A Turn of Events

Peeta POV. What goes through his mind when he hears that the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games could have two victors…

(Edited 8/2/11)

My eyes fly open in shock. Are my ears playing tricks on me? The birds in the trees above have gone silent, as if they too are listening. No, there it is again: the voice of Claudius Templesmith announcing a rule change. That if the last two tributes alive are from the same district, they will both be declared winners.

Katniss!

Where is she? I wonder, breath quickening as my mind struggles to wrap itself around this sudden turn of events, body tensing in the muddy prison that I've created for myself. She's still alive, or else I would have heard the cannon. Seen her face in the sky, my greatest fear since I entered the arena, knowing that only one person could go home, and accepting the fact that it would not be me. Accepting that fact has allowed me to focus entirely on making sure Katniss is the victor, at least until my run-in with Cato. But now…

Now there's a real chance we can both make it out of here alive. Together. After all, there are only six of us left. The flame of hope that had lain dormant, that I thought was firmly crushed, flickers back to life. Low, but unmistakably there.

The sky darkens. I grit my teeth as a shooting pain in my wounded leg reminds me that even with this new rule in the Games, we don't have much time if we are both going to survive the arena.

Forget Cato or Thresh; I know that infection is now my greatest obstacle to making it back to District 12. Without anything to cleanse or bandage my wound, lying in this stream with who knows what else, it can only be a matter of time before I succumb to my injury.

At least one of two things needs to happen: I need a gift from a sponsor to heal my leg or we need to win the Games very soon. Katniss needs to win very soon, I correct myself. Not going to be much more help to her in my current condition, that's for sure. I'm so weak, and at this stage in the Games, with the price of gifts rising higher and higher, why would anyone choose the tribute stuck in a stream bed with an infected sword wound, covered in tracker jacker stings?

I give a short laugh. The answer to that is they wouldn't, of course.

That means Katniss is my only chance. And my camouflage, at first the perfect way to stay alive, is now a liability.

As I shift slightly in the water, the thoughts rise unbidden to the surface of my mind: What if she searches and can't find me? Have I left a trail she can follow? What if she doesn't come at all?

I close my eyes. Calm down, Mellark, I think to myself. Breathe. Even if she hated me, she would have to be stupid to ignore what the Gamemakers have now made an obligatory alliance, and Katniss is anything but stupid. Stubborn, sure. Oblivious to the effect she has on me, obviously. But not stupid. Or heartless. No one who volunteers at the reaping in place of a sister could be.

As long as she's physically able, she'll at least try and find me, I know that much. And as good a hunter as she is, it has to be sooner than later.

Has to be…

The worries start again. What if she is lying wounded somewhere like me, alone and unable to make the trek across the arena? Or what if she crosses paths with the Careers? The knot in my gut, the one that's never quite gone away since the morning of the reaping, tightens at the thought of everything that could go wrong. All the ways she could die.

All the ways she could die. Like being attacked by Careers when she's trying to help me out of this muck, and me unable to save her...

My immobility means that I need to make sure I don't miss Katniss if – no, when – she comes looking for me. Still, I doubt she would search at night, so I make no attempt to stay awake, although my stiff muscles make it difficult to fall asleep. Instead, I drift in and out of consciousness throughout the night. At one point I dream that Claudius Templesmith is dragging Katniss through a muddy stream. I am crawling toward them, calling out to her, but she is always just out of reach.

When I wake from my dream, I attempt to look around for any sign of the other tributes, some of whom I know like to hunt at night. I see and hear nothing, eventually drifting back into a restless sleep.

The next thing I know, a ray of hot sunlight across my face awakens me. Or was it…

"Peeta! Peeta!"

My breath catches in my throat when I hear Katniss's voice nearby, and I smile for the first time in days, silently giving thanks that her voice penetrated the fog in my brain. Having practically given up hope of ever seeing her face again, I immediately need to see her, find her.

Cracking one eye open, I observe her close by, off to my left. She's peering between the boulders, bow and arrows in tow. If I was her wounded prey, I would be a goner. Of course, I've always been a goner when it comes to Katniss, ever since I was five years old and she sang that song in the red dress. Even now, visibly worse for wear, she is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

She can obviously tell I'm hidden somewhere close at hand. As her eyes scan the stream bed I finally speak up, unable to resist a bit of teasing. "You here to finish me off, sweetheart?" I say, not ready to reveal my hiding spot just yet.

"Peeta? Where are you?" she whispers as she turns sharply in my direction, braid swinging over her shoulder. She steps carefully along the bank, still searching for my hiding place. "Peeta?"

I speak again when her foot comes dangerously close to my hand. "Well, don't step on me," I say. Startled, Katniss immediately jumps back and I finally open my eyes. I'm rewarded with a gasp as she realizes I am literally underfoot. I'm so happy to see her, I can't help but laugh.

No matter what happens next, now we're a team until the end, whenever that is. It's more than I could have ever hoped for.

This is my first attempt at writing fan fiction. Please review and let me know what you liked/what needs improvement. Thanks!