Chapter One

Peeta Mellark was finally rescued from the Capitol's clutches. They tortured him and starved him. He arrived in extremely poor health and from my perspective, he's not getting any better. I would know, as I visit him every chance I get. Most people would get frustrated at the lack of improvement if they are visiting such an ill person for the twelfth time.

I hesitate before opening his hospital door, spotting one of his doctors whom I like best down the hall. I then try to take a peek at Peeta through the window ... but the curtains are drawn, blocking my view. The nurses think that they can avoid my criticism if I can't see Peeta so conveniently. But, I am not so easily won. So, I hurry down the corridor in the doctor's direction.

He does not have a curtain to block my attack.

"How is he not improving?" I ask without a greeting. "It's been almost a month since Peeta got here. I expected -"

"We're doctors, not miracle workers. Ms. Everdeen, he has been through a traumatic experience and put through two Games." he furrowed his brows and I feel patronized.

"I know. But ... okay. What are his stats?" I ask.

"He is about five-foot-nine. At seventeen, he should weigh between 144 and 176 pounds." The doctor tells me. "Since he arrived, he's stubbornly stayed mere ounces over 118. Technically not emaciated."

I strongly disagree having seen Peeta's sunken cheeks, enlarge eyes, jutting clavicles, and boney wrists. I suspect that he looks much worse beneath the gray District Thirteen uniform and layers of blankets.

I lick my dry lips, "Is there anything I can do to help him?"

I have asked this question before and I expect the same answer: leave him to the professionals and be patient. But the doctor seems to feel my earnestness and believes it.

"My doctor-side is telling me to keep him hooked up for fluids and to not exert himself." says the doctor. "My human-side," - the corners of my lips almost tug up into a smirk at that -,"tells me he needs to see familiar faces regularly. Rekindle his spirits. I try tell my coworkers: a healthy mind is one of the most powerful tools for recovery." The doctor sighs, "Mr. Mellark spends much of his time awake. He has trouble sleeping. His body thinks it's still in danger."

I set my teeth and look over my shoulder at his door, "Can I bring his dinner to him tonight?"

I have not seen Peeta eat in my past visits. I am always was ushered out for meal times. I weigh more than I ever have in my life. For once, I can afford to miss my dinner. If only I would be allowed.

"Sure. Just tell the kitchen worker when they come that I gave the you permission, okay?" consents the doctor.

I do smile, mostly out of surprise.

The doctor departs in rather a hurry to see to the other patients. I think about dropping in to say 'hello' to Finnick but I hear the trolley clacking down the corridor. I tell the person pushing it what the doctor told me to say and they let me take the containers off the trolley. I open Peeta's door using my elbow and shoulder. I see that he has his back to the door and before I can greet him, he starts talking.

"I told the nurse to tell the chef that I'm not hungry today," he snarled through forced politeness.

'Today'? As in he has not had a bite to eat all day? I pause and wait till he twists around. When he does, he looks so embarrassed.

"Oh. I thought you were someone else." Peeta apologizes. "They all blend together, wearing the same clothes all the time."

"I know. Means we have to look people in the eye to recognize them more often, huh?" I try to be cheerful, which catches him off guard. "I thought I'd change up the monotony of your life. Bring you your dinner."

"Thank you, Katniss ...," Peeta cringes as though in pain, "But, I can't eating anything tonight. I'm sorry. But you can stay and we can talk ... if you'd like to."

I am not about to give-up, even if his blue eyes remind me so much of a fawn abandoned in a cave. Lost and terrified.

I raise a brow, "Peeta, they strictly ration food to each person in District Thirteen. You should take advantage of it while they're giving you extra portions. You know, before they decide you're a lost cause."

"Oh, no." Peeta smiles then his face falls; I notice his face doesn't get any plumper while smiling and my heart sinks for him. "I just don't feel hungry like I used to, Katniss. Every bite is like trying to clear a clogged pipe. Sand-papery. I feel empty but full at the same time."

I hate what I'm hearing, "Well, I'm going to set it here with me."

He moves his feet so that I can sit at the foot of his hospital bed. I sigh while I examine him critically with just my eyes. His cuts have been cleaned and his scabs have darkened. The bruises are barely fading because of his lack of nutrition. There's just not enough calories in his system to make him pretty again.

Anything at all is being utilized to keep his major organs going. Looking into his eyes, I can see the intangible damage. Wounds far from the reach of doctors ... far away from me. I glance away to set the container between us. I lift off the lid, revealing the food underneath it.

"Wait. Let me guess," Peeta covered his eyes with one boney hand. "One bowl of nuts and a fruit smoothie."

I grin once he drops his hand because he's correct. It's not genuine because I am not satisfied with Peeta's daily dinner. But, I am not a nurse nor a doctor. If Coin wants me to keep doing her precious propos, she must make sure that Peeta recovers. I know it won't help my anxiety, but Peeta is in the best available hands.

I don't believe I'm wrong for being impatient about it. My mind shows me a heartbreaking scenario of a tube being inserted through his nose down to his stomach just to keep him alive, feeding him mechanically and against his will. I will not let him go through that. I must lead him back to his will to live.

"Peeta, you might feel better once you gain some weight back." I suggest carefully. "What Snow did to you ... weakening your immune system, making your bones fragile. You'll get sick faster than the rest of us -"

"Do you think I don't know that? I was there, Katniss." Peeta rubs his face, which looks pretty damn emaciated to me, "... I hate the way you're looking at me."

I am having a hard time pretending to be patient with him. My determination must have shown in hardness of my gray eyes. It's not in my nature to behave sensitively. Scowling is my default expression.

"How am I looking at you, Peeta?" I ask, attempting to soften my features.

"Like I'm failing you. Disappointing you." Peeta replies, his voice tremulous. "I'm trying, Katniss. Don't you see that?"

No, I say inside my mind.

"Yes." I lie for his benefit. I shift closer to him on the bed, "May I take a sip?"

Peeta waves his skeletal hand, "Knock yourself out."

I scoff and take up his smoothie. I suspect that he enjoys watching me eat. He likes to see me being healthy - well, healthier than I've ever been. The smoothie tastes sugary and sweet. I set the smoothie down on his bedside table to be closer to him.

"You don't know what you're missing." I say.

I turn my gaze down, feeling sick to my stomach. It is torture being unable to do anything to make him heal faster. I bite my lips together and turn my head away from him to squeeze my eyes shut, gripping the mattress beneath me. After a few seconds, I hear a gulping sort of noise. I turn back and, to my astonishment, Peeta is drinking the smoothie.

My smile this time is very genuine. I watch his Adam's apple bounce while he drinks it. I can see the veins of his neck and his clavicles at this angle. But I ignore all of that because Peeta is eating. Finally.

For me.

When he takes it away from his lips, half of it is gone. Peeta wipes his lips with the napkin and he shivers, slightly out of breath. I wonder if saying 'good job' would sound too patronizing. Instead, I reach out to hold his free hand. Grasping at this glimmer of hope he showed me.

He must have understood how badly I wanted to see him eat. If I am his motivation, so be it.

"It's good, isn't it?" I ask, grinning broadly.

"Delicious. A bit cold, though." Peeta wrinkles his nose and gives me a smile.

I swear I saw some color return to his cheeks and lips. But he's shivering now. Peeta shifts nearer to me and I catch him hiding how much pain it caused him with that simple movement I would take for granted.

He hisses, clenching his teeth before explaining, "Argh. I get sore when I stay in one position for a short while. I can't sleep. I'm exhausted, Katniss."

I scoot closer so that he won't have to exert himself anymore, reminding myself of what the doctor had told me just minutes ago. Peeta rubs his hand against his chest and feels at his protruding collar bones. He is breathing too heavily for my liking.

"Thank you for coming tonight." Peeta says a little breathlessly.

"I'm sorry I don't come every night," I apologize, hoping I wasn't blushing or something stupid like that. "Thirteen is strict about curfews. I'm spread thinner than butter."

Peeta frowns, "I'm sorry that they're controlling you like this. Again."

"They're different than the Capitol. I became the Mockingjay so that they would rescue you, Peeta." I tell him. "Trust me. This was entirely voluntary. My choice. Not Coin's."

Peeta still looks unconvinced, "It's my fault."

I roll my eyes, "Peeta ...," I tuck a curtain of my long black hair behind my ear, "You don't want to contest me about feeling guilty, okay?"

Peeta seems too tired to argue with me tonight. He pinches up a nut from the container. The crunch it made between his teeth was just as glorious for me as the sound of him sucking down the smoothie.

"Do you get lonely down here?" I ask.

Peeta shrugged, "How can I be? I am watched 'round the clock. Poked and prodded, day and night. Threatened to have a feeding tube installed if I don't shape up. I never get a moment of peace."

I did not know that the doctors were already planning to hook Peeta up to a feeding tube. He must be worse off than his doctor told me. I was lied to. I had believed that doctor. I needed to. I swallow hard and scratch at my arm.

"I share a room with Prim and my mom. Oh, and Buttercup." I tell him. "I sometimes go hunting with Gale. They give us a patch of ground that's safe. We bring back whatever we kill to the kitchens."

"I like that." Peeta smiled softly, closing his eyes for the moment. "Imagining you outside. The sun haloing your hair, tanning your skin. Running through the woods as silent as a cat."

"See? Coin isn't like Snow." I say. "You could die, Peeta." I tell him quietly after along moment, almost a whisper. My eyes glaze over, "I know how much you weigh. It's too low. You look worse than the poorest in District Twelve."

"Still handsome, though. Right?" He smiled broadly.

I sigh, "I'm serious, Peeta. Don't leave me in this world alone."

I take his hands together and bring them up to my lips. These creative, talented hands that can so effortlessly bring a canvas to life. I kiss his sharp knuckles. They are so cold, a shiver rolls down my spine. Peeta closes his eyes and bows his head, furrowing his brows, ashy blonde curls hanging limply and casting his boney face in shadow.

"Maybe you can convince Coin to let us outside? Have a picnic or something?" Peeta suggest hopefully, lifting his eyes. "I haven't been outside since ... you know ..."

I nod my forehead against his fingers, "I can do that."

I lift my head and see him yawn. The dark circles around his yellowed eyes droop. I look at his prosthetic leg clearly distinguishable beneath the blankets. In his condition, he has no business being in the woods. But the doctor did tell me that his heart needs to be happy in order to recover. I'll do what I can to make his request possible.

"But they need to see you put in effort. More of it." I add. "May I come visit you tomorrow night?"

"You are always welcome here, Katniss. My door is never closed to you." Peeta responds earnestly.

I smile, scrunching up my nose, "I'll see you tomorrow, Peeta."

I step off the bed and lean in to embrace him. My arms about his shoulders, I see the opening of the slit in the back of his grey hospital gown. His spine is just as visible as a anatomy map in Prim's textbook. I can see his ribs as well as the back of his hips. I must have been lingering too long.

Peeta pushes us apart, eyeing me with suspicion. I smile as though I saw nothing and I make my exit, waving for good measure. He is worse than I could have ever come up with in my nightmares. He could die before Coin could make a decision on my request once I've given it. Peeta may never see the sun again.

I am halfway down the corridor, nearing the service elevator, when a tear escapes my grasp. When I smack it away, another just takes its place. I stamp myself to a stop and aim a kick at the nearest wall, suddenly sobbing. I beat my fists there, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Peeta ...No ... Peeta ... Oh ..." I whimper thickly.

I slide down the wall with my shoulder, curling up at the bottom. Curling into my despair.