Author's Note: First Hunger Games fic! It's short, sweet, and came to me in a burst of inspiration. Please keep in mind it's been a while since I read Mockingjay, so I hope my timing is correct.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my deep devotion for the Hunger Games franchise.
Shortly after Peeta was rescued from the Capitol, it became an unspoken agreement that Delly Cartwright would spend every afternoon in his hospital room. At first, the doctors had reluctantly allowed it, but after seeing the marked improvement in Peeta's demeanor at experiencing something familiar, and untainted by the Capitol, the doctors began to welcome Delly with open arms. She now received all the familiar pleasantries when she walked down the halls.
However, on one particular day, several weeks after Peeta's arrival, Delly receives little more than strained smiles as she walks down the familiar path. This, of course, alerts her to the fact that something was off, but it is not until she enters the room, and finds Peeta strapped to the bed that she is certain:
He had relapsed.
She sighs. While Peeta still small episodes every so often (the doctor called them "tremors"), he hadn't had a big episode in over a week. She can tell this one was bad judging by the skin rubbed raw at his wrists where he had no doubt been struggling against the restraints. He is hooked up to a machine, pumping morphling and who knows whatever other sedatives into his system.
Delly walks over to the whiteboard hanging by the door. It had originally been set there by the doctors as a way to regulate Peeta's treatment, but after the doctors realized they had no set cure for his condition, and anything they did was highly experimental, the board had fallen into disuse. Soon after, Delly started drawing pictures and writing motivational words on the board, hoping to maybe inspire Peeta to draw again. However, Peeta only ever really wanted to use it as a scoreboard, marking the number of days since an episode. Delly reluctantly erases the number 8 and replaces it with a zero.
When she returns to Peeta's bedside, she gingerly removes the restraints, knowing that always Peeta wakes from the sedatives drowsy and calm. She quickly sets to work applying a cream the doctors usually put on his worn wrists, which had been placed on his bedside table for when he awoke.
After tending to his wrist, she isn't quite sure what to do. She doesn't want to leave him, but also knows that there is little she could do while he was sleeping. She knows that he always likes to hear true stories after an episode, stories from before the Capitol, so she decides to tell him one in hopes that maybe he can still hear her.
"Do you remember those summers we used to spend out in the meadow?" she starts, a small smile on her face. "We must have been 10 or eleven. We used to dare each other to go touch the fence. We'd get about 50 feet away before we'd get so scared and we'd run away, tripping and laughing.
"And then we'd go by the bakery, hoping that your mother wasn't there or that she was in a good mood so we could get a spare cookie or a stale pastry."
Delly giggles, caught up in the memory, when suddenly her face gets serious.
"I never told you, but I had such a crush on you. But I knew, even then, that you liked her. Your eyes lit up whenever she entered the room and, on the rare occasion that she sung, you were mesmerized.
"I had always hoped, as horrible as it sounds, that maybe you'd never work up the courage to talk to her. Or that maybe she'd be in love with the Hawthorne boy. Because then, maybe, you'd settle for me. And that would be fine with me, because the truth is I never could have asked for anything better than you."
Delly brushs a stray strand of hair out of Peeta's eyes before grasping his hands between her own.
"But then, everything happened with the reaping and the games, and I saw it. I saw first hand just how desperately in love you were with her. And I realized I was never even an option for you. You wouldn't have settled for me because there was no one else but her. Katniss. She was your world.
"And now you don't even remember. I should be happy. I mean, this is my chance, right? I could love you, and you could love me. I could have everything I ever wanted."
Delly pauses for a moment, as if allowing the fantasy to sink in.
"But mostly," she continues, "I feel really sad. You belong with her Peeta. And even if you don't know it right now, you love her. She makes you happier than I have ever seen you. And after everything you've been through, you deserve that; you deserve her Peeta.
"And she needs you. She's really hurting right now, Peeta. If you knew her the way you used to know her, you'd see it. She's so lost. And she misses you."
Delly grabs his face now, hoping that maybe he can hear her: the old Peeta. She clings desperately to the hope that he is still in there, buried underneath the tortured boy in front of her. She has to hope, for her own sake, and for Katniss.
"You have to fight it, Peeta. Whatever it is that's happening to you, whatever the Capitol did, you have to fight it. And you have to find your way back to her. You have to. Because you love her, and I'm not going to let you throw that away. Because wasted love will tear you apart and your love is worth way too much."
Delly is in tears now and departs quickly from the room. She's made her peace and said her part. She'll come again tomorrow and the next day; every day until Peeta asks her to stop. That's what friend do after all.
But as she closes the door behind her, slipping down the hall quietly, she doesn't notice Peeta's eyes open, awake and now fully alert…