta was safe…

I closed my eyes in shame as I steadied my breathing. Peeta! How could I have run out on him like that? I had gone to give him comfort, and instead I had asked him to placate me. And he had, up until the point where he had complicated everything by ending my rambling with a kiss. The mere thought of it caused my slowing heart to speed up again. I could still feel the taste of him on my lips, the residual sense of his electric touch on my back, and the frustrating yet incredibly pleasing warmth that flushed between my legs…

I clapped my hand to my cheek, snapping myself out of that delirium as I blushed hard. It was not the kiss, but my actions succeeding it that I needed to think of. My eyes closed as I felt an overwhelming weight of shame course through me. How could I have just run away like that, abandoning him _**yet**_ again? How could I have let calling out for me to stay be the last thing he did before going under for surgery? How was I ever able to care for my family, or appear to be the symbol of a Rebellion that held up the hopes for a nation when I couldn't even sit by a dear friend's side and give them comfort?

I felt useless, childish, and utterly embarrassed. Again the urge to get lost in the woods overtook me, but even then I knew it was a foolish thought. I hadn't been a child since the day my father died, and the answers to my problems hadn't been solved by disappearing into the woods since Effie drew Prim's name in the Reaping. Once more, what I really wanted more than anything was to be by Peeta's side, apologizing for my actions and begging for his understanding. But Peeta's surgery would have started by now, and even if it hadn't I still couldn't explain to him why I had run. Peeta and I had kissed hundreds of times, almost all of them in front of other people. Why had I been so startled?

It had already been a long day and the air had still not warmed up from the sun. My hesitancies due to Lucien and the shock of the overwhelming effect of kissing Peeta after so long weakly fought to make excuses for my behavior, but I shook them off quickly. There was no question of what I needed to do. I turned around slowly, letting the tight wire fall with a twang as I made my way back to the hospital.

* * *

The chair still sat waiting for me outside the operating room. I plopped down in it ungracefully, curling up and pulling the blankets to my chin. It was going to be a long procedure and I had little to do but wait. The books provided for me held no interest. A day old newspaper lay stained at a nearby table, but it seemed to read the same news since the Rebellion. Districts were getting more aid than ever but it still wasn't enough, the Capitol felt the Districts were being ungrateful and wasteful, and all sides were squabbling with no proper forum to do it in. As far as I knew the Capitol felt the Districts were too primitive to have a say in the government, and the media hinted at echoes of a new kind of Revolution.

I dropped the paper, the gray print and contents giving me a headache. I was afraid of inactivity yet I had run out of things to do. I did not want to sink into my thoughts, driving myself crazy over Lucien's past or contemplating a future with Peeta. The first would only cause me to grow angry, and I felt I could see myself crashing into the operating room and threatening Sharp until he told me what he had done. As for Peeta…

Terror struck at my heart each time I tried to think of our relationship. I knew I would do anything for Peeta, just as he would for me. He was the only person I truly trusted and I could tell him everything. His arms were always open, always safe, and if I just didn't think about it I knew I wanted him to kiss me. But anything more than those thoughts brought on this cold feeling of dread and loss on the inside. It felt like an icy wasteland, a terrifying barrier I didn't even want to think about, let alone cross. It frightened me, made me want to revert back to nothingness, so I stayed away. I was better, it was better, the way it was now.

So instead I thought about my father. He had been on my mind for quite some time now. I found myself trying to remember things about him. His smile, his voice, the rough but loving feeling of his hands. It was starting to get harder to recall such simple yet defining details. All the great things that made him the man he was had begun to slip away from my memory. And not just him. I had to struggle to remember Prim's laugh, the garbled but bright sound of Mags' voice, Darius' favorite way to cook my game, Cinna's perfect golden eyeliner. There were so many things about so many people who had touched me, whose memories should never be forgotten despite human inclination to do so. I wanted so badly for them to live on in some small way before it was too late…

Before I knew it I had drifted off to sleep, Peeta's pearl held tightly in my hands. I dreamed that all of those that had died were once again around me, but instead of burying me alive they simply interacted with one another. Rue and Prim dancing around in beautiful dresses. Finnick leaning against a tree watching them, scantily clad and sharing sugar cubes with a laughing Cinna. Portia sitting with Leeg 1 and 2, dressing them so they could finally be told a part. And my father standing among them, smiling warmly as he peels off the skin of an orange and splits it into quarters.

"_It's going to be alright, Katniss_," he tells me happily. Though I'm dying to I cannot respond, and it is as if I'm both in the dream and not, balancing precariously between two worlds. He seems to understand this and nods to me.

"_Let's go home, Katniss_."

This I do not understand. He repeats himself and I feel myself being shaken.

"_Let's go home, Katniss."_

"_Go home, Katniss."_

"_Katniss."_

"Katniss."

I awoke, startled and ready to attack, when I felt two large hands steady me. I looked up and was completely shocked at who I saw kneeling in front of me.

"Peeta!" I cried, taking a quick glimpse at his new artificial leg and the smile on his face before launching myself in his arms. He stumbled back but I kept my footing for us, holding him tight both in support and complete relief. I heard him laugh as he buried his head into my hair. When I felt certain this was not part of the dream I opened my eyes. The stern nurse stood right behind us, a smile crossing her usually harsh face. Dr. Elias stood next to her and it appeared he tried to do the same, though his smile looked more like a spasm than anything else. And then there was Haymitch, holding Peeta's walking stick in his hand and nodding in approval.

"You're okay!" I exclaimed with upmost happiness. "You are okay, right? How do you feel?"

"Great!" Peeta laughed. "Now it's more my pelvis that hurts than anything. Sharp is amazing."

I left my response to my simple beam, not wanting to approach the subject of the conspicuously absent Lucien. Instead I simply hugged him again, forgetting about all the worries I had carried with me and losing myself in his full hold.

"Let's go home, Katniss," he whispered lowly in my ear, causing a chill to spill down my back in more ways than one.

**(A/N: A short chapter today, but only because I decided to split one big chapter into two. Next one is on its way and should be posted in a few days. I know this is going to be a long story so I try to keep the chapter count low, but I figure you all would also like regular updates as well. I'll probably go back and forth…excuse my rambling. Hope you enjoyed!)**


	12. Moments Out Of The Day

_**(A/N: 100 plus reviews and over 150 alerts! Thank y'all so much for the love you give and continuing to follow me. I'd write this story even if no one read it but it really is encouraging to hear what you think, even if it's a mistake you see. Hope you enjoy this chapter!)**_

Moments Out Of The Day

It was amazing that despite the shaking events of the last two weeks normality quickly returned to the house in Victor's Village. Peeta's leg was stable but he was still fairly banged up from the accident. Had District Twelve had a proper hospital he no doubt would have stayed there for observation, but as space and resources were limited it was better for him to return home. Elias again became a staple at the house, checking on Peeta's pain levels and physical therapy while scolding Haymitch for not doing his own. While Peeta could walk short distances it still pained him to go up and down the stairs so we set him up comfortably on the living room sofa. He immediately wanted to return to baking, but as he was instructed to lift no more than ten pounds and to not exert himself he was limited in what he could do.

I don't think I had ever been busier than I was in the weeks that followed. Peeta and I awoke way before dawn, me sleeping on the overstuffed chair next to him, and got an early start in the kitchen. He instructed and mixed ingredients while I did all the heavy lifting, pulling and carrying trays back and forth, rolling out dough for hours until my muscles ached. Peeta often encouraged me to take breaks or pressed that I didn't have to help him at all. I always kept going, smiling and telling him I wanted to help, wanted to learn.

It was extremely slow going at first. I never realized what an exact science baking was until then. Recipes were destroyed by the mere mistaking of a tablespoon rather than a teaspoon. The proper flaking of a pastry depended on the fire being stoked to the exact temperature and removed at the exact time. I burnt a shameful amount of bread, a waste I felt intrinsically pained about, having faced starvation for so long. But Peeta was an ever patient and encouraging teacher. Burnt bread could be sold to pig farmers for scraps or cut into croutons and delivered to Greasy Sae for stuffing or salads. Hardly a thing was thrown away.

When there was time he showed me the delicacies of shaping and decorating, which was an even more difficult task to learn. Things he made look so easy and did so quickly were impossible in my hands. Peeta merely smiled and took the time to show me the technique again and again until I was finally able to produce product on my own that was almost recognizable. I actually became quite adapt at cinnamon rolls, a pastry I made sure was readily available to keep Elias in our good graces.

After sunrise I spent my time making deliveries or tending a makeshift register in the kitchen. People from all over the District flooded to our house to make their purchases and see how Peeta was progressing. As was custom after a tragedy people tried to spare what they could in food or supplies. I wanted to decline, assuring them we could fend for ourselves, but Peeta felt it was better to graciously accept. So we did. We kept a detailed list of who gave what and made sure that their kindness was returned to them. What money we could spare was spent at their booths in the Hob, or rendering whatever service they had to offer. The three of us even spent one afternoon dirtying up the house's windows after one family had washed them just to be able to call on their competitors. Haymitch was particularly fond of this chore, and started throwing mud balls at nearby houses in order to "stimulate the economy".

Lunch was spent at Greasy Sae's, dropping off my previous hunt's spoils. I offered the further services of cleaning and cutting the meat to her standards, increasing my pay by a reasonable amount as she hated doing the task herself.

As the afternoon and early evening were Haymitch's best times I left him to oversee Peeta while I went off and hunted. It was the perfect little get away for me. It gave me my own personal time while bringing in the means to support my family. Between the money from the bakery and the restaurant we were making a decent living. Or at least so I thought until the morning I found a sketch of Peeta's amongst his papers on the kitchen table. It was of a small brick building neatly constructed near the Hob. A bakery. Unfortunately we were a long way off from affording such a thing.

"Hey Haymitch?" I inquired to him one evening as I brought his laundry to his room.

"What?" he mumbled back as he looked sadly into the empty bottle of his latest liquor exploit.

"Have you ever thought about getting a job?" I asked kindly as I adjusted the basket to my hip. I was answered with a snort of derision.

"Why the hell would I want to do a thing like that?" he laughed.

"You know, to help out. Contribute," I suggested, keeping my voice steady.

"You and Peeta seem to be doing an excellent job of doing that yourselves," he yawned as he stretched out on his bed. I sighed, knowing ahead of time it would come to this.

"Let me rephrase what I meant," I replied, towering over him sternly. "You _**need**_ to go get a job and contribute."

Haymitch laughed again, throwing his head back in hilarity.

"Or what, Sweetheart? You don't scare me," he chuckled.

"You'll get a job," I stated, "or no more of me doing your laundry, Peeta cooking your dinner…"

"Big whoop, I don't need your half-ass cleaning job…"

"And no more of us giving you money for alcohol," I finished with a smirk. Haymitch's smile stumbled.

"You wouldn't dare," he hissed.

"Watch me."

And with that I dumped his folded laundry on top of him, sauntering out of the room and down the stairs. I contained my smile as I heard him chase after me.

"This is all bullshit," he yelled. "Peeta will never agree to this."

"Haymitch, who do you think Peeta is going to side with on this, you or me?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. Haymitch glared at me, his mouth spazzing in ire.

"And just who the hell taught you to be such a maniacal bitch?" he shouted.

"Who do you think?" I shrugged as I ascended down the stairs. I didn't need to turn back to know I had left him in a drunk stupor, but I was glad I did or else I would have missed the look of contempt and pride he shot back at me.

One week later Haymitch started herding a gaggle of geese, selling their eggs to Sae and their feathers at the Hob.

Usually I would return from hunting to a dinner that was almost done cooking, though I tried to make it home early enough to make the meal myself at least twice a week. The main course was typically prepared from the game I set aside for us, accentuated by sides we accrued from the market. Produce was slowly becoming more available, and Peeta and I had done some experimenting with different squashes and vegetables we cautiously bought. I had a particular distaste for zucchini, but we all agreed the corn and potatoes were well worth having multiple times a week.

The time after dinner but before bed was spent focused on Peeta's physical therapy. The fused pelvis made it hard for him to move his regular leg, let alone the artificial one he still had to get used to. We practiced walking up and down the stairs and having him walk without his walking stick. Despite his smiles I could tell Peeta was frustrated at the progress. He fell a lot at first but I would always be there to catch him. It was actually after one of the falls that I got the bright idea of a new therapy activity: dancing.

Each night we would turn on the radio and I would have Peeta whisk me across the floor of the living room, Haymitch giving commentary from the couch that was pushed up against the wall. At first I had to lead more often than not as he struggled to keep his balance. Yet as the nights wore on he found his feet, finding the momentum to add in twirls and spins without a hitch. It allowed us to hear music from other Districts for the first time as musicians from all around were allowed to air their craft. Eleven's songs were soulful and deep and made me want to close my eyes as I listened. Ten's were twangy and fast, with a quick fiddle and a steel guitar that were my favorites to dance to. Six's music was strange: mellow, but still left you with the odd sensation that you had been stung by Tracker Jackers. Three was loud, mechanical, and impossible to dance to. And of course the Capitol continued to produce its upbeat, superficial yet still incredibly catchy brand of songs.

This was my favorite time of day. The three of us together, laughing as we learned to sing along, making up new moves to chords we had never heard of. Haymitch would occasionally join, pushing Peeta aside to show him "how a real man dances with a lady", always ending his sentence with "had we an actual lady" as he begun to spin me. The best night was when Haymitch, after drinking a new brand of liquor, pushed me to the side and danced with Peeta instead. I laughed the entire time Haymitch drunkenly led him across the floor, Peeta being the perpetual good sport and making sure they didn't fall.

After a few weeks Peeta was strong enough to make it up the stairs and I joined him once again in his bedroom. He never brought up the kiss we shared at the hospital, nor the fact that I had run away. He simply let me fit back into his arms without question as we shielded each other from our nightmares, sleeping hard as we recharged for another full day.

Despite my schedule I was somehow able to find time to do one more project. The dream I had at the hospital followed me everywhere. It was a pleasant enough thing to carry, yet I felt the tugging pressure that I needed to do something about it. Then one day, as I was flipping through my father's plant book, it hit me. Feeling shy about the prospect I told my idea first to Aurelius. A stack of blank pages arrived on the next train.

It wasn't until one particularly rainy week that I was able to make much progress on it. I started secretly at first, beginning with a passage about my father and Prim, pouring in all I could and adding when a new memory came up. I bounded the pages into a red book I had once traded my game for, keeping it near as I continued on to Cinna and Finnick. However as I worked I realized I couldn't (and didn't want to) do this alone. I approached Peeta one afternoon, explaining my idea and showing him what I had.

"Wow, Katniss, this is amazing!" he exclaimed, sitting down at the counter to read further. "Of course I'll draw the pictures for you."

"There's more though," I pressed eagerly, though I couldn't help but smiling at feeling his acceptance for the idea. "I want to write about more people, but I need your help. It's kind of tough to bring up all these memories, but, I don't know, it kind of makes it better too."

"I can understand that," he nodded, looking down at the book with a new appreciation.

"I want to write something about your dad," I stated, holding my breath and hoping I didn't go too far. We never talked about Peeta's family. He didn't seem to be particularly close to his brothers and his mother always seemed awful. But his father seemed kind, warm, much like his son. Peeta stared at me for a moment, taking a deep breath before nodding once more.

"What was his name?" I asked, posing my pen at the top of the page.

"Liam," he answered. And with that simple response the rest of his story came pouring out. His father's family had been bakers for generations. His mother's father had once been the mayor, and as a child she had been privileged, even getting to visit the Capitol when she was ten. Yet soon after her family had fallen into disgrace and her father was never heard from or seen again. Mary was ashamed, outcast, and determined to rise back to the top.

"My father said he loved her," Peeta explained, "but I think he just felt bad for her. She never seemed to treat him right. Nothing was ever good enough."

This was a trait she passed on to her eldest son, Samus, and he always complained that his life was meant for greater things than being a baker's son. His middle brother, Barret, didn't particularly care about anything, and removed himself the best he could from anyone.

"I could never really understand the gloom they had," Peeta stated. "We had it fairly well, considering. And my father, he was the brightest man you'd ever meet."

Peeta praised his father's good humor and nature. How he always valued patience and anyone who worked hard. He was loving and strove to give all of his sons attention, but Peeta admitted that they had a stronger relationship than the rest.

"We were a lot alike. We got each other. And he just always made things better, you know?"

I did know, and I absorbed every detail of his story I could. He sat with me as a transcribed his memories, using his exact words as he described the man. He smiled as he read the part I had written about him giving me the cookies.

"I thought it had been a ploy on his part, some kind of strategy to get me to trust you so you could have an advantage," I admitted. "But then I realized he was just a good man…like you."

This caused Peeta to glow and me to blush and I had to excuse myself to the other room.

The other pages started filling out quickly. With Peeta by my side I was able to do people like Darius, Boggs and Mitchell justice. Peeta had a remarkable memory when it came to sketching their faces, especially those in Thirteen who had no mention of them in any available database.

I could feel Haymitch's curiosity in the project. It was from a distance at first, but slowly he came nearer and nearer to the book. We offered to show him pages and asked for his help. He always snappishly declined, making me think he was more interested in mocking us rather than the project itself.

"Livy Birch!"

"What?" I asked one evening, having to blink a few times to get me back to reality after pouring through what I had written.

"Livy Birch," he repeated, his voice catching on the name. He all but collapsed on the couch, his face sullen and his body reeking of alcohol. His chest rose and fell heavily as he sat in silence, and I realized incredibly that he was struggling to keep from crying.

"Who is Livy Birch?" Peeta inquired kindly, putting down his sketch pencil and giving Haymitch his full attention.

"Was," Haymitch whispered, taking the half empty bottle to his lips and draining it further. "Livy Birch was my girl before I was drawn for the Quarter Quell."

Peeta and I both shot quick glances at each other. Haymitch had only ever talked about his past once, the night Peeta and I watched the tapes of the Second Quarter Quell. He had told us that after using the glitch in the arena the Capitol had killed off everyone he loved; punishment for embarrassing the Gamemakers. But he had never spoken about her directly, nor had Peeta and I ever pushed for him to. Haymitch valued his privacy very highly.

"What was she like?" I asked softly, not wanting to upset him further but sensing he needed a push.

"An obnoxious pain in the ass," Haymitch spat gruffly. "She always had to argue about _everything_. She always stuck her nose where it didn't belong, which was made worse by the fact that she was pathetically clumsy so I was always having to save her. She was stubborn, thought way too highly about her own intelligence and had this completely ridiculous laugh…"

Haymitch's voice cracked at the memory, and he had to pause to wipe a wayward tear from his eye.

"But she was also very admirable. Strong, loyal, cunning, and her hair always smelled like flowers, even after a day exploring the coal mines…"

Haymitch continued on, telling us of his childhood growing up next to her. They competed in everything: school, finding ways to get food, and who could make the most trouble without getting caught. As they got older they realized their rewards more than doubled when they teamed up together. And when Haymitch turned fifteen he decided it wasn't a team he wanted to break.

"I saw her walking around the square with some asshole kid from Town," he slurred, spitting at the memory. A fight between them had ensued after, one of the biggest they had ever had.

"Finally she screamed at me why the hell I even cared who she walked with. I couldn't even think of an answer. So I kissed her." Haymitch allotted a weak smile to escape as he recalled the memory. "Without missing a beat she pulled away after a few moments and said "Well, you should have thought of that earlier, shouldn't you?", grabbed my hand, and that was that."

Haymitch then described their year of skipping class to go wander the abandoned coal mines together, how they still argued about everything only they had a much more satisfying way of making up, and how she had come to him after his name had been drawn, her head held high as the Peacekeepers led her in.

"She simply told me I had no excuse not to win, and promised to mock me for the rest of her life if I died of something stupid like an infection or dehydration. It was the only thing in the world that could have made me smile," he stated without further explanation. Peeta and I were the only other two people in the District who could truly understand the magnitude of such a thing.

"And then when she kissed me goodbye one tear of hers landed on my cheek. In my whole life I had never seen her cry. That tear was my token, and was what drove me to come back."

Haymitch was silent for a moment, and I felt like the world hung still as we waited for him to gather his words.

"I got one night with her when I got back," he said, his voice strong and expressionless. "We escaped to the old mines. I got one night alone with her, to completely break down with her, to hold her, _be_ with her. And when we went home in the morning I had a tiny flicker of hope that maybe one day I would be okay. She and my family all died three days later. I had to watch as a "fluke bacterial disease" rapidly ate away at their brain cells. It was an extremely painful death for all of them."

Haymitch immediately jumped off the couch and swiftly walked to his room. I put my hand over my breaking heart, grasping at the comfort of the white pearl that sat securely in my breast pocket. Peeta and I hardly breathed a word to each other. We simply fell into bed, clinging to one another desperately during the night.

The next morning I swiftly got to work, writing down every happy memory and detail Haymitch had related to us. Peeta called Dr. Aurelius for a favor. The next day an envelope arrived containing a picture of a sixteen year old Livy Birch. She had the classic Seem features: dark skin, gray eyes, though her hair was lighter than most. She was small but very strong looking and her eyes held an unquestionable cunning in them. Peeta wasted no time copying her image down in the book, her leaning tranquilly against a smirking, sixteen year-old version of our troubled mentor in a coal mine.

We left the page open on the kitchen table, along with the actual photo of her. By the evening we found the book still open but the picture missing. The next morning a hung over yet willing Haymitch sat down and gave us detailed memories of every one of the forty-six Tributes he had trained.

Summer quickly faded into fall, and slowly but surely life began to have a comforting stability about it. We were still a household of three haunted by our own demons, but things were far better than I ever hoped they could be. I started to feel safe for the first time since I was eleven, and for a few moments out of the day I thought that it could always remain that way.

I was a fool.

One day after lunch I returned home, frustrated at how light my hunting bags had been and how pitiful my pay was for the trip. I ran up to the room to change, switching the pearl out to my new shirt habitually, before making my way to the kitchen. There I found Peeta standing alone, picking up and tossing hundred pound bags of flour into his cooler.

"Peeta!" I exclaimed, running over to him frantically. "Are you crazy? You're going to hurt yourself!"

"I'm fine, Katniss," he laughed. "Elias took me off light duty weeks ago."

"You still don't have to push it!" I argued with a frown.

"I'm in as good a shape as ever. Here, I'll prove it to you." And with a mischievous grin he dropped his sack of flour and picked me up, tossing me over his shoulder before he started to spin in a tight circle.

"Peeta!" I shrieked, "Let me go! Stop it!"

But I knew as soon as the laughs started my protests would die in vain. He kept spinning, causing me to squeal and cling tightly as girlish giggles fell out of my mouth. I grew exceedingly dizzy until he finally stopped, placing me gently to my feet. I wobbled around, still laughing as I fought my disorientation. He grabbed my hand and pulled me into his arms as he leaned against the island counter.

We continued to laugh, and as I rested my head against his chest I could hear his heart beat quickly yet steadily. I looked up into his handsome, smiling face and saw nothing but warmth and joy in his cool blue eyes. My head continued to spin, leaving no room for any kind of thought. So I simply acted. Without a word I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

He met me readily, hungrily. His lips were warm and soft and so inviting. A moan escaped my throat as he deepened the kiss. Like he had months before he let his hand fall gently down my back, lingering at the spot where my shirt and pants met. Then slowly he let it rise, softly caressing the skin of my lower back. I whimpered, urging him on in the ecstatic contact until his entire hand slid up my back.

Our kisses grew frenzied and passionate. Time slipped by unnoticed as we stood locked in our embrace. It felt so right, so welcoming, and though he had been by my side for months it felt like we had somehow finally found each other. It was a breathtaking and terrifying feeling, but one my spinning mind and racing heart had no energy to examine. Right then there was only Peeta, only this, and that was the only thing that mattered.

Eventually we slowed, naturally falling into small kisses as we reluctantly broke away. My lips felt swollen and my face was flushed, but all I could focus on was the ridiculously giddy feeling in my chest. Peeta smiled down at me, happily perplexed as he beamed. I returned a grin, the silly, slightly embarrassing sensation causing me to shrink back a bit. He stepped back to give me some space, tucking a lose strand of hair affectionately behind my ear as I struggled to find my words.

"Peeta, I…"

And then with a clang the happy moment ended. We both jumped as the loud vibration rumbled through the house and shook my very soul. The town bells rang through the street, summoning loudly for all those to hear. I had heard this sound exactly seventeen times before, and ever since I could remember it brought about the same cold, life-ending feeling.

For District Twelve only rang these bells for one reason.

The Reaping.


	13. The Reaping

_**(A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to update! I couldn't quite figure out how I wanted to word this chapter. Still not 100% satisfied but I figured I tweaked it for long enough. Thanks for all your reviews and I hope you aren't disappointed!) **_

The Reaping

There was no air for me to breathe. No strength for me to stand. No sights for me to see. All of my senses hinged on the brutal clangs of the town bells. I could not hold a single thought as the vibrations continued without ceasing. I didn't even register the spasm that filtered through Peeta's hand, or how his fingers' motives went from lovingly tucking my hair behind my ear to scratching sharply across my face as he pulled away. I felt no pain, and the blood that trickled down my cheek simply replaced the tears I was incapable of crying.

"Katniss!" Peeta hissed painfully, the bright red stream running down my face shooting him back to reality. I started to tremble as he lightly wiped the blood away. Each stroke pulled me away from the safety of disbelief. I struggled against him, not wanting to process, needing to hide. But Peeta kept his strong hands on my face, forcing me to look at him. His expression was hard, his square jaw clenched and his lips pressed tight. The usual kindness in his eyes had vanished to be replaced with a deep seated hatred. An involuntary flinch cast off the remainder of my shock as I remembered the last time I saw him look like this. I gasped for air, terrified, when suddenly a different realization hit me. The anger and hatred in his eyes wasn't directed at me.

It was for me.

We were shaken from our trapped stances as a scattered Haymitch ran into the room with his knife securely in his hand. The three of us stared at each other silently as the bells continued to toll. I could feel Peeta's heart pump steadily as he controlled his breathing, making me realize by contrast how unsteady my adrenaline flowed. Peeta and Haymitch locked eyes for a moment. Though I did not catch the communication that silently ran between them the interaction ended with Haymitch nodding unsurely. Without another cue the three of us moved to the door, pausing only for Peeta to grab a long knife from the counter and for me to grab my bow.

The streets were crowded in a horror drenched exodus. It felt even worse than the death march to the Reaping every year. At least then we knew what we were walking towards. Yet as we made our way cautiously to the square more and more families reluctantly stepped out of their homes and followed. Thom and Delly joined our side out of nowhere, Thom carrying a thick black hammer as long as my leg as though it were a fishing poll, and Delly holding a small dagger as though it were a snake. I hoisted my bow around my shoulder and took her hand in mine. Her doe eyes widened at the contact, but she nodded curtly and squeezed back strongly.

A few others around us were armed with whatever makeshift weapon they had lying around the house. I was struck with the thought that while those in and around the Capitol were still fortified with weapons from the Rebellion, District Twelve was pitifully lacking. No battles had been fought here. Just senseless massacres. A few of those from Thirteen hoisted high tech weapons, but I had seen firsthand what technology was really capable of. Most of those around us held only hands, eyes wide as they reconsidered their journey. Yet still we walked, pulled by the bells' calls and haunted by the recollection of punishment of what used to happen when we did not answer.

Finally we rounded the hill and turned the corner to the town square. A scream let out, causing a ripple of fear to disperse among the crowd.

A stage with a large screen was set up in front of us barring the symbol of Panem, just like it had each year right before the Reaping.

Peeta's spare arm grabbed my waist to pull me close, feeling the electric pulse that occurs in a crowd just before panic spread. I instantly felt the desire to set my bow and fight off danger. But who was there to fight? I was surrounded by my friends and neighbors, old men and single mothers. There was no savior in a weapon here. Murmurs in the crowd started to escalate and the growing mob mentality was palpable. My throat tightened as I wracked my mind to find some way, any way, to keep things safe. I had seen enough people that I loved hurt and killed in front of me.

"Wait!" I yelled out loud, having no idea what else I was supposed to say. Some of those around me turned to stare, some hoping for answers, some almost completely absorbed by fear.

"Look!"

Peeta's voice, louder and deeper than my own, carried across the crowd as he pointed to the stage. Hundreds of eyes turned quickly to the dissolving emblem as a bold message filtered across the screen:

PLEASE STAY TUNED FOR AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE FROM PRESIDENT PAYLOR.

Silence filled the square. The bells had stopped ringing, leaving a deafening void among a crowd too shocked to speak.

"They really need to think of a better platform for her to give her State of the Union," Delly muttered, holding her dagger tip down and passing it to Thom distastefully. I don't know if it was the relief of stress or for Delly's uncharacteristic bluntness but I immediately burst into laughter. It was a loud, completely inappropriate bout of amusement that cut through the stony silence like a knife. Delly smiled sheepishly, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment before she joined me. Haymitch looked at us like we were utterly insane, causing Peeta and Thom to double over in their own laughter. Soon the whole crowd broke out into an awkward and uneasy chuckle as they realized there was no immediate harm, and conversations rose in the hopes that spirits would too.

Haymitch, however, kept his face set and after a few moments my laughter died as I came to grips. The Capitol had never tried to contact the whole district. At least not the new Capitol that was supposedly trying to make things better for the country. That they were gathering us together in the same way as before the Rebellion, causing fear, panic, and memories of utter subordination caused a rage to bloom inside me, and my ears rang with a forgotten warning from months ago:

"_You're right not to trust anything from the Capitol. Even now things aren't as they seem."_

Lucien's words washed over me as the nervous laughter from the crowd fell apart. I pictured his handsome face and realized the man embodied everything that was that detestable place: charming, attractive, manipulative, untrustworthy, and gone. While the school and hospital were near completion there had hardly been a single word from the Capitol since Peeta had returned home. Lucien had disappeared without a trace, Demetrius had been transferred to District 10, and Cage had bowed out, stating he had all he needed from his visit before hopping the next train back home. I had not noticed their absence because they had not belonged here. But now it felt painfully obvious that it was not mere neglect to an unimportant District that caused them to leave and for no one to replace them.

They had been ordered to desert.

I jumped as I felt a hand rest on my shoulder. The reassuring squeeze let me know it was Peeta, and I rested back against his chest without taking my eyes off the screen.

"Whatever happens we stay together," he stated in a firm whisper. I replied in a curt nod, refusing to entertain any ideas of what that happening could be.

Suddenly the screen went live. A buzzed quiet filled the square as Paylor took her place behind a podium. She looked much older than she had since I last saw her, thinner too. I tried to find some comfort in the fact that she had been an ally and had had my trust since the beginning. It was she who ensured I found the truth about Coin, she who abolished the Hunger Games and championed the rebuilding of the Districts, especially Eight, Twelve and Thirteen. But her recent silence and the stagnated flow of progress called into question whether or not her authority had been challenged, or if her primary interests had changed.

"Men and women of Panem," she called out immediately, her voice still carrying strongly despite the fatigue in her face. "I have called upon you all tonight for one reason only. Our efforts at the Capitol to bring peace and prosperity to our land have been called into question."

There was a quiet murmur around the square at her opening statement. Nothing but pain and suffering had ever followed when the government felt its validity was threatened.

"Some Districts, such as One, Four, and the Capitol itself have fallen into stark recessions as their economies were plundered for the recovery effort. Our food Districts: Nine, Ten and Eleven have suffered from a rising demand in production as food rations have grown without an increase in their arable land or access to more water. Three, Five and Six are plagued with rolling blackouts, hindering their ability to function as a whole and create jobs for the influx of population to their regions. The people of District Seven have cried out as their ancient trees have been demolished for new buildings, without any sanctions for protecting their ways of life. Sections of Eight and nearly all of Thirteen remain in shambles from the bombings, and other areas are still denied access to the very basics of medical care." Paylor paused after her laundry list, and I felt a scowl crawl on my face as I noted she left exactly _which_ District was left without basic medical care.

"These problems and more, though localized in separate areas, belong to all of us. Hunger, drought, and disease cannot be remedied by one person or one District, including the Capitol. When we fought for freedom we did not simply call for a new leader of the same régime, but for a new kind of government, a republic. That is why I am calling upon you all now to help in realizing this goal. I implore each District to send one Representative to the Capitol by the first of next month to help bring about the first steps of democracy to our land. He or she is to be elected by the citizens of their District to campaign for their homeland and usher in a new era of good fortune, while maintaining our hard earned reconciliation. Further instruction and communication will follow upon the completion of such elections. I look forward to the changes to come. Good night, Panem, and may prosperity and peace be ever in our favor." A slight and ironic smile filling Paylor's face at her catch phrase was the last image held by the screen before it cut to darkness.

There was a stunned quiet across the crowd as we absorbed the message. The idea of the Districts and the Capitol joining together had been radical enough when it came to the Rebellion, but the request for all to join together for diplomacy was a foreign concept to many minds. District Twelve had only been required to send coal and blood to the Capitol before. Desires of a political nature had been boiled down to survival in past generations. I couldn't imagine what Paylor assumed we had to offer.

That was until the crowd slowly started turning in my direction.

I froze in panic and disbelief. They could not seriously be looking at me! I had hardly come to grips with my sanity in the solace of District Twelve where I was left alone. To return to the Capitol, that haunting place of death and despair, and try to win over funds for our needs was absurd! I couldn't speak when prompted, didn't know how to get people to actively like me, had no cunning when it came to pulling people to my side…

And then it hit me. Charm, charisma, the ability to anticipate and clearly read other people's motives, all the things that were required in a successful politician were all rolled into one person. The person who I needed more than anything. I felt like a knife had sliced into my stomach as I turned to look at him.

"What…me?" Peeta asked breathlessly, his eyes wide. For a moment I felt like I had slipped back to years ago, where stood in this very spot as his name had been drawn against others to represent the District.

"Sure, why not!" Haymitch yelled out angrily, causing those around us to flinch. "Why send someone else to that shithole and risk fucking anyone else up? Let's send the boy whose mind has been hijacked by these assholes after surviving two Games and fighting in the Rebellion! It's not like he isn't owed anything by you people!"

"Haymitch, stop it!" Peeta demanded fiercely.

"It's not that," Delly stated softly, looking at Peeta with a mix of pity and affection. "It's just you're the only one I know who can get people to listen in the way you do. You get people to care."

"Haymitch is right," Thom butt in, calling out to the District of people who hung to our every movement. "Peeta has done enough! It's time someone else stood for our District. I volunteer to go!"

"No offense, Thom," Delly interjected kindly, "but the Capitol and Panem will only see you as an under educated coal miner. No one of us could hope to be taken seriously…"

_Except for the people of District Twelve the nation already knew_, I thought bitterly, finishing Delly's unspoken sentence. The injustice of it all enraged me. For months I had heard the whispers of how the three of us had suffered more than anyone ever possibly should. The people of the District had exclaimed that they cherished us, but respectfully gave us peace. But now they were calling on Peeta because they felt this very suffering gave him the prestige needed to make changes.

I was engulfed with anger, yet at the same time I couldn't blame them for their reaction. I looked among the crowd and saw broken families, ex-coal miners lost in a world that no longer desired their trade, single mothers who clung to their children, and a spattering of young adults who hadn't quite figured out what kind of life to forge in the new order of things. No one knew anything else but this. No one had ever dreamed of going to the Capitol. To do so had always meant death. The only other District most had seen was the underground bunkers of Thirteen. Who else did they have but us, and who better among us than Peeta?

Peeta stood in a distressed silence as mounting pressure from the crowd grew. I could tell Haymitch was growing irate enough to shout again, and a spat between Thom and Delly seemed inevitable.

"Let's go home and talk about this," I urged to him, taking his hand in mine.

"I don't really have a choice, do I?" he asked me solemnly as he feigned a weak smile.

"I'll be damned if you don't," I spat, turning to the crowd. I addressed them, letting them know he needed time to think. The crowd instantly parted, creating a path in the direction of the Village. Peeta kept my hand as we walked home wordlessly.

Haymitch exploded upon entering the house, knocking over a lamp as he rushed to the nearest bottle of liquor. Peeta took us to the kitchen where he sat sturdily at the kitchen table. I took my place next to him, holding his hand diligently as I waited for him to collect himself. My eyes were drawn to the island counter, where not even an hour ago Peeta and I had kissed as if there was nothing else in the world that mattered. Had that really been tonight? Now it seemed merely like a distant dream. A pang filled my chest at the thought, though I quickly shook it off. There were more important things to deal with than…that.

"What are you thinking?" I asked him finally.

"I'm thinking that I have to go," he stated simply.

"You don't _**have**_ to do anything," I scowled. "This isn't the Games. No one is forcing you or threatening you…"

"I have to go," he repeated, "because someone has to make sure our home has a future."

"It doesn't have to be you that goes!" I pressed frantically.

"And who else will the other Districts and the Capitol even pretend to listen to?" he inquired flatly.

"I'll go," I answered determinedly. Peeta laughed.

"Katniss, I love you more than anything, but diplomacy is not really your forte."

I felt heat swirling in my cheeks at the comment. He hadn't said those words to me since he had returned…since we had been separated after the Quell. My heart fluttered with anxiety and…something else…something warm and wonderful and terrifying.

I shook my head, clearing it to focus back on the topic at hand.

"What about your nightmares and your terrors?" I pressed. Though he seemed to be doing much better than he had at first I still caught him gripping the backs of chairs as he fought off false and haunting memories, and though he never cried out in his sleep I often awoke to him clinging to me painfully in the middle of the night. I had learned to lull him back to peace without waking him by stroking his face and whispering to him soothingly that it, whatever it was, was not real. But to return to the Capitol, the origin of such pain? I dreaded what horrors that place would bring.

"I stayed in the Capitol while I was treated after the Rebellion," he reminded me gently, though the twitch in his hand did not escape my eye. "I'm not worried about me, but…"

Peeta struggled with his words, averting his gaze from mine and causing me to realize exactly who he was worried about returning to the Capitol.

"I'm not leaving you," he whispered painfully, returning his eyes to me. I inhaled sharply. I hadn't even begun to think of him actually leaving, let alone what I would do. Could I stay behind without him, waiting in this empty house in a now deserted region of the District, fearing for weeks of if he would or could come home?

Absolutely not.

But to return to the Capitol? I shuddered again. I thought of passing the sight where Prim had died, hearing the echoes of the sewers as Finnick and the others were ripped apart by the mutts, smelling the putrid stench of Snow's roses…

But then I thought of Peeta, and how crippling it had been when I thought he would die after he had fallen. He was barely kept alive and suffered through tremendous pain. Had it not been for the doctors in other Districts he would surely be dead. If it weren't for Cage and his influence Peeta wouldn't be walking. And if it weren't for Peeta's fame no one else but me, Haymitch, and a handful of people in the District would have even cared. I thought of what Haymitch had said back at the hospital. It wasn't just about Peeta, or me, or Delly and Thom, it was about all of us. It was about giving the ex-coal miners a new way to support their family, about educating my sweet young students so one day they could fill the hospital as doctors and nurses, and it was about taking our District from just surviving to prospering.

This was a state I had never thought of before. Up to now minimal survival seemed almost impossible. But Peeta could see it, dream for it. Even cynical Haymitch was hopeful enough to see a better future. For the first time in generations it could be possible for our area to thrive. And if anyone could convince the nation of this, it was Peeta.

"Whatever happens we stay together," I assured him, smiling despite the terror I felt.

Three days later the District held its first election. Having no other model for such a thing everyone simply wrote a name down on a piece of paper and placed it in a glass bowl one by one. Despite agreeing it was best for all if Peeta was elected I could not force myself to vote him into such a burden, so I wrote my own name down instead. Haymitch scribbled "go fuck yourself" on his scrap and wadded it up into the container. With hardly three hundred people in the town, many of whom were children ineligible to vote, the counting went fast. Peeta won in a nearly unanimous vote.

Peeta nodded and said a few words upon accepting. He spoke of jobs and education, recovering from the past and preparing for the future. He called upon anyone to stay and discuss any concerns they'd like him to champion as their Representative. A few stayed to talk, mainly the businessmen from Town who had survived, the teachers, mothers, and a construction worker. I made my way home alone and slowly and determinedly started to pack.

For tomorrow morning we returned to the Capitol.


	14. Perception

_**(a/n: I know this update is extremely over due. I've had a rough couple of months and hadn't felt like writing, then all of a sudden finished up half this chapter tonight as I was inspired. Its a long one, which I hope compensates a bit!)**_

Perception

Though the sun had risen high enough to surpass dawn Peeta and I remained in bed. Through the open window I could hear the Mocking Jays sing, but for once their melodies gave no comfort. Instead I lay still with open eyes, eyes that had been alert for hours, and simply tried to fuse myself to the warm and comforting mattress. Peeta's arm draped around me securely, and though we had yet to speak my ears were not filled with the familiar rhythm of his heavy breathing, so I knew he was awake. The hour of departure was fast approaching, yet I felt determined to spend the last few minutes of the morning ignoring that fact. I would have hours upon the train to battle the sinking feeling as we inched closer to the Capitol and would spin untold weeks dwelling in it, literally facing my nightmares as we haggled for a future.

But in that very moment I could submerge myself in the drowsy happiness of a lazy morning. We often started our early days with an indulgent lay in bed. Peeta would usually stroke my side, sliding his hand down the curve of my waist and back up to the peak of my hip. Though a relatively chaste motion, I had recently found myself wanting to urge his exploration elsewhere, past the skin where my hip stretched concave across the bone to an intimate area that grew flushed at the very notion. I could too clearly hear his breath going rugged upon such an endeavor, and that was a sound I ardently wished to help create.

Yet again I pushed such fanciful desires from my mind. The time for such a venture…if there ever was a time… was definitely not now. I wanted nothing new, nothing that would mark this morning as anything but a normal start to an uneventful day. Every second that passed this way was precious, and I was determined to lay in their security for as long as I could.

The ringing of Peeta's telephone slaughtered my lingering dreams. It sounded five alarms, enough time for the man behind me to pause, kiss my cheek briefly, and answer its call. Peeta's responses were brief and direct, and hardly any time had passed before he hung up. He returned back to his former position around me, and though the morning's lazy breeze still blew the same, everything had changed.

"It's time to go," I asked in emotionless statement.

Peeta answered by pulling me in closer.

…

In what seemed like a blink of an eye I found myself in the living room taking a silent inventory of our luggage. Peeta sat quietly on the couch staring at his hands while Haymitch paced irately back and forth. His accompanying us had been a point of contention for the past week. I had grown so accustomed to it being the three of us I hadn't even thought of him not going. He, however, immediately declined Peeta's offer to come with us, stating he had gone to the Capitol twenty-seven times too many already.

I was furious at him at first. How could he abandon us after all we had been through? I had yelled at him and stormed off seething. Yet as I hunted and calmed down I thought about his point. Haymitch had more nightmares of that place than Peeta and I combined. I had only had a little taste of what it had been like to be a Victor, certified-owned and glamorously enslaved by the Capitol. But Haymitch had spent more than half his life controlled by them. Year after year he had to watch as his Tributes perished, only to have to wander drunkenly through the District after and try not to pick out his batch for next year in the school yard. He had led Peeta and I through two games and a war, helped pull me back on my metaphorical feet and made sure Peeta still had two physically. Though only in his mid-forties he seemed to project like he had outlived his lifespan. He deserved peace, probably more than anyone I knew.

I didn't even stop to ask Peeta for advice when I got home that day. I went straight to Haymitch's room, apologized for how I acted, and told him I more than understood why he didn't want to go and how I respected his decision.

Haymitch's gray eyes stared back at me emotionlessly.

"Fine!" he finally grumbled, getting up and walking towards me. "I'll fucking go with you!"

The door shut in my face before I could even begin to formulate a response.

Haymitch wore the same faded suit he always wore when off to the Capitol, though it hung a bit loose on him. Between the Rebellion, working with the geese, and cutting back a bit on his drinking he had lost most of his paunch and stood rather slim. Now that me and Peeta forced him to eat and exercise outside he had gained some color in his face. For the first time I looked at him and realized he was actually almost handsome, though I would never give him the satisfaction of telling him that.

Peeta, however, looked unquestionably dashing in his simple black suit, and from the way he fidgeted about I decided that this was an observation I should express.

A knock on the door stole my chance. Peeta jumped to his feet upon the first rapping, clearly anticipating it. Our Guide was here to lead us to the train…and to the Capitol.

The first thing I noticed about the man at the door was how impossibly straight his mustache was. His facial hair, sideburns and eyes were the exact same shade of dark brown and matched the starched hat he wore on his head. There was no smile on his face, no flare to his attire, nothing that signified him as a man from the Capitol…

"Greetings. My name is Reginald Banner. I am your Guide to the Capitol."

… except for the fact that his strong and piercing Capitol accent accentuated every syllable he uttered.

"It's nice to meet you, I'm Peeta," Peeta greeted without falter, the only one of us not perturbed by the man's voice.

"And these…people, I presume, are your Entourage?" Banner inquired slowly, a perfectly sculpted eyebrow rising in a sneer. The man radiated condescension as he looked around our house critically, eventually planting his haughty gaze back on me.

"Yes, they are coming with me," Peeta answered, stepping in between us. I scowled prolifically and Haymitch pulled a flask out of his pocket.

"You know I'd never thought I'd say this," Haymitch announced after taking a hearty swig, "but you're already way more annoying than our last Escort."

"I am NOT your Escort," Banner fumed. "This is not the Hunger Games. I am your Guide."

There had been a major backlash reaction from the Districts at the Capitol's way for informing the public of the need for Representatives. Installing stages in the exact location and manner as the Games and telling Districts they needed to send one of their own to the Capitol had almost started riots in some areas. Plutarch Heavensbee, now Secretary of Communication, had apparently approved this insensitive oversight and had been promoting ad after ad to placate the Districts of their fears (and also probably in order to keep his job). He assured that the Representatives were free to come and go as they pleased, that they were allowed to bring an Entourage of supporters with them, and that they would each be helped out by their own Guide, which he seemed to think was a more cheerful synonym for Escort.

"She had a nicer ass too," Haymitch commented, picking up his bag and pushing past Banner to get to the car. I said nothing but kept my scowl, my eyes flittering over momentarily to my bow that was to be left behind for prosperity. The way Banner continued to glare at me made me glad I had picked up a trick or two from my old mentor. I gently patted the newly sharpened blade I kept in my coat pocket as I passed him.

The ride to the station was a silent one. Banner sat primly across from us, staring sternly as we squashed together in one seat. I tried to keep my mind shut of all the terrors it masochistically begged to revisit. The fear and anxiety of death, torture, and loss bubbled violently in my stomach, and a frantic need to jump out of the car and collapse back into my chair and into nothingness consumed me.

But I wasn't the only one.

Peeta's complexion had faded past pale to where a sickly green color shaded his cheeks. His hand gripped on to his legs shakily and his eyes were both bulged and glazed over. Dread flooded my veins as I watched him silently suffer through a hijack spell. My first instinct was to pull Peeta's face to mine and force him to look into my eyes as I talked him through it. Stroking his hair and calmly sorting through his memories with him seemed to get him out of his state quicker. Only two nights ago I had spent fifteen minutes on the bathroom floor doing this, cradling him in my arms protectively as he shook himself loose of the shiny hallucinations.

But Banner's strict gaze on us made me feel like this was impossible. Despite the "friendly helper" image Heavensbee tried to spin, it was obvious that this man was itching to get rid of us. Witnessing District Twelve's chosen Representative suffer from a mental breakdown before even boarding the train was likely more than he could hope for. Yet despite watching us intently he gave no sign that he recognized Peeta's fit.

"You know, Peeta, you were right," I stated lightly as I casually slipped my hand on top of his. "It's _**not real**_ bad being here."

"You mean it is really not," Banner scoffed in pompous correction.

"Oh. So it's _**not real**_ is grammically _**not real**_ in that sentence?" I asked slowly, playing up the uneducated trash role he clearly thought I was.

"No. It's _**not real**_ in that sentence," he mocked, emphasizing the phrase as much as I had.

"Well, when do you use _**not real**_?" Haymitch inquired with a yawn, stretching his arm along the back of the seat as he did so his hand could squeeze Peeta's shoulder in support.

"When talking about something that is _**not real**_," Banner answered, staring at the two of us as if he could not believe our insipidness.

"I really like things that are real," I chattered on, looking at Haymitch as I discretely locked my fingers around Peeta's hand.

"I really like things that are real too!" Haymitch squealed in such an uncharacteristic manner I almost paused.

"Like the taste of the fresh bread we bake every morning," I suggested.

"Or when you and Peeta dance together every night," Haymitch listed.

"That book of really good memories we all put together!" I added.

"Not…not dying in the Hunger Games," Peeta muttered a bit unstably to our side.

"Yes! That is a _**real**_ thing that happened!" I stated.

"Aren't _**real **_things just the absolute best!?" Haymitch exclaimed.

"Well then you'll love this, because we are _**really**_ at the station," Banner spat, getting out of the car swiftly as though his sanity depended on it.

"Peeta!" I cried softly the second the door shut. I cupped his face frantically and pulled him close.

"I'm okay," he expressed, though still a little distantly. "I just started thinking about where we were going and…"

"We don't have to go," I pressed lightly, stroking his cheek tenderly. "Forget everyone else. We can just stay home and not go through all of this."

"I have to go," he replied firmly as his sweet smile returned to his face. "I just need to get a grip…"

Peeta paused for a moment, his smile growing until he suddenly started to struggle not to laugh.

"What is it?" I inquired, worried that the memories still addled his mind.

"Aren't real things just the absolute best?" Peeta repeated, laughter finally getting the best of him. "That honestly has to be the greatest thing I have ever heard!"

I tucked my own lips in as I suppressed a smile. Now on the other side of the dilemma I realized how ridiculous our method was to calm Peeta down. Effective, but ridiculous.

"Laugh it up, Stumpy," Haymitch spat, "see if I try to help you out again when you're fighting your shiny demons in front of the whole Capitol."

Despite the threat Haymitch couldn't help but grin as he climbed out of the car. I laughed alongside Peeta, encouraging his good feelings as long as I could. Who knew when we would laugh like this again?

I kept my hand on top of his, squeezing it gently as his laughs died down.

"You sure you're okay to do this?" I inquired sincerely.

"Of course I'm not sure," he replied with a grin. "But hey, what's the worst that can happen?"

He opened up the door and used his leverage on my hand to pull me out of the car with him before his response could kick in. The thought of all the horrible things that could happen to us at the Capitol came rushing to my mind, and I suddenly got the urge to throw him back into the car and drive back to the safety of the Village.

But then I saw the crowd. Haymitch, Peeta and I stood dumbstruck as the entire District crowded between us and the train. They did not applaud, at least not like they had when we returned from our first Hunger Game. Yet nor did they look on us with fear, pity or relief like they had on Reaping day. Instead they stood on in a murmured yet hopeful commotion. Our neighbors came forward to shake Peeta's hand, pat me gently on the arm, and one man even slipped Haymitch a bottle of unlabeled brown liquor. For the first time it really hit me what Peeta had the possibility to do. He could really make a positive difference in everyone's life, and the whole District seemed to think he had an actual shot of doing just that. Despite the fear that was lodged deep into my stomach I couldn't help but beam with pride at the man in front of me.

Delly and Thom stood right in front of the door to the train. Delly gave us each a hug and kiss, while Thom held out a worn cloth bag to Peeta. I heard the clink of coins as Peeta peered in curiously.

"It isn't much," Thom lamented, "but we all spared what we could."

"I can't take this!" Peeta exclaimed in horror, tying the bag up and trying to force it back into Thom's hands.

"You have to," Delly smiled. "We wanted to help support you. We're sure you'll need it in the Capitol. And don't you dare try to leave it here. We all swore we wouldn't use it so it would just go to waste."

"I…I don't know what to say," Peeta admitted, shifting the bag that contained more money than either of us had ever held in our lives. "I promise you all I'll get you your money back."

"Just make sure you get us our money's worth," Greasy Sae retorted, grinning with her chipped and crooked teeth. A warm smile melted on Peeta's face as he agreed, guarding the bag closely to his chest. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to embrace him, but I held back. This was a moment for him to bask in. I could see his smile turn into a look of hard determination, and I knew he was saving this experience to inspire him during his delegations. The crowd looked back at him, tired, dirty, but full of hope. Peeta made a motion to step forward to address the crowd.

"Say good-bye to your Districtmen," Banner directed taking, Peeta's elbow and guiding him into the train. "We have a schedule to keep."

A flash of anger covered Peeta's face but he quickly shook it off. I however was not so quickly soothed as I watched our Guide all but push him into the train car.

"Easy there, Sweetheart," Haymitch muttered into my ear. "Let's wait to start the riots when we're not at home."

The stench of the liquor on his breath caused my stomach to turn but did not surprise me. That he stroked and kissed my hair before wrapping his arm around my shoulders did. His uncharacteristic bout of affection quieted me as he led me to follow Banner and Peeta. I turned around just in time to see the crowd holding up three fingers in reverence before the silver door slammed shut and the train sped off.

Banner immediately began an obnoxiously long diatribe of our behavior, listing what the expectations were of a Representative and his Entourage and enumerating the every details of our schedule for when we arrived at the Capitol.

I didn't listen to a word he said.

Instead I looked anxiously around the cabin. It was nowhere near as lavish a train as the ones the Capitol had sent before. It was only a three car passenger train with worn but plump seats, a well-used looking table, and natural watt lighting not adorned by chandler. I wondered if the reduction of splendor was due to the flagging economy or because the Capitol felt no desire to pamper three criminals responsible for their downfall. Either way the atmosphere was slightly comforting.

A long lapse of silence shook me back to reality as I realized the others were waiting for a response of mine. Apparently Banner needed to speak to Peeta alone about his duties. Peeta was avidly refusing to leave my side, stating that anything he was told would be related back to me anyways. Haymitch quickly filled the silence by loudly slurring the words to the Capitol's anthem as he took large swigs out of his gift bottle.

"It's okay!" I finally announced, cutting through the bickering and singing. "Haymitch and I will just wait in the other car."

"You don't have to do that, Katniss," Peeta urged, and through my head ache I realized too late it wasn't just my sanity he was worried for. But by then two large "servers" had begun to usher us into the lunch car. A door shut between us before I could try to make things right.

Helpless. That is what I had begun to feel. Not even five minutes on the train and I already felt trapped and like I had abandoned Peeta for my own convenience. I could have fought to stay with him, but that would only lead to an altercation between the three of us and our Capitol "hosts" that would surely lead us into more trouble. I scowled. I never used to think ahead in those terms.

The servers immediately took seats at a table, ignoring us as they played cards. Haymitch and I took one glance at the room before making our way to the last car. It was divided into four cabins with passenger seats and sliding doors.

"I'm going to Christen this the "shit-faced" cabin," Haymitch belched. "Care to join?"

"I'm going to have to pass," I replied, wanting to be focused when Peeta could finally join.

"Suit yourself," he shrugged, walking into one of the back cabins and slamming the door shut.

I settled into another, prepared to simply wait for Peeta to arrive. The moment the door slid close behind me however I collapsed onto the padded seat, tears streaming down my face as I broke into uncontrolled sobs.

…

I woke up not realizing I had fallen asleep. The bright light of the sun had faded to a dull burning orange and I no longer felt its warmth against my face. My head felt heavy and slow, and while I had passed on Haymitch's suggestion that I binge my sorrows in alcohol I felt at first very much like I did when I had been drinking. The emptiness of my stomach churned against me and as my eyes slowly focused to my dim cabin I remembered I had not eaten. It was only when I started to slowly shift in my plush seat that I noticed that a crisp, silk lined jacket that covered my torso and smelt like comfort had not only been draped on me, but its owner sat quietly in the seat across from mine.

"Peeta?" I called out with a frown as I sat up. His head perked up quickly from the razor thin electric tablet that had been engrossing him.

"You're up," he stated with a smile, quickly taking to the space where my legs once stretched out.

"Why didn't you wake me?" I scowled slightly, hating having not been there for him in the hours that had passed upon the train.

"I thought you could use some rest," he replied, placing an arm around my shoulder as I leaned into him. "Besides, it gave me a chance to read up on the issues."

He tapped once on the silver tablet he held, and instantly page after page of information projected itself into the air like a 3-D book. Peeta waved his hand over the material to scroll through the words, pressing on pictures or links in the air to take him to new sites. The colors were vivid and engrossing, and all of it emerged from an object hardly thicker than a few pieces of hair.

"This thing has everything in it. Access to the Capitol database, newspapers from all over Panem, it shoots and records video, makes calls, and, if you can believe it…"

He paused for a moment, placing his hands along the side of the device and pushing them together. Suddenly the tablet the size and width of a large piece of paper folded in on itself continuously until it rolled into a sleek looking object. Peeta clicked the top of it and I was amazed to see it had transformed into a pen.

"Cool, huh? Though kind of useless in a place that seems to reject any form of print or paper. I mean it would have been a whole lot cheaper just to give me a book and a memo pad," he joked, twisting the tip of the pen until it folded back out perfectly flat again.

"That would have been too sensible," I muttered irately, though I instantly softened when Peeta laughed in agreement.

"So what did Banner have to tell you that was so important?" I asked, running my fingers through my hair in hope of shaking out my headache.

"All the top secret Representative information that he continuously pressed was for my eyes only. Wanna see?"

I laughed silently as he quickly waved his fingers around the digitized air. Apparently recognizing his finger prints the device cleared the security system and a new page was brought forth. Fourteen photographs came into view, lined up neatly in two rows of seven. For the first time I saw those representing the thirteen districts and the Capitol. Peeta's picture lay at the bottom, and while he was clearly the youngest member of this office it was another comparison that nagged my mind.

"The way they have this set up…it reminds me of the Tribute presentation," I stated, doing my best to keep my voice calm.

"Old habits…

He scrolled quickly through some of his fellow Representatives to show me what he was up against. They were all men except for the stern but gorgeous middle-aged woman from District Four and the wispy Representative for the Capitol with shocking pink hair who didn't look much older than me. Peeta pointed out the beefy looking man with silver hair and a charming smile from Ten and the dark skinned Representative with a demeanor that reminded me of Thrash from Eleven and stated that he was going to try and form an alliance with them as they all came from the Outer Districts. I cringed at his terminology and turned my attentions out the window. A low whooshing sound alerted me that his tablet had been turned off.

"I think it might have been a mistake to bring you here," he stated quietly after a few moments. My head snapped towards him instantly.

"What?" I asked, heartbreak and dread pouring into my voice before I could filter it. "You don't want me with you?"

"Katniss, I don't want to go anywhere without you. Ever," he assured so ardently I felt my cheeks go warm. "But I'm realizing there are some things we didn't know…or think through."

"What are you talking about?" I inquired. Peeta hesitated, weighing his words carefully. My anxiety doubled at the pause. He had never skated around an issue with me before.

"When I was with Banner…well, he made a comment," Peeta stalled, checking with his feet before his eyes rested on mine. "About how he hoped you could keep your sanity in check long enough for us to check into our lodging."

My eyebrows knitted together as I tried to follow what he was trying to say, until suddenly it dawned on me.

"I don't know how much of the trial you remember," Peeta continued lightly, "but Aurelius did a pretty good job convincing everyone in the country that you were crazy so you could be sent home."

I slumped back against my seat. I had spent the last thirteen months running away from my demons. For two years I had inexplicably survived while countless had died around me. My mind was tortured with the painful and horrific ways those I had cared about and thousands I didn't even know all perished just because I almost ate some berries. My sister had been blown to pieces in front of me, Peeta had been all but stripped of himself, and my mother could hardly talk to me. At night when I closed my eyes I was plagued with the silent cries of Cinna, Finnick, Snow, Coin and so many, many more. I had flirted dangerously with suicide, been torn from my nightmares by the sounds of my own screams, and wallowed in despair countless times as I questioned my own sanity. It was a dreadful, accursed feeling and one I feared might still consume me.

And yet as I absorbed Peeta's statement I couldn't help but grin.

"So Banner and the Capitol are scared I'm going to spew my crazy on them, huh?" I laughed. That explained why despite this being the most important political movement since the Rebellion no one from the media had come to talk to Peeta.

"It's not funny," Peeta pressed, though his expression softened greatly at my light reaction.

"I know," I replied, "it's just after all that's happened it's just ridiculous to again have to worry what other people think about me. I can't even remember the last time I cared about that."

"Probably because it was never," Peeta remarked with an endearing smile. I laughed along with him, even though the lightness didn't truly touch my heart. No, that wasn't true. I had really cared once about how I was perceived. After the first Games when I tried to convince the nation of my deep love for Peeta in order to quash the uprisings. In the end it proved to only be a distraction, and I suppose in the long run it was for the best, but in the back of my mind I couldn't help but wonder that if I had been a little more convincing, Prim might…

I shook my head of that thought. Prim was dead because Coin had decided to fight deplorable act with deplorable act. Prim's death was a reminder of what happened when evil souls reigned unchecked. She was gone, and there was nothing else that could be done but make sure that men and women like that never gained power again.

My eyes flitted back to Peeta. His smile remained warm as he patiently waited for me to finish my train of thought. My heart melted at the look. People like Peeta were the ones who should be making the decisions. He would always do what was in the best interests of others, and even after all he had been through his motives were not tarnished by pride or revenge.

I had told myself before that I would do anything for Peeta because of what he did for me and how he made me feel. That unspoken promise for him intensified as it came clear how important he was for everyone else.

"How do you feel?" I asked him, gently rubbing his arm. Peeta grinned guiltily as he collected his thoughts.

"Terrified," he admitted. "I'm so worried I'm going to mess all of this up."

"Peeta, you have nothing to be afraid of," I soothed. "You've been through two Games and the Rebellion and survived intact enough to be elected almost unanimously by the District. Everything else after that is a walk in the woods."

"But this is completely different," he pressed. "All I worried about in the Games was making sure you were safe. But now I have everyone back home depending on me, let alone the fact that I am making decisions that could impact the whole nation. What if I can't do it?"

"Peeta, you have the best heart of anyone I have ever known," I stated, gently tracing the outlines of his knuckles with my fingertips. "There is no one else I would trust more to make the right decisions for the country. Or me."

Peeta met my smile, and though I could tell he felt touched and comforted by my words his eyes were still heavy with concern.

"And what if I can't handle it and just break down? It's not a coincidence that my spells have been more frequent lately, I can't imagine they'll be much better when were in the Capitol. What if I start to have an attack during Council or on camera?"

"Then you just remember that I'm right here," I said firmly. "Remember that I'm right beside you, that I'll be right next to you every night and every possible moment out of the day, and that I'm not going anywhere. Ever."

"You promise?" Peeta whispered, pulling me gently into his lap. My legs fell on either side of his thighs as I scooted myself up as close to him as I could.

"I promise," I concurred firmly. Then I ruffed his hair and smiled, doing my best to wipe the somber look off his face.

"I'll make you a deal," I began. "You worry about all the meetings and the politicians and the getting people to like you stuff that you are built for… and I'll worry about you."

"And who's supposed to worry about you, Katniss?" he laughed as he pulled me in tighter.

"I can take care of myself, thank you. I'm perfectly capable of watching after the well-being of two people," I defended.

"Three," Peeta corrected, nodding his head over in Haymitch's direction.

"Yes, Haymitch too. I will keep him underwraps and promise to keep myself out of trouble. Deal?"

"Deal," he whispered seriously as he gently drew his nose over the length of my neck. My heart began to pound at the intimate contact. I found myself melting into his embrace, drowsy with pleasure as he lightly nuzzled against me. His lips brushed softly against my skin, drawing me into a frenzy as I silently screamed for him to begin kissing me. His breath grew heavy as his hands slowly rose up my hips, sneaking their way up the folds of my shirt to caress my flushed skin.

"It's my turn to take care of us again anyways," I stated, the words cracked as they came out of my mouth. "That's how this relationship works."

I closed my eyes, eager to feel Peeta's lips against my own, but the sensation never came. My lids spread open and I saw that his face had once again grown pained and burdened.

"What is it?" I asked quickly, the flutter from my voice evaporating as panic set in. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, it's just…" Peeta bowed his head as he once again went searching for his words. Feeling foolish, I began to pull away, wanting not only off his lap but to crawl to the other seat. His reactive grip on me made it clear he desired otherwise.

"There's more," he blurted, finally holding my eyes.

"More?" I repeated dubiously, half still wanting to pull away.

"More, about what Banner said," Peeta sighed. "When he made that remark about you…well what he actually said was I hope that…your wife… can keep her sanity in check. He…and the Capitol and, well, everyone, expects us to be married."

I felt my grip on him loosen. I had not forgotten our charade. How could I? How could I ever forgot Peeta telling the nation that we had married in secret and that I had been with child in the hopes of saving me in the Quell. How could I forget how integral his and mine relationship seemed to be to the whole nation. A silly little teen romance that somehow had inspired hope against all odds. That's not something that one blocks out, even if the romance was over-fabricated.

But I had also thought such a façade was behind me. No one in Twelve ever asked us why we didn't act like we were married or brought such events up. It had simply been one of those things I had not been proud of, not as bad as some of my other deeds, but definitely not one I tried to dwell on. And before now Peeta had never mentioned it, and it would have been cruel of me to address him about it. He, at least back then, had genuinely wanted to marry me.

My first impulse was such a story shouldn't matter. Peeta had done what he thought he had to to save me. We had staged the engagement to save the country. No one could blame us for what we did.

But then I realized that was foolish. Politics was its own form of Hunger Games, and anyone looking to attack Peeta would throw the fact that he had delivered some pretty big lies in the past just to get what he wanted. Opponents would skew the facts, and his good deeds would be swallowed in rhetoric.

"Okay," I nodded curtly. "So we just act like we're married. We can pull it off."

Peeta cast his gaze away from me again. He adjusted in his seat, not exactly pushing me off but making it clear he wanted distance. I slid off him, my heart breaking at the rejection. I wanted to scream and cry and force myself back into his arms all at once. But all I did was stare emotionlessly as he wiped his red streaked face.

"I can't do that," he stated finally. "I can't _handle_ that."

"What do you mean?" I ask quietly.

"Katniss, what do you think my hijacking spells are all about?" he demanded harshly. "They're all about _you_ lying to me. About how you're a monster who doesn't care about me and will leave as soon as it's convenient for you. You really think playing my wife and pretending to want to be with me is going to make me not have spells? Fuck!"

Peeta accentuated his sentence by punching the side of the wall. He immediately covered his head in his hands, rocking ever so slightly as he began to ward off another episode.

"I'm sorry!" he gasped suddenly. "I'm so sorry, Katniss. I didn't mean…I'm so sorry…"

"Peeta, it's alright," I assured lightly, though my chest still felt tight and my eyes stung with repression. "I understand."

I hesitated before placing my arm around him. I sighed in relief when he didn't push me away, and moved myself closer to comfort him more intimately.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered again. "I just…I just can't go through that again. I don't want to have to sit and wonder what's…real and not real with you. I don't want to always be questioning "does she really care or is she just pretending?". It's…it's just too much."

"Shhh," I soothed, gently rubbing his back as my insides collapsed with guilt.

I had really done that to him. Even before the hijacking I had driven him crazy as he tried to interpret my true feelings and intentions. Back then I had been more focused on survival then to fry and figure out what I felt for him, let alone show it properly. Then it had been about preservation. Now I felt heartless and cruel.

I had hurt him. Truly and deeply, and it still affected him to this day.

"Then I won't pretend," I stated to him. Peeta pulled his hands away from his face, wiping at his eyes and his red blotched skin.

"What do you mean?" he mumbled, looking down at his lap.

"I mean what I said," I stated again, gently cupping his face and pulling it to look at me. "We may lie to others, but everything I say to you and about you…everything I do to you, is 100% real and only what I want to do."

"Katniss," he sighed wearily, rubbing at his eyes again. Before he could get in another word I pushed myself back into his lap, straddling him hungrily as I lay my chest against his. His eyes widened in shock and his breath weighted instantly.

"Peeta…I know I'm no good with words, and you deserve so much more than I can give you," I whispered, fully aware he hung on my every word. "But all I can say right now is you make me feel so…dizzy. And if you don't shut me up and kiss me I swear I'm going to faint."

The color immediately drained from his face at the comment, and for a moment I feared I may have overstepped my bounds. But that moment quickly passed, and soon he raised his hand to gently twirl the end of my braid.

"Well I can't have any wife of mine fainting on a count of that, now can I?" he asked deeply. I had a second to smile before I felt his arms embrace me as he stood, laying my back down against the plush seat as he settled on top of me. My legs spread apart to let him fit between them. Both of our breathing had grown ragged, and I could feel the heat from his face as he lowered it inches in front of mine. He paused to tuck a lose strand behind my ear and stare down at me. I felt as though he were memorizing my face. I too couldn't help but become lost in his as I stared at his eyes. They were filled with love, loyalty and appreciation, looks I had often seen him give me. But there was one more aspect there too, one that had before been only fleeting, but now dominated his face.

Lust.

I realized right before his lips took mine that it was lust in his eyes. And that it had been the lust in mine that had him mesmerized too.

I moaned as his tongue slipped into my mouth. It was warm and sweet and caused my blood to race. I clawed hungrily at his back, trying to pull him closer to me despite all of his weight baring down on me. His hands once again slipped up the sides of my shirt, and I shuddered in pleasure as I felt his warm caress on my skin. His large hands continued to explore upwards, the fingers cupping around the curves of my frame while his thumbs rested just below my bra. He paused, unsure of his boundaries. I answered him by pushing him up, sliding my hands up his chest, and slowly unbuttoning his best dress shirt before flinging it to the floor.

His chest was broad, dusted with blond hair, and firm with muscle. I let my hands fall down the curves of his biceps down the rest of his arms, jumping over to his abs. His skin was worn and covered with scars, but it was all I could do to keep myself from latching back on to him.

Instead I took a gulp of air and raised my arms above my head. Peeta's hands scaled up my sides as he gently pulled the blouse I wore from my frame.

He began the same gentle exploration of my body. I closed my eyes, half to relish in his touches and half to keep from being self-conscious. Despite months of sharing a room we had never seen each other naked. I knew my own scars tattooed my body, and the rest of my skin was ashen and blotched in some places. Even with eating more my ribs still stuck out like a child's. I thought my body to be somewhat disfigured, but as Peeta's touches grew more frantic and coveted I opened my eyes, feeling desirable for the first time.

"Katniss," he moaned in my ear, pulling me close to him so our bare bodies connected. I rolled my head back as he kissed my neck, holding me with one hand as the other lightly cupped my breast. His breathing grew heavier as he gently rolled it against his palm, feeling every curve through my thin and embarrassingly shabby bra.

He found my lips again, kissing me slowly this time, deliberately. Somehow this gentle touch was more erotic than when we had thrown ourselves at each other. He kept his arm around me as he pulled me back into his lap. As our hips connected I couldn't help but cant against him rhythmically. He hissed, tugging me closer as he matched my rhythms. My legs began to tingle and shake as my insides flushed with heat. Our lips never broke as we ground against each other. His hands moved up and down my torso, sprawling across my back, caressing my stomach, squeezing my breasts. My arms stayed locked around his neck, my fingers clutching and running through his hair as I grew lost in the passion. I had never felt so elated in my life, and yet my body and mind still screamed for more. The pleasure was addicting, and I couldn't help the shameful, urging moan that escaped my throat as Peeta's hands went past my hips and began to dip down behind my belt.

"Well why is this not a surprising thing to catch a politician doing?" a droll voice called out, instantly shattering the world of ecstasy. I gasped in horrifying disgrace, pushing myself tight against Peeta to hide my half-naked form from prying eyes.

"Haymitch!" Peeta cried out in a half-yell, half-swallow. "What…what are you doing?"

"I have come to inform the honorable Representative and his esteemed companion that were almost there, so he might want to put his dick back in his pants," Haymitch scolded with far too much delight. "Though seeing as I am sure she has yet to give it up I bet you could probably finish up and get her to make you a sandwich before we actually arrive."

"Get out, Haymitch!" I demanded, picking up one of Peeta's discarded shoes and throwing it at him. He shut the door with a laugh before it landed.

Blushing with embarrassment my eyes met Peeta's. Like it had this morning the atmosphere had instantly changed despite the position remaining the same. I still continued to flush all over, and in my seated stance I could feel his thick length pressed against my leg.

"Well this is not really what I expected to happen on the trip up here," he joked, grinning through the awkwardness so genuinely I couldn't help but laugh. I kissed him twice before pulling back.

"It's not really what I pictured either," I agreed. "I just…I just want you to know that I really meant what I said about only saying and doing things to you because I really want to do them."

"You have gotten soooo much better at making your points," Peeta groaned, causing me to laugh again. We kissed lightly for a minute after, though it was more chaste than any that we had shared on the train that day. We quickly got dressed, smoothing out the wrinkles in each other's clothes and doing our best to straighten out our hair. As I finished slipping my shoes back on I watched the view in front of me flash the lake and grandeur that was the city skyline.

I felt frozen as I thought of all that that city had held. Everything that had happened there, and all the terrors within me that stemmed from the very center.

Peeta slipped his arm around me and I leaned back against his chest as we broke the city limits of the Capitol.


	15. The Capitol

(A/N: I know it's been awhile but this was a long chapter. So long I had to cut it in two. Hope you enjoy a double update! )

The Capitol

The sparkling lake and giant shining buildings raced towards us with alarming speed. I felt my chest tighten and I was doubly glad Peeta's arm secured me as my knees began to buckle. All of the terror and loathing I had barely managed to keep suppressed for the last week finally struck hard as the full realization of what was happening hit me.

I had agreed to return to this place. This place filled with people who not only had wanted me dead, but were determined to wipe out anything that was or could ever be of any importance to me. The town was run by those who felt an inherent right of ownership over me simply because they were born to one place and I another. I had been thrown into their Games, by a choice that was no choice at all, and had survived only to be deemed their slave. My purpose was to entertain them and send them coal. In return they had killed almost every one I loved.

Rage quickly bubbled up into my stomach as we neared the dazzling, heartless city. Inch by inch I could feel my nerve-endings and my sanity snap as every horrible and repressed memory filled my mind. My breathing quickened and threatened to stop altogether as we passed the first gleaming tower. Screams of the dead filled my ears and suddenly all I could see were the fallings of little silver parachutes as they dropped daintily over my little sister…

Blackness.

Suddenly the cabin was consumed with blackness. My already pulsing heart burst forth and I feared that I was losing my consciousness. But then I noticed the dim light of the overhead compartments, and how if I focused my eyes I could just barely make out a sign flashing out the window.

GOVERNMENT OFFICAL SUBWAY  
ALL TRESPASSERS WILL BE PERSECUTED

The images of the city were gone from sight, but my stomach still churned from being underneath it. Every passing light might uncover a horrid white monster, bringing with its horrid stench and the blood remains of poor Finnick.

I shuddered and turned to look at Peeta. His arms dropped dead at his side and even in the dim light I could see his face had paled. We stared at one another, breathing heavily as we both shook off our shared nightmares. Without signal we both stepped forward in an embrace. I fought the urge to sob as he buried his head in my braid. He rocked us back and forth at a soothing tempo and I was able to steady my breathing as I heard his heart beat slow to its regular rhythm.

"Why us?" I choked out, stepping back slightly so I could rub my face. Peeta said nothing at first but looked down at his polished shoes. Slowly he then reached into his pocket and pulled out the bag of money our District had collected for him.

"Because we can do this," he stated steadily. His answer almost caused me to moan. At that moment I felt so empty. I had given more than I ever had to give, and the thought of doing anything else seemed impossible. I knew I wanted to cry but I didn't even have the energy to make tears. Peeta grabbed my arms firmly, softly shaking me until I looked back at his face.

"We have to be strong, Katniss," he proclaimed. "If for nothing else than to prove that they don't own us. That even after all that happened they didn't change us…that we're still ourselves and we always will be."

I stood still for a moment to soak up his words, and even though right then and there I didn't think what he said was true I agreed, because there was nothing else I hoped for more than for it to be.

"You're right," I stated in a surprisingly strong voice. "We can do this."

Peeta bridged the gap and pulled me back into him, wrapping his arms around me tightly. I breathed deeply, laying my head against his chest. Though my body was wound as tight as my bow string I felt deeply comforted by his embrace and so very grateful that neither of us had to go through this without the other.

"We stay together," he issued. "No matter what happens we stay together."

I lifted my head and pulled away just far enough to look him in his blue eyes.

"I dare them to try and keep me from you," I growled in challenge. I was so serious the very thought made me murderous. Peeta, however, smiled genuinely.

…

We moved to the main cabin as the train began to slow. Banner immediately began attacking Peeta with questions, feeling certain that the simple backwoods Representative would not only fail to remember what he was directly told, but that he had neglected his assignment of doing further research. Unfortuently Peeta was a bit slow on his delivery as he was still shaken from our arrival.

"Stand up straight and speak more clearly!" Banner demanded. "My word, didn't District Twelve have any men to send?"

My hands were at his throat before anyone had a chance to think.

"Peeta's more of a man than you or anyone else could ever be!" I yelled, pushing him hard up against the wall. The two henchmen and Peeta both rushed to pull me off of him, but Haymitch managed to get there first.

"You would know that more than any of us, wouldn't you Sweetheart?" Haymitch inquired suggestively. The allusion to what Peeta and I had been doing in the car before we arrived came back to me, causing me to blush and distract me long enough for me to release my grip. Peeta joined us quickly, standing between us and the irate Guide.

"Why I never! How dare you, you barbaric little…"

"Enough!" Peeta shouted, instantly slicing through Banner's insult. "It's been a long day and we still haven't gotten off the train. Let's all just drop it and move on."

Banner eyes shot daggers first at Peeta and then at me. I gladly reciprocated the look, and though the man was clearly furious Peeta's words and my actions were enough to get him to agree. Haymitch finally let go of me as the tension in the cabin dulled.

"I think you may have come off a little too strong there, Katniss," Peeta joked good-naturedly in my ear. Despite still being enraged I couldn't help but smile.

"I'll try to tone it back," I snipped lightly, knowing both that this was a good idea and that I probably wouldn't follow it.

"That's all I ask," he replied as he slipped his arm around my waist. I finally relaxed and took a deep breath as I stood beside him. I felt if I could have had just a few moments alone with Peeta I could have truly calmed, but the screeching of the train as it ground to a halt and the releasing of steam that signified we had stopped made me anything but.

We had finally returned to the Capitol.

Peeta and I both stood still, frozen even after the doors opened and Banner began to instruct us. It was only when Haymitch put his arms around us that we shook ourselves out of it.

"… Banquet won't be for a few more hours," Banner explained stiffly. "It will be informal but as it is your first opportunity to meet with the other Representatives and their Entourage I implore you to dress nicely and act on your best behavior."

Banner paused to look directly at me before he continued.

"The Coordinator should be right outside to take you to your lodging and update you on more specifics. They insisted on seeing you here, though I have no idea why someone with such an important schedule would take the time. Oh well. I'll see your luggage finds you and I will be at your room thirty minutes before the Banquet."

He turned to talk to his two associates, apparently feeling like he had spoken enough to us on that occasion. Which was more than fine with me. I was too preoccupied with the opened door in front of us and the fact that I was expected to step through it.

"Well, here we go," Peeta breathed aloud, though his feet remained planted to the train. After a few seconds of silence I could hear Haymitch roll his eyes.

"Ladies first!" he exclaimed, pushing me lightly out the door so I spilled out into the station. Peeta dashed after me to ensure I didn't fall.

"What the hell, Haymitch!" I demanded, turning sharply to shove him back. He caught my hands in his, causing me to momentarily marvel that despite the decades of drinking he still maintained his quick reflexes.

"And now we're all off the train," he sang loudly. "And, miraculously we're all still alive…for now anyways."

He accentuated his statement by patting the knife he kept hidden in his jacket. I immediately focused my energy to my surroundings. We were back at the Capitol. The breeding ground of my nightmares. The resting place of so many loved ones. It was once the gem of Panem and I was seen as the one who single handedly tarnished it. The last time I had stood here I had assassinated a President and caused a riot that had killed another. I had shaken up the order and been deemed insane. My hand instantly scurried to my own weapon as I felt certain the first Capitol citizen who saw me would want to kill me.

That soon proved to be false. Though the underground subway was teaming with suited government officials no one seemed to notice us. They pushed by quickly, intently focused on whatever task they were given, and all seemed to originate from a single focal point in front of us.

"That'll be where the Coordinator is," Haymitch deduced, nodding over to the group of anxious looking workers. "By the looks of these officials I bet he's a real son-of-a-bitch."

As we walked forward to the center of the crowd Haymitch was proven wrong for the first time that day. In the center of the group stood, not a son-of-a-bitch man, but a closing on middle-aged woman who was listening with semi-patience to an apologetic aid. Like Banner she was plainly dressed by Capitol standards. She wore a green and black tweed dress with red-tanned boots that ended half-way up her calves. Her hair was a natural dirty blonde that curled to her shoulders adorned with nothing but a simple black headband to keep it out of her face. I had never seen a woman like her in the Capitol before, yet something about her seemed uncannily familiar.

"No no! That simply won't do! Have the chefs change it back and then go do something about those ridiculous coral table runners. Hurry now, we have a big, big, big day ahead!"

"Effie?"

"Katniss! Peeta! Haymitch!"

Before either of us could say another word we were engulfed in her hugs. I could hardly believe it as she stood in front of me. Free from her usual layers of white makeup her face revealed her true bronze skin adorned with a freckled nose. She seemed to have shrunk in size though I soon realized it was because I had only ever seen her in six inch heels. If it weren't for her trademark accent I would never have believed it to be her…until I looked in her blue green eyes and saw all that was Effie… peppy, resilient yet still plagued by a torture no makeup could ever hide.

"I can't believe it's you!" Peeta exclaimed. "You look great!"

Without her mounds of makeup it was easy to see Effie blush, though whether it was from pride or embarrassment I couldn't say.

"The latest in government fashion and policy," she explained as she posed for us. "With so many fellow Panemians going hungry or homeless it would not serve for the Capitol to flaunt its wealth!"

If anyone but Effie had said such a hypocritical thing I would have gone murderously angry, yet all I could notice was without her painted mask and flamboyant attire it was much harder to actually think she believed what she said.

"I like you much better this way," I stated, giving her another hug. She embraced me with a light pat on the back.

"And thank you for what you did for Peeta. We owe you everything," I whispered before pulling away. An endearing and uncomfortable-for-me look spread across her face at my gratitude. She grabbed Peeta and my hands in hers and swung them back and forth.

"I am so happy to see you all! I was just telling Reginald how wonderful it was to have you back here visiting! Even you, Haymitch," she bantered, smiling at the conspicuously silent Victor. Haymitch's face was contorted into a frozen look of astonishment with his eyes trained solely on Effie. Even I could tell what caused his state of befuddlement. Peeta and I smiled as we stepped away from Effie to allow him an unobstructed view.

"Manners, Haymitch. You can't say hello to an old friend?" she asked in signature.

"You look…like a person," Haymitch managed to spit out.

"Elegant and eloquent as always," she replied with a shake of her head. She pulled Peeta and I back in for one more hug, squeaked, then composed herself once more.

"Well come come you three! We have about a million things for you to do before the dinner tonight. You'll need to get settled into your new home, unpack, Peeta needs to go over a mountain of dreadful paperwork…"

And without even realizing it we began to walk through the pristine underground subway, following Effie as her only slightly heeled boots echoed throughout the busy corridor. I remained silent as we walked, listening to Peeta and Effie converse all the while trying to suppress the nightmares from coming forth. I found myself reaching for my bow as flashes of white monsters and a screaming Finnick flashed across my mind. Instead of a weapon, however, I held Peeta's hand. Despite the chipper dialogue he kept up I could feel the sweat on his palm. I applied a quick burst of pressure on his hand, trying to squeeze away the nightmares. He quickly pulled my hand to his lips, seamlessly kissing it during his and Effie's exchange.

We didn't go very far before we stepped into an elevator. It was a gray, boxy, industrial machine, more reminiscent of the facilities at District Thirteen than anything I had seen at the Capitol. Yet Peeta, myself, and even Haymitch hesitated to step on to it. An arena of Capitol sorts sat above us, and no amount of training or coaching could truly prepare you for that last step that took you up.

"There better be a shitload of booze waiting for me on the other side of this thing, Eff, or else I'm exposing myself to the general public of your bars using your tab," Haymitch muttered as he stepped in.

"You certainly will not, Mr. Abernathy!" she exclaimed as she followed him. "Not after the incident during the 71st games when you relieved yourself in the Pool of Tributes!"

Peeta and I both laughed silently in spite of ourselves. He turned to look at me, squeezing my hand as he smiled warmly.

"You ready for this?" he asked.

"No," I admitted immediately. "Never in a million years would I ever expect to come back here."

"Come on," he shrugged casually. "What are the odds that anything really bad will happen?"

"Ones that seem to be ever in our favor," I spat with a scowl. Peeta laughed again and put his arm around me.

"No matter what we stay together," he stated.

"No matter what," I replied instantly. Then I took a deep breath and took that last step to the lift, closing my eyes and trying not to wonder what would be on the other side of the doors when they opened next.

...


	16. Captive

Captive

Amazingly what appeared on the other side of the doors was our apartment.

"Ta da!" Effie exclaimed, using flourishing hand gestures to showcase the living room. "Isn't adorable?"

"It's… really nice," Peeta replied.

And it was. In fact despite the occasional state-of-the-art electronics, the furniture and décor were mostly high-end versions of our belongings back home. The tables, floors and chairs were made of dark wood and the plain couch was draped with a hand stitched quilt. Though run off electricity most of the lights looked like the candles or lanterns I had used in my childhood. It was extremely simple and by Capitol standards barbaric, but oddly enough I felt almost comfortable staying there.

"These are all new fixtures and appliances of course," Effie explained as she guided the tour. "But they are all done in a vintage and rustic style that's really popular. It was actually Venia, I believe, who was in charge of decorating your home."

"Venia?" I exclaimed, a slight smile spreading on my face.

"Why yes!" Effie replied happily. "He is quite the up and coming designer. Seems he grew tired of waxing and launched his own interior design firm after the Rebellion. He insisted that he get to create the atmosphere for your lodgings."

That made me smile further. No wonder everything looked so homey. He and the rest of the prep team had been to my home in Victor's Village and even the Seam before the Quell. I ended the thought there and focused on the fact that he had not only moved on successfully, but that he wanted us to be comfortable.

We followed the rest of Effie's tour, admiring the fully stocked kitchen, the garden tubs in the bathroom, the giant beds in both the master and smaller bedroom, and the cutting edge entertainment center that came equipped with virtual hunting and exercise games.

"There's also a hologram room downstairs that will emulate just about any situation you can program if you get bored, Katniss and Haymitch. Peeta, I fear you will be far too busy to play much!" Effie exclaimed.

"Are the rest of the Representatives and their Entourages in this building too?" I asked as I watched Haymitch make himself comfortable on the couch with an un opened bottle of high quality whiskey.

"Erm…no," Effie replied with a slight flicker of hesitation. It was amazing how much easier it was to read emotion on her face without the distraction of flamboyant wigs and makeup. It struck me then that that might have been one of the truer reasons for her old style choices.

"Where is everybody else?" Peeta pitched in, his tone garnished with suspicion.

"Spread out in different buildings around the Council Hall," she replied smoothly as though landing on her feet. "It was an ardent task accommodating everyone so we had to make decisions to split you all up. The Representative from District Two brought almost fifty people in his Entourage! Believe me that was no easy task. Now I suggest you all settle in, we have a big, big, big night ahead of us!"

And with that she left, her quick response and exit making the apartment feel all the smaller.

"Well that wasn't weird," I spat as soon as the doors closed.

"Sweetheart, this whole situation is butt-fuck crazy," Haymitch replied taking a deep swig of his drink. "But the whiskey sure is good. She remembered this was my favorite."

"Come on, Katniss, let's go unpack," Peeta suggested, grabbing our bags and moving them to the master bedroom.

The room itself was spacious and the large window was covered with plain crimson curtains. A large oak armoire stood along the wall, but when Peeta opened it it revealed a closet nearly as big as our kitchen back home.

"Who would ever need this much space in a closet?" Peeta exclaimed as he poked his head inside.

"Venia," I answered simply. "Did you ever see that man wear the same thing twice? Or the same thing to lunch as he did dinner for that matter?"

"True," he nodded, placing the two bags inside. "Though it makes me feel like we slightly under packed."

I gave no response and instead continued to look about the room. My eyes darted from corner to corner, wondering just where the cameras and listening devices were hidden for the government to watch our every move. Peeta sat on the bed and watched me search with a sad look on his face.

"What is it?" he asked after a while when I finally sat beside him.

"Something's…off about all this," I replied, struggling as I put the last of the pieces together.

"Yeah," Peeta agreed with a worn voice, as though disappointed that I had noticed it.

"There hasn't been a single reporter or crowd involved in this whole process," I continued. "Not a one. And this coming from a place that used to interview starving children being sent to their deaths what they ate for breakfast before they came."

"Maybe it's not what we think," he argued quietly, talking more to his knees than to me. "Maybe they're trying to spare us all of that. Maybe they don't want us to suffer all that again."

I started to speak out against his point by bringing up the insensitive way they informed the Districts of the council, but instead I held my tongue. It was easy to see the guilt he carried and almost as easy to tell why.

_"I brought us back here. I brought us back here after everything that has happened and nothing has changed. I killed us," _I could hear him say as he gathered through his thoughts.

So I spoke first.

"You're probably right," I replied as though having considered the words. "I'm sure they're just looking out for us."

Peeta seemed to smile despite himself.

"You're a terrible liar," he exhaled as he threw himself back against the mound of pillows.

"I'm serious!" I continued as I lay down next to him. "I mean honestly, if they wanted to kill us why go through all this trouble? It would have been much cheaper just to get us at home and make it look like an accident. There's no reason for them to drag us all the way out here."

_"Unless they intend to make some kind of political statement," _I added internally, but I quickly shook the thought away before he could read it in my face.

"Unless they intend on making a political statement out of it," he argued instantly.

"Dammit, Peeta! I'm supposed to be the cynical one," I pointed out. "Things are different now. We can't embrace the future if we're stuck holding on to the past."

I blurted out that last line before I even knew I was saying it. Peeta cocked an eyebrow and sat back up.

"You picked a hell of a time for your therapy to start kicking in," he laughed. I could feel myself blush as I fought off a smile. In all honesty my therapy didn't have much to do with it. Speaking weekly with Dr. Aurelius helped me form thoughts and I couldn't deny that some of his words rang true. But it was Peeta who had brought me back to sanity. Peeta and the passage of time. Coming back home thinking I had nothing left to lose, only to find Peeta and feel the pain of almost losing him again. And my second, third, tenth, hundredth chance to have him back. He had saved me more times than I could count, and it was my duty to protect him no matter what. Especially when it came to protecting him from me.

"I'm just saying we fought for something. What was the point of it if we didn't think we changed anything?" I replied defensively, scowling as I heard the sharpness of my tone.

Something was off, and it wasn't just a lack of reporters. I was actively trying to deny my instincts, the very things that had kept me alive, just to try and make Peeta _feel_ better. What did it matter what he felt if he was dead? If I wanted to care about his feelings I should drag him on to the train and then separate from him. We'd have a better chance at surviving if we split up. I was probably the one they wanted more anyways…

"We did change something," Peeta said carefully, his soft voice cutting through my escape plans. "You're absolutely right. Now we just have to finish it."

He grabbed my hand, and though the hold was light and loving he might as well have handcuffed me to him. My heart started pounding like it did on an especially tricky hunt and it was all I could do to look at him.

"So according to Effie's schedule we have thirty minutes to unpack and "take in the tranquility of our new home"," he explained, quickly skimming over the silence with a warm smile.

"Whatever that means," I answered in a shaky laugh without nearly as much scorn as I wanted. Peeta only stared at me, his smile waning as a deadly serious look filled his face. I felt my breathing stop as his blue eyes burned into me. A panicked sensation filled me and caused me to want to flee.

His lips took mine before I could move.

I had been wrong on the train. I was not the answer. Peeta could do so much better without me. He was a man of any woman's dreams, and he should spend his attentions on someone who wasn't so fucked up as to want to spurn them. I couldn't give him what he deserved, and I didn't want what he was giving me.

And yet somehow my hands were entangled in his hair, keeping his face locked to mine as he kissed me greedily. My protests and confessions died in my throat as his tongue ran across it, leaving room for only involuntary moans. I soon pushed his chin up and forced his lips back against mine, demanding the kisses I wanted nothing to do with. My chest burned with guilt and anger and fear as I ignited with lust and desire between my legs. I needed him gone. I needed him to hate me like he should. I needed him inside me. I needed him…

As though knowing I might run at any moment he rolled his body onto mine, pinning me down against the bed. His arms were strong, his chest powerful, and I knew directly how deadly his hands could be. Especially when they slipped under my blouse and lightly danced across the curves of my hips, causing a shot of ecstasy to shoot up my spine. My best chance at escape was his shattered pelvis. A few blows to the right spots would leave him weak enough for me to run. But when I was finally able to wriggle a hand between our writhing bodies to reach for his hips I felt something else. Something thick and hot and anything but weak.

Peeta moaned into my neck as my hand wrapped around it, feeling its warmth even through his slacks. I rubbed up and down his length, my own breathing going shallow as my hand began to shake.

Out of nowhere Peeta pulled away from my lips and hips. He left me breathless and dazed with his absence, which is the only reason why I remained flat on the bed. A moment later I realized too late that it had been my only window to leave. In a second he had my legs spread a part as he fit between them, canting heavily against my hips. I could feel the outline of his stiff prick rubbing against me as he thrust over and over, building me up until my thighs were soaked with my own readiness.

I moaned his name as his hands returned up my blouse, sliding across my stomach and forcing me to shiver. They then slowly began to cup my breasts. His thumbs circled along the line of my bra, gently caressing the soft and tender skin as he continued to powerfully push his hips into mine.

_"Don't!"_ I demanded in my head, screaming for him to desist. _"Stop!"_

"Don't stop!" I demanded out loud through panted breaths.

What a difference a period makes.

"Don't stop," I repeated over and over as he kissed me fervently, passionately, unyieldingly. No other thought had a place in my head. _Don't stop!_ My hands grasped at his waist, pulling him closer as I thrust against him. _Don't stop!_ Fear, danger, guilt: there was hardly room for me to take a breath, let alone feel those. _Don't stop! _Morphlin had never made me feel this good. _FUCK, DON'T STOP! _How he didn't rip my blouse unbuttoning it was a miracle and so damn not important. All that mattered was that he didn't stop: that he didn't stop kissing me, touching me, holding me, making me feel like nothing else in the world mattered but this.

My hand slid under his belt and grasped on to his cock. He gasped as he continued to thrust. It was hard and hot and smooth and caused Peeta to curse which he almost never did. My fingertips grazed against the rounded tip, and he released a shudder, a louder explicative, and a warm spurt of liquid against them.

Peeta froze. A look of horror crossed his flushed face as he looked down on me. I was stunned again at the sudden end of my euphoric state and it took me a second to realize what had happened.

"Katniss, I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, rolling off me quickly to pace back in forth in panic. Before I could respond he darted into the bathroom. I heard the quick burst of the faucet before he returned with a wet towel.

"I'm sorry," he lamented again as he started cleaning off my hand. "I didn't mean… I mean I…"

I cut him off as I burst into laughter. He pulled away, a mix of disbelief and resentment flashing across his face.

"I'm sorry!" he defended almost angrily. "That doesn't usually happen!"

"What, that didn't happen all the times other girls touched you?" I asked between laughs.

"No! I mean, there are no other girls! I…"

I should have continued laughing. I should have accused him of cheating or made him feel inept and insignificant. Anything that would have pushed him away from me. That was the key to keeping him safe.

I kissed him again. A warm and soft kiss that ended with me smiling at him with a bit lip.

"Oh, Katniss," he groaned as though melting. He lay back down on top of me, kissing me sweetly and tenderly. After a while we just lay there. I listened to his heartbeat gradually slow and return to normal as he ran his fingers lazily through my hair.

All the times I should have left bounded through my mind. I never should have agreed to move in with him after the fire. He had given me a choice and I should have just let him leave. I should have kept to my own bed instead of taking his arms to protect me from my nightmares. I should have never kissed him in the hospital, or in the kitchen, or on the train, or just now. I could have stayed back in District Twelve and had ample time to run and hide my tracks so no one could ever find me.

Maybe if I had done at least one of those things I wouldn't be lying on his chest wishing I could lay next to him forever.

Forever ended with the lyrical sound of harps emanating from Peeta's glowing tablet.

TIME TO PREPARE FOR FURTHER DEBRIEFING WITH OTHER REPRESENTATIVES

DURATION: 1 HOUR

UPCOMING EVENTS: FURTHER DEBREIFING WITH OTHER REPRESENTATIVES

AND INFORMAL BANQUET OF HONOR FOR REPRESNTATIVES AND THEIR ENTOURAGES

HAVE A WONDERFUL TIME, PEETA MELLARK!

I sat quietly as the lights and dreamy voice descended back into the device.

"And I thought Thirteen's schedules were annoying," I grumbled, as I rolled off his chest.

"True," Peeta laughed. "But after what just happened I could probably benefit from a shower."

I smiled as he leaned back in to kiss me, and was happy he showed no signs of resistance when I threw my arms around his neck to deepen the contact. For another moment thoughts of showers and schedules were forgotten as I lost myself once more in pleasure, until I suddenly felt the undeniable feeling we were not alone.

I pulled away just as the door swung open and a well-dressed woman in her early thirties stepped in.

"Oh. I didn't mean to interrupt. I was under the impression you knew I was coming."

Though her tone had a hint of surprise mixed into it, it was as authoritative as ever.

"Paylor!" I exclaimed, suddenly very aware that my shirt was unbuttoned.

"Hey, the President of Panem in on her way," Haymitch called from the hall as he walked in wearing a plush robe. "You might want to freshen up."

"Ah," was all she said.

"Ms. President," Peeta called out respectfully, smoothing down his hair. "It's a pleasure seeing you again."

"Paylor is fine in present company," she stated. "And I honestly wish I could say the same about you."

Ice filtered through my veins at her sentence. Suddenly all my fears and paranoia were justified at that simple sentence. I wanted to look down, to run, to fight, anything but sit there idly as those words forced all sound from the room. I had purposefully distracted myself with false hope, self-told lies and the lure of Peeta's arms, shallowly thinking that it would make it all better. That life now could be like the end of one of the stories I read to the kids where a white, nameless flower that folded in on itself released hope and joy onto the world.

I sat there and watched as Paylor's gaze settled on me unflinchingly.

"That was rude of me," she said stoically. "Some of my advisors have told me that I am too blunt and scare off the voters. Never mind that I used to face some of them with an automatic weapon, now I have to be charming."

"What do you mean you wish you could say the same about us?" Peeta asked urgingly, worry flashing across his face.

"She didn't say "us"," I interjected without emotion, for once reading someone's true meaning better than Peeta. "There's just one of us she doesn't want here."

Paylor nodded. She walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains, revealing a scene of busy people walking hurriedly down the street. The view was at eye level, but we could be fifty stories in the air or a mile underground for all that mattered.

"We're still at war here," Paylor breathed as though disgusted with the sight. "Only this time the enemy's not as simple. The rules and the arena have changed. It's no longer kill or be killed. The atrocities that are half-forgivable during a fight are taboo and repulsive during "peace". Now we have to use our words and rhetoric. Compromise. Make no one happy so everyone is happy. Find some damn way to feed and educate everybody without us killing one another."

"And the Mocking Jay has no place in this new world," I finished for her, climbing off the bed and rising to my feet.

"Yes…and no," she stated so simply it almost wasn't cryptic.

"Despite everything a lot of people still love the idea of you. You represented rebellion, freedom, hope. Though this government has yet to fulfill certain promises most people feel that they are better off because of you. Even citizens of the Capitol still wear Mocking Jay pins, write songs about you, speak of you."

"But the ones who don't love the idea of me," I led on, ready to get to the point despite the anxious look on Peeta's face.

"They are silent on the matter, for now," Paylor pursed. "There was a strong reaction to what we did with you. Many felt like we had abandoned you after your service, but a few…powerful… individuals thought we let you off too easy. They felt like you had ruined countless lives and worse, destroyed the world they had worked so hard to build. They wanted you punished. They wanted to go after you."

Peeta tensed up like those people were in the room, ready to snatch me away for torture at any second. Even Haymitch lowered his glass of whiskey, entranced by Paylor's story.

"And why didn't they?" I inquired steadily.

"Because I let it be known that if you died in District Twelve from anything but old age you would be martyrized so fast the whole nation would be at each other's throats trying to find who killed you."

That came as a shock even to me. My words and thoughts caught in my throat as I stuttered for a response.

"Why would you do that?" I finally asked softly. "Why would you jeopardize the peace of the entire nation for me?"

"Because it wasn't just about you. I did it to save everyone who risked their lives for the Rebellion. They gave all and are now in some ways in more danger than ever before, as their enemies think they have nothing left to lose. It is my job to make sure that they are protected, and you are quite literally the symbol of that group," she stated.

Once again I was shocked into silence. I could see the depth of her convictions despite her emotionless face. She didn't look at the Presidency as the highest seat of power for all those to serve. She saw it as a burden laden with responsibilities to help and protect the nation and all of those in it. I didn't think I could respect her any more than I did at that moment.

"So what happens now that she's not in District Twelve?" Haymitch asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"Therein lies the problem," Paylor replied. "When you were out of sight you were mostly out of mind. Katniss was idealized on both sides, mostly remembered fondly, and it was generally agreed upon that you should be left alone. But now that she's here old memories will return. The public will demand to see her, feeling they have a right to her life. They will want to know what you've been doing, how you've been, how crazy you really are and if you had been crazy the whole time. That will cause people in power, elected officials, judges, commanders, all to have you brought forward and re-tried in court."

"They can't do that!" Peeta declared swiftly.

"Of course they can't," Paylor replied impatiently. "She's been pardoned. Nearly everyone has been and they will be _reminded_ of that fact. Unfortuently what is more worrisome is perception, not legality."

"I don't understand," Peeta spat bitterly as he brimmed over with frustration.

"It's obvious," Haymitch replied, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the President. "She wants to show Katniss off, but only at certain times and in specific lights. It's District Thirteen all over again."

"Don't be so dramatic," Paylor scowled. "We're not trying to cover up a threat by claiming she had been nuked."

"But you want to dress me up and act like everything was bad but now is alright," I pointed out, fighting my anger as I suppressed feeling like I was back on the Victory Tour.

"All I'm asking is that you quietly attend a few public events to support your District and your husband, and when anyone asks about you you simply say you are only here for Peeta's sake and you wish to keep your privacy. Where is there a lie in that?" she inquired.

I mulled that over quietly. The idea of being carted around for show appalled me to my very core, but at the same time I saw Paylor's point. I had spent so much time trying to forget the Capitol I had never dreamed it was still remembering me. Paylor had stuck her neck out to protect me, and once more I had always trusted her. And I had done far more appalling things than what she was asking of me. I reflexively put my hand into my pocket, rolling the white pearl around in my fingers.

"What do I need to do?" I asked determinedly.

"You need to keep your head down," Paylor said simply, "and follow orders."

"We're all doomed," Haymitch snorted, downing the last of his whiskey as he walked out of the room. I immediately turned to Peeta. His blue eyes were filled with worry and his skin was tinged green as though nauseous. Despite the seriousness of the situation I couldn't help but feel indignant towards the two men who supposedly loved me.

"Just tell me what to do and I'll do it," I stated firmly.

"Freshen up for the dinner," she replied, "be anti-social for all I care. Just try not to kill anyone."

"I won't if you won't" I answered quickly.

A rare smile crosses the President's face.

"Deal."

"Just one more thing," I added hastily, catching her before she left. "Why are you going through all of this trouble to protect me here? Why not just force me back to District Twelve?"

"Because we're building a democracy, and Peeta was elected by the people." Her answer was stated concretely, like her reasons were more than obvious. As though for further clarification she turned to a tight mouthed Peeta and addressed him.

"Would you stay here without her?" she asked. A muscle spasmed in Peeta's cheek.

"No."

"Well there's your answer. No you, no Peeta. No Peeta, no democracy. If there's no democracy than what the hell was the point? I'll see you two at dinner."

She left with no further goodbye. The second the door shut behind I felt my legs grow heavy. I sat down quickly on the bed. Without even thinking about it I had assumed Peeta would join me, and was therefore slightly disoriented when he instead made his way to the closet.

"What are you doing?" I asked as he started grabbing our still packed bags.

"Getting our stuff," he answered determinedly. "We're leaving."

"No!" I exclaimed ardently, springing to my feet. "I can't let you leave now!"

"And I can't let you be locked up here because it's a known fact how dangerous it is for you to leave," he said firmly. "I'm not going to put you through that."

"It's alright," I pressed. "I'll be fine as long as we do what Paylor says. I trust her."

Peeta's hard look did not soften at my admission as I expected, if anything it grew fiercer.

"And what happens when you can't stand being captive anymore, huh? What happens when you decide you can't play their game anymore and try to break free?"

His voice cracked on the last word, and I saw his face fall as he turned to grab another bag.

"You don't trust me?" I inquired, both defensively and hurtfully.

"I trust you to be you," he answered, the last of his harshness falling away. "I'm not going to ask you to be the Capitol's captive. How could I ask you that?"

He shook his head, the question poised more to himself than to me.

"You're not asking me, I'm choosing to stay." I softly grabbed his face and turned it to look at me. "I promise I'll behave."

Peeta couldn't help but laugh at my statement, and instantly I knew I had deterred him. He rest his head against my palm as my fingertips lightly brushed his blonde curls.

"Just promise me you'll be safe," he asked intently. "Promise me you won't put yourself in danger."

"I promise," I replied adamantly. He let out a deep breath of acceptance and placed his forehead on top of mine. I swear in this position I could almost hear his thoughts. I could feel his anxiousness for me, his battle against his dark thoughts and urges that grew stronger as each obstacle in the Capitol presented himself, and the pressure that filled him from his duties as Representative. I ached for his anguish. With every fiber of my being I wished I had his way with words so I could know what to say to make him feel better.

"Peeta," I began softly.

That was apparently good enough, as his lips took mine desperately before I could say another word. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders as I met his hunger. He kissed me in passionate freanzy, and though my blood rushed as it had done earlier that day I knew he did not embrace me out of lust. He kissed me because he needed to make sure that I was really there. That I was okay. That I was with him.

My hands grabbed the cloth of his shirt and pulled him to me so hard my back slammed against the wall. He released another laugh as he kissed my face and neck. I jumped up and wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him as close as possible until…

TIME TO PREPARE FOR FURTHER DEBRIEFING WITH OTHER REPRESENTATIVES

DURATION: 30 MINUTES

UPCOMING EVENTS: FURTHER DEBREIFING WITH OTHER REPRESENTATIVES

AND INFORMAL BANQUET OF HONOR FOR REPRESNTATIVES AND THEIR ENTOURAGES

HAVE A WONDERFUL TIME, PEETA MELLARK!

I slid down to my feet after Peeta grunted in frustration.

"You better shower," I told him. "They'll expect you to smell like roses."

Peeta rolled his eyes and gave me one last kiss before heading towards the bathroom. I felt the pressure and comfort of his lips on mine long after I heard the water start to run. I sat on the bed and looked around, trying to keep the solace of knowing that I was doing the right thing, that I was doing this to help Peeta after everything that he had sacrificed for me.

I sighed and told myself I wanted to be there as I looked around my room.

My nice, cozy, customized prison cell.


	17. How Then Could I Be Blamed?

How Then Could I Be Blamed?

We had been at the Capitol for almost two months and so far no one had tried to kill us.

At least not to my knowledge.

I say that because the majority of the time that I had been there I had been stuck in our apartment, which I was pretty certain was buried half a mile underground. When I did get a chance to go out it was a highly staged, highly secured affair. A few private dinners and luncheons with the other Representatives and their Entourages, and a "casual" walk with Peeta in a closed park that took four days to plan with half the city's police force standing guard just out of camera shot. It was set up as a photo op and leaked to the press that afternoon in an attempt to give the gossip hungry citizens proof that I was alive and still married. I did my best to try and ignore the crowd and focus on enjoying the sun on my face and a chance to spend some time with Peeta.

For while I was quarantined underground Peeta was whisked away from meeting to luncheon to hearings to lobby councils to dinners to something called "after dinners" to more meetings. Most nights he all but collapsed into our bed in exhaustion, hardly able to keep his eyes open long enough to tell me about the progression of the Council. Delegations were going painstakingly slow. Each District argued fiercely for their own causes. Peeta had found himself disappointedly at ends with the Representative of District Eight, someone he thought he could ally with as one of the other Districts who had been bombed heavily during the Second Rebellion. Avalon Holt argued that the majority of the reparation funds should be sent to Eight for rebuilding instead of being shared with Twelve.

"Why should a District with less than a thousand people be given the same amount of funds as a District with over 50 times the number?" Holt argued emphatically.

Peeta's counter-argument was that while District Eight indeed had far more people, the bombings in Twelve destroyed nearly ALL of the property in the area and killed a much higher percentage of the population. District Eight's factories needed to be rebuilt, updated even to increase the safety and comfort of its workers. Rubble needed to be cleared and trees planted to inspire hope and filter the generations worth of carbon dioxide that poisoned the air. But without its fair share of funding District Twelve would have no future. So far only most of the three hundred surviving citizens of Twelve and about half as many citizens from Thirteen lived in the District. Without job incentives and a welcoming environment the District would inevitably die off.

"Surely you have learned by now that sometimes it's just better to let _certain things_ die," Holt replied.

"He said what?!" I demanded when he relayed the story to me. "How did you not kill him?"

"Harrow beat me to it," Peeta grinned.

I sat back on the bed, imagining the seven foot tall muscular Representative from Eleven stepping between Peeta and the squirrelly Holt. I bet he wet himself.

Peeta did have a few reliable allies on the Council. As he had hoped Harrow from Eleven and Drover from Ten readily sided with him, as did the prudent Terren from Thirteen. He believed Sophia from Four was sympathetic to the outlying Districts and would side with them if it didn't overtly impact her District. Paylor seemed displeased with her District's choice in Holt and Peeta knew she would not allow Twelve to be left out, but she only cast her vote in the event that the thirteen Districts and the Capitol needed a tie broken.

Five, Six,and Nine were moderate independents. They seemed open minded to suggestion and their desires and voting habits had no rhythm. Bolton from Three never showed any emotion and while often siding with the Inner Districts he could often surprise the Council with his decisions. Starla from the Capitol was also unreadable. A former popstar and a three time mistress of successful politicians, she smoozed, charmed and manipulated everyone she spoke to for her own personal gain, though what she seemed to wanted changed more frequently than her hair color. She seemed especially fond of Peeta. She always worked to sit by him at meetings or meals and seemed to always be touching him.

Hot jealousy filled me every time I saw him politely laugh at her whispered jokes. I often daydreamed about snapping her heavily ringed fingers after watching her constantly place them on his biceps.

However what I really needed to worry about were the Representatives from One, Two and Five. They were the ones who constantly blocked funding and reparations to the outer Districts. Titan from One was a runner-up Career whose family practically ran the District. With the Capitol's money being redistributed and the fashion toning down the luxury business that ran the area was in sharp decline.

Titan was easy enough to understand, but Jacob from Seven was a complete mystery. Seven's chief resource was timber from their vast forests. Wouldn't they benefit from reconstruction? But Peeta believed Jacob feared the government mandating they sell their wood below market prices so it could be affordable to the poorer Districts without the Capitol having to subsidize. If Jacob aligned himself with the opposing side it could be assumed his allies would veto said mandates.

Peeta thought this because of Ram, the Representative from District Two. He was the brains behind the Inner Districts. Small and dark in stature, he frighteningly reminded me of Clove. His eyes were black and extremely intelligent looking. I tensed up every time I was around him, always making sure my blade was close at hand.

Worst of all he seemed to have a vendetta against Peeta, especially as Peeta insistently called him by his full name after researching it on his tablet.

"I just can't be intimidated by a man named Ramekin," he laughed, bringing up a 3D picture of the small, delicate baking dish used to make cakes and soufflés.

I saw nothing to laugh about in antagonizing that man. The way Peeta talked it was clear Ram intended to stop the flow of money from reaching the Outer Districts in order for it to stay circulating in the Inner like it had before the Rebellion. He already had Starla, Titan and Jacob sold on that point. Bolton and Sophia from Three and Four were also accustomed to more than their fair share of money. With six votes already in his pocket it only took convincing one of the moderates to side with him to leave District Twelve and the other Outer regions suffering in poverty.

Peeta was giving his all to ensure it didn't come down to that. He actively sympathized with the Middle's plight and usually voted favorably towards them. On top of that he strove to gain a report with those from the Inner he could see being friendly. In order to not get completely shut out he thanked Sophia for her occasional support and suffered Starla's affections.

At least that's what I told myself when it came to him and that Capitol harlot.

Needless to say Peeta had a lot on his plate. The Council met five days a week and he slept through most of the weekend. I struggled each night to stay up for him. I told him it was because it was the only chance each day I could actually spend time with him, but the way he anxiously called me when he knew he would be late and the way he embraced me when he got home made me know he knew the real reason.

I was terrified to fall asleep without him. Each day when he left I felt certain he would never return. I constantly searched our apartment for listening devices or bombs thinking the Capitol was just biding their time before they exterminated us. It was only when he finally came home that I was able to breathe.

I did my best to try and stay busy while Peeta was gone. Mostly to keep my mind from slipping into crippling paranoia and anxiety, partially to keep the Capitol from finally killing me with a new secret weapon: boredom.

The novelty of the nice apartment quickly wore off. We didn't have a TV at home and I couldn't get myself to sit still and gain interest in it. I tried to watch the news but found I could not distinguish between it and the thousands of entertainment gossip shows. Only rarely did something of actual importance seem to come up and even then I doubted its validity.

My doubts were soon founded a week in, when I was eating breakfast. I was so taken aback by the caption on the screen I almost choked on my toast.

MOCKING JAY KATNISS PREGNANT AGAIN!

I was transfixed to the screen, flipping between a dozen channels as they all analyzed a picture of me, focusing in on my slightly swollen belly. I immediately lifted up my shirt and stared at my concaved abdomen. For a whole week hour segments were dedicated to the picture of me wearing an ill-fitting shirt with a smiling Peeta holding my hand. Peeta publically denied the claims, but that only sparked rumors that it wasn't his baby. Accusations ran rampant, claiming the father to be anyone from Haymitch to Havensbee. Random men I had never met were bragging that it was theirs.

Thus the need for the heavily publicized photo op, with me wearing a tight fitting dress that showed I wasn't showing. The headlines then varied from sympathy for us as I had obviously miscarried and would probably never be able to have children, to the fact that I was intentionally starving myself to death and had killed the baby. Reasons varied from the ever popular "it wasn't his baby" to "she's still obviously a danger to herself and others."

There was no more TV after that. I threw it in front of an oncoming subway train. The shirt and dress I burned in the kitchen.

Needless to say I then began desperately searching out productive ways to spend my time. While my mobility was limited I still had a range of options. The subway below our apartment would take me to pre-authorized places if I scheduled them in advanced. I spent a lot of my morning's at Effie's terrace apartment.

Though she had prolifically toned down her lifestyle her home was elegant and luxurious. She had her own rooftop garden filled with more flowers than I could count. On principle I thought growing flowers pointless as you couldn't eat most of them. But her garden was usually the only time I could safely be outside and tending to the growing things made me feel less useless. I tended to stay clear of her roses, but I found myself delighted when I came across the beautiful white flower that folded into itself that inspired the story and song I had sang to the children back home.

"It's a Calla Lily," Effie explained. "They're an ambiguous little flower. People used to associate them with death as they were the traditional flower for funerals, but their ancient meaning was to inspire hope and rebirth."

_No wonder I'm so fond of them,_ I thought to myself as I meticulously pulled the beginnings of a weed from the area.

I spent a lot of my afternoons with Dr. Aurelius. His practice was flourishing, especially after word got out that he treated both Peeta and myself. I held no worries about him telling my secrets to the press. Mostly because I never really told him any but also because I trusted him. His office was huge and comfortable. Apparently he charged the highest rates in the Capitol to its citizens.

"It makes me psychologically more desirable to them," he explained. "And I thought the shut-ins from Thirteen were fucked up."

His services to anyone from Thirteen remained free of charge, which extended to Peeta and me as we had been made citizens during our stay there. He rarely asked me how I was doing. Mostly we played board games as he anonymously regaled me with the inner demons of the Capitol's most prominent citizens.

He tried to teach me chess as he had done with Peeta, but I got frustrated too easily as I didn't have a mind for strategy. We then started to play a card game that was more based around luck and violent reflexes to slap the pile of cards first when a certain pattern arrived. I liked the game and was very good at it.

I tried not to think about what that meant about me.

The rest of the time I spent with Haymitch. And by spending time with Haymitch I mean drinking with Haymitch. I didn't obliterate myself like he did. I drank just enough to pass the time and entertain myself, while always stopping at certain time to sober up before Peeta got home. Which by recent schedules meant midnight.

Still I never complained, and when he got home I put a big, housewife smile on my face as I rubbed his shoulders and asked him about his day. And so what if I had picked up a few strange habits along the way? So what if I constantly popped my knuckles and took a lot of showers and stared at the wall and picked up social drinking? I was still there, right? Both physically and emotionally? I hadn't checked out and slipped back into despair, I never acted on impulses to attack my sociable captors, and I definitely ignored the loose vent on the top of the elevator shaft. The private, camera free elevator shaft that, sure, had sensors on it to let whoever was privately in charge of watching me know what floor the elevator was on, but still could go down to the subway or up to an abandoned building on the far side of town.

There was no need to think of such things. I was a good, completely sane, promise keeping wife who was there for the purpose of keeping Peeta from worrying about me. Which I did. So no reason to worry about anything else.

I held firm to this thought constantly. Even when I felt like I was going to snap. Even when confinement and resentment and depression tore me up from the inside. Nothing in my constant, mind-destroying routine would ever get me to break my promise to Peeta.

How then, after years of isolation, could I be blamed for not anticipating a knock on my front door?

* * *

As I stared face to face with my enemy I felt all reason and inhibitions flee my body. I had no room for such nonsense, as the pure disgusting hatred for the putrid being that stood in front of me was all consuming. They stood so assumingly in front of me, acting as if they were meant to be there. It made me sick. This person had ruined my life. They had lied to me, manipulated me, torn me to a thousand pieces with their whim and indecision and cruelty. It was because of them that I had suffered so irreparably. It was their fault my family was dead. Their fault nearly everyone I knew had been bombed. It was their fault my head was so fucked up and I couldn't close my eyes without reliving countless nightmares.

I hated them. I needed to kill them.

I lashed out before they had a chance to speak. Taken by surprise I was able to latch my hands around their neck, slowly crushing their wind pipe and bones. A flash of seeing Cato snap that Tribute's neck surfaced in my mind. There was a technique to doing it efficiently, one I was not trained in, but that hardly seemed to matter at a time like this. There really was no wrong way to snap a neck. The more pain inflicted the better.

My captive began to scream and cry and beg for mercy. The sweet music of revenge was the most beautiful sound I have ever heard. I could have gone listening to it forever, if not for the uncontrollable need for me to kill the piece of shit flailing in my hands.

Eventually their gasps became more desperate and their struggles more like spasms than anything else. I turned their face to look at me as the last of their life escaped their body. I wanted to look in their eyes as they died. I wanted the last thing they ever saw to be the hatred in my face as I murdered them, to know that they deserved all of this and more. I wanted them to feel like the worthless, lying scum that they were.

"Peeta, please!" Katniss choked out, her usual sullen face growing red with suffocation. I stared into those haunting grey eyes I had stupidly fallen in love with as the fighting glow dimmed out of them. I spit on her face before twisting my hands as hard and fast as I could…


	18. This Is Real

This Is Real

My eyes flung open as the unforgettable sound of a neck being snapped echoed through my head.

I continued to lie almost completely still. I never really screamed or tossed during my nightmares. My heart maintained a steady beat even seconds after I awoke. It was only after I gained consciousness and evaluated my dream that my adrenaline began to flow and the overwhelming anxiety set in. For, unlike Katniss, I didn't feel the fear and the heartache and the despair as my subconscious replayed old horrors and constructed new fears. I only ever had the one dream. The one nightmare. The one soul-destroying all too real hallucination.

Every time my too-strong hands would wrap themselves around her neck and crush the life from her.

And every time in my dream I enjoyed doing it.

I quickly propped myself up and looked down at the figure sleeping next to me. Katniss' breathing was deep and regular, her face peaceful and beautiful. My hands finally relaxed their grip on the sheets I hadn't even realized I'd been clutching. I sat up and steadied my breathing as I looked around. Nothing shined in the darkness. Nothing and no one was there who shouldn't be. Katniss moved gently in her sleep, hogging more of the blankets as I was no longer defending my share.

"Real," I told myself quietly, gently covering her bare shoulder. "This is real."

If we were back at our home in District Twelve that was all that I would have needed to fall back asleep. I would have brushed her hair behind her ear and felt the pulse in her neck until mine matched. I would have secured my arm around her waist and let her warmth lull me back to sleep.

If we were back home I would only dream one night in every ten. The night before I was nominated as Representative I had even managed to wake myself up before I killed her.

But we were in the Capitol. And worse, we were in an undisclosed location in the Capitol that had no windows you could open. I had been hijacked in an undisclosed location in the Capitol that had no windows you could open. Rationally I knew it was not the same place. Even if I didn't trust that Paylor and Effie would never send me back there (which I did), I could _feel_ the difference. The clinic where Hijacked Peeta was born was cold and sterile and filled with reflective surfaces. I could see myself and everything else reflected over and over and over again, each image smaller and shinier than the next.

Dr. Aurelius had told me that the reflections were meant to further disorient me into not trusting anything to be the way that it appeared to be. It also made the shining hallucinations that followed me more common place, more acceptable to my realm of reality.

I knew I did not sleep in the same place. But what I did not know was how close I was to there. 10 miles? 10 blocks? 10 feet? And the people that tended to me, where were they? Where was the woman whose skin shined like she had cooking spray on her face who cut my hair and shaved me? Where was the smiling old man who brought me food dosed with Morphling and anti-psychotics?

And where was that scientist that stuck needles straight into my brain and told me of all the horrible ways Katniss had played with me, starved me, tried to kill me? The one who made Hijacked Peeta and placed him inside me to where he would never truly go away?

I didn't even have to close my eyes for those nightmares to appear in the Capitol. Half the time I felt on the urge of a nervous breakdown when I walked the streets, and during the other half I saw…too many things. Things that shouldn't be there.

I placed a kiss on Katniss' forehead before getting up and walking to the bathroom. With the door closed behind me I turned on the light and headed straight to the sink to wash my face. The cool water felt good against my heated skin and I let the water drip off before I stared solemnly at my reflection. I was disappointed to see my eyes looked sunken in and slightly blood shot, but I couldn't say I was surprised. That's how I tended to look when I refused sleep.

With a causal flick of my hand I popped open the mirror and stared at the medicine cabinet behind it. A half empty bottle of thick red and green pills stared back at me. I picked it up and let it sit in my hands. It was thanks to these pills that I had been able to regain my sanity. Aurelius had put me on them when I was recovering in the Capitol after the Rebellion. I didn't know exactly how they worked. He said they were supposed to suppress the parts of my brain that had been hijacked. Whatever they were they definitely helped me sort through my hallucinations. The green ones for days slowed down my emotional reactions and speeded up my thought processes. When I thought or felt something that was triggered by my hijacking I was able to reason it away before reacting. With months of therapy and a strict regimen I had graduated my use from "thrice daily" to "as needed". I usually only took the green pills when I felt anxious. Taking them too frequently would numb me out physically but speed my mind significantly, making me feel like I was trapped within my own body.

The red pills however were a complete necessity. They put me into a quick and mostly dreamless sleep. They dulled the intensity of the dreams when they managed to slip by the barrier. It made the dream hazier, less coherent. For without the pills I still only ever had the same dream: the complete and unabridged program of my hijacking. Every lie and false memory they had stuck in my brain played itself out in dreams each night. Authentic flashes of the arenas, the killings I had committed, the indescribable anguish of my leg…and Katniss.

I saw Katniss laughing at me, Katniss lying to me. I saw Katniss telling me she loved me and then running off to kiss Gale who could hunt and was tall and had two legs and was more of a man than me. I saw Katniss who had cut my leg with a sword and tried to throw me to the dogs and burn me alive because she was the girl on fire. I saw Katniss who had murdered my family and my friends and my Districtmen because she was an evil, Capitol-built Mutt who must be destroyed. I saw Katniss who I had to kill before she killed me.

And then I saw Katniss every time when I woke up with a content heart pumping boiling blood. I would see Katniss and know my job was not finished. I would see Katniss sleeping next to me and reach for my knife to slit her throat before I would feel anxious enough to take my green pills and rationalize my thoughts.

That's why I had to take the red pills. Even when it meant suffering through the pain of losing my leg again without Morphling. I would never be able to reconstruct my sanity and reality with my nightly refresher course of hatred. Without them I would never have a shot of being me again, and the Capitol would have won. If I didn't take the red pills I could never share a bed with the woman I loved and shield her away from her own nightmares in the way she said only I could. The red pills allowed me to rebuild my life.

But most important of all they helped me keep Katniss safe. I still sometimes feared that returning to Twelve had been a mistake. I wanted nothing more than to be with her, to hold her through her terrors and make her smile with any stupid joke or goofy action I could think of. But I was afraid, still afraid, that the hijacking would beat through my desires and intentions.

I had already hurt her twice. The first time I could almost forgive myself for, but I would never forget how easily I broke her hand when she had been holding it in the hospital. She lied to me, telling me she had injured it in the fight with the Capitol doctors, but I knew better. I knew better because some sick, repulsive side of me got off on the idea that I had hurt her, the side that despite therapy would always exist and could only be blanketed over with my medication. I could never trust myself to be around her without them.

And yet last night I had intentionally not taken the red pills.

It was a stupid decision, I knew, but being back in the Capitol had changed me again. The stress from Council mixed with all my terrors of returning to the place that had tried so hard to kill me had made my nightmares stronger, my hallucinations more real. I had started taking the green pills daily once again and had doubled my usual dose of the red just to cope. I had managed to make it through two months without a major episode.

But the price of my sanity seemed to be paid by Katniss. When I came home from the grueling, vindictive task of arguing for something as simple as clean air for my District for thirteen indecisive hours it was all I could do to talk to another human being, let alone be interesting to them. The moment I walked through the door I wanted to drop to the ground and sleep. I loved and hated that Katniss was always awake waiting for me. The small smile she gave me as a greeting and the way she instantly curled up into my lap when I joined her on the bed reminded me of why I was doing what I was doing. I was no longer Representative Mellark who was hated by half the Council for campaigning against the new Treasury being rebuilt in Eight, tying up already knotted legislation into hours of more irritating debate. I was simply Peeta, her boy with the bread. I wanted nothing more than to just lie and with her and enjoy her for hours. Unfortunately the moment we curled up into bed I started nodding off in exhaustion. Katniss had even started handing me a glass of water and my pills before I sat down.

This meant I got about thirty waking minutes a day with her, opposed to the countless hours we had at home. I spent the majority of my time at Council meetings worrying about how she was doing. I could see and sense the changes in her, even in the little time we managed to have. Her hair had gone limp from washing it several times a day. There was a red mark on her chin I had recently learned was from her tapping it repeatedly with her finger like a woodpecker against a tree. The room in the apartment would go from spotless clean to a complete wreck to spotless clean every time I stepped foot in it.

And there was no way I could miss her new nightly liquor habit.

I felt at a loss of what to do. She wasn't acting like she had when she first came to stay with me. She wasn't slipping into despair or doing mindless tasks until she crashed into exhaustion. Instead she was acting like a baby mouse I had once found shivering in the bakery sink when I was nine. I had watched my mother kill its mother the night before, and I knew its moments were numbered if I left it there. So I had slipped the little guy into my apron and hid him in a clear plastic box under my bed. I gave him food and water and even a little wheel to run in. He grew bigger and fatter and would crawl around my shoulders and tickle my face with his whiskers. In my child's mind I felt like I had made him happy, but even then I couldn't help but notice how as time wore on his energy slowed. He started to wash his face so much that he rubbed his fur right off and he slowly began to walk in circles for hours on end chasing his tail. I had worried about my mouse then too. Did he miss living out in the meadow or wonder where his mother went? Now I know those were foolish questions, as mice probably don't have that great of a memory, but still I found myself torn on if it was better to set him free to give him short lived happiness or keep him safe and alive but miserable.

My brother Samus made the decision for me by telling my mother about my unauthorized pet. I had come home from school to find his head chopped off. My mother made me clean the knife and throw the body away, after receiving a physical and mental beating over wasting our food to feed such vermin.

Katniss was acting like a wild animal put into captivity. One who knew she was safer inside then out, one who was well fed and given a wheel to run in. But that made her no less trapped. And me being gone all of the time didn't help.

So last night I had cheeked the pills she had given to me and resolved to stay up instead. There was no sleep without violent nightmares, but the dosage I needed to keep me docile basically put me into a coma Katniss would never wake me from unless I had Council business. But if I stayed awake I would be nightmare free, and could spend the good part of the day with her.

I hadn't thought about how easy it was to fall asleep with her next to me though. It wasn't something I had ever really tried fighting before. I had laid there for what felt like hours reveling in the way she clung to me in her sleep. I knew her own dreams were haunting her when her grip got tighter. I would hold her back, lightly brushing and kissing her hair as I whispered words of love and comfort to her. I laughed when she all but rolled on top of me like a blanket, nuzzling her face into my neck as she finally calmed and slept peacefully. The last thing I remember wondering was if she did this every night before my nightmare started.

I shook the pills in my hand and slammed them down on the sink. It was stupid of me not to have taken them. It was lucky that I only had to suffer dreaming about my hatred instead of acting on it like I could have. Better that I take the pills and sleep than deal without them and hurt her.

"You're too hard on yourself, Peeta," a familiar voice called out. "Give yourself a break."

I grimaced at the sound. Not because it was surprising, but because even in my state I knew what it meant. I closed the door to the medicine cabinet to see the grinning, empathetic face of Caesar Flickerman staring back at me.

"I really don't have time for this, Caesar," I told him politely.

"Nonsense! I know you need to talk to someone. We always have the best conversations, don't we?" he inquired, asking the last part of the sentence as if addressing the non-existent audience behind me.

"I'm not going to talk to you," I stated firmly. "You're not real."

"Of course I'm real! We talked just the other week!" he proclaimed.

"But that wasn't in my bathroom. That was on TV," I pointed out.

"I go to the bathroom all the time! It's how I stay so fresh looking. Tell me, do I smell like roses?" he asked, holding out his neck for me to sniff. I froze, unable to argue against his logic. Stranger things had happened. Why shouldn't Caesar Flickerman be in my mirror talking to me? He was just trying to console me after all I had been through. After two games and a rebellion. After I had lost my entire family. After the girl I loved had killed them all and was trying to finish the job by getting me…

"NO!" I yelled, taking a step back from the shining figure in the mirror. "No that's not real! None of its real!"

"Oh, so your family isn't dead? You aren't missing a leg and burned on more than half of your body?" Caesar asked, looking at the stitching of burns on my arms that passed my sleeves.

"No, I am, but Katniss! Katniss didn't do those things. Katniss is not a mutt. She's my…my…"

"Lover? Girlfriend? Wife?" Caesar tutted. "Has she ever called herself those things? Expressed her desire to be with you in that way?"

"Shut up, Caesar!" I demanded, covering my ears as quick as I could.

"What about love? Has she ever once told you that she loved you back? Has she said the words, Peeta my dear?"

"I said SHUT UP!" I shouted, a buzzing sound filling the room as Caesar stepped through the mirror and began backing me into the corner.

"She's at least fucking you, right? I mean for heaven's sake the least she could do after all she's put you through is fuck you!"

"FUCK YOU!" I shouted, launching myself at the smirking figure in front of me. I balled my fist and connected directly against his cold and shiny cheek. Instantly I felt the pricks of a dozen Tracker Jackers stinging my hand as they flew menacingly out of Caesar's laughing mouth.

"No! No, get away from me! Not again! Nooooo!"

"PEETA!"

Katniss' shriek cut through the buzzing sound of the Tracker Jackers that filled the room. My heart pounded as Caesar stood behind her, holding a long spear like the one I had in the first Game. He pointed it at her back, his eyes growing determined as his face slowly melted into Snow's. Snow lifted his arm to jab the spear straight through her.

"NO!" I cried out, scrambling to get between them. I felt a sharp pain in my arms as trickles of my blood began to stain the floor.

"Peeta, it's not real!" Katniss cried out through frightened tears. "It's not real, it's not real, it's not real!"

She clutched my face so I was forced to look at hers. My breathing slowed and for a single instant all I could think about was how close she was and how easy it would be for me to bash her head against the sink. My hatred was instantly replaced with horror at the thought. Snow vanished before my eyes along with the angry swarm of Tracker Jackers. It was only then that I realized I was on the floor, my arms embedded with the shards of the mirror I had apparently punched.

"Katniss," I choked out in a gasp, terror, shame and relief filling me. I all but collapsed into her arms as she held me, mussing with my hair as she rocked me back and forth.

"It wasn't real," she continued to say as if she needed to speak the words just as much as I needed to hear them.

"I know," I replied with a shaky voice. "I know now. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Katniss. I didn't mean to scare you or hurt you."

"It's okay," she assured in that slightly embarrassed tone she got whenever I tried to get emotionally intimate. "And you'll be okay, just give me your arm…"

I watched as she removed the pieces of glass using a pair of tweezers. It wasn't as bad as it looked, I was mostly just scratched. She wet a towel and gently dabbed the blood away.

"I hate how familiar I am with seeing you like this," she spat almost angrily as she patted my arm dry with a fresh cloth. My heart dropped to my stomach at the statement as guilt replaced the warming sensation I was feeling at her contact.

"I'm sorry. I know my spells are a burden on you…"

"No, that's not what I meant at all!" Katniss expressed, tightening her grip on me so I couldn't pull away.

"I just hate seeing you in pain," she reiterated, her voice wavering slightly as she fought off another round of tears. "I hate that they hijacked you so they could torture you for the rest of your life. They did the worst possible thing to you as it was the only way that they could change you, and I wish…I just wish I wasn't so selfish and could leave you because I know I'm the one who sets you off."

"Katniss, don't say that," I choked out miserably, fear stabbing my innards at the very thought of her leaving me.

"But it's true, I know it's my fault," she gasped as she finally succumbed to stubborn tears. "Just tell me what it is I did to set you off and I promise I'll never do it again. I had to have done something, you haven't had an episode the whole time we've been back…"

"It's not your fault, Katniss, it's not!" I expressed quickly. "It's mine."

"Peeta, you can't help what happens to you…"

"I didn't take my red pills," I stated, hating myself for inflicting such guilt upon her. "I didn't take my red pills and I fell asleep and had a full dose of my hijacking. That's why I woke up and that's why I hallucinated."

"What? Why didn't you take your medicine? You always take your medicine!" she replied, and I could see in her eyes she was thinking about the pain I went through in the hospital when the Morphling conflicted with the red pills.

"Because…" I hesitated, not wanting to tell her the truth but knowing I could not lie to her. "Because I was worried about you. We've hardly seen each other since we've been here and whenever I take the red pills I fall asleep. So I decided not to take them so I could stay awake and spend time with you because I know I needed to."

I had almost grown used to Katniss' moods. I knew straightforward affection made her uncomfortable and shy away. I was also used to her anger, and knew immediately by the way her grey eyes shaded darkly that she was livid at my statement.

"How dare you do that! Damn you, Peeta how could you do that to yourself? How could you do that to me?" she demanded, wadding the towel to the floor and pushing off me.

"I'm sorry!" I called out, scrambling to my feet to chase after her. It was only then that I realized a large shard of glass was sunk into my prosthetic. I ripped it out without flinching as I made my way back to the bedroom.

"I'm sorry," I repeated frantically. "I know it was stupid but I was worried about having left you alone so much that I needed to be with you. I've missed you."

"So you endangered us both because you don't like the way I act when I'm bored?" she demanded, reducing my noble actions to shreds in a single sentence. I was once again hit with how easily I could have lost control without my medication. I could feel the past of the Capitol pushing down against my head as it started to throb. The walls around the apartment began to shine as Katniss' eyes glowed red with blood…

No, no, no, no, no! I told myself, shaking my head as I fought against the trap. Katniss' hands were instantly cupped around my face, keeping me tethered to reality.

"I won't let you go anywhere," she stated so surely I couldn't help but laugh.

"You won't. I'd hate for you to lose me before you've finished yelling at me for being an idiot," I replied, my smile flickering as I shook off the last of the reflections.

"I miss you too, Peeta," she answered quietly. "I think about you all the time and how badly I want things to be back to the way they are at home. But I also know that you're doing the most important thing for us and our home by Representing it. I know you being gone all the time hurts you as much as it hurts me, that why I don't say anything. And I know I've been acting strange lately but it's just my way of coping with things. I'll stop drinking and talk to Aurelius more if it puts you at ease but don't you ever do anything like that again, do you hear me? You promised that if I stayed safe you would worry about the Council and I would worry about us. You're breaking your half if you stop taking your medicine because of me."

"Katniss, I…"

"I'm not helpless, you know," she interrupted crossly.

"I never said…"

"I was though," she continued in a much softer voice. "I was completely helpless after Prim died. I wanted nothing more than to join her and did everything I could to will myself into nothingness. But you wouldn't let me. You were always there for me, _**always**_. It's because of you I found meaning in life again. I will always care for you for that, on top of all the millions of other reasons I have to care for you. But you have to know that you don't need to save me from every little thing in my life. You gave me my feet back, now you have to let me use them."

Her words left me speechless as they washed over me. Panic seemed to set into Katniss' face as she watched me not react.

"Dammit, I know that didn't come out right," she cried, scowling and gritting her teeth to keep from crying again. "I can just never say the words I want to tell you…"

This time I cut her off by pulling her into my arms. I kissed her three times before resting my head against hers.

"No, you're right. I over reacted. I should have just talked to you instead. Its just I feel like I'm failing everyone around me. I haven't been able to do anything but tie up litigation in Council over this stupid Treasury dispute and that just makes everyone argue and keeps me away from you longer. And then when I come home and see you unhappy I feel like I've failed you by not being with you, and on top of all that I'm trying to keep myself together from being back here. I hate myself for not being able to handle it all…"

Katniss shushed me by lightly putting her thumb across my lips as she stroked my cheek. I swallowed my words as her free hand lightly ran up my chest and neck before resting against my sternum. My breathing grew labored as I realized how long it had been since she had touched me like this and I closed my eyes and inhaled her scent as she pressed herself close to me.

"Why don't you let someone else carry the load for a while?" she whispered sultrily against my ear. "Let me take care of you."

My heart stammered as it fought to keep in my chest as she said those words. I almost didn't register her pulling my face down to hers to give me a slow, passionate kiss. I groaned at the contact, deepening it eagerly as my desire for her enflamed. Her hands slipped down past the hem of my shirt so they could roam across my chest. My muscles contracted at the lightest of her touches, urging her for more. Katniss broke our kiss, making me momentarily disoriented until I realized she was pulling off my sleep shirt. Her lips slammed back into mine the second she flung the garment to the ground.

I hastened the pace, walking her backwards until we spilled onto the bed. I immediately aligned our hips so I could feel her eagerly pressing against me. I grew harder and harder as her hands rolled across my body as little whimpers escaped her lips. My fingers soon found the hem of her own sleep shirt and I slowly lifted it off her frame. She sat up shyly at my motion, causing me to hesitate. But after a deep breath she lifted her arms and smiled in permission. As my hands ran up her bare sides I realized the reason for her pause.

I clutched her shirt tightly in my hands as I stared at my beautiful Katniss clad only in a pair of small black panties. For the first time I saw how graceful her hourglass figure truly was. Her hips jutted out past her flat abdomen. Her breasts were full and round with dark little nipples that looked pert and hard. I was mesmerized with watching them as she took deep, ragged breaths. Her cheeks colored as I took her in, and after a few seconds she struggled to cover up the scars that patterned her dusky skin.

"Katniss," I breathed quickly, lightly catching her hands to stop her. "Katniss you're _perfect_."

Her entire body seemed to flush an endearing shade of red at the comment and she struggled against the smile that kept creeping on her face.

"You're just saying that because you want to touch my breasts," she joked, half choking on the shameless words that fell out of her usually prudish mouth. I laughed deeply, loving her blunt comment almost as much as I loved her.

"Heaven save me I do. I really, really do," I grinned. And just like that all the stress and trauma of the last few months slipped away and melted into a delightful playfulness. We were just two awkward teenagers experiencing each other's bodies for the first time. Katniss smiled as she guided my hand and placed it gently on her right breast. I kneaded it softly, weighing it in my hand as my palm brushed against her nipple. Katniss rolled her head back and closed her eyes, clearly enjoying the contact as much as I was. I took the opportunity to begin kissing her neck, pulling her closer to me as I did until she sat in my lap. I thrust once against her, wanting to show her how hard she made me without even touching me. She gasped in pleasure as I continued to trail my kisses down her neck and body until my lips enclosed around the pert little ends of her breast. I sucked it gently, putting the lightest of pressures against it with my teeth as my tongue flickered back and forth.

"Peeta!" Katniss cried, bucking her hips against mine as she held my head firmly in place against her chest. One of my hands moved over to her free breast as the other wandered down to cup her backside, allowing me steadier control as I thrust against her.

My eyes rolled into the back of my head as I took in how amazing she felt against me, rocking her hips into mine in a frantic rhythm as only our underwear separated us. I shook my head and took in every inch of her as she rode on top of me, her eyes closed, lip bit, back arched so her small but perfect breasts stuck out.

She was the sexiest, most desirable vision I had ever seen. My fantasies of her had never come close to how beautiful and amazing she really looked. All coherent thought was choked out of my mind as my need for her drove my every instinct.

In a flash I had her pinned against the bed, her legs falling asunder as I placed myself between them. We never broke our kiss as I fitted my hips against hers, grinding away at her center as my hands reclaimed her breasts. She moaned my name again, causing my cock to twitch in excitement. I let one of my hands fall down her frame, squeezing her broad hip bone before my finger hooked against the side of her panties.

"Peeta, wait!" Katniss called quickly.

I froze as shame and guilt pushed my carnal desires out of my mind. I immediately pulled my hands back from her body, sitting up as I cursed at forcing myself on her.

"Katniss, I'm so sorry!" I proclaimed frantically. "I just got so caught up and didn't want to stop I wasn't even _thinking!_ I should have asked or something."

"It's okay, you didn't do anything wrong," she replied, though her face grew grave as she ran her fingers through her hair. "I just don't want to have sex."

_Oh, is that all?_ I asked myself.

I couldn't help the disappointment flood through my veins at her statement. It definitely made certain…alert appendages… seem superfluous.

"Right, of course. That's totally fine, Katniss," I mustered, recoiling my body a bit more as I began to run the recipe for chocolate soufflé in my head to calm myself down. Katniss flushed as she watched my reaction and an angry look appeared on her face.

"I didn't mean it that way!" she exclaimed, hopping off the bed as so she could pace back and forth with her arms folded against her chest.

"Okay. And in which way do you not want to have sex with me?" I asked, half scolding myself for sounding bitter as I kept my gaze away from her. In the silence I could literally hear her scowl. I had grown used to her leaving to cool off when she was angry. She therefore took me by surprise when she sat back down next to me and grabbed my hand.

"What I meant is I'm not _ready_ to have sex," she stated quietly, staring hard at my fingertips as she played with them. This caused my head to turn and my attention to peek.

"I mean the whole idea of being that…intimate with someone…even you…it's just so overwhelming. Frankly it scares the hell out of me. Do you understand?" she asked pleadingly.

"Not really," I answered honestly, squeezing her hand back. "But it doesn't matter. I don't ever want to hurt or scare you again. What we were doing was so amazing I wasn't thinking clearly, but that's no excuse for me crossing a line. I'm so sorry Katniss, and I promise I won't put you in that situation again. I swear."

Katniss sighed and scowled at my response, making me feel like somewhere I had missed her point.

"Peeta, I stopped you from taking off my underwear because if I didn't have a physical barrier separating us I wouldn't have been able to stop us," she explained. The blood drained from my face in horror at her words.

"Katniss, I know I was being a little assertive but please believe me I would never _force_ myself on you!" I exclaimed, dread consuming me that she felt she needed to worry about such a thing.

"Peeta, you idiot!" she exclaimed in a scowl, pushing herself on to my lap to where she straddled me again. "I wouldn't have been able to stop because I _want_ to have sex with you!"

Only silence sat between us as I let the most amazing thing I had ever heard settle into my torn consciousness.

"I'm sorry could you possibly repeat that to me?" I asked, giving her my dumbest of grins. Her face officially burned a deep red at my request as she playfully punched my arm.

"I'm sorry!" I laughed, "but the blood flow in my brain has been reduced to minimum capacity. Like ask me to walk or count to three and I'll probably blackout."

The slightly self-conscious but grateful smile that filled her face was one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. My joke allowed her to calm down and detracted from the serious air that had formed around her situation. Her shoulders relaxed visibly, and where once she might have run away after such an admittance now she scooted in closer to my lap so she could stroke my hair.

"Peeta we are…whatever you and I are, and that means everything to me. I know you'll always be there for me and you've been so patient and non-pressuring. I just…I just don't want you to think that I only see you as a friend…"

"Trust me, Katniss. Right now I in no shape or form see you as just a friend," I replied, then began acting like it was only in excruciating agony that I could keep my eyes from trailing down away from her face down to her naked body. Which was really only half true.

"I do…want _more_ with you…I'm just still working a lot of things out and I'm scared to rush it. I'm worried that if we go past what I feel ready for I'll freak out and push you away which I don't want to do, but at the same time I know you can't wait on me forever…"

"Katniss," I said clearly, interrupting her worried speech by pulling her tightly against my chest. "A year ago I was terrified that I had lost you _forever_. That when I returned back to the District you'd want nothing to do with me. When I did come back all I wanted was for you to be healthy again and not drown in your terrors. I never dreamed it was possible that after all that had happened you and I would ever be here. You are more than I ever dared to hope for. And don't you ever worry about me going anywhere. As long as you want me I will always be with you."

To my surprise Katniss didn't blush at my statement. Instead she stared back at me hopefully, a slightly bit lip the only thing holding back her smile.

"You promise?" she asked, cocking her eyebrow as though prompting an answer she both hoped and knew she would hear.

"Always, Katniss. Always."

She grabbed my face immediately and kissed me, drawing my tongue into her mouth. I gave no resistance when she pushed me back down amongst the pillows as she continued to straddle me. Her brown hair cascaded across my stomach as she bent over and kissed it slowly. The simple action caused whatever control I had managed to exert instantly slip away as I sprung back to full attention. Katniss adjusted her position so I fit perfectly between her thighs, sliding back and forth on my hard cock as she moved her kisses up my chest. I let out a shameless groan and quickly guided her face back to mine, unwilling to wait any longer to feel her lips again. My hands grabbed her hips as I made to flip us back over, wanting to return us back to the position we were in before our conversation. I wanted to hear her moan my name again and feel her hands shake as they grasped my hair.

"No, Peeta," she said sternly, holding tight to her position before I could flip us. I pulled away again, once more cursing my brash actions and wondering what I had done wrong this time.

"No, Peeta, you stay like this," she repeated, whispering the words softly in my ear. "I told you to let me take care of you."

I remained still, almost paralyzed at her statement as she trailed kisses down my neck and chest, her soft hands leading the way. When she reached my stomach her tongue circled around my navel, causing me to hiss and thrust my hips. She repeated the motion, this time letting her hand trail down past the band of my boxers so it lay on the outline of my cock. Katniss kissed my navel a third time, running her hands up and down my member as she did. One of my hands manically grasped the bed at the contact, and I suddenly found myself trying to remember the steps to that soufflé recipe again.

* * *

When I woke up the next morning I knew what I had to do to solve the Treasury Dispute.

How my brain had the energy to work such an ordeal out after what had happened to me before I slipped into a basic coma was beyond me. I grinned to myself, pulling a sleeping Katniss closer to me as I remembered every exquisite detail of what she had done to me. My boxers were lost somewhere in the tangle of sheets I had passed out on.

The very last thing I ever wanted to do was pull myself away from that bed. Her long hair sprayed tangled behind her, hiding parts of her peaceful face until I tucked the strands behind her ear. The sheet was pulled down low enough to where the tops of her breast were slightly exposed. Her legs remained interlocked with mine, and it was when I focused on this part of her I realized how hard I was. It didn't help either that she took that moment to moan and curl closer into me so her hips aligned with mine. I closed my eyes as hers fluttered open.

"Good morning," I greeted, losing the war I raged against my grin.

"Good morning," she replied, red creeping into her coloring as she comprehended the situation. She gave an uncharacteristic giggle as she sat up.

"You're naked," she accused with a grin.

"You made me naked," I countered instantly.

"And you're…awake," she continued, smiling and blushing harder.

"Again I must place that blame on you."

I kissed her as she laughed, pulling her with me as I sat up.

"Where are you going so early?" she asked, tilting her head playfully. It was almost painful how beautiful she was.

"I have an idea," I replied, only half remembering my gained insight.

"What kind of idea?" she asked with a grin, pulling her legs up so her head could rest on her bare knees.

"Unfortuently not the kind I hope you're thinking of," I laughed. "I think I found a way to get us off this Treasury hitch. I need to do a little bit of research before Council, but if I'm right we can get the matter resolved and after that the basis of the Constitution will be pretty much done."

Katniss popped her head up as she stared at me seriously.

"Does that mean we could go home soon?" she asked.

"That means we could go home soon," I repeated happily. A look of pure relief and happiness crossed her face at my confirmation. It was such a perfect expression that I couldn't help but lean forward to kiss her. I closed my eyes when I felt her hands on my shoulders like she did when she wanted to bring me closer. It therefore took me by surprise a second later when I found myself being forcibly pushed off the bed, falling out of the comforter Katniss usually hogged the bulk of.

"Then what are you waiting for, Mellark!" she barked happily, laughing as she rolled across the bed to peer at me on the ground.

"That was uncalled for," I grumbled lightly, massaging the side of my back that connected to my real leg.

"Did I hurt your butt?" she inquired, only a trace of a giggle filtering into her genuine worry. I smiled in retaliation, pushing the sheet off of me as I stood up in front of her.

"You tell me," I asked, wiggling my naked backside at her. "Does it look bruised?"

"Peeta!" she exclaimed, and I got a quick glance of her face growing a deep red before she hid it. My grin expanded as I continued, feeling oddly self-assured as I exploited her discomfort of nudity.

"Get that thing out of my face!" she laughed, taking the slightest of peeks between her fingers. "Go get dressed."

"As you command," I replied, turning to face her in a bow. I continued to face her as I backed up in a scoot, rocking my hips back and forth and humming a dashed melody as I made my way to the closet. Katniss exploded into laughter in her hands. As she gasped for breath a sound escaped her lips that I had never heard her make.

"Did you just snort?" I asked her seriously, jutting out my hips as I placed my hands on them. She released another oink as she buried her head in the blankets.

"You're so weird," I stated as I picked my rhythm back up.

"What are you doing?" she wailed, all but hyperventilating.

"It's my "go get dressed" dance. You know that, I do it every day," I replied as I twisted up and down as though putting out a match on the floor. I grunted as the small pillow hit me square in my unprotected stomach. I smiled as I slipped into the closet. I had never heard her laugh that hard. It was a beautiful sound, snorts and all.

* * *

As the Representatives all stood up to leave from the Council table I couldn't help the elation that welled up in my chest. I had done it. My plan had actually passed 12-2, with more details and agreements falling into place than I had ever imagined.

Everyone had wanted the Treasury located in their District. The new financial sector would spring up around it, making it instantly prosperous. The Capitol of course wanted to keep it in their walls, but everyone else stood firm against that. Holt tried to bring it to Eight, as before the First Rebellion it had been the richest District. Arguments had sprung up between all factions, causing no one to want to compromise or work with another.

I told my plan to the Representatives of Ten, Eleven and Thirteen first. They initially resisted the idea, but when I explained the caveat they immediately understood the benefits. We then approached Hermes, the Representative from District Six. He seemed stunned at my suggestion. He stuttered that he had to talk to his Entourage first, but we all got the feeling the answer would be yes.

And it was. So during Council I proposed my idea. The Treasury would be placed in District Six, the area known for transportation. In exchange for this drastic increase in wealth, they would use some of their new proceeds to subsidize the train systems, to be aided by the District and federal tax system that was already in place. This would make transportation in and between Districts virtually free, allowing business and tourism to prosper with such a hefty financial burden taken out of the equation.

Only Districts Two and Eight opposed the legislation, and even then it was more to make a statement than based on principle. With this era of good feelings circulating I also proposed something just for District Twelve. It was a small, mostly over looked proposition that had been created and funded right after the Rebellion but never implemented anywhere. As soon as I proposed it though I could read the looks of desire in every one of my fellow Representatives' faces.

"I second that motion," Sophia from four declared.

"I third," Harrow from Eleven proclaim, quickly followed by a fourth and fifth from the other outlying Districts. A minute later I was shocked to hear a sighing proclamation out of the Representative from Two.

"I fourteenth," he sighed, rasing up his hand as the first unanimously agreed upon piece of legislation was passed.

I grinned as we all began to disperse for the night, bursting to tell Katniss of the news, when a distressed Effie and Haymitch burst into the room. My smile disappeared immediately.

"What's wrong?" I asked gravely, panic filling my chest.

"Oh my!" Starla cried, pulling out her tablet and projecting a news image for all to see before Effie could even put a bracing hand on my shoulder.

A large and energetic crowd digitally filled the room. They were all shouting, mostly in excitement but a few cries of anger could not be ignored. The mob was universally directed towards a narrow alley way where two figures swiftly ran. The one in the front, a man dressed in a non-descript brown uniform, somehow disappeared from sight right in mid-air. Their pursuer stopped in disorientation at the vanishing of their prey.

My heart stopped as the camera focused in on Katniss, eyes wide as she gripped her blade as the crowd descended on her.A loud popping noise occurred. My mind froze in terror as I watched her stagger backwards, clutching her shoulder as blood poured between her fingers. Another shot was fired as the crowd panicked into a screaming riot. Katniss fell to the ground. When the crowd cleared the area all that remained was a red smeared puddle.

"Well, I can't say I didn't see that coming," Caesar Flickerman commented nonchalantly by my side. "You should have fucked her when you had the chance."

His smile lit up the room, causing everything in it to grow shiny as a buzzing sound drowned out the uproar that was occurring.

"No…no it can't be…it's not real…this is not real…"

"This is real," Snow replied, gripping my shoulder with a grin.

And then everything went black.


	19. Personal Reasons

Personal Reasons

It had all happened so fast the memory still came to me as a blur. The man at the door had seemed harmless upon first glance. He wore the traditional brown uniform of a delivery man with the Capitol seal etched on his chest. I had seen plenty of them come and go at Aurelius' office and Effie's home. Twice when Peeta and I had gone out they had found him seemingly out of nowhere to give him an urgent package. They were as common place in the Capitol as trees were back home. Most people would probably have never given his arrival a second thought. I didn't at first. In fact I welcomed his distraction.

"Hello there, Mrs. Mellark," he whistled at me jovially. "I have a package here special for the Representative."

The man seemed friendly enough, but something about him made me raise my guard. It was then that I realized despite Peeta's position no one had come to the apartment for Council matters since Paylor on that first day.

"Peeta's not home," I told. A flash of fear had crossed his eyes at that fact. It was only for a moment, but it was enough for me to reach for my knife in my jacket pocket.

"Is that so? I was under the impression he'd be here," he laughed lightly. My eyes narrowed.

"Why would you need him here just to deliver a package?" I asked coldly. The man laughed again, nervously this time as he avoided my question. A moment passed, and then in a state of panic he threw the package into the apartment and dashed back towards the elevator. I didn't even have time to think about my reaction as I chased after him. The man had obviously wanted to hurt Peeta, and for that he had to die.

I barely managed to slip in the rising elevator before the doors closed. The man pointed a gun right at me, but in his panic he somehow managed to miss his shot. I knocked the gun out of his hand before he could compose himself. Despite over a year of inactivity my training from District Thirteen came rushing back. He was larger than I and very strong looking, but it was clear things were not going as expected and he was unprepared to fight. I grabbed the ends of his jacket and pushed him against the wall.

"Who sent you?" I demanded, slamming him repeatedly. "Why are you after us?"

The man responded with a high pitched beep that resonated from his watch. He smiled at me, which caught me off guard, and before I knew it he had shaken off my grip, covered his ears, and crouched flat to the floor.

I was just starting to process this information when the explosion went off.

The vibrations literally shook my bones in my skin. Somehow all the air was knocked out of my lungs and all I could hear was a high pitched tone ringing in my ears. My head bashed against the wall. My vision waned in and out as the elevator was soaked in sunlight.

The man in the uniform took off the second the doors opened. I remained crouched against the floor, holding my pounding head as I tried to straighten myself out.

There had been an explosion. An explosion from down below. An explosion that occurred right as the man's alarm went off. The man who had thrown a package at me and dashed out of my apartment. He had wanted Peeta there but Peeta wasn't there. It was a bomb. Haymitch…

Haymitch!

My eyes flung open as I realized I had no idea if Haymitch had been home or not. I quickly picked myself up off the floor, tears stinging my eyes as I frantically pushed the down button. I had to find him. I had to see if he was okay. If Haymitch died…

A sickening snapping sound echoed throughout the elevator as it tried to descend. The steel cage freefell about three feet before stopping suddenly. I could feel it swing back and forth inside its cement tomb before a deathly silence filled the air.

It plummeted to unknown depths just seconds after I leapt out of it. I watched it fall for a moment, fear consuming me as I realized I had no way of knowing if Haymitch were alive or dead.

But then I remembered the man in the brown suit. I turned, and I could still see him running like mad down an abandoned street. He was fast. But I was faster.

I gunned it, paying little mind to my surroundings as I chased after my prey. I never kept my eye off my target. He would pay for what he had done.

"Katniss! Yoo hoo, Katniss!"

"It is her! Hey Katniss!"

And just like that the abandon road shot right out into the middle of the Capitol. I was recognized immediately and in an instant people were crowding around me, pulling out their communicators and their tablets to take pictures or call friends as they ogled me. I panicked at this trap, until miraculously I found my target sneaking away towards a back alley.

I pushed through the crowd as I hunted him down. He was in my sights, and he was at a dead end. I continued to run towards him, ready to strike, when suddenly, out of nowhere, he was gone. Just gone. Almost like he had been erased or had never existed in the first place. I stood in shock for a moment until the screams and cries from the crowd that had amassed behind me made me terrified in a whole new manner.

I had no idea what to do. I couldn't run, couldn't fight, couldn't speak. I just stood there until another loud bang went off and answered my conundrum of what my next step was. I fell. I collapsed to the ground again, but this time I felt pain. Tight, excruciating pain that contracted in my shoulder as someone's blood coated the streets.

My blood.

The last thing I remember was a sound of scrapping metal as a pair of strong arms grabbed me and pulled me down below.

* * *

From there my memory only came to me in flashes. Bright lights weaved in and out of the darkness as I slipped in between consciousness. I was dimly aware that I was being carried, but by who or what I had no idea. All I heard was a voice. It was distant but familiar and reassuring. Every time I struggled to place it though all I could comprehend was the sharp pain in my shoulder and the fact that I was very, very weak before I would fall back into the darkness. Yet even in the darkness I could still hear that voice, calling out to me…

* * *

"Katniss…Katniss can you hear me?"

My eyes flung open as I was shaken from my nightmare. I jerked as I took in my surroundings, not because I didn't recognize where I was, but because I did. I could never forget that dim, chilly cave as long as I lived.

"Hey," he said. "It's good to see your eyes again."

"Peeta!" I exclaimed, and though it killed me I swung my arms to embrace him. He caught me quickly, pulling me into his lap and steadying my arm so I didn't cause further injury to myself.

"How long have I been out?" I asked, nuzzling against his chest to make sure it was truly him. Despite the pain of my wound and dampness of the cave his warmth immediately made me feel at home.

"Not sure. I woke up yesterday evening and you were lying next to me in a very scary pool of blood," he explained as he gently stroked my hair. "What happened?"

And then it came back to me. The delivery man, the fight, the explosion…the chase, the crowd, the gun fire.

"Peeta there's somebody out there after us!" I exclaimed, wriggling fiercely as I tried to check the entrance of the cave.

"Of course there's somebody out there after us. That's the point of this whole thing, right?" he replied lightly, easing me back into his hold. I frowned as I leaned against him. Something wasn't right.

"Peeta you have to believe me! I did what I did because I had to!"

The easy look on his face disappeared as his grip on me tightened. My right hand panged as if it were broken.

"You promised me you'd stay safe," he reminded, anger entering into his voice.

"They were trying to kill you! I had to do something."

"No, just don't Katniss! Don't die for me. You won't be doing me any favors! All right?"

I was startled by his intensity, but instead of finding a way to turn the tables back around I ended up fighting tears.

"Maybe I did it for myself," I replied stubbornly. "How am I supposed to live without you? Peeta…I love you, Peeta."

I choked on my words, tears spilling down my face as I finally told him what I should have said years ago. I was terrified and vulnerable and I needed him to kiss me more than I needed air. But instead he pulled his head back, smiling at me indulgently like one did a stubborn child.

"We know you do, Katniss. We know you do," he said, that distantly familiar voice echoing around the cave.

"We? Peeta, what are you talking about?" I asked fearfully.

"Are you hungry?" he inquired, his soft grin returning to his face. "I went hunting. Well, not so much hunting as I did gathering, but I did manage to bring back an entire bread bush…"

An intense light was the first thing I woke up to. I gasped in pain and tried to shield my eyes with my hand. I couldn't as my wrists were tied down to the bed I was lying in. I immediately started to thrash in panic. I could feel the stitching of a freshly grown scar ripping apart in my shoulder, but the pain was nothing compared to my rush to get out.

"Let me go!" I cried out to no one. "Peeta! Peeta!"

"Katniss! Katniss it's all right! Calm down!"

I whipped my head to the right as soon as I heard that distantly familiar voice. I grew paralyzed with shock as I took in my captor.

"Lucien?" I demanded, indignity seeping into my voice despite the circumstances.

Lucien. Mister Doctor Sharp. The Capitol surgeon turned engineer who had been saved by Peeta from falling off a collapsing building. Lucien Sharp who had not only rescued Peeta afterwards but designed and attached his new prostatic. Lucien Sharp, the self-confessed doer of un-named but horrific things, who had mysteriously disappeared after the surgery, was now trying not to smile as he looked down at me tied to his bed.

"Don't be scared now, Katniss," he stated calmly. "You were shot in the shoulder at fairly close range. I was able to remove the bullet and patch you up, but you have lost a lot of blood and your wound is still in danger of tearing. I had to tie you down because you kept jerking your arm while you slept but if you can promise to stay still I can let you go."

My mind churned slowly as I tried to process this new information yet I managed nod in agreement. The moment my hands were free I readjusted my position in the bed. Pain immediately shot into my stomach as I felt as though my arm were being ripped off.

"Yeah, see that was kind of why I told you not to move," he reprimanded, bracing my shoulder as the bandages began to bleed. He gently pulled them off and I was able to see the clean hole that cut into my muscle.

"It looked a lot worse a few hours ago," he explained as he dabbed away the blood.

"A few hours ago?" I exclaimed. "How long have I been down here?

"Four hours so far," he replied off handedly as he grabbed my wrist and checked my pulse. "I'm going to need you to take a deep breath and try and calm down. I injected you with medicine that speeds up the healing process but it works a lot better if you're asleep or at least sedated."

"What happened?" I demanded fiercely, sitting up and gritting through the pain as I felt my muscles split again. "Where are we and how did you find me?"

Lucien cocked an eyebrow, pulling back and smiling at me indulgently. My head swirled as I was hit with a strong feeling of déjà vu but I kept my face determined.

"Look up," he instructed, raising his eyes upwards to the ceiling. I followed suit and was surprised to see, not panel or wood, but a thick metallic shield housing us.

"That, my dear, is about 100 feet of lead looming above us. Above that is about three times as much concrete, all of which is buried about 1000 feet under the Capitol."

"We're in a fallout shelter?" I inquired, taking in my surroundings more. Except for the ominous celling it looked more like a laboratory. Huge computers took up entire sides of the wall, along with cabinets filled with medical equipment, drafting tools and books. It took me awhile to realize why I hadn't noticed this all before.

It didn't _smell_ like a clinic. In fact it smelled slightly like Peeta's cinnamon vanilla cakes. The lighting was soft and pleasant instead of harsh and bright. Decorative carpets tastefully lined parts of the floor and a beautiful vase filled with orchids was thriving despite the habitat.

"Back during the First Rebellion the Capitol government built hundreds of these shelters during their dealings with Thirteen. Believe it or not this is one of the smaller, less important ones. Most of them have been abandoned," he explained.

"And you live here?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied.

"Why?"

"Personal reasons."

I frowned at his response. This whole situation felt so surreal I felt I couldn't be entirely certain I wasn't still dreaming. In fact being back in the cave with Peeta had felt more real than this. It occurred to me that I probably had some Morphlin in my system, causing me to think and react slowly.

"So what…what happened?" I asked again, using my good arm to press against my fuzzy head.

"What all do you remember?" he asked, looking closely into my eyes as if checking for signs of trauma. I pushed him away before answering.

"I remember…someone at the door…and then somehow I was outside chasing somebody…then I was stuck in a crowd…"

"You were more than stuck in the crowd, you were the reason for it," Lucien explained, flicking his hand at a nearby screen. Images of a busy Capitol street appeared as a news anchor's voice narrated. A moment later I was on the screen, looking angry and terrified as I stared at a dead end wall. The crowd grew louder and louder as they approached me. I flinched when I heard the gun shot go off, and tenderly touched my shoulder as I watched the blood pour from the wound.

"I was near the surface checking some perimeter points when my tablet nearly exploded with people messaging each other about you actually being on the street. I was nearby and rushed over, knowing you'd be in trouble. I managed to pull you down the sewage drain and carry you through a hidden passage back here before anyone else was able to react."

"This was on the news four hours ago?" I exclaimed, the magnitude of what that meant crushing my chest. I immediately began yanking out my tubes and struggling to my feet.

"Katniss, what are you doing?" Lucien demanded frightfully. "Katniss you're going to hurt yourself…"

"Peeta!" I shouted angrily. "If this was on the news Peeta has seen it! He knows I'm missing and that I got hurt. He might think I'm dead! I need to get to him now!"

"Katniss, you can't do that right now," Lucien warned, gently placing his hands on my arm. I jerked away from him, ignoring the searing pain as I dashed for the nearest exit.

"Katniss, no!"

"I have to go!" I cried as he caught me. "It's not just about him being worried. This could destroy everything he's worked on since the hijacking. You don't understand!"

"I do understand. I understand more than anyone ever should what this will have done to him," he replied sadly. "But I still can't let you go."

"Why not?" I demanded, rage and terror consuming me as I continued to struggle. I managed to get free of his hold and rushed for the door. I was able to open it and step halfway through before I felt the needle sink into my neck.

"Personal reasons," he answered stoically.

The last thing I heard was the wail of a crying baby before I once again succumbed to darkness.

* * *

If I dreamt again I didn't remember it. The next thing I knew my eyes were struggling to open until I could finally see again. I was no longer in the laboratory, but a chic and comfortable living room that rivaled Effie's in what little I knew about such things. A soft blanket covered my body while my arm had been placed in a sling keeping it in place. As my wits slowly returned it soon occurred to me that I was not the only person in the room.

Sitting across from me was quite possibly the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her hair was dark and curled, her lips full and smiling. Even sitting down I could see she was slim and curvy. But it was her eyes that I really noticed. Large and almond shape, they were a beautiful deep green that I had never seen on a person before. Their expression was warm and welcoming, and though all the events of the day were fresh on my mind I inexplicably found I felt safe with her, especially when I saw her gently rocking a bassinet back and forth.

"Would you like some tea, Katniss?"

I flinched as she spoke. Her voice was lyrical and soothing, yet her mouth never verged from its closed lip smile. Instead the large blue gem stone she wore around her neck shined and wavered slightly. Noticing my reaction my hostess grimaced.

"Sorry," she replied, this time moving her lips along in sync. "It's been over a decade since I've "talked" to anyone besides Lucien and Kithara. I'm not used to having to put on the show."

"You're an Avox," I blurted before I even registered this might be a rude thing to say.

"I'm Lyra Sharp," she replied sweetly. "I am Lucien's wife and this sleepy mess of blankets is our daughter Kithara. I am also an Avox. Now that I have answered your question I hope you will answer mine."

I blinked, not understanding what she was referring to.

"Would you like some tea?" she repeated, smiling so playfully I couldn't help but join her. She quickly poured me a cup and I drank it immediately. It had a pleasant lemon tartness to it and was slightly spicy. I drained it almost instantly.

"Drink as much as you like!" she laughed, refilling my cup. "It should help ease your pain a bit."

I tensed up at her statement as all the drugs she could have laced in my tea entered my mind.

"I added freshly ground turmeric. It helps take the edge off pain. And PMS. Or so I tell myself," she added with a grin. I continued to stare at her, feeling trapped and helpless, but even then I couldn't help but smile.

"I'll have to try that next week," I replied as nonchalantly as I could as I shot a glance over to the tightly sealed door.

"That is the only way out, I'm afraid," she expressed sadly. "And right now Lucien has it programmed so only he can get in or out. You're more than welcome to try it anyhow, just try not to make too much noise. It's almost Kit's nap time."

A part of me wanted to challenge her, to tear apart her home looking for a way out. I could easily take her in a physical confrontation if it came down to it. But instead I sunk deeper into the couch. I knew how smart Lucien was. He would not have left me alone with his wife and daughter if he wasn't certain there was no way for me to escape.

"So I'm a prisoner," I stated, my voice rusty. Lyra frowned.

"You're a gunshot victim, who happened to be saved by one of the most over-protective men you'll ever meet," she rephrased, pouring herself some tea.

I could feel my heart crushing with each passing moment. The live footage of me being shot kept playing over and over in my mind. My only hope was that Peeta had not seen it, or if he did he was only worried and anxious about my safety. Putting him through that was already enough to riddle me with guilt and concern, but I'd take that over the probable alternative. I tried to tell myself he'd be all right, that he was strong and resilient and could handle anything, but all I needed to do was remember what had happened last night to dash those thoughts away. Being at the Capitol had pressed him to his limits. He had to keep himself constantly medicated to keep his sanity. But last night he had forgone it all because he was worried about me. Because like always I was a selfish idiot who didn't think about what my actions did to him.

Hot tears threatened to sting my eyes, but I refused to let them fall in front of my captor. I would have given anything to be able to talk to him right then. Even if it was just to tell him I was alive and would get to him as soon as I could. I looked up at the thick vaulted ceiling above me. It was unlikely any kind of signal could penetrate through the lead and concrete barrier. Which meant no way of contacting Peeta and no way of him finding me.

"_At least if he has come undone and is back to the way he was after being hijacked he's happy to think I'm dead."_

I found no solace in that particular silver lining.

"I hear you're a good singer," Lyra said softly, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"I'm alright," I choked out, more emotion slipping into my voice than I wanted.

"I used to be a singer back in Nine," she stated sadly. "But that was half a life time ago."

The question that always occurred when I was around an Avoxpopped into my mind but I swallowed it. For some reason I didn't want to offend her.

"The voice box can't quite process singing yet," she continued. "And Lucien sounds like a dying cat when he tries."

I held my breath, finding what I knew she was about to ask to be oddly personal.

"Do you think you could perhaps sing to her?" Lyra asked timidly. "I know that is a strange request given the circumstance but it would mean a lot."

I looked down at the tiny infant with beautiful but heavy brown eyes as she stubbornly fought off sleep. I tried to tell myself I owed nothing to this woman who was holding me hostage, but I wasn't buying my own lie. And despite looking no more alike than any two other babies, I couldn't help but remember Prim when she was Kithara's age.

My first inclination was to then sing the Meadow Song, but just thinking about it made me choke on memories of Prim and Rue. The words to another song flew out of my mouth before I could even think of them.

"_A cold and wet November dawn,  
And there are no barking sparrows,  
Just emptiness to dwell upon…"_

"That was beautiful," Lyra said breathlessly when I finished.

"It's Peeta's song," I replied dryly, feeling dirty for being manipulated into singing it. She was quiet for a moment as she weighed her words.

"Do you know what they do to make someone an Avox?" Lyra asked. "Asides from severing their vocal chords?"

I shook my head slowly.

"They torture you first," she replied simply. "They torture you until you make up whatever kind of lie they want to hear, and then they torture you some more. Some even beg for their tongues to be cut out just so they don't have to hear themselves scream anymore. The point of doing all of this is to break you so you know that the government owns you. That whatever life you once had was an illusion. You were and always will be their property, their furnishing for whatever service they plan on sticking you into. And then if that weren't bad enough they insert a chip into every Avox that stays in the Capitol. It's partly a tracking device so you can't run off, but it's also a failsafe just in case torture wasn't enough to make you love your new masters."

Lyra tugged gently on her blouse, exposing the skin just above her breast where I could make out a tiny square outline.

"It's connected straight to my heart," she explained matter-of-factly. "Any attempt to even try to tamper with it will submit a volt of electricity that will cause a very drawn out but very lethal heart attack. Lucky for me the government thinks I'm dead and the barrier keeps my signal from being picked up. But anytime I leave here I risk being detected, and despite all the changes going on there really hasn't been anyone "speaking out" on Avox reform."

I sat still for a moment, soaking in her story before I nodded my head to let her know I understood. It wasn't safe for her to leave, just like it wasn't safe for her if I did. A sudden reappearance would raise too many questions, and questions could lead the Capitol back to Lucien's fugitive family. Something I could almost not blame him for not wanting to risk.

Almost.

My heart grew heavy in my chest even when I heard the heavy door unlatch and open. Lucien paused for a moment when he walked in, hesitating when he saw me sitting on the couch next to his family.

"She's awake," he stated as if he were perplexed at this anomaly.

"Welcome home darling, did you bring the lemons?" Lyra inquired innocently.

"Why is she awake?" he asked his wife slowly, though his eyes never left my face.

"Because I woke her," she replied swiftly, placing her hand on her jutted hip. "Honestly Lucien, she's the first house guest we've had in three years, you didn't expect me to leave her knocked out and alone in that drafty lab of yours? The lemons darling, the lemons."

Lucien handed her the bag he held at his side, clenching his jaw as if he meant to argue but immediately thinking better of it.

"Wonderful," she exclaimed brightly, the jewel around her neck wavering with her speech. "Kit's asleep for now and I'm going to get dinner started. You, my dear, have a lot of explaining to do, so I suggest you get on that."

She placed a kiss on Lucien's stunned cheek before disappearing into the kitchen. I remained seated on the couch, my gaze never altering from his face. In spite of my hurried need to get back to Peeta as soon as possible and my anger at the situation I took great pleasure in the distress my inaction seemed to give him.

"So," he finally said, breaking the awkward silence. "I guess you'd like some answers, huh?"

"When can I get to Peeta," was the only question I needed to ask.

"Soon," he replied, visibly relieved when I remained seated. "Half the Capitol is right above us looking for you. A friend of mine let it leak that in a few hours they're going to expand in a wider search. Once some of the "heavier" attention is off this area I'll let you out and lead you to where you can be found safely."

"And how exactly do you plan on me being "found safely"?" I asked, crossing my arms. Lucien hesitated for a moment, causing me to further hate the already detestable situation.

"I was going to knock you back out and leave you where you'd be instantly found, giving you the story that you had been unconscious the whole time and had no idea who found, took, healed and returned you," he answered sheepishly. I blinked in response.

"That's your master plan?" I inquired dryly. "That I'd just wake up in some alley and tell them I had no idea what happened and they'd buy that? Aren't you supposed to be some kind of genius?"

"Hey, sometimes the simplest explanation is the best," he retaliated defensively. "Besides, if I recall correctly someone here is a pretty horrible actress. I figured even you couldn't botch saying "I don't know" to every question they asked you."

I scowled as I realized he actually had a good point.

"Why did you knock me out even when the only door was locked?" I demanded, still furious over that indignity. To my surprise Lucien smiled.

"Because I know you will do anything to protect your family. Just as I will do anything to protect mine."

My resolve softened at his answer. I had forgotten that despite my uncertainty about his character I could never help but respect Lucien. However that did not mean I trusted him, and that brought to mind the question surrounding him that had plagued me since Peeta's surgery day.

"What did you mean when you said you needed my forgiveness?"

I intentionally studied his face as I asked the question. His easy smile flickered and his charismatic vibe seemed to vanish.

"I had hoped you had forgotten about that," he laughed nervously, rubbing his thick dark hair. My stare remained steadfast. Lucien sighed.

"Follow me," he replied simply, turning from me and walking to his lab. I followed with a heighten guard but suppressed the impulse to find a make-shift weapon.

Once again I couldn't help but notice how much his lab didn't feel like a lab, only now I knew the reason. Lyra's presence was everywhere, making an abandoned laboratory in a nuclear fallout shelter feel like a cozy home.

Lucien led me over to one of the larger computers. He offered me a chair before he turned to the screen. It was a full minute before he returned his attention to me.

"Here," he finally said, holding out a silver circular band. "Put this on your head."

"No," I refused instantly. Lucien grinned.

"I assure you it is quite safe. Actually, it's kind of cool."

I scowled again. What was "kind of cool" by Capitol standards was usually an inhumane nightmare by mine. Still, I was anxious to get answers and curious about what he wanted to show me. I placed the band around my head.

A large projection immediately flashed before us. It almost reminded me of the stars in the night sky back home, only instead of spheres there were countless illuminated lines, crisscrossing and joining one another in seemingly random patterns. Some of the lights were brighter than others, and even as I watched the intensity in some areas grew, causing the section to dance as it glowed. It was beautiful.

"What is it?" I asked breathlessly, transfixed by the image.

"It's the projection of a living and active human brain," he replied with a proud smile. "Your brain, to be exact."

"My…?"

I could hardly fathom such a thing, yet even as I struggled to comprehend I could see the light waver in some areas with my thoughts.

"And a very intriguing brain at that," he continued, getting up off his chair and perusing the projection. "I've always been fascinated by the human mind, its capabilities, its limitations. And no two are ever a like, nor is one active mind ever consistent from one hour to the next. A scientist could spend a whole year analyzing the findings on one of these readings and still have more data to explore."

"And you can read all these…light patterns?" I asked in amazement.

"Neuron activity," he corrected. "And in a way, yes. For instance, this bright area here is your hypothalamus, which controls your adrenaline. I imagine it was a lot brighter earlier today. These areas in the back are the occipital lobes, which show you are processing information that you are currently seeing. By the development of your prefrontal cortex I can tell that you are nineteen years old and female. And this beacon of activity here is a very specific area of the striatum."

"What's that area for?" I asked in absorbed wonder. It was due to this I blame not registering the goofy smile on his face.

"It's the center that activates when we're in love," he explained slyly. "Or addicted to drugs. But pleasurable habits are pleasurable habits."

I instantly ripped the band off my head.

"What has this got to do with what I asked?" I demanded quickly, grateful to see the schematic of my mind disappear.

"Well," he explained, returning to his seat next to me. "As I said the human mind had always interested me. I became a neurosurgeon, and a very successful one at that. But simply repairing an average mind wasn't enough. I wanted to press limits, expand horizons, build something, really see what a human brain was actually capable of!"

A sick and twisting sensation began to tear at my stomach as he spoke. Already I could see the direction of this conversation, and having seen first-hand what Lucien was capable of my mind filled with atrocities.

"I signed on with the government's Research and Development division. There I was given unlimited resources for my work. I had a steady flow of specimen to analyze and experiment on…"

"Specimen? You mean people. _Living_ people?" I demanded in disgust. Lucien looked at me gravely.

"I do not expect you to understand, nor am I justifying my actions as right, but when you are raised in the Capitol you grow up with the idea that those in the District are…more primitive. And when someone has been taken prisoner by the government it is only because they have committed a heinous and inhuman crime. And when someone commits such a crime their life becomes forfeit to the good of the nation, whether it be in the form of execution, service as an Avox, or…"

"A human lab rat," I finished for him, conjuring images of fathers hunting or stealing food to feed their starving families only to be caught and experimented on by uncaring doctors.

"Yes," he affirmed apologetically. "Yes that's exactly what they were, and because of them I was able to greatly increase our knowledge of the human brain. As my notoriety grew I was promoted to an elite R&D division. It was there that I made my most notable achievement: successful memory alteration by injecting the poison from a Tracker Jacket into the temporal lobe."

I felt my heart drop down to the soles of my feet. My body began to tremble from both fear and rage as what he was telling me became clear. My hands found his throat before he could even blink in resistance.

"You hijacked him!" I screamed, shaking violently. "You hijacked Peeta, you bastard!"

"No!" he proclaimed through weathered gasps. "No I didn't hijack Peeta! I didn't hijack anyone!"

Slowly my hands released their grip. Though still fresh and real my anger subsided slightly. My mind raced as I tried to reinterpret what he had just told me, struggling to find what I did not understand.

"I did not hijack Peeta," he reiterated woefully. "I just invented the theory and the practical application that made it possible."


End file.
