A/N: I don't own Hunger Games or any of the characters contained therein.

That being said, story takes place after Catching Fire. First chapter is rather self-explanatory.

Please Review~

~TLD

Chapter One: Out of Oblivion

Katniss!

He screamed, running blindly toward the sound of Katniss' impassioned cry. Peeta! She'd screamed. Peeta, I'm here! She'd screamed his name. She'd called to him, screamed for him to find her.

And given away her location to the enemy.

Peeta ran toward the sound of her voice, screaming her name. His already sluggish leg felt like a lead weight, dragging him down into the underbrush of the fake, engineered jungle. He ignored the whipping branches and vines slicing into his flesh and the sound of his heart hammering in his chest. His lungs ached as panicked breaths huffed out of his heaving chest like agonized gasps. No! his thoughts shouted over the din of his exertion and fear. But it was too late.

Even as the world exploded in an eruption of sound and light, he knew he was too late. And just as he had that fateful night, Peeta succumbed again to the blackness. Collapsing into the wet ferns, he saw her as his vision failed, his fierce but beautiful hunter, her eyes scolding him for his weakness and yet somehow still sparkling with that loving concern she so often tried to hide from him.

Peeta thrashed in the violence of his nightmare, the black shroud of unconscious smothering him in his own horrific reminiscences.

"Katniss!" he screamed, finally breaking free of the painful weight of unconsciousness.

His eyes opened with a start.

First, relief. It was just a dream. But then, Where am I?

Peeta's eyes slowly adjusted to the low light, revealing industrial-looking light fixtures on blank, austere walls. Walls? Peeta's mind stretched back, and he swallowed hard. Not a dream, then. He took a breath to try and still his panic. The Capitol must have picked us up then. Still lying on his back, he turned his head as far as he could, stretching his sight to the farthest corners of the room, looking for her.

Katniss… he thought. He knew the Capitol wanted them dead. He knew they'd stop at nothing to make sure he and Katniss wouldn't make it out alive. But this? Blowing up the arena to pull them out and execute them? THAT he hadn't expected. But what else could this be?

He was alone in the room. So if Katniss was here, they must have her somewhere else. He sighed in mock annoyance, Katniss, really did you have to make it this difficult for me to keep you alive? He almost smiled. But then he took a deep, cleansing breath, mustering his courage. It's time, he thought. Time to get up, find Katniss and get her out alive – or die trying.

Peeta shifted his weight, tensing his arms to lift him from his reclining position, but the motion was stilted, and with a quick intake of breath, Peeta saw why – His hands were secured to the table with heavy metal cuffs. Lifting himself up on his elbows, Peeta surveyed his bonds.

Metal cuffs at his wrists, a heavy metal band at his hips, and… his leg! Peeta's eyes closed rapidly, and he grit his teeth against the urge to cry out. Though it'd been months and months since he lost his leg, he had still not gotten used to seeing the stump that was left in its place. Even the sight of the metal prosthetic had become a comfort to him. But even that was gone.

Apparently they don't want me wandering around, he thought wryly. He twitched his good leg in the cuff around his ankle. The bite of the metal into his flesh was strangely comforting.

Damn, he thought, and he collapsed back onto the table, his head hitting the hard surface with a thud.

The noise wasn't particularly loud to Peeta's ears, but in the silence that followed it, the tiny clicking of the room's door unlocking seemed deafening. Peeta drew a thin breath, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, begging his body not to betray his fear. He felt a presence in the doorway, staring at him for a long moment before beginning a slow, languid walk to his bedside, heavy footfalls echoing throughout the room.

He exhaled in a long breath as the footfalls stopped. He kept his eyes locked on the ceiling, refusing to look at the figuring looming over his bedside. The scent of antiseptic burned his nose.

"Welcome back, Peeta," a cold, dangerous voice murmured above his head.

And there it was. With the speaker's breathy words, Peeta was struck with the scent of roses… and blood. Voice recognition aside, Peeta would never forget the sickening scent that clung to President Snow.

He locked his jaw, refusing to speak with this madman who may or may not have already killed – he stopped the thought in its tracks. But he couldn't keep the fury behind it out of his eyes.

President Snow clicked his tongue impatiently.

"Come now, Peeta," he chided coldly, "You're being terribly rude."

Peeta hardened his expression, refusing to be goaded into speech.

"Ah," he sighed, laying his hand on the exposed flesh of Peeta's arm. Peeta tried to suppress a shudder. "I can see we're going to have do this the hard way, then," he sighed as if disappointed.

"Believe me, Peeta," he continued, and his voice grew dark and menacing, "you want to give me what I want." He paused, waiting. "Peeta, I will ask you this once. I urge you to tell me willingly, because if you do not, the next time we speak, you will be begging to tell me every insignificant detail of your short, miserable life."

Peeta shivered at the manically sinister tone of the President's voice, marveling at how such a soft, cold voice could seem to flay the skin right off him. He blinked, steadying himself.

"Where are your co-conspirators hiding? Where is Katniss?" The President's voice was deceptively calm but Peeta could hear the barely concealed rage festering beneath the façade.

Peeta's breath caught. He struggled to keep his face blank, but inside his thoughts were joyous. Katniss is safe!

His joy must have shown in his eyes, because the President's voice came out much harsher.

"So be it," he spat. "Until we meet again, tribute." The unsubtle reminder that Peeta's life was forever subject to the President's whim made Peeta's eyes narrow.

But as the President stalked out the door and called, "He's all yours. Call me when he's ready to talk," Peeta couldn't help the huge smile that broke out across his face.

She's safe!