Two in one day! I must be really inspired. Or really bored. Probably both.

I am sooooo excited for you guys to read Ch 11. I have something special planned. In the meantime, enjoy Ch 11!

As always, let me know in the reviews if there's anything you especially like or don't like.

~Peeta POV~

The feel of Katniss's hand in mine barely makes an impression on me. That's how I know how scared I really am. All I can see is the pot of boiling water tipping over, splashing all over Rye, the expression on his face as the scalding liquid burned his skin like acid. That alone wouldn't have been an emergency. What sent me sprinting to the Everdeen's door was his hand, which slammed straight into the fire as he flailed, trying to shake the water away.

I blink, trying to clear the image away, but it doesn't help. People are staring at us, and it's no wonder why. Two teenagers, one from the Seam and one obviously not, a little kid still holding a dish towel clamped in her hands and a thin woman with a bag of bandages and herbs tucked under her arm, speed-walking towards the center of town with grimaces frozen on our faces? We're probably the most interesting thing they've seen all day. Our emergency is their entertainment. It's a sickening parallel to the Games.

We burst into the bakery through the front door, startling several customers, and tumble into the back room one after the other. Rye is still sitting exactly where I left him, slumped over the table, the puddle of water steaming on the ground. Mrs. Everdeen goes straight to him and starts issuing orders to everyone else in the kitchen. Katniss looks sick.

Rye lifts his head and, to everyone's astonishment, grins. "Hey, Peet," he says dryly. Then he looks to Katniss. "Didn't get your name, cutie, but I'll say 'hey' to you, too."

"Katniss," she says, and I imagine that if Rye wasn't so badly injured, she would have spat out the word like poison. I can almost hear her thinking, Don't call me 'cutie'.

"Well, Katniss, cutie, however did you end up with my brother?" Rye winks as Mrs. Everdeen spreads some sort of salve on a burn on his arm.

I realize that my fingers are still entwined with Katniss's. She jerks her hand away and, instead of answering my brother's question, asks, "What should I do, Mom?"

"Stay out of the way," is the terse answer.

Katniss folds her arms and narrows her eyes, but does as she is told. She claims the corner farthest from Rye and leans against the wall. I follow her.

"Sorry about Rye… again. He thinks he's being funny."

"Oh, I imagine it's pretty funny to someone who isn't me," she sighs. "That's how humor is. It's at someone's expense. Usually mine, if I'm around."

I'm slightly startled by the look in her eyes. Not angry or even sad, but hollow. She gazes out the window, as if she wants nothing more than to escape the room. Maybe she does. A shiver goes through her as Prim says something about skin layers.

"Oh, my…" Mrs. Everdeen murmurs.

I'm at Rye's side in an instant. "What? What is it?"

Mrs. Everdeen shakes her head, dismissing it. "Nothing you need to worry about. The burns are worse than I thought, but a lot better than a lot of the patients I see. Don't worry about him. He'll be fine."

Oh, yeah. The injured from mine accidents must go to Mrs. Everdeen. If anyone knows about burns, she does. But I don't relax. There's a crease between her eyes that wasn't there a few minutes ago. Something is wrong.

"Prim?"

Prim looks up at her mother.

"Find the disinfectant wipes, would you?"

Prim rummages through the bag, then frowns and shakes her head. "We didn't pack any."

Mrs. Everdeen presses her lips together. Now I know for sure something is wrong.

Suddenly, she turns on Katniss. "Katniss, you're the fastest. Run home and get the wipes. As quickly as you can. Come straight back."

I don't want Katniss to leave. If I keep my eyes on her, I can almost ignore the small sounds of pain coming from Rye. I reach out to grab her wrist, to stop her from going, but she has already bolted out the door.

~Katniss POV~

I could weep from the relief to be out of that kitchen. Away from the burn victim. It's bad enough when it's my kitchen, with someone I don't know on the table, but standing in Peeta's kitchen with his brother nearly unrecognizable under all the scorched skin… I couldn't take it. Especially not with Peeta's blue eyes trained on me like he was waiting for something.

I relish the feeling of running, even though I know that by the time I get home and back, my lungs will burn and my legs will feel like they're made of stone. I keep my eyes on my feet, because I know the way, and, more importantly, because I don't want to meet anyone's gaze. The only drawback to this is that I run straight into the same two trashcans that gave Peeta trouble. My high-strung, slightly oxygen-deprived brain chooses this moment to send me into a fit of giggles. I must look insane, laughing like a madman and hopping down the street on one foot, having bruised the other when I ran into the trash can.

I stumble into my house, noticing that we left the door wide open in our rush to leave, and retrieve the wipes my mother requested. My shoe catches on a chair leg and I jolt forwards, but something catches me.

"Careful, Catnip."

"Gale," I snap. "I really don't have time right now."

I'm already out the door again, hugging the box of wipes, when something yanks me back.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What's going on? I came to apologize and I see you dashing down the road, giggling, with two trash cans rolling along behind you. Now you're running off somewhere with…" He looks at the box in my arms. "Disinfectant wipes?" Understanding dawns on his face. "You're mother's treating someone."

"Yes, now let me go so I can bring these to her."

"I'm coming with you."

What? Why? Why are you suddenly so interested in keeping me in sight? "No."

"Yes."

"Gale! This is serious!" I wriggle out of his grasp and take off again. I can hear his footsteps behind me. What's he up to?

Just as I predicted, by the time I get back to the bakery, I never want to run again. I'm built for short sprints, not running twice from one end of the district to the other. I brush past another tall, blonde boy on my way in- probably another one of Peeta's brothers- and grumble, "Do me a favor and keep him," I jerk a thumb behind me, "out of the kitchen."

I slam the box down on the counter and retreat into the corner, this time facing the wall. I press my forehead into the cool bricks and take several deep breaths in a row. I feel a tap on my shoulder and say, "Give me two seconds, would you?"

"No."

I turn around. "Gale," I groan. "What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk," he insists. I can see Peeta stiffen over Gales' shoulder.

"Yeah, well, we can talk later," I growl.

Rye says something halfway between "Ow," and a very filthy swear word. I wince.

I glare at Gale. "Look, this is bad enough without you."

He flinches and I realize how that must have sounded, but I'm too angry to care. His eyebrows sink lower and lower until I'm not sure how his expression is physically possible. Then his fist closes around my arm with alarming strength. "Come on."

He practically drags me out the back door, then deposits me by the very tree I sat by when Peeta threw me the burnt bread, when I was younger. Before I met Gale. I almost wish I was in that situation again as he stares at me with steely eyes.

"What?" I snarl.

"I came to apologize for yelling at you earlier," he begins. "And I find you all cozy in the Mellark's kitchen, putting yourself in danger, again."

"I haven't even seen Mrs. Mellark in the whole time I've been here," I answer icily. "Anyway, why are you so worked up about it?"

"Because I don't want you to get hurt, that's why." I blink. Oh. Well. I suppose that's… acceptable. I'm on the verge of forgiving him when Gale continues. "And I don't want you anywhere near this bakery or this family from now on. I'll trade with the baker."

"You don't get to tell me what to do!" I shout. "I'm not some pet you can order around! I'll make my own decisions!"

My mother leans out the window and hisses, "Be quiet, Katniss. You're going to upset the patient."

I almost make a rude gesture at her, but I don't. It's not her fault. Instead, I look to Gale and wait for his reply.

At last he says, "Let's go, Katniss. We're not needed here."

I can see Peeta through the open door. I'm not sure, but I think he may be watching us. He's hovering over his brother.

"Maybe you're not. But I am. Go home, Gale." I start up the back steps, but at the last minute I can't help but to turn around and add, "Go back to the Seam. I'm staying right here." And I go to stand by Peeta's side.

This time, I know exactly what was implied. It was intentional. Telling Gale to go home. Staying here. I chose staying over going. Merchant over Seam. Baker over hunter.