So this is my first fanfiction, and after reading some others I'm realizing that mine pales incredibly in comparison. But I worked for a while on it (more chapters coming) and I figured I might as well put it up here. I'm also still figuring out fanfiction, so if you have any suggestions, send me a message or put something in a review! Thanks! -simplypurple207

My last hopes are beginning to die. My eyes have been closed; I know I've camouflaged myself well. I'm ready to let go. At least it will be easy. No stabbing, no shooting. Now I only hope. Hope she'll win. Hope she'll live. I'm remembering the exact pitch of her voice when I hear something.

"Peeta! Peeta!"

Did I make that up? I must have. Just thinking about her voice, the way she used to say my name, maybe combined with the fact that I'm dying is enough to make up things without even knowing it. But what if it's real? My eyes open. To my astonishment, she is feet away from me. So close. She doesn't see me. I close them again.

"You here to finish me off, sweetheart?" My voice cracks from lack of use. I hear her whip around, looking for me.

"Peeta? Where are you?" I can't believe she's here. I thought I would never hear her voice again. So perfect, like the mockingjays that love her so much. "Peeta?" She inches towards me.

"Well, don't step on me." I hear her flinch and retreat. My eyes open, and I hear her catch her breath. I laugh for the first time in what feels like an eternity. I guess I wasn't wrong about the camouflaging.

"Close your eyes again," she tells me. I do, as well as my mouth. I feel her weight shift; I assume she's on her knees next to me. "I guess all those hours decorating cakes paid off."

I smile again. Only she could pull one out of me now. "Yes, frosting. The final defense of dying."

"You're not going to die," she informs me knowingly. Of course I will. I'm beyond repair.

"Says who?" I choke out. She winces at the sound of my voice.

"Says me. We're on the same team now, you know." I open my eyes at this.

"So I heard. Nice of you to find what's left of me." My throat is so dry that I can barely talk. But I'm with her, and I feel like I can do anything.

"Did Cato cut you?" She gives me water. I'm glad to know she was never without it.

"Left leg. Up high." How strange it is to not have a throat coated in what feels like sawdust.

"Let's get you in the stream, wash you off so I can see what kind of wounds you've got." Well, I guess it's now or never. I speak up.

"Lean down a minute first. Need to tell you something." She tosses her braid over her shoulder and puts her ear just above me. I whisper into it, "Remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it."

She pulls back immediately and begins to laugh. I wonder if she thought I would have kissed her then. If she'd stayed down, I probably would have. Just once.

"Thanks, I'll keep it in mind," she says smiling.

When she tries to get me into the stream, she realizes how much she underestimated Cato. I can't move at all on my own, I've sat idle for days. She tries to pull me over to the water, and I just attempt to let my body go limp and ignore the pain everywhere as she frees me from the mud that's hardened around me. I moan despite my efforts not to, and I can feel the tears fight their way out as I feel like I'm being ripped in half. After what seems like eternity, all that's accomplished is freedom from the mud. I'm still a good way away from the water, and somehow I don't think she plans on carrying me in.

"Look, Peeta, I'm going to roll you into the stream. It's very shallow here, okay?" she tells me.

"Excellent," I reply, even though it's not. She'll realize soon enough that won't work.

"On three," she says determinedly. "One, two, three!" She attempts to roll me into it, but it hurts even more than escaping the mud. I can only stifle the screams I feel ripping out of my chest, and she stops. At least we're really close to the stream now.

"Okay, change of plans." Thank goodness. "I'm not going to pull you all the way in."

"No more rolling?" I ask hopefully.

"That's all done. Let's get you cleaned up. Keep an eye on the woods for me, okay?" I nod as she sets up with two water bottles filling and another to use. It takes a while, but she somehow manages to rinse the mud and grime from my body so that my clothes eventually begin to make a reappearance. She gently unzips my jacket and gets it off along with my shirt, then starts cutting away at my undershirt and pouring more water on it to reach the wounds. To my surprise, she doesn't look too upset about the burn, tracker jacker stings, and bruises. I had thought they, along with my cut, would kill me, but I guess having a healer for a mother helps a lot.

I lose focus for what she's doing and begin to just notice her. Her face, which I thought I would never see again, that I hoped I wouldn't see in the night sky. Her hair, the exact same color that I remembered it, pulled back carelessly into a braid that's tossed over her shoulder. Her voice, the same pitch that I knew and replayed in my head when I thought I was dying, wishing it could be the last thing I heard. I watch her as she rubs remedies on me, wince when she yanks the stingers out, but the truth is, I couldn't be happier right now. I watch her dig through a backpack and pull out a first aid kit. Huh. I hadn't thought any of my injuries were simple enough that a first aid kit could take care of them.

"Swallow these," she instructs me, handing me pills, and I do. I wonder what they're for, but it doesn't really matter to me. Maybe they'll numb any pain. "You must be hungry."

"Not really. It's funny, I haven't been hungry for days." It's true, but I guess a bit of a blessing seeing as I couldn't have escaped the mud if I had wanted to. She pulls out something that looks a little bit like chicken and holds it out to me. I stare at it, disgusted. There's nothing right now that I want less than food. Except maybe Cato.

"Peeta, we need to get some food in you!" Katniss tells me. I don't see why it's such a big deal, though. Right before I painted myself into the ground, I tried to eat a root I remember learning about in the training center just because I thought I should eat something. It came right back up, and I expect no improvement since then, and I tell her so. But of course, being Katniss, she's too stubborn, and I figure that since she's helped me so much already, I might as well gnaw on something. The dried apple tastes alright, I guess, but I don't think anything would taste good at this point.

"Thanks. I'm much better, really. Can I sleep now, Katniss?" That's really all I want. To fall asleep and know she's as safe as she can be in here, and know that when I wake up she'll be the first thing I see.

"Soon," she tells me. "I need to look at your leg first."

I try to zone out again like I did before, just focus on her, but this time it's harder. My leg got the worst of any part of me, and I really just want to sleep, maybe wake up and find that Haymitch sent us something for it.

"Pretty awful, huh?" I ask. I can tell she doesn't like having to heal this. It's not like a burn, where she can rub in some cream and let it heal. This is probably something that she's never really had to deal with.

"So-so," she says, trying to make it seem like it won't be that difficult, but I can tell she doesn't want to be the one responsible for it. "You should see some of the people they bring my mother from the mines. First thing is to clean it well."

After working a bit more around the gash, it becomes evident that she can't put it off any longer. "Why don't we give it some air and then…"

"And then you'll patch it up?" I add. I know this isn't easy for her, and I wish I could help, but she's more familiar with all of this than I am.

"That's right. In the meantime, you eat these," she tells me as she presses some dried pears into my hand, even though I don't have any intention of eating them. I watch her back at the stream, rinsing off my clothes, going through the first aid kit. She seems to determine that there is nothing of use in it and replaces it in the backpack.

"We're going to have to experiment some," she tells me when she gets back. Which I assume is her way of saying that she has no earthly idea how to handle this, but it can't get much worse.

When she rubs in the leaves that soothed the burns earlier, pus appears immediately and begins to ooze out. Her face starts to pale and slowly turns slightly green, and I start hoping she has a tough stomach. "Katniss?" She swallows and looks at me. I mouth, "How about that kiss?" She loses it, doubled over because she's laughing so hard. Well, at least I'm not afraid of her losing her breakfast on me anymore. "Something wrong?"

She struggles with her words for a minute. "I…I'm no good at this," she gets out. No good at what? She doesn't realize what she's done for me. She doesn't realize she kept me living, physically and mentally, not only now but even when she didn't know my name. When I was only who she thought of as the boy with the bread. "I'm not my mother. I've no idea what I'm doing and I hate pus!" she moans as it seeps out.

"How do you hunt?" I ask incredulously. I don't know how she could ever stand to take the life from something but not see some pus. After all, her mother is a healer, even if Katniss doesn't help her.

"Trust me. Killing things is much easier than this," she tells me earnestly, but I don't believe it. "Although, for all I know, I could be killing you."

"Can you speed it up a little?"

"No. Shut up and eat your pears."

Katniss slowly becomes more comfortable with the pus as she drains my leg of it. I can tell she still doesn't like it, but she knows how to handle it now. The swelling has gone down and now that she can see how deep the wound is, her stress is completely evident.

"What next, Dr. Everdeen?" I inquire.

"Maybe I'll put some burn ointment on it. I think it helps with the infection anyway. And wrap it up?" As far as the pain goes, it's the same as always, where it's almost numb and I can't really feel it. I'm not sure if this is a good sign, but we both feel a little bit better seeing it wrapped up tightly in a bandage.

"Here, cover yourself with this and I'll wash your shorts," she tells me, handing me a backpack.

"Oh, I don't care if you see me," I reply dismissively. After all, the entire nation will, since we're sure to be on film right now. What does it matter if she sees me?

"You're just like the rest of my family," Katniss sighs. "I care, all right?" She turns around defiantly, and I take off my shorts and throw them into the stream for her. I watch her carefully as she washes them.

"You know, you're kind of squeamish for such a lethal person," I let her know. "I wish I let you give Haymitch a shower after all."

She shudders a little bit. "What's he sent you so far?"

"Not a thing," I tell her. I'm not surprised. Then it hits me. "Why, did you get something?"

"Burn medicine," she says, still turned away. "Oh, and some bread."

"I always knew you were his favorite," I mutter, even though I can't blame him.

"Please, he can't stand being in the same room with me!" Katniss persists.

"Because you're just alike," I point out. I can see that she's biting back a response, but says nothing.

We don't say anything for a while, and eventually my eyelids get incredibly heavy. As much as I wanted to sleep before, now I'm afraid I'll wake up and she'll be gone. The last thing I see is her toss her braid over her shoulder, something that defines her, but might mean nothing to someone else.