As always, thank you emmaintherye for your amazing editing skills!
Disclaimer: The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins
Chapter 3: Peeta's POV
The first thing I notice when I wake is the throbbing pain in my back. I thought I was going to wake up from that dream-turned-nightmare, safe and comfortable in my Victors Village bed, but the pain makes it clear that is not what is happening. When I open my eyes and take in the familiar surroundings of the room I had previously shared with Rye above the bakery, where I had stayed prior to the day of the reaping, it's doubly clear that my expectations were completely off base.
I'm actually starting to panic now. Pain aside, I think I may throw up from the way my insides are twisting. Why am I back here? I should have woken after I passed out. I'm suddenly terrified that this is not a dream. I feel like I had finally reached a point in my life where I could be happy. Despite all the shit we went through and all the people we lost, Katniss and I were making peace and were finally together.
Still, the thought of Katniss alone right now as I lay on the floor of my childhood bedroom makes my head spin. Is Katniss okay? I need to get back to her. She must be so confused, wondering what happened to me and why I left. Or, am I simply lying there unconscious beside her? God, she must be freaking out. I notice that my hands form into fists at the thought of Katniss alone right now. Finally, everything seemed normal. God, I need normal right now.
My mind returns to the present as the pain worsens. I couldn't really be back in the body of my sixteen year old self, could I? I remember waking up this morning in this very bed and my body was whole, unmarked by the games or the war. My mind is clear too. I can remember everything, all the confusion and lack of control following the hijacking, but none of it is clouding my mind now. It's like my brain has never been touched by the venom. Although, I guess that would make sense, since at sixteen my body had never encountered any tracker-jacker venom- not until our first games.
This is all unbelievable. Was everything I thought happened the past few years some kind of dream? There's no way, I think to myself. My mind isn't sadistic enough to come up with even half the things I remember.
If, somehow, everything that I remember did happen and this is not a dream… if I'm actually my sixteen year old self, reliving my life, then that means… Oh god. I barely manage to roll onto my side before I'm vomiting onto the floor over the edge of the bed. I have to suffer through the games, and the reaping, and everything that followed, AGAIN.
The noise draws Rye. He takes in my distressed state, noticing the way I'm hyperventilating and the vomit on the floor. He looks panicked as he runs to my side, grabbing my face to assess my pupils and temperature.
"Shit, Peeta. What's wrong? How hurt are you?"
I can't answer him. I can't get my breathing under control. I can't survive living through everything again. I can't. I can't. I can't.
"Breathe, Peet. Just try and breathe for me. In and out, okay?" I try to listen, to obey, but I can't.
He gives up trying to talk me through it and rushes from the room. I'm not sure how long he's gone, it could be seconds or it could be hours. Hell, I can barely process my own thoughts right now, let alone the time of day. When he comes back, he hands me a paper bag and has me breathe into it. It helps a bit, but my lungs still burn..
Rye assesses me carefully, concern lining his features. He sets his mouth into a hard line before lifting me by hoisting his shoulder under my arm. "Come on. I'm taking you to Mrs. Everdeen."
The mention of her name shocks me, and suddenly I feel like I've been slapped in the face. In all the years we've been getting beat up by our mother, none of us have ever been to the Seam to seek out Mrs. Everdeen for treatment, no matter how bad it got. It wouldn't have been worth it. If Mom found out we turned to Dad's first love for help and embarrassed her, we'd be as good as dead. I must look like death if he's set on it.
I nod, but when we make it to the bottom of the stairs, I gasp out "Wait..." I'm still struggling to breathe and speak, but I nod my head toward the kitchen.
He shakes his head and gives me a hard look. "I don't care. She can go to hell for all I care. I'm taking you to get checked out."
I appreciate it, but that's not what I was getting at. Gritting my teeth and forcing myself to pull in enough air to speak, I manage to say, "Bread… Raisin bread. One and a half loaves, to trade."
Understanding softens his eyes as he retrieves it. I know it's not strictly necessary, Mrs. Everdeen would treat anyone from any part of the district whether they could pay or not, but, it's the Everdeens. They mean something dear to me. Plus, if what I believe to be true does come to pass today, then I know they'll need everything they can get in the coming weeks. If I thought we could sneak more than that out of the bakery unnoticed, or that they'd take it even if we did, I'd certainly try to offer them more.
We make our way somewhat slowly toward the Seam. I don't think my mother managed to break any ribs, but I may have some bruising to my kidneys. It's hurts like hell. I'm trying to focus on the pain at this point to distract me, but I'm having trouble quelling my panic at the thought of what I believe is to come starting in a few hours. I feel nauseous and my heart is beating erratically in my chest.
Poor Rye is carrying most of the burden of my weight, but he stays steadfast. It's not until we reach the edge of the Seam that he falters. I realize then that he's never actually been here; he must not have any clue where to actually go. And yet, judging by the looks we're receiving, it doesn't seem like anyone wants to help us. Looking around, I know from when I returned to Twelve after the fall of the Capitol where Katniss lives. She had shown me the bombed out remains as we followed her familiar path into the woods one day. I remember the day clearly;the look in her eyes made my knees weak, sad and full of longing, but also pride and love. She has overcome so much, done so much to provide for her loved ones, even in these hard conditions. Even still, I feel I'm not worthy. Katniss deserves someone strong enough to protect her, to care for her, and not the other way around. Often, I've had to convince myself not to outwardly admit that Gale might have been right - she could have, maybe should have, been his. However, as I walk around her village with Rye by my side, I feel pride in my chest knowing that these walls - these plain, dilapidated buildings - formed my Katniss into who she is. My Katniss.
It looks different in the Seam now, with all the houses still standing, but I still remember the path. I begin directing him there. He looks at me quizzically for a moment, but doesn't question how I know. He has an idea of how I feel about Katniss. Maybe he thinks I've stalked her in the past. It doesn't matter to me what explanation he comes up with. All that matters is that I know and we're getting where we need to go.
I can feel Rye's relief echoing my own when I finally point to the home. The Everdeen home is at the far end of the Seam, one of the last houses before the meadow. The walk has been long and tiring for the both of us. He picks up the pace when the home comes into view, dragging me to the door before knocking urgently. I take a moment to breathe, as I know Mrs. Everdeen's resemblance to Katniss will leave me speechless; though Katniss inherited her father's coloring, her features are entirely that of her mother. God, Katniss, please be okay. I'll come back to you soon, I promise.
Being a healer, Mrs. Everdeen must recognize the frantic knocking as coming from someone being in need. The door opens nearly immediately and she's beckoning us inside without pause, leading us to the kitchen. I take a moment to glance at Mrs. Everdeen, hesitant to stare, and notice the same determined look Katniss had worn countless times during the games. It's one which still leaves me feeling proud and warm in the chest. Before I know it, Rye follows her orders, placing me in one of the chairs.
I feel like all the air is sucked out of the room though, because Prim is sitting in one of the chairs, her hair half braided as if her mother was in the middle of styling it when we arrived, looking young and whole. She jumps up as we walk in, looking alert and determined to help her mother with their new patient. Prim, the healer, even at the age of twelve. Prim, the medic, dead at the age of thirteen.
I feel sick again and am dry heaving now as I think about the last time I saw the blonde in front of me. I had made it to the city circle in time to spot Katniss screaming Prim's name and recognised Prim among the medics just as the bombs went off. I can't witness that again. That cannot happen again.
Mrs. Everdeen moves to kneel in front of me now to begin her assessment. I recognize she is in healer mode. Her eyes are clear and determined, her hands and voice steady. She doesn't even spare a glance in Rye's direction as she asks him questions. I notice her eyes harden and her mouth sets in an angry line when Rye says I had an "accident" this morning and he's worried about internal damage. He explains my symptoms and where the injury is.
The Everdeen matriarch then moves around behind me so she can get a look at the injury. My heaving has largely subsided, though I'm hyperventilating again. Prim kneels down in front of me now, looking into my eyes and speaking soothing words in a soft voice. I just stare at her, taking in every detail of her as she lives and breathes in front of me. I'll make sure it doesn't happen this time. She will survive this war. With this new vow made, I slowly begin to calm down and breathe with her.
I didn't notice Mrs. Everdeen had lifted my shirt until I feel her fingers gently brush over the injury and she asks in a steely voice, "What was it made out of?" I recognize that tone. She sounds startlingly like Katniss when she's angry.
I guess she recognizes the shape of the injury. The bruise has probably already formed clearly by now. I wince and grit my teeth- it hurts despite her gentleness.
Rye looks down shamefully as he quietly answers, "Granite. It was a granite rolling pin."
Prim sucks in a sharp breath, having put it all together. "Oh, Peeta," she breathes out, before pulling me into a gentle hug by the neck, so as not to disturb my back. Prim has always been an incredibly kind person. She only knows me by name at this point, but she's kind enough to offer me physical reassurance.
I'm grateful. It's incredibly comforting. I've missed Prim as much as I've missed my own siblings. She was always friendly and supportive, even when Katniss and I weren't talking in the six months following our first games. What I find to be the most harrowing is that she helped me even after I tried to kill her sister. Without Prim's help devising the morphling treatment, I'm not sure I ever would have recovered from the hijacking. I hug her back, tears welling in my eyes as I appreciate being able to experience the inherent goodness that is Prim.
She continues to hold me while her mother finishes her assessment. Eventually Mrs. Everdeen concludes that my ribs are fine. I may have some slight bruising to my organs, as I suspected, but she doesn't think there is any life threatening internal bleeding. She looks contemplative and conflicted as she finishes her diagnosis.
"What is it?" I ask, recognizing the look on her face as one she gets when she is uncertain how best to proceed with treatment.
She purses her lips, still considering something, before answering. "Normally, I'd give you some willow bark tea for the pain, but if there is any internal bleeding, that would make it worse. Looking at the injury though, I doubt you'll be able to make it through the ceremony on your feet this afternoon without it…"
I try to put on a brave face. I've been through some serious shit- I should be able to stand for a few hours. When I go to sit up straight however, the pain becomes dizzying and I slump back forward, realizing she's right.
"Mom," Prim speaks up, "we should give him a small dose of morphling. I know you like to save it for, well, you know, but with the Reaping... you know how strict the peacekeepers are today."
I know how precious any morphling in District 12 is. Mrs. Everdeen always took care to ration it, even when we were victors and Katniss had more coin than she knew what to do with. If she was careful then, any morphling they have now must be priceless. I'm completely taken off guard when she nods, agreeing with Prim's assessment.
Rye looks stunned too. He's never even seen morphling before, let alone taken it, but he knows what it is. There's a small supply for sale at the apothecary in town, but we could never dream of affording it. Only the very wealthiest in town could even consider it.
His mouth opens and closes, as if he's not sure what to say. I know he's conflicted. He wants me to have the medicine, but he knows we can't afford to pay. Mrs. Everdeen is oblivious to his struggle, her sole focus on my treatment as she sucks a small amount of morphling into the syringe from her very meagre supply.
"Wait." Mrs. Everdeen pauses with the syringe hovering about my arm and looks over at him. "We… we brought you some bread," he says gesturing to the loaves on the table that have gone completely unnoticed until now, "but we don't have any coins or anything. I could try and ask Dad, but Mom…" he trails off as her blue eyes turn to ice at the mention of our mother.
Mrs. Everdeen turns away from him then and plunges the syringe into my arm. The relief is instantaneous and I immediately relax. It also helps calm my nerves and I finally feel like I can truly breathe for the first time since I woke up and realized this is real. Prim notices the change and smiles at me before patting my cheek tenderly.
Turning her attention back to Rye she says, "It's not necessary. I'm happy to have helped, bread or no, especially given the-" she stops suddenly when she spots the bread.
This draws Prim's attention from me to her mother, who has a far away look on her face. Prim's eyes widen when she sees the bread, before they dart back to me. Rye clearly doesn't know what to make of such a strong reaction to the meagre one and half loaves of day old bread, but I can tell they both remember. Considering Katniss had told me the night they ate that bread was the first time her mother was anything close to resembling normal since the day her father had died, I'm not surprised she would recognise it. My cheeks heat up when I realize that Prim does too, because she couldn't have been more than seven at the time.
Prim places a gentle hand on her mother's arm to draw her back to the present. Shaking her head and clearing her throat, Mrs. Everdeen looks between me and Rye for a minute. Her eyes are still glassy, but she must understand when she sees his confusion in comparison to my ruddy cheeks, because she looks directly at me and says thickly, "Thank you."
I nod before saying as sincerely as I can, "You're welcome, Mrs. Everdeen."
The little cuckoo clock on the wall signals that it is now noon. We're running out of time, considering it's a twenty minute walk to town and we all need to be in the square by two. I don't want to make them late, and it's clear they're not ready yet, since Prim's hair is still only half finished and I'm sure they haven't had lunch yet, especially considering Katniss isn't here. Oh crap, Katniss. As much as I'd love to see her, she isn't my Katniss, not yet: we still haven't ever spoken as far as she knows, and I don't think she'd take kindly to finding me in her house unexpectedly.
Suddenly in a hurry, and feeling much better after theno morphling shot, I rise from my chair to say farewell. "Thank you very much for your help today, Mrs. Everdeen, Prim. I'm sorry for interrupting you. I know it's Prim's first reaping and I'm sure you want to spend time together, so we should probably go. I really do appreciate everything."
Feeling slightly uninhibited by the morphling, I reach out to hug Prim like I would have done in the past, when I was technically engaged to her sister and was her would-be brother-in-law. Lucky for me, Prim is unendingly kind and sweet, and she returns the hug with enthusiasm, even giving me an extra squeeze around the neck. I catch Rye eyeing me strangely from over her shoulder and suddenly remember myself and where I am. I turn to offer Mrs. Everdeen my hand, but she surprisingly gives me a tentative hug.
Before she lets go, she gently whispers, "If you ever need anything, you're welcome here. Don't ever worry about payment. I'm pretty sure I owe you all of our lives already."
I don't bother arguing. I don't want to get into it in front of Rye. I politely acknowledge her offer by saying, "I'll keep that in mind Mrs. Everdeen. Thank you."
Rye offers his own thank you then. Mrs. Everdeen advises him that while I'm not feeling the pain now, I am still injured, so it would be best if he could help me walk, at least until the reaping. She also lets him know that the morphling will lower my inhibitions, so I may be more likely to say or do things I wouldn't normally. As she says this last part, it's clear that she is warning him to keep me away from my mother. She finishes by telling Rye also, "If either of you need anything, come straight here. It doesn't matter what time it is or if you have anything to offer, okay?"
We both thank her again before turning to leave. It was wonderful being around Prim again and seeing Mrs. Everdeen looking present and well, but the longer we're here the more anxious I am that Katniss will return home before we can clear out. The last thing I want is to piss her off before the games. I also don't want to intrude on what little time she has left with Prim before she is reaped.
As that thought crosses my mind, I realize I'm running out of time with my brother. I'm going to be reaped in a few hours. We'll have a few minutes in the Justice Building, but that area is monitored and will have to be shared with the rest of the family. I managed to come home with Katniss last time, but there were so many close calls, and we paid dearly for the stunt with the berries. I have no idea what I'm going to do or what is going to happen this time. These may be my last two hours with my brother ever. As this occurs to me, I realize there's some things I need him to know.
We exit the gate and he turns to head toward town, but I stop him. I ignore the way he is looking at me as if I'm a puzzle missing pieces. I know he wants to know about everything that has transpired here at the Everdeen's. I can't say I blame him for that, but there are more important things he needs to know.
"I need to show you something," I say turning and starting to head toward the Meadow.
He throws his hand out and grabs my arm, stopping me in my tracks. His voice is harsh, but clearly concerned when he speaks.
"What the hell is going on Peet? You've been weird since you woke up this morning, and I have no idea what just happened in there."
"Rye, please. It's important. We'll get to that, but first I need you to follow me," I implore. I understand where he's coming from, but we really don't have time for this.
He hesitates, but nods in agreement and releases my arm. I'm immensely relieved when he offers me his shoulder and allows me to lean on him again. Unfortunately, we've only made it about ten feet in the direction of the meadow when I hear her.
"What are you doing out here?" Shit, she sounds angry already.
I honestly want to throw my head back and shout at the sky to whatever deities so clearly hate me. I knew the odds were not going to be in my favor today, but didn't I take enough of a beating already? I couldn't even get a slight break before the reaping? Instead I take a deep breath and turn to look at Katniss, doing my best to pretend nothing is wrong.
"Hey Katniss," I say with my best smile, even though seeing her is like a punch to the gut. She's angry alright, but still beautiful; beaten down as she is by living an incredibly harsh life, she is still so much younger and carefree than she was after the games. I wish I could take her in my arms and feel her skin on mine like I had just last night, but her response reminds me why I can't.
She gives her harshest scowl in return, signifying she's still waiting for an answer. I sigh before admitting, "I needed to see your mother. I, uh, had an accident this morning." I cringe as it comes out. It's not very manly admitting your mother beats you. I know Katniss isn't going to be pleased, regardless of how well she knows me or not; she doesn't like bullies in general, but especially not ones that are in a position of power over those they abuse.
Her eyes widen slightly and she looks concerned for a split second. Rye probably didn't even catch it, but I've spent years watching her. I know her. That's how I recognize that her worry and vulnerability has made her turn defensive as her eyes narrow at me.
"Is this because of the bread this morning?"
So she did have breakfast with Gale this morning, and she clearly took notice of the bread. She must be thinking about the bruised cheek and swollen eye I had the day after the bread incident. I recognize why she's reacting so defensively- it's the lingering guilt.
I offer a light laugh before responding. "It's because of bread alright, but no, it's not because of the trade this morning."
She looks at me appraisingly. Maybe trying to find out if I'm lying. I'm not, but I'm not sure she'd be able to tell if I was. She seems to come to the same conclusion, because she shrugs before turning and making her way toward the gate.
I nod to Rye and we turn to make our toward the Meadow again when her voice stops me. When I turn to face her, for the first time, that she's aware of anyway, her grey eyes meet mine steadily.
"Thank you for the bread," she says seriously, her voice heavy with the weight of what she's trying to convey.
I meet her gaze with equal intensity, letting her know how serious I am in return. "Anytime," I reply with conviction.
She seems taken aback for a moment by the sincerity of my reply. Doing what a confused Katniss does best, she turns and makes her way into the house as quickly as humanly possible and doesn't look back. I can't help but smile at her and myself. The morphling really is getting to me, I should have known better than to say something like that.
Rye looks like he's about the explode from all his unanswered questions, but he allows me to lead him to the meadow. He starts to ask me something when we first get there, but I shake my head, gesturing to a clump of bushes that I know block a loose section of the fence. If I don't come back this time and the Quell still happens, he'll need to know how and when to get out of the district before it burns. I have no doubt that it will eventually, I just don't know if I'll have another chance to warn him.
"Peeta, what are you doing? We shouldn't be this close to the fence. What if you fall into it or something? I don't want to have to explain to Dad how I let you die by electrocution."
He's legitimately concerned about me, but I can't help by laugh, earning me another look that says he's questioning my sanity. I had forgotten that, just like him, I used to believe the fence was powered 24/7. I had always wondered how Katniss and Gale got around it.
"Sorry. About that… the fence is almost always off, at least in this section, since the Seam rarely gets electricity at all." He's looking at me like I'm a unicorn right now, but I carry on. "Come here and listen. Nothing, right? If it were on, you'd hear buzzing, like a bee. Look." I reach out and touch it, just to prove my point. His eyes are wide as saucers as I do it. Then he tentatively reaches out and does the same, swearing under his breath as he does it. I can see he's about to start asking questions, so I heard him off, getting to my next point.
Kneeling down, I point to the loose spot in the fence and lift it. "This is how you get out of the district. From here, if you head four miles northeast, you'll come across a lake with a crumbling cabin that has firewood and fishing poles. The lake makes for easy fishing. There's waterfowl, so you may get lucky and find some eggs. In the water, there are white flowers with three petals. If you dig up the roots, they're just like potatoes. You'll have everything you need to survive."
"Peeta, seriously, what the fu-"
"This is important Rye!" I cut him off. "Four miles, northeast, from this point. Do you understand?"
He's still looking at me incredulously, but he must understand I'm not to be messed with right now. He's serious as he repeats, "Four miles to the northeast. The lake and the roots of white flowers with three petals."
"Good. Now here's the weird part, where I really need you to just trust me, okay?"
Another incredulous look, as if he's wondering how much crazier I can really get.
"If at any point in the future all the power to the district is cut unexpectedly, especially during the games, and you notice the peacekeepers clearing out, you need to run immediately. Take the shortest root to the fence with as many people as you can and follow the fence until you reach this point. Stay clear of the main town and the Seam. It is imperative that you do that, okay?"
Maybe it's the fact that I've never used such a strong tone of voice with him before. Maybe it's the fact that I've already had a rough day. Maybe it's the fact I'm clearly about to come apart at the seems. Whatever the reason, Rye doesn't question me this time. He just agrees.
"Okay. Okay, I'll remember. I promise. Now come on, you're still injured, we've got a far walk back to town, and we both need to change before the reaping. Let's go, baby brother."
With that, he lets me lean on him again as we head back to the bakery. I feel slightly better, knowing at least I said what I needed to say and he seems to have heard me, even if he doesn't believe me. No matter what, Rye knows what he needs to know to survive a bombing of the district. At least there's hope.