Disclaimer: The Hunger Games trilogy is not mine. Credit goes to Suzanne Collins. I also give credit to Lorde, and if you pay attention to the story, you'll see why.

A/N: Set during the Mockingjay movie…

Recharging the Spark

Darkness. That's all I see as I crouch in the corner of an empty chute hidden in the depths of District 13. All the colors disappear here and it is quiet, allowing my conscious mind to sigh in relief upon realizing there are no people here. I can't see them, and they can't see me; I am out of reach and do not believe they'll suspect me hiding in this little godforsaken corner. Oh, how I've come to hate the presence of others, at least for now. In Thirteen's hospital, all I see are people. Well, sterile walls and people. Doctors come into my room, feed relaxants into my veins or give me pills to calm my nerves. Other days people talk to me to sort the ramblings of my mind, hoping to help me distinguish real from not real, and to cling to the facts. But really all they do is burn holes in my head:

Your name is Katniss Everdeen. Your home is District Twelve. You were in the Hunger Games. You escaped.

When they are not there, there is nothing to do but look at the ceiling, or the walls. I can't even watch stars from a window because I am so far underground. I could try to sleep, but that's hard to do when I know my dreams will not be sweet. And, if I'm honest, I look at the door more than anything else, hoping that at any minute Prim or mom will walk through the door and pay me a visit. Sometimes my disorientation allows the walls to melt away, revealing Finnick in the room just beyond mine, clinging to a picture of Annie and crying himself to sleep. The image is not real, I know, but it is how my psyche copes; it's how I know I'm not alone in this pain. He lost his Annie, and I lost my Peeta.

Oh God, Peeta.

The thought of him hits home and sends shivers down my shoulder blades. My throat tightens as my lips whisper his name. Then a tear rolls down my cheek and suddenly I'm rocking myself harder. The darkness that envelopes me is no longer a haven but a physical reminder of the world I live in, and it threatens to swallow me whole. It is moments like these I remember that in darkness is how this all started, and worry that's how it all will end. Fear begins to settle into every fiber of my being, so I sigh and repeat the list of things I know to be true:

My name is Katniss Everdeen. My home is District Twelve. I was in the Hunger Games. I escaped. Peeta...Peeta was left behind.

I don't know whether my voice cracked too loud at the thought of Peeta, or if the screams in my head can be heard from miles away, but either way I curse myself for being too loud when a nearby door suddenly opens and I see a yellow flicker penetrate the dark.

"Ms. Everdeen," a woman calls out. "You shouldn't be in here."

I sigh. Maybe if I be quiet, she'll go away, but my voice betrays me before I have a chance to think it through. "I had a nightmare. Just give me five minutes."

"You need to sleep. We can help you sleep."

Maybe I'm being overemotional, but salty rivers break free from my eyes and trail down my face as I realize she isn't going to listen, and doesn't. "No, please. It's just five more minutes." I struggle as a second doctor drags me from my hiding place and tries to lift me up. "Don't touch me! Don't! Get off of me!" Their combined strengths overpower my own as I try to break free.

"Please don't," I weakly plead, but my desperation falls deaf on their ears.

"You must calm down, Ms. Everdeen. We're only trying to help you."

"THEN LET GO!" I retort as I squirm out of doctors' grips, frantically seeking escape. Suddenly, their faces blur and fog clouds my mind as it registers a stick of cold metal penetrating the soft skin on my right arm. The needle, I know, is bound to leave another scar I can add to the list of those that already mark my body and mind.


My eyes flutter open as cool fingers gingerly stroke my forehead. The first thing I see are the lights on the ceiling, still dim, and I reason I must not have been out for very long.

"Katniss," a voice whispers my name. "Katniss, I'm here. It's alright." The fingers caressing my forehead now migrate to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I look above me and see a pair of blue eyes staring back, and a crop of ashy, blond hair. Peeta.

My hand reaches out to touch his face, and for a moment time seems to slow. He smiles at me, with love in his eyes he made clear was there since our first Games, and even before then. His other hand is not touching me, so I move my own from his cheek so that we have our fingers laced together. There is so much I want to say to him, and I want to believe that he is really here, safe with me. I don't know. Maybe I willed him here and he's safe with me for the moment, until some unseen force mystically drags him back to the Capitol.

I mentally kick myself again as I realize my thoughts spoke too soon. Before my eyes, time appears to be speeding up as Peeta's face morphs into that of a young girl, while the blond locks elongate past shoulder length and his clothes pale. "Don't Go!" I call out too late as try to tighten my grip on his hand, refusing to let him go. "Stay with me," I beg, but he's gone.

"Katniss!" a soft voice calls. "Katniss, please. Take a deep breath." The familiar voice jolts my senses into full consciousness and suddenly I realize that Prim is at my bedside, trying to still my flailing hand.

"Prim?" I ask lamely.

"Yeah. It's okay. Try to relax." Her fingers push back some more of my hair, and I can't help but feel slightly dismayed as it dawns on me that's probably what I felt earlier. I can tell by the dim hospital lights that it is still late and even without proper lighting, I can see that Prim looks tired. Her eyelids look desperate to slam shut and I know her worry for me is denying her the rest she needs. If she is to function at the hospital, as her daily schedule demands, she needs all the sleep she can get.

"You're supposed to be asleep, little duck."

"So are you," she replies.

"What are you doing here Prim? It's too early for you to even get your daily schedule."

Her eyes brim with tears and I sigh. I'm just saying and thinking all the wrong things tonight, aren't I?

"I was worried about you. Sometimes I sneak by the hospital to check on you. And when I didn't see you tonight, I got worried and notified one of the doctors."

"Ah, so that's explains why the doctors went looking for me in the dead of night in the first place," I reply sardonically, and then regret it when I look into her eyes again. "No, no. Ignore that. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I know you're having a hard time recovering. I know I'm only an apprentice at the hospital, but I am trying to help you however I can."

Although smiling is one of my greatest challenges right now, I manage one for Prim. I know that she, and even mom, are doing all they can and want to see me get better. I prop my hands against the bed to sit myself up, but slow down when the earth seems to spin for a brief second. Then once it stills, I lean over and give my sister a thank you as I wrap my arms around her.

"Let me tell you something, little duck. So far you've been helping me heal more than the 'actual' doctors in this hospital." Prim doesn't reply, and instead whispers in my ear and tells me to get some rest. Then she pulls something out of the pocket of her nightgown. It is shiny, small, and round, and I quickly recognize it as the pearl Peeta gave to me. "How did you…?"

"I found this on the ground, after the doctors brought you back to the hospital." I take the treasured token of the giver and roll it between my fingers as my sister continues: "Katniss, I know you miss him. I know you're worried about him. But if he were here, he would want you to get well. And if you want him back, you need to get well so that you have the strength to fight." I consider her words and nod. She is right. The tears I have shed ever since the Quarter Quell have managed to extinguish the fire that found a home in me. And if I am to ever get it back, for this revolution, for Prim, and for Peeta, I need to recharge the spark in my heart that gives me the courage to fight.

It amazes me how this girl, my sister, has grown so much these past few years. Before her first reaping, I was the one who always used to comfort her and alleviate her fears. I sung her to sleep when she had nightmares of the reapings, and watched over her after Dad died. Now here she is, taking after mom, and taking care of me.

Before I can protest, she insists on staying with me until I fall asleep. My eyelids become heavy and I succumb to slumber as she sings:

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 its safe, here its warm

Here the daisies guard you from harm

Here the dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you

The last thing I think to myself before I enter a deep sleep is how grateful I am to have Primrose, not the daisies, to guard me from harm.