Katniss became part of his routine.
That first month she was in the ICU and he had to stare at her through the thick glass into her decontaminated pod-like unit, he'd get off his shift at the asylum and sit by until visiting hours were done at eleven. Then, he'd head home to his little apartment above the bakery, work his four hour shift in the morning there, his six hour shift in the asylum and head back to sit with Katniss again afterward. It became his comforting little cycle.
Ten days into his tenure of vigilance over his comatose girlfriend, he'd started receiving the voicemails and texts from Beetee that his contracts were accepted, plus two more commissions.
He'd ignored every single one.
It wasn't until the man himself showed up at the hospital a week before she was due to be transferred to a regular, monitored room, that he dragged himself out of his chair. He hurried out of the ICU to confront the statuesque, lanky man, grabbing him roughly by the collar of his omnipresent button-down shirt and shoving him roughly against the wall. Even though he had to incline his head upward quite a bit to accomplish it, he glared daggers into the man's dark eyes as he raged, "How dare you show up here. Have you no decency, whatsoever? I thought my silence was answer enough for you."
Unfazed by the teenager's uncharacteristic show of force, the sound engineer didn't bother trying to strong-arm his way out of the boy's hold. Not that he could even if he wanted to. He knew his own strengths and physicality certainly did not number amongst them. He optioned, instead, for appealing to what he knew to be the blonde's rather sizeable intellect and ability to think logically. "The pieces they want are already written and composed, Peeta. I stand to make nothing but an increment in reputation from brokering this deal for you, but the money… we both know what this kind of money would mean for you, my friend. This is what you've been working toward for half a decade- since you wandered into my studio at fifteen. This is what she wanted for you. Please, let me agree to these on your behalf. Don't let everything you've done, everything she did, fall by the wayside. She wanted this so much for you."
Taking his hands away from the man's collar, Peeta allowed the grief and uncertainty to warp his features into an anguished scowl, before he let his forehead fall on the taller man's shoulder in defeat. "I don't know what's right or wrong anymore, old man," he huffed in exasperation.
Beetee brought a hand up to pat the boy's head lightly, shrugging his unoccupied shoulder. "Then, do what she asked you to, Peeta. You can't go wrong when you do exactly what the girl asked you to, right?" Came the matter-of-fact answer.
Peeta stared back up at him with large, inquisitive, disbelieving eyes. Could it really be so simple?
He still didn't know with certainty the answer to that question when he gave his assent to Beetee to sign the contracts with the agents on his behalf, sent him on his way and went back to sit in his chair by the glass in the ICU with Katniss.
The routine continued with little variation after that. At the one-month mark, Katniss was transferred to a private room after showing no signs of complications. She was breathing on her own and, although she still had a feeding tube, she had a normal gag reflex. Her pupils were still responsive to light and all her extremities responded to tactile stimulation.
Peeta'd been in the room during that particular examination and had needed to hold back a smile when the neurologist had ran the stimulator up Katniss' left foot arch and she had responded with a flinch and a visible frown, even through her unconscious state. She hated having her feet tickled.
That day, his heart had swelled at the realization that some of her- his Katniss- was definitely still in there.
So, he came in everyday after his shift at the mental institution and sat by her bed. He'd always comb her long ebony hair and talked to her about the happenings of his day after shifting her to make sure she wasn't developing bed sores (this was technically her nurse's job, but he liked to make sure). Dr. Aurelius had told him it was unclear if those in her state could understand words, but soothing sounds were calming to everyone, so he should talk to her in jovial, calming tones if he felt the inclination. He was a talker. He always felt the inclination.
A few times a month, he'd bring nail clippers and a file to keep her nails short and groomed. Katniss had always complained to him about how annoying it was to have a nail break and have it catch on everything, so she liked having them short for practicality. He wanted to keep them the way she liked them for when she woke up.
Because she had to wake up, there were no alternatives to that that he could conscience.
The three-month mark in that room came and went. He tried to ignore it, but his conversations with her became more pleading. He needed her back.
By the time she'd been there eight weeks, he'd resigned himself to the reality that this would be his life. It wasn't a bad life, he mused. Finnick and Annie's baby had just been born and he'd spent some time away from the hospital to be with him. He was a very cute baby, with Finnick's laugh and eyes and Annie's jet-black hair. But, holding the chubby newborn only made him long for what he might never have with the bedridden woman in that hospital. So, he'd been back to comb her hair and make sure she was comfortable and kiss her brow goodnight before he left for home. She was his reality, now.
The call had eventually come during the middle of his shift almost six months after her relapse. He'd rushed right over, only to be told she'd been moved to a private 'observation room'- whatever that was- for her own safety by some random male nurse he'd never met before and who was not part of her normal rotation. Three seconds before he barreled his way through the arrogant bastard to see his girlfriend, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned brusquely to come face to face with a frowning Dr. Aurelius. "I need you to please come with me, Mr. Mellark."
The man's tone garnered no argument and he found himself following obediently to a nondescript office he'd never noticed at the end of the hallway. Dr. Cray was already seated at one of the plush armchairs when he lowered himself to the one next to it. Dr. Aurelius reclined against a simple wooden desk, arms crossed high on his chest as he began speaking in that clinical, authoritative intonation, "Katniss woke up last night, shortly after you left, Mr. Mellark."
When Peeta nearly jumped out of his chair with excitement, the doctor held out a halting hand, shaking his head solemnly. "She doesn't remember anything, son. Not who she is, not the past year, not the past twenty years of her life. She's a blank slate again and, as you can imagine, she's pretty agitated about it."
Peeta felt a tangible pain in his chest as the weight of the therapist's words settled and his heart ripped in half. She didn't remember.
'She doesn't remember you' that little voice in the back of his head decided to make a reappearance after so many months. He remembered now why he'd submerged it. If it been a tangible being he'd be strangling it.
Venturing a look up from the floor where his eyes had diverted as he'd pondered the information, his eyes locked with those of the psychiatrist in pleading misery, his emotions bleeding into his voice, "So she can't speak, anymore?"
"Oh, that's where it gets really odd, kid. She can talk just fine. Managed to tell me off twice so far." The neurologist off to Peeta's left chose to interject.
Dr. Aurelius shot the man a reprimanding glare, before turning a softer expression back on the teenager. "What the good doctor here lacks the tact to convey properly, Peeta, is that this new incarnation of her condition has completely new symptoms. She has no memories, but her speech is unaffected. Without further therapy and time to allow other neurosis to present themselves, I have no way to efficiently treat or predict how she will respond to treatment. However, one thing is clear at this time; it is absolutely unethical on our part to allow what triggered this last massive relapse any possible contact with her in her current unstable and severely weakened state. We simply cannot risk her endangering herself again. It is our duty as her doctors to protect her from herself. Do you understand?"
Oh, but he did understand. He understood perfectly and that understanding caused the shattered remnants of his heart, his very being, to plummet to the very bowels of his stomach as he looked on at the man before him in agony.
"You're asking me to give her up. You're asking me to pretend I feel nothing for her, to pretend the last year of my life with her didn't happen."
The psychiatrist now leaned forth and brought a hand to squeeze the teen's shoulder in condolence. He allowed the sorrow he felt to crease his brow for the first time, the first sign of his deep commiseration for the boy's impossible circumstance. "We are not asking Peeta. Unfortunately, we are not even in the luxury of a position to ask this of you. The fact of the matter is you are who you are. To continue your relationship with her, you would have to effectively lie about every single thing you are to her, everything she did for you, every moment of everyday from this moment forth. I know your psychological profile. You are capable of deception on a very skillful level, but not to someone you truly care for and you do not want to lie to her at all, do you? Take the gift she risked everything for and make the life she wanted you to have. This is what she wanted for you. Maybe, she miscalculated and never meant for it to exclude her from the equation, but we must make do the best we can. If you want her to survive, Peeta, you need to let her go."
Once again, Peeta found himself having to assess too much information too quickly, decide too much, he was unready to decide. He clenched his eyes shut and brought both fists to press roughly to them. Then he brought his fist down violently to slam on either of the arms on the chair, leveling an icy glare at Dr. Aurelius as he rumbled out indignantly, "I want to see her. If I have to give her up, if I can never hold her again. I want one last chance to see her, to hear her voice. I want to see for myself that she'll be alright if I leave her here."
"Absolutely not. Lord knows what seeing you mi-"
Dr. Cray found himself being silenced once again by a raised hand from Dr. Aurelius, before the doctor turned stern eyes back to Peeta. "You'll be monitored at all times, Mr. Mellark. If she becomes agitated at any moment, security will be summoned to escort you out. And I don't have to tell you that delicacy is advised. She is… temperamental."
Peeta let out a humorless scoff at this. He was certain "temperamental" didn't begin to describe whatever it was Katniss was at the moment.
The three men left the office and walked together to different area of the neurological ward. They entered a room that was separated into two separate areas by a wall with a window and a door. Beyond the door, there was what appeared to be a perfectly normal hospital room with a bed and a chair. On the bed lay a very a bored-looking, dark-haired young woman, sitting cross-legged and staring at a laptop with her chin propped on her knuckle.
Peeta's breath hitched the moment he saw her. She looked perfect, beautiful.
"You have a few minutes to say your peace, Mr. Mellark. After that, it will be in both your best interests for you…"
Dr. Aurelius didn't need to finish. He knew what he had to do. Picking up a clipboard from a nearby table, he allowed the most disarming smile in his arsenal to split his features even though he knew it didn't reach his eyes, even though his insides were smoldering ruins.
He was a master at hiding pain. His momma had taught him that.
He turned the knob and walked in the room.
Katniss looked up from her computer at the new arrival, her eyes immediately narrowing as the man with the haphazard ash curls approached. This was a new one.
"Hello, I'm Peeta. I understand you just woke up from a very long rest and will be moving so-"
"So, you a doctor?"
He hadn't expected the pang of hurt and longing to be quite that palpable at the sound of her voice after six months- not to mention, the fact that this rang way to synanymous to the conversation they'd first had when they'd met and the nostalgia was nearly suffocating- and his smile faltered slightly. But he quickly recovered with a dashing, lopsided grin. "I'm a college dropout, actually, so, the furthest thing from it."
The glint in her eyes became challenging, but her scowl never decreased. "So, you're a looser, then.
That one literally knocked the air out of him and he had to cover it up with a scoff. Still, in spite of his insides shredding, he treaded through, the soul-searing smile still on his face, "Well aren't you judgmental for someone who's about to be institutionalize in a psych ward? You know, they lock you up at night to sleep in there light a petulant two-year-old."
Her brow furrowed impossibly further at the prospect of that and he couldn't help but note how adorable she looked.
"Keep it together, Mellark. She's off limits for good now." For once, he felt awful about giving in to his insufferable little voice. He hated that thing.
"You're kind of a jerk, you know. Shouldn't you all be like, extra nice to me and all because I'm sick in the head?" After she said this, she instantly went quite, introspective, as if she was analyzing whether what she'd said made sense or not.
Peeta quirked a brow at her and spoke up, breaking her out of her thoughts, "Well, you're not the worst case I've seen in here, by a long shot. But, I suppose we can call it a truce on the grounds of your poor mental health. What do you say? Friends?" He held out his hand to her.
She stared at it as if it were a dangerous snake, her eyes growing large in panicked surprise at his unexpected proposal. After much deliberation and scrutinizing the proffered appendage, however, she cautiously reached out and clasped her comparatively far smaller hand to his, noting how impossibly warm he was.
He gave her hand a soft but firm shake, relishing for one last time in the feel of her, and she felt sturdiness, a rare steadiness, radiate from him that she couldn't help but find enrapturing and for some strange reason… familiar. It was the first thing she'd found familiar since waking a few hours earlier a she found herself missing it when they finally mutually released each other's grasp. It'd felt so grounding to be in his grasp.
She continued staring down at her tingling hand until the sound of the door opening caught her attention and she looked up to find him at the threshold. For some unknown reason, she found it imperative that he know one last thing about her before he left, so she found herself blurting out, "Um, I'm Katniss, by the way. Katniss Everdeen. At least, that's what the doctors here tell me. They're all pretty much patronizing jerks. Well, except Dr. A. He's pretty decent. And you've treated me like I won't fall apart if you sneeze too hard near me. That's pretty cool. Are you coming back to check on me later?"
She was pretty sure she sounded like a pathetically needy psycho, but this guy was hot… and nice and she really wanted him to come back. God! Crazy was making her so needy!
Upon hearing those words, seeing the plea in her steel eyes, Peeta had to restrain every natural instinct within to keep from going to her, taking her in his arms and kissing her until they were both dizzy from oxygen deprivation. Instead, however, he responded with that sloppy half grin and a shrug of one shoulder, "Actually, this is my last day here. I just wanted to see how you were doing before I left, make sure you were alright and everything…"
"Oh, okay," Katniss could hear the disappointment in her voice and hoped it wasn't nearly as evident on her face, "You said your name was Peeta?"
He hesitated at the door, desperate to go and desperate to stay, as he answered, flatly, "Yeah, Peeta Mellark."
"Well, it was very nice to meet you Peeta Mellark. I hope things go well for you wherever it is you're heading next."
And that blew the last of his heart into the wind, the remnants of his forced smile fell from his face. He was too exhausted with heartache to maintain the charade any longer. He locked agonized, azure eyes with her questioning grays as he whispered solemnly, "And I hope nothing but the most wonderful things for you, Katniss. Because someone like you deserves all the happiness you can find in this world."
And with those final words he walked out the door, leaving a very confused girl sitting on that hospital bed.
He didn't stop once to look back.