Disclaimer: Major, major, I REPEAT, MAJOR, spoilers for Mockingjay and possibly Catching Fire as well. I recommend not reading this if you haven't read those books yet and don't want all the important stuff to be ruined.

Spoilers include character deaths, event spoilers, the works.

I HAVE WARNED YOU.

That said, eh. I don't really like how this fic turned out, but I can't find the time or energy to revise it. To my DC fans who may have followed me as an author, sorry ^_^;; I wanted to try out for the Starvation forum.

This is my first time writing anything for THG and I admit that my information may have gone a tad askew. Apologies in advance for that.

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In a Flash of Chrysal and Azure

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They strap me down in a chair. By now, I know struggling is hopeless; the bindings are stronger than steel. Nevertheless, I try to break free. I resist, thrashing against the straps that bind me. Discolored bruises stain my arms and legs where the thick straps dig into my skin. But I have to break free, I have to get back. Katniss…

I am in a bare, small room. There is a seemingly blank wall in front of me, but I know that it will flicker to life when they want to show me something. The chair, my prison, is the only piece of furniture in the room. Everything is a dull, dull gray.

A man enters. I don't recognize him. He is holding a syringe of luminous green liquid. Tracker jacker venom. When his hand moves slightly, I see another syringe, but it's crystal blue.

"Don't move, and this will hurt a lot less than it needs to." The man's voice is a monotone. His eyes are dark, glassy, unreadable.

Has this happened before? I can't remember.

What? Apparently I blanked out for awhile, because the syringe holding the blue liquid is empty. Which means… Oh no. I frantically wriggle around, trying to break free. I see a puncture hole on my arm.

"Peeta," a syrupy cold voice croons. It's not coming from the man, who has settled in a corner and seems to be a statue now. "Peeta…" Who could it be? I strive to break the bonds, digging deep grooves into my skin.

"Calm down, Peeta," the voice drones, and suddenly I'm still. "Why don't you stay a bit longer? We could have so much fun…" Of course I'll stay. Why wouldn't I? I stare at the bruises on my arms. How did those get there? Why would I want to leave? We're going to have fun. Break free! Go! Why?

"Good, Peeta," the voice intones, silky and snake-like. "Now… let's have a little chat, why won't we?"

Sure. I love chats. It's my favorite thing to do. Especially with my new friend. Katniss! A voice inside me screams. You need to struggle! You love bread, you love baking, you love Katniss!

"Katniss…" I mumble. The word seems vaguely familiar.

Suddenly, the voice takes on a colder tone. "Ah yes, your friend Katniss. You don't like her. We— do not like her. No."

I'm confused. I don't like Katniss, do I? You love her. Katniss Everdeen. "I love her…" I mumble.

The voice is almost harsh now. "No, you hate her. It's because of her that you're trapped. She killed everyone in your district. Your family. Your friends. Your home. She is horrible, a terrible person. You hate her with every fiber of your soul."

I guess I do. No, I know I do. How dare she! She killed my parents, my brothers! There were so many innocent people in District Twelve! I seethe with anger. Katniss Everdeen will pay. But there is a little voice inside of me that screams to stop listening. Something about a blue liquid.

Somehow the voice sees the conflict on my face. "The green vial," the voice orders, and the man complies. "Just stay still, Peeta."

Okay. I'll stay still. I like green. However, when the man injects the liquid in me, a burning fire takes hold. I scream, long and shrill. "It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!" Suddenly, everything is crystal clear. They're trying to hijack me— but I won't let them. The pain has snapped me awake, taken away the effect of whatever that vile blue liquid did to me. The man pulls out a clear liquid and injects me. The pain suddenly stops.

Why is it that I'm in the middle of an ocean? Is that a fish swimming through that man's skull? Katniss? Is that you?

But something's wrong. Her eyes are lifeless. Wordlessly, she collapses, and her figure scatters into blinding, glittering shards that pierce me.

I'm hallucinating, I'm hallucinating, I'm hallucinating— It's the tracker jacker venom, I tell myself. But I'm starting to go woozy—

"Peeta? How are you doing?"

It's the voice again. I growl. "Just shut up. You can't break me. I love Katniss, you're my enemy, and I will never be taken by the likes of you."

"Oh, but Peeta," there is an eerie, dry laugh, "you already have been taken."

Then the screen in front of me flickers to life. "Everything you see in front of you is true. This is no hallucination. Maybe you'll understand after you finish. Bye bye, Peeta. Enjoy the show."

Suddenly, the clear liquid seems to kick in, terminating my hallucinations, taking my lucidity as well.

And then a video starts. The resolution is stunning, the colors are bright and vivid. It's almost like real life. No, it is real life. I see us when we're little, and Katniss is killing the flowers. She's destroying them, without a thought as to their lives. No, she'd never do that. But there she is, crushing them. And this is true, after all. I've never liked her. I knew she was bad from the start. You love her, she's your life.

She stole bread from my house one day. You gave it to her, to help her survive. My mother slapped me for it. She always slapped me, she hated me. Katniss breaks the laws, she hunts with some other Seam boy called Gale. Even though the video doesn't elaborate much on his character, I know instantly that I dislike him. Birds of a feather flock together. Stop it! The only reason you may dislike Gale is because he was so close to Katniss. Lies.

We are reaped. I can see the ruthless gleam in her cold gray eyes, and how she manipulates people into her favor. She has no idea, the effect she has. Break through, Peeta! You love her, you love her, you love her— Katniss mercilessly kills a sweet little girl called Rue. So innocent, so sweet, how could she do that? She sets fire to our supplies, she snaps a boy's neck and destroys him. Katniss would never— she shoots an arrow through the boy from One. She slashes my leg, and I cry out in pain and betrayal. I knew she was terrible from the start. No, no—

The voice inside my head is annoying. I refuse to fooled by this female any longer; and I block it out.

As I stare at the screen, eyes glued to the wall, my hand unconsciously reaches for my leg. The skin is soft, normal, but there's a stiffness to it that undeniably means that my leg is fake— solid proof. Katniss slashed my leg, nearly killed me, left me out to bleed to death. I can't believe I ever thought I loved her, I spit silently, watching as she deliberately kills a redhead with poisonous berries.

She fakes loving me. For the time being, I believe it's true, but right now I can see the lies already brewing behind those spiteful gray eyes. She tells me later, on the ride back to Twelve, that it was all a lie. Without even a thought to my feelings, she flips her shining dark hair and walks away, leaving me crushed.

It will never happen again.

The rest of the video goes on to prove the monster Katniss Everdeen is. There are angry red marks on my palms from where my nails dug into my skin.

I hate her.

"Peeta, welcome back."

I've been here before? Who is this man? Where is the voice coming from? A man injects a strange blue liquid in me, then leaves.

"I'm President Snow," the voice croons, as if answering my questions. "You're a very special boy, Peeta."

My name is Peeta. Peeta— Peeta what?

"There's nothing to worry about." I'm instantly calm. "Last time, we learned the truth about one of your so called friends. She deceived everyone, Peeta. Everyone but us."

I remember now. I spit out the girl's name with venom. "Katniss."

"Yes… her." The voice is dripping malice now. "She destroyed everyone, Peeta. She killed your family. She played you for a fool. Everyone thinks she's amazing, that she is a savior. But we know the truth, don't we?"

Yes. We know the horrible person Katniss is on the inside.

There is a worm of doubt wriggling in my brain. Didn't I once like this girl? Didn't I… love her?

"So many innocent people, Peeta. Her hands are forever stained with the crimson blood of those she killed. She's a hunter, you know."

Yes, I recall this. She used to hunt with her bow and arrow. "She's very good at hunting," I mumble.

"And then she moved from killing animals to killing people. It's terrible that we have to do this…" the voice seems to sigh, "but we must kill her before she can do anymore harm. Can you do that Peeta? You are the one who deserves the honor for this revenge, after all." I feel my blood begin to boil. I must kill this beast, this mutt. She's a warped, disfigured disgrace of a human being.

"Your mother loved you, you know. Even though she never told you. You were deprived of your mother's warmth because she writhed in jealously of Katniss. Because your father once loved her mother. Even from a young age, Katniss Everdeen was demolishing your life. Look what she's done. And now you can never have it back. Avenge those you love, Peeta." The voice is sugary, utterly mesmerizing.

"I'll kill her with my bare hands," I snarl, fists clenching.

"Good, good. Glad you understand, Peeta."

Has this happened before? How long have I been in here?

I can't remember… but I don't mind. I know the two priorities in my life. One is to please the voice. The second is to kill Katniss Everdeen.

I've heard rumors about the Capitol hijacking people. They make them forget who they are, make them become their lackeys. But I know I can't be hijacked, I know exactly who I am. I am Peeta. I know, with crystal clarity, about the love from my father and the happiness of baking. I know every detail of my past.

And I know exactly how cruel and heartless Katniss is.

One day, President Snow tells me that he's going to release me.

"But you see, Peeta," he chuckles, voice still as dismembered as before, "we are going to be very clever about it."

I am sitting in a comfortable chair. The indents and wears on the chair suggests that they once used it to bind some poor soul up. But not me, because they know I never would try and escape. After all, it would be absolutely ridiculous. Why would I want to leave?

A faint memory surfaces, about syringes of shimmering green and crystalline blue, but I push them away. The Capitol has never injected me, and never will.

"How are we going to be clever?" I ask, crinkling my brow in confusion.

"We're going to let some rebels capture you," President Snow chuckles lowly, "and make them believe that you are saved by them. They will be people you think you know, but they've all been swayed by… her."

He does not need to say who "her" is. I know exactly who she is, the mutt bred by the coldest and most brutal people alive.

"How dare she—" I grit my teeth in rage. She's twisting and manipulating everyone I have left. She kills my loved ones, then takes away the ones I have left. Typical of the feral dog she is.

"You're going to pretend that you were saved by them." Snow's voice has a certain amount of superiority to it; anyone foolish enough to believe Snow would give me up so easily will have a nasty surprise. "But your main mission will be to destroy Katniss. Kill her. Destroy her. Crush her. Exact your revenge."

And I know I will. In fact, I relish the idea.

To destroy this anomaly would be my greatest pleasure.

I lunge at the gray-eyed girl, hands clamping tightly around her neck. Her skin is smooth and ice-cold, and I tighten my hold around her neck. I can feel the raw power I hold, I'm sure the wild ecstasy I feel reflects in my clear-blue eyes. This is my chance. At last.

I can feel Katniss's life slowly drain from her, and I can see the fierce glint in her stormy eyes fade. She is slumping, collapsing, and I grip even tighter. She cannot breathe this way, and I know from the pleasure I'm feeling that this is my true goal in life. To kill her. Her face is paling, becoming a paper-white, but before she fully dies a rough force yanks me away.

I howl and claw at my attacker, needing to break free, needing to kill Katniss.

Then a needle sinks deep into my neck and everything is engulfed in a stygian whirl of darkness.

I am Peeta Mellark. They try to tell me that I love Katniss. As if… as if such a thing were humanly possible. Even Delly comes in, trying to convince me. I refuse her, I try to explain what Katniss truly is, but Delly just shakes her head sadly and walks out.

She doesn't know how much it saddens me to see that one of my closest friends has fallen under that vile beast's spell.

They have me restrained, but next time I'll know better. I'll bide my time, wait until we are alone.

After all, I must fulfill my sole purpose in life.

I hate her.

You love her.

It's a lie, they're all lies!

It isn't. She's wild, she's untamable, but she's beautiful, she's your life, she is everything you have ever wanted.

She is a murderer, she's a cold-blooded killer!

No more than you are. In the Games, you killed people as well. It was something you couldn't help, nor could she.

But she destroyed so many innocent people! So many sweet, undeserving children… so many people! So many dead! Killed. She murdered them!

Did she really?

And that is the question that makes me stop dead in my tracks. Did Snow really tell me the truth? (I am in a cell now. Still in District 13; I'm still not "trusted" or "stable.")

Maybe Snow didn't tell the entire truth, but I have memories. Memories that prove it all.

Tracker jacker venom, Peeta. They can control your memories.

Is my entire life a lie? Out of the memories I have so carefully constructed, what is real?

What can I do if I can't even rely on my own memories? If they, the Capitol, truly have taken away that one constant in my life, then what part of of me isn't tainted by the Capitol? What can I trust? Who can I trust? My life is flashing in a downward spiral, and I can't grasp anything to slow the fall.

Who am I? Am I even Peeta Mellark? Am I who I claim to be?

I slam my fists to the ground in despair, an animalistic howl tearing from my throat. Acid hot tears burn trails down my face.

What can I trust? Can I ever trust anyone, anything, anymore?

I swallow. "The Capitol captured me during the Quell, real or not real?"

"Real."

"I am a baker's son, I have— had," my voice catches, "two older brothers and a mother and father. Real or not real?"

"Real."

"In the Games I was in, Katniss killed Rue, real or not real?"

I see a look of horror mixed with sadness flit across Delly's features, and then she whispers, "Not real. Peeta, she was the one who kept Rue safe. She sang her to sleep, protected her, was allies with her. Do you really not remember?"

I stare at her, not answering, but my message is clear. I remember, but the real question is whether or not what I remember is real.

This is the only way I can begin to reconstruct my life. Through other people's views, through their memories. I don't know if I can ever fully rebuild myself. I'm broken, I've been used as a blind puppet, and I have terrible, aching gaps in my life story. Gaps that will never be filled.

There are times that anger washes over me, suffocates me, and in a blind rage of white and blood red I'm out to kill everyone again. Everyone that I love.

I don't know if I can ever be Peeta Mellark again. The Capitol used me as a plaything, and the mental scars will never fade. They say I have a shadowed, haunted look in my eyes now. I can imagine how the blue might look like— brittle, shattered, darkened. A brilliantly sharp shard of sea glass swept into the turmoil of a dark ocean, lost forever in its dark depths.

The glass will never be reunited with what it has lost. It is pushed and pulled and battered by the never-ending waves, away from what it used to be, sinking deeper and deeper, until only a faint memory of the sun and warmth above remains in its soul.

They say I've been hijacked. That I've fallen apart. It's one way to put it, I suppose.

But something Prim told me fits better than any of the terms they've labeled me.

"Peeta," she tells me, large blue eyes soft and glimmering with sadness, "you're not crazy, or mad, or whatever else they'll call you. You don't hate everyone, you don't hate Katniss. It's just that the Capitol has broken you inside. Katniss is a wonderful person, and you saw her in the truest light. Don't forget that, Peeta. Keep my sister safe."

She doesn't believe that I'll kill Katniss. Prim entrusts her safety to me. And this is what pulls me through when I'm at my lowest.

I know that I'm not I'm not falling apart; it's just my heart that has been broken.

And I don't know if I'll ever be able to be normal again. But I know that I'll never do to Prim what the Capitol has done to me. I will never break that promise; it's Prim after all, and I would never breach the trust she's placed on me.

It's the least I can do.

Prim is dead. I have regained control over my life, I have a strong, basic sense of what I am at my core. But there are memories inside of me, memories that I share with certain people, that will never be regained. Because they are dead. Details, the smallest strokes that paint my life, riddle holes inside my story.

I still can't believe Prim is dead. Sweet, innocent Prim. In a way, I guess you could say that I've finally been jolted into reality. I know that the Capitol, and most importantly, Snow, don't hold sway over me anymore. They never will again.

It's devastating that it took the death of an utterly undeserving, angelic girl to show that to me.

I know I will be able to find parts of myself, eventually, but I don't know if I'll ever be able to live with myself again.

So many people are dead. Snow is dead. Coin is dead. Broggs is dead. So many people— so many lives taken. But there is still one that I owe tribute to.

It takes me the entire day, but I finally find it. A bush of primroses. As I gently lift it up, I cradle it in my arms and begin the trek back home. Once I leave the forest, ducking under the fence, I know there won't be much farther to go before I reach home. Victor's Village. And most importantly, Katniss.

My eyes burn when I think of the slender young blond who saved me, who believed in me when no one else did. A single tear drips down my chin, landing delicately on a blossoming, sunny rose.

Thank you, Prim. I silently send a message, hoping that somehow it'll reach her. Closing my eyes and feeling the heat of the sun warm my eyelids, I can almost see a flash of pale golden hair and the shimmer of bright sapphire eyes. Almost. Thank you, for trusting me. For helping me become whole again. I swear, I'll never break that promise.

In my mind's eye, I see Prim giggle lightly, then turn sideways so that I can almost see the features on her face. Locks of light caramel hair are tucked behind her ear, and I imagine that I see the familiar sparkle in her cerulean eyes. And then I hear a light, silvery voice say, 'Of course you won't break that promise, Peeta. You love her, and you always have. Hasn't it always been written in your heart that you'll protect her…?' As she tilts her head down ever so slightly, strands of her hair fall in front of her eyes, shielding her face from me. She sighs, then lifts her face up to the sun. 'Keep Katniss happy, alright? As a favor to me. And tell her… tell her that I love her. As always.' Then she turns away, her back facing me, a waterfall of aurelian streaming down her back. 'Goodbye, Peeta…' And in a flash of chrysal and azure, Primrose Everdeen is gone.

When I open my eyes, all that stretches in front of me is the road. I know that I imagined it all, that Prim really didn't speak to me. But it's comforting to think that wherever she is, she's content.

When I get back and catch Katniss's eye, I first see anger flaring. I see the searing fire that I first fell in love with, being mesmerized by the sparks. The fire that I embraced, that I burned myself on; the fire that now is the brightest light in my life. But then her eyes soften from the sharp steel to a misty gray when she recognizes the blossoms on the bush I've brought back.

Everyone thinks I've been pulling myself together again, that I'm finally shaking off the shackles the Capitol bound on me. I don't bother telling them that they're wrong, that I never fell apart in the first place.

It's my heart that has mended and healed.

/fin/