Title: Stay Safe, My Little Duck

Fandom: Hunger Games series, by Suzanne Collins

Author: rising-balloons

Words: 968

Disclaimer: Characters, plot, all of it belongs to the lovely Suzanne Collins.

The hovercraft began to slow. The Head of the District Thirteen Hospital's voice came in through the speakers. "Please prepare for the jump. Again, please prepare for the jump," she says slightly frantic.

What are we about to dive into?

I ready my pack- salves, ointments, bandages, morphling. Check, check, check, check. As I tighten my braids, I get a glance out the tinted window. Small flashes of light burst sporadically around the center of the Capitol. This is why the Head was so frantic. Bomb! Someone has to help those children!

Oh, right. I've been trained for this. We're the help. I've never been in the field before. An unease settles in my stomach- this doesn't feel quite right. But I push my feelings aside. I am needed. For once, I'm not helpless. I don't need Katniss to take my place. I am stronger now. I have seen terrible things. I am ready for this. I can't allow fear to keep me from doing good in the world filled with evil.

I hoist on my parachute, mentally preparing myself for the shock of the cool air. But it isn't enough; when we hit the wind, my knees bang together. I straighten them out as soon as I can, but I saw some of the older medics glancing my way, frowning. In fact, I don't see any other of my trainee friends here, just the professionals. But it doesn't matter; the children need me just as much as I need them. I force it out of my mind.

When we hit the ground, I nearly collapse from the impact. But I toss aside my parachute and ignore the pain lancing up my legs. I run to the nearest child, a seven-year-old girl with pained blue eyes wide with fear.

I try to comfort her. "It'll be okay," I assure her. Some of the fear fades from her eyes- not enough, though. I set to work immediately, bandaging a deep tear in her lower leg and setting a broken wrist. I give her a kiss on the forehead and dash to the child next to her, who is missing a few of his fingers, bone peeking through the severed tips.

I continue to work in this fashion, running from child to child. I have to help some in the final stages of life. It makes me cry, tears blurring my vision. I hate to see their pain. I want to fix this. I'm forced to keep brushing my sleeves across my eyes, to keep working.

I rush to an older boy, fourteen or so, who is missing his right forearm and his left foot. He's lying, bleeding, on the ground, all alone. My throat tightens as I put his arm in a tourniquet, like I watched Katniss do for Peeta all that time ago. Before I move on to his foot, I glance up.

Katniss! I see Katniss! My eyes go wide and my mouth opens.

Her lips are moving frantically. They're... saying my name? Yes! Prim! her lips say, but I can't hear her. Prim! she screams. Tears are running down her face.

"Katniss." I whisper.

I see the silver of parachutes.

Then black.

Then… my father.

I run into his arms, and he wraps me up into a big, warm hug.

"I missed you," I murmur, my face buried in his chest.

"I missed you too, Prim," says my father, his voice heavy.

I lift my head and look into his sad eyes. He seems whole again, well-fed, but he carries a weight with him. "What will happen to Katniss and Mother?" I ask him.

He surveys the scene before us. "They will be alright," he whispers. "They will make it through this, not without difficulty. They're survivors, my girls."

"What about Peeta?" I ask. I can't help myself.

"He'll be fine too."

"Oh." I watch the scene before me, the children dead and dying, falling to the ground, rising up again and walking past us, into the light behind us. The first girl I helped, the one with the blue eyes, give me a small smile as she passes. Her body is pure and whole. Behind the fences, Katniss is visible, a ball of fire engulfing her, screaming one last time before she falls. I choke out a sob at her obvious pain. But unlike most of the others, she stays down, not rising again. I see the same thing happen to Peeta, but his screams are more contained. He did not lose his younger sister, though. "Are you sure she will be okay?" I ask my father again. Katniss is a mess of burned skin and hair made of ashes, agony contorting her beautiful, brave face. The Girl on Fire, alight like a torch.

My father smiles softly. "Yes. You know Katniss."

I smile with him. "Yes. Nothing stops her." Silence. I walk towards a fallen Katniss, bending down over her. Crouching down next to her. Singing.

"Deep in the meadow, under the willow

A bed of grass, a soft green pillow

Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes

And when you awake, the sun will rise

Here it's safe, here it's warm

Here the daisies guard you from harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you."

I kiss her forehead one last time. She stirs slightly under my touch. I smile, a tear leaking from my eyes. Oh, Katniss…

I rise and take my father's sturdy hand. We smile at each other.

He has waited so long for us.

Now, I am finally ready for him.