Chapter 2

I've been visiting Peeta for a few weeks now. I have a routine that has replaced the monotonous knot tying. I have breakfast. I visit Annie. I eat lunch. I visit Peeta until the attendant interrupts with his dinner, then I leave to go eat with the others. Sometimes I go to the gymnasium to try to exhaust myself so I can sleep. Sometimes I go straight to my room and tie my knots until I can fall asleep. I'm lonely now that Johanna, Katniss and the others are gone. Johanna used to visit me daily to keep me connected. Mostly she just gave me a hard time or complained about Plutarch or Coin. She especially liked to ridicule Coin and the stick up her ass, making countless sexual innuendos about her and Plutarch and imaginary scenarios that never failed to make me laugh. Now she's off fighting somewhere. I don't know how she does it, to hold it together. She's so strong. I suppose she has no other choice. Katniss wouldn't visit me, but I'd see her sometimes during mealtimes, on the days she wasn't hiding out somewhere. She was not much company but she was a familiar face at least. The victors and Plutarch and some other higher-ups here eat meals apart from the rest of the citizens. We also get a small individual room instead of an assigned spot in the general living quarters that others share. I suppose it is for safety as well as our privacy. Victor's are weird people, what with the screams, hallucinations, drunken stupors, or obsessive behaviors; we don't integrate well with others. Everyone with a room shares the set of private bathrooms, which is a nice perk and quite a luxury here in 13. Besides that, we get no other privileges. We eat the same quantity and quality of tasteless food. It's really more like nutrition than food; I can't recognize any of it. A lot of it looks like oatmeal to me, or some unidentifiable meat substance, but it is supposed to contain the protein, vitamins and minerals we need. So I consume it automatically, with no enjoyment. It could be worse. I can always be worse.

Annie is the same, but Peeta is getting better I think. He has started to eat dinner with the rest of us on occasion. He does ok, mostly just eats and doesn't talk much, mostly just looks like he's day dreaming or lost in thought. He responds when Haymitch or I speak to him, but seems to have a hard time maintaining eye contact. I think he is self-conscious and afraid he'll have an episode in front of us. Surprisingly, Haymitch is gentle with him, not his usual flippant, rude and obnoxious self. I guess he saves most of that for Katniss. Despite his progress, Peeta keeps a tight rein on himself. I notice how white his knuckles are when he grips his spoon so tightly or how his good leg shakes up and down almost imperceptibly or how he startles ever time someone comes up behind him. Sometimes I have to swallow the knot in my throat. I've become too sentimental lately. I wish I was more like Johanna or even Katniss who understand there is no place here for such a useless emotion. Better to get angry and kill something. Today, I really don't want to be alone and I ask Peeta if he wants to go with me to the gymnasium. He hesitates and I can sense he is going to turn me down, so I tell him that I need company. That does the trick and he agrees to go for a little while. We practice swinging ourselves across some bars, pulling weights with a rope, throwing heavy balls toward a target. Peeta decides to try walking the balance beams and is pretty good at it, even with his bad leg. When he gets across a particularly difficult one, he turns, his chest heaving, and gives me a big smile. He looks so painfully young at that moment. I can't help but give him a goofy grin and a thumbs up. Johanna would have rolled her eyes. Afterward, when we are walking back to our rooms, I can't stop myself from blurting out an idea I've been contemplating for awhile.

"Peeta, are you still having nightmares or episodes at night?" I ask tentatively.

"Every night" He says softly and then abruptly turns to look at me. "Why? Can you hear me? Am… am I disturbing your sleep?" He looks at me alarmed.

"No!" I reach my hand out to place it on his arm reassuringly, but then stop myself. "No, I just wondered. It must be hard to get rest. You look exhausted a lot."

Peeta's gaze shifts from me to the floor. "Yeah. It's harder when I can't shake myself out of it… when I can't wake myself up."

I'm quiet, trying to figure out how to say what I want to say next, but he continues. I can see his brow furrow.

"Sometimes my body is paralyzed. I know I'm awake but I can't move or open my eyes and the images just keep coming. When that happens, I usually make myself stay awake the rest of the night so it won't happen again."

His gaze turns to me again. That's the most he's said to me in one breath since he got to 13. I blurt out my next question without further thought. "Do you think it would help if I slept in your room?"

Peeta looks at me, eyebrow raised. I quickly clarify. "I mean, I could sleep on the floor in your room. Then I'd be able to wake you up, you know? So the episodes don't last longer than they have to."

I wait. Peeta appears to be considering my idea. He looks down at his feet as we continue to walk.

"That's kind of you to offer, but I can't let you to do that. That's a lot. I mean, then you wouldn't get much rest." He looks at me as he says this, smiling sadly.

"It's not like I get much sleep now anyway, between my knot tying." I say lamely. I don't know how to explain myself to him but I try. "I want to do it. I mean…It's hard to explain, but … I feel like I need to do it, you know? Maybe it's because I can't help Annie. I just need to feel useful somehow. So in a way, you'd be helping me too."

Peeta stops walking. "So, you want to me like my nanny?" He smiles softly, his eyes teasing.

I smirk at him. "Uh, no! I'm manly, so more like your guard, a hijack repellent… your liberator of bad dreams… your…" Peeta interrupts me with a snort.

"OK, don't get carried away." He rolls his eyes as he resumes walking ahead. I move to walk along side him again.

"So how about it? I'll bring a pallet.

"Would this make you feel better?" He glances skeptically at me from under his too-long bangs, curling now from perspiration.

"Infinitely," I respond as I stop in front of the door to my room. I wait for his reply. He walks on to the door next to mine and turns to me then.

"OK, Finnick, if you really want to." He says with a sigh.

"Yeah? Alright…OK. I'll see you tonight then." Why am I so pleased that he's agreed to this?

"Sure." He says as he enters his room. I almost don't hear him mutter, "Just don't say I didn't warn you."

Note: This story will contain multiple chapters. Reviews encouraged and will prompt the story along ; )