A/N: Well, I forgot to make that complete and people asked for more and even though I didn't have a story line or anything, I figured a collection of linear one shots was doable. Try and substitute the moments where Katniss was inadequate. AKA My take on every moment Katniss disappointed me or I was disappointed wasn't in the books. She really doesn't deserve Peeta, but I love him dearly so I must give him what he wants.

Anyway, I haven't determined a total yet but enjoy!


For someone who I initially had such vehement dislike for, Finnick has become such a comforting presence in 13.

It's not that Gale isn't trying, I know he is. He just can't understand. I suppose he never will, not the way Peeta or Finnick does. Though I haven't let him try, I know that Gale's touch wouldn't draw me from my nightmares like Peeta's did.

However, when I see him look at me with the heaviness that Peeta did our last night in the Capitol though, I'm tempted. But when he does, I think of only Peeta, because just like I said it should, that is something that we shared, that belongs to us and when I think of him, weak and tortured by faceless men, all because of me, the idea of Gale touching me that way becomes repulsive and I run from him.

Now I find myself, sitting with only Finnick, as he manically ties knots, taking only slight comfort in his reassurance that today we will know one way or another. That today, Peeta will be either returned to me, or I can only hope dead and safe from the Capitol once and for all. After all, I was prepared to kill him myself when I thought we were both captured, I only hope if there is no chance of rescuing him that someone has the sense to do just that. In no lifetime would he deserve an ounce of the suffering he's already experienced.

In the hours that pass I feel as though I'm not myself, more watching myself as I wait, watching the pair of us really. Myself, on my bed with knees pulled to my chest, not moving, not speaking, and Finnick, muttering to himself as his fingers work magic on his length of rope. I wonder which of us appears more crazy.

Even when Haymitch is there, telling me he's safe, that we can see him, it's as though I am a spectator, watching everything happen to people I don't know. As we rush through the hall towards the room they have him in, I can't think, can't feel, can't accept Haymitch's words.

It all comes crashing back to me when I see him on a bed, confused as doctors take readings and fuss over him. I press against the glass that separates us, drinking in the sight of him and I can't bring myself to blink even to rid myself of the tears welled in my eyes for fear he might vanish if he leaves my sight.

Haymitch's tight grip on my shoulder isn't enough to draw me from my attempts to melt through the wall to my boy with the bread, but the sound of him opening a door I hadn't noticed which lead to him was.

I stumble through it, choking on the relief, the heart crushing disbelief that he is here, safe.

He turns to face me and as our eyes lock the intensity of it causes me to make a sound of pained joy I didn't know I was capable of and I shove the doctor at his side with as much strength as I can muster to embrace him, because seeing is not believing and until I can feel him, hold him and never let go I can't be satisfied.

It takes me longer than it should to realise that it's not the emotion which has stopped my breathing, but Peeta.

As medics yell, pulling at limbs to separate us, I catch sight of his face and with a clarity I didn't have moments ago I realise that intensity is foreign to me. It's not the undying adoration I have grown so accustomed to. Peeta stares at me with unbridled hatred.

Even when I feel the pressure of his fingers leave my throat, I can't inhale. I feel myself being pulled from the room as they work to restrain Peeta as he screams his hatred of me. It isn't until in my peripheral vision I notice the door that I start screaming, and it isn't until the doctors fall silent and loosen their hold on me I realise I was telling them to stop.

Peeta is thrashing on the bed they have secured him to and I pull my arms from the slackened grip of the doctors and move back towards his bed. I vaguely register their objections, but they mean nothing to me. My hand rests on Peeta's clenched fist, restrained at the wrist and he turns to snarl at me, gnashing his teeth in a manner so reminiscent of the mutts in our first games that I draw back from him as though burned.

But of course this is Peeta, in some way, some part of him is somewhere. I just need to find him.

"Leave." My tone is low, yet I know I've been heard because a man who I assume must be in charge begins to usher his attendants to the door and the room is empty but for the two of us.

I wasn't optimistic enough to think that Peeta's sudden silence meant he was calmed. The unwavering bloodthirst on his face was enough to tell me that he'd just managed to focus his energy on me. I return my hand to his and he begins snarling again. I grip hard, and the pressure brings me back to our second hunger games, gripping Peeta's hand as our chariot rode around, my eyes focused straight ahead as I fought to keep them from straying toward him in his burning suit. He was breathtaking.

I guess was hooked on him even then.

Seemingly the pressure brings him back to some semblance of normalcy because the snarling dies down.

"Get off me." He growls and I realise his movements aim to pull his hand away from me.

I don't move, can't respond as I am torn between the need to be gentle and love him and the desire to slap him and shake him until he snaps out of whatever kind of horror he is trapped in.

"No." is all I end up saying, trying desperately to keep my tone as calm as possible. He snarls again and my attempt at composure snaps and all thoughts of being gentle with him vanish and I climb onto the bed atop him and as I straddle his hips it takes everything I have not to be thrown off and I grip his shoulders, determined that he will recognise me for me, the girl he loves.

He has to.

"Peeta, look at me." I tell him, and he bucks his hips to get me off him and the pressure is reminiscent enough of our night together that I beg him again, with renewed desperation. My fingers are digging into him hard enough it will probably start to draw blood and as he begins to tell me he is going to kill me I lose my last strand of sanity and my voice is a despairing scream when I plead "Look at me, Peeta!"

I get my wish when his crazed eyes meet mine and I resist the urge to run away, leaning down and pressing my lips to his. He throws his head forward and when it collides with mine I see stars and it is enough to unbalance me and land me in a heap on the floor.

"Don't touch me! You're a mutt! I hate you, you killed my family-"

Arms grab at me again, dragging me away from him and when I scream for them to stop this time they don't listen. I struggle, kicking whoever is close and when I feel the grip on one arm slacken I throw myself towards Peeta, knowing if I stay I can make him see me, know me, love me.

He reaches for me, with intentions so far from mine and I don't care, only know that he needs me and I am all that can save him when the doctor is in front of me, hands gripping both my shoulders as he obscures my vision of Peeta.

"Katniss, we need you to leave, he appears to have been brainwashed somehow and you're triggering him so you need to leave for your own safety-"

"I don't care!" I scream at him, shaking myself to get him off me. "Let him try! I promised when we went back to that arena that for the rest of my life I would give him everything. I am just as prepared now as I was then for my life to be the cost! I need to save him, I need to fix him and if he kills me trying so be it! I deserve it, he should kill me for leaving him in the arena, I don't care if I can't do anything, I am going to die trying!"

He looks at me sadly and I know I must sound insane but it must be worse than even I could realise because I feel the familiar prick of a needle in my neck and I can only call for Peeta once, begging him to hear me and knowing I've failed him before I black out.