I do not own the Hunger Games.
Marus Aurelius's POV
I am back underneath the Training Center, hoping to learn more from Peeta's file. I have watched his videos again and again and now understand why some things trigger attacks: pearls and watches remind him of the arena. I still am no closer to predicting triggers than I was before starting this research and this frustrates me. I have gone through everything I know about drug formulas and have formulated a plan to launch a counterattack on previously targeted parts of his brain. I can do this using the same map that his previous doctor transcribed from his strongest memories. I am, however, uncertain that it will not wipe out all of his memories entirely.
Is it better to have some memories and be haunted or be a clean slate to build on anew? What would Peeta choose? After watching his videos and treating him for months, I know he would choose flawed memories of Katniss over the risk of losing them forever. He goes through pain every day just to have that piece of her. What must it be like to love someone so deeply?
My thoughts drift to of President Paylor. We have been meeting in the Training Center late each night to take out our frustrations on the day. Although it is not something we've planned, it is a routine that I have come to rely on and enjoy. I have not had someone to share my day with in a very long time. I've seen her looking at me when we are together. What is she thinking when she looks at me? What does she see?
How long has it been since a woman held my interest? Alma Coin did not like her head doctor to have what she called "messy involvements" that took away focus from research. Everything in 13 reflected that commitment to orderliness – everything was neat and tidy and without over-emotionalism. It worked well from a research standpoint but it hindered my work with patients because I had a difficult time relating to people. Luckily, the work in 13 was mostly research. Alma Coin didn't believe in wasting resources on people who could not contribute to her society. I never asked what fate befell those she deemed unfit: curiosity is not always a virtue.
As a result, Peeta and Katniss are my first long-term patients.
I tap my fountain pen against the blotter on the desk, thinking of the president's skin covered with the sheen of sweat, or the furrow of her brow when she concentrates on hitting a target. If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine skimming my hands along her cheekbones and down her neck, tracing the scar located there, savoring the feel of her soft, slick skin and feeling the flutter of her pulse beneath my hands. Would her eyes be shut while I touched her, or would they remain open, gazing into mine and showing every nuance of expression?
Brinna Paylor's POV
I stop short in the door way of the office, transfixed by video playing without sound. It is Peeta straining at his bindings, face red, arms bruised in a rainbow of colors. He is screaming something at a screen which plays the cave scene where he and Katniss in his first Hunger Game. It is too painful to watch so I avert my eyes to spy Dr. Aurelius. He is deep in thought and has his eyes shut. I momentarily debate leaving before he notices me. I decide it is worth standing my ground and risking his ire when I think back on the day.
He still hasn't noticed my presence, so I knock. His reaction is as comical as if he had fallen out of his chair – his eyes snap open, narrow almost immediately, his brows furrow deeply. I can feel my mouth twitch upward in response to his obvious discomfort. I wonder what he was thinking? He will just have to derive the quadratic equation later.
"I thought I would see you later this evening." Something about the way he says it, quietly and sincerely, with a hint of pleasure sends tingling up my spine despite his irked expression.
I push that sensation aside and clear my throat before beginning, "Something happened that I think you should hear from me: it's about Peeta." His expression morphs from irked to alarmed, and he motions for me to sit down. I look back at the video screen where Peeta's restrained body now lies limp, his eyes rolled back in their eye sockets. "Could we…would you mind if we went back to the mansion?" He follows my eyes and immediately clicks the video off. I give him time to tidy up the desk, put on his jacket (I bet he checks the pocket!), and shut off the lamp.
We walk back to the mansion, Dr. Aurelius walking quietly and efficiently beside me. I take a few cleansing breaths of Capitol air, trying to purge my lungs of the bleakness nestled in my chest. I finally explain that Plutarch suggested Peeta show his paintings and that Peeta had not seemed very receptive to the idea. The only thing that had seemed to excite Peeta was the mention that some of Peeta's earlier paintings are in the Capitol. Peeta had asked if he could see them and I hadn't thought it would cause any harm. I re-emphasize that point to Dr. Aurelius. When the doctor still says nothing, I stop walking so that he faces me.
I reach out and put my hand on his arm, not even realizing that I am touching him. "I truly hadn't anticipated any sort of reaction. It was foolish of me not to think through all of the ramifications…"I trail off as Dr. Aurelius puts his hand over mine. The electricity zings between his hand and mine as his thumb grazes my knuckles.
"Let's get inside the mansion. You can finish telling me about it and then we can decide what to do next." His voice is so low and patient.
I throw back my head and laugh bitterly. "Oh, I know what I am doing next: I am going to get drunk." I take his hand and half-lead-half-drag him into the mansion and the library. I make my way to an assortment of crystal decanters, pour myself a glass of something that is a pretty pink color, and drink it in one gulp. It burns like fire down my throat. Like fire; like the Girl on Fire looking down at Peeta and the careers from a tree, captured forever in a painting across from President Snow's bed.
I've never been drunk. There was neither time nor opportunity in my district, 13 had no alcohol, and the Capitol has kept me busy enough that drinking has not appealed to me. Right now, though, I need the anesthetizing effect to keep me from throwing things or going to see Peeta in order to beg his forgiveness. How could I have been so thoughtless? I pour myself another drink.
Dr. Aurelius takes the decanter from my grasp and motions for me to sit. Once we are both settled, he asks, "What happened?"
"I took Peeta to see his other paintings in Snow's private apartments. He was fine – relatively speaking – until I offered to show him the last one. It is a picture of Katniss and it's hanging in Snow's bedroom." I take another large sip of my drink, "I am not sure if he had an attack or what happened, but the look on his face before he ran out of the room…let's just say that it will haunt me until my dying breath." I drink again, draining the glass.
"Did he say anything?"
I shake my head, "No. His eyes got this wide and wild look and he appeared to have stopped breathing. Then he just bolted out of the room at a flat out run. I haven't gone to check on him. Should I? Should I send someone?"
"Are the cameras in his room accessible from here?"
I nod. "I don't normally use them…"
He interrupts, "I know. It's the best way to determine if he is having an attack or a danger to himself." I sit mutely while Dr. Aurelius walks to a piece of art depicting men on horseback who are hunting a deer. Pulling the artwork aside to display a screen, he hits a series of buttons and we see a black and white video feed of Peeta's room. It is empty. He moves to another camera view and we can just see Peeta's feet on the floor of the bathroom. I swear I can feel my heart swell, Is he alright? Please. Please be alright. Dr. Aurelius zooms in and we see that Peeta is curled up on the floor of the bathroom. He is obviously breathing. I breathe a sigh of relief that comes from the depths of my very soul and plunk my head down on the desk.
Surprisingly, Dr. Aurelius refills my glass and pours himself one. In a truly poor showing of manners, I do not thank him. Instead, I say, "Peeta was so good today. He singlehandedly negated the need for troops in District 7. What have I done?" I look up at Dr. Aurelius blue-green eyes, which seem to be staring at me as he takes a small sip of his drink.
"Tell me what happened from the beginning."
So I do: I talk about Tryna and Ric, both from districts struggling to rebuild. "Peeta saw that they each have resources the other needs. He accomplished in a few hours what the council did not in days of negotiations. I won't have to send troops to Tryna's district, which had been acting insurgent. I offered him a career in politics." I laugh as a recall his horrified expression. "He gracefully declined. So I told him about Plutarch and the exhibit idea, then the paintings that Plutarch recovered. We went to Snow's apartment where he seemed a little stunned by some of the paintings, but nothing like this." I motion to the wall. "If I had thought…" I stare at Dr. Aurelius beseechingly.
His lips purse, "We will keep an eye on him tonight and make sure that he is out of harm's way. Have you eaten?" He motions to my drink, "At this rate of alcohol intake, you should eat something unless you want to be sick."
