"Would you like a sugar cube?" Finnick offers, holding out his hand towards Prim who looks at him wearily. This whole scene feels oddly familiar but I can't quite place it.
"Where did you get the sugar, Finnick?" I ask, interrupting the conversation around the table. The laughter-filled mood dies as all the heads swivel towards me with confusion written across their faces.
"Um, are you feeling alright?" Annie asks, resting her hand on my forearm and looking at me with a concerned frown.
"What do you mean? I haven't seen sugar cubes in years, is all," I reply and look at those around me. When they don't respond I frown. "What!" I shout and toss down my spoon into my bowl.
"Peeta..." Prim stares, wide eyed, from across the table. "Peeta we weren't talking about sugar. We were talking about horses and how I've never gotten to see one."
When I look around the table everyone simply nods, confirming her story and making me feel just a tad more crazy then I had before.
"Oh," I say and look down at my bowl and the splatter of my dinner on the table. I feel my cheeks heat and suddenly it feels far too close in here for comfort.
Standing with a start, I take my tray and bolt for the disposal, escaping out into the hallway where I can think in silence.
Maybe I heard someone else talking about sugar. Maybe they said it but didn't realize. But then horses - don't they like sugar?
Dammit. I'm losing it.
It happens again when I'm in my homemaking class. We're stitching together old sheets to make warm quilts for the hospital wards when I'm back in what I remember to be the training room in the Capitol. It's weird, the walls are a little blurry and the faces are fuzzy but I'm at the knot tying station. A feeling of warmth and happiness seems to fill me as I complete a hitch knot and turn to face my partner.
Only this time it's not Annie in class with me.
It's Katniss.
"How did you do that?" She exclaims, grabbing the scrap of fabric from my hands and marvelling at it. I pump out my chest and grin foolishly, relishing in the glow of her smile.
"I just did what I learned," I reply and rest my hand on her thigh, longing to be closer.
Within a moment, she's pushing my hand away and shoving backwards, away from me and my burning touch.
In another moment, Katniss is Annie and she's screaming bloody murder as the blood leaves my face and I come back down to whatever sweet hell I've landed myself in.
Arms are grabbing my shoulders, fingers biting my skin, as I'm pulled to the floor and pinned there while others around me yell commands and Annie continues to scream.
I remember her screams now. I remember them accompanying Johanna's back in the Capitol. I remember being held down just like this as the nurse raked her nails down my chest and drew blood across my hips.
I remember things so much worse.
"Mr Mellark, please stop moving," The voice over the intercom in the machine freezes me in my effort to scratch my nose. Resting my hand back at my side I fight the urge to relieve myself of that itch, turning my mind to anything else that isn't this place and this machine and the fact that I'm killing myself.
It finally sank in when I blacked out again.
I'm dying. I'm going to kill myself trying to get back what I've lost.
"Mr Mellark, stop!" The voice shouts again and I realize that my hand is at my nose, rubbing it raw.
Another lost moment. I'm losing them faster than I can get them. Eventually I won't have any awareness left. They keep trying to tell me to just live but I can't without knowing.
I want to know Katniss, even if she doesn't want me to. I want to know what's real and what isn't. Was that really Delly the other day, or was I flashing back? Can I even get back my memories ever?
It's another half hour of pondering the endless questions before the machine is spitting me out, back into the waiting arms of Lily and her team. She's been given a team now to deal with me. It's the worst thing to realize.
"Back to the ward?" I question, gripping my paper robes at the back to try and preserve any dignity that I have left. Lily nods and grabs my arm, guiding me down the endless hallways and towards the same room that they've basically transformed into my tomb.
"We'll have the results in an hour. Would you like me to wait with you?" She asks when I'm safely tucked back in my bed.
"No, I'm alright," I sigh and turn over, facing towards the cement wall that's become so familiar to me now. I know every pock mark and every dent in its surface.
"I'll see you soon then," She chirps brightly and closes the door behind her.
Since returning to the ward after my 'assault' on Annie, Finnick has come by diligently to reaffirm that he's still my friend. I can barely look him in the eye when he appears, all careful smiles and perfect hair. But once we're past the greetings and the reminders that I didn't do anything wrong and that Annie had a bad reaction as well, he starts to joke again and tell me stories of the outside world.
He's the closest thing I've got to a friend. Though the others are kind, they're not committed to actually easing my mind and forcing me to think about other things. In a sense, I'd even say he's quite close to being my best form of treatment.
Especially now that Delly's gone AWOL. Like really gone missing. Haymitch had told me one afternoon when I'd finally asked where she was that she'd been sent on a recall mission in District 7. That she hadn't checked in on time. That they couldn't find her.
I remember that afternoon trying not to be confused and terrified. In the time when we'd been close she'd focused in on defensive tactics in the Dark Days – it only made sense that she joined the effort eventually. I just wished she'd told me more or even seen me since the incident in her room – the one I still couldn't really decipher in my mind.
I'm just about nearly to sleep when I hear the door creak open behind me.
"Go away," I mumble into my pillow and steel myself for whoever's there.
I'd rather not have company when I find out my brain has gone even more mushy since the last scan.
I listen for the door to close but it never comes. Whoever arrived never left and I hate the feeling of being watched ever since I first came to this place and Katniss spent hours watching me through the window.
"Seriously, can you not just leave me alone?" I bark and twist in my sheets, swinging my body over to look the opposite way. "I just want to be left-" My words die in my throat when I see her, standing hesitantly in the doorway of my room with her hands in fists by her sides.
"She wants to see you but now they won't let her. It's not fair," Johanna croaks through her clearly damaged voice box. Her hair is spiked (what remains of it at least) and her body is so thin that she looks like a skeleton with skin.
"Who?" I ask, not daring to move for fear of frightening her away.
"Don't be a dumbass. Don't try to remember. Just try to deal with it," Her command is clear as she bolts down the hallway leaving my door wide open. I stare after her for a while, still not moving from my leaning position on my pillow. It seems too risky to move – like I could break the chance of seeing her right now.
After a long while, when still nobody comes, I lay back down on my bed and close my eyes, slipping into a light sleep.
"It's as we expected. Your condition is static for the time being and seems to be responding well to medications," The man states mechanically. He's a new doctor, one that apparently specializes in brain activity (though I'm not quite sure how he made it to District 13). We all wait for him to continue, "But, any progression is very alarming at this stage. Your episodes are gaining in frequency and though it's hard to see on the scans, it's definitely something that's concerning."
At his words, I look to Lily and Aurelius who stand side by side, both faces masking any reaction that they have to his news. I can't blame them; they've tried so hard to fix me. My body's failure is something they see as their fault.
"Alright. Well, thanks. That's top notch news," I mutter and smile sadly at my team, laying back down on my bed and silently asking to be left alone to wallow.
"Would you like to talk about it?" Aurelius asks as Lily leaves and takes the new doctor with her. I shake my head into my pillow and sigh deeply.
"I'm just going to sleep, I think."
There's somebody at my back, nestled into my spine and giving me warmth. Though it's not cold in my room, it's not hot either, and this feels just perfect.
But there shouldn't be anyone at my back and I don't understand why I'm not panicking. In fact, I feel beyond calm. I almost feel home.
That's the moment I realize that this isn't right in any sense.
If I weren't trapped by the wall I'd bolt from the bed but given my situation the only option that I have is to roll over and face down the intruder who's gotten too close. It takes but a second and then I'm staring her down, watching her eyes widen in fear as she wakes and realizes the predicament that she's found herself in.
"You were having a nightmare, I thought... This always used to help." She sputters but fails to move away, lingering in her place under my blanket.
"I... It's okay." I say after a moment, gauging the way my body tenses and then releases when it doesn't build a reaction to her words. Though the scenario is weird, even for me, I don't feel threatened at all. There is undoubtedly something between Katniss Everdeen and I that relaxes me. Something that I know means something more.
We stare at each other in silence for a moment longer, each waiting for the other to make the first move. I don't want her to go, but I don't know what to do with her here. She's still a stranger, despite all the stories in my head and the way my hands just itch to pull her closer. My body may remember her, but I sure don't.
"I should go," She mumbles after a while and moves to slip out of the bed. I stop her, gripping my hand around her wrist as my eyes beg her desperately. This is the closest I've been to discovering anything about her and I dare not let the moment slip away before I learn more.
This had been what Johanna was talking about – this moment right here.
"Stay. Stay please." When she doesn't move any farther away I think I've convinced her, though for the first time it doesn't take much. In the spare moment while she decides I let my gaze fall over her, taking in the sight of her and the way the wounds have healed on her face and how she looks to be about as steady as possible, given the fresh scars that now litter her skin.
"They tell me you're sick," She states, her voice vacant.
"That's what they tell me too," I reply and look away, guilty for my body's failings. When I look back, she's biting her lip between her teeth and closing her eyes, her expression almost one of terrible pain.
"I'm sorry I made you do this alone," She whispers, grabbing my hand in hers and squeezing. It doesn't really make sense – she had no obligation to me, not really, but she's acting like she did. And she's here in my bed which is particularly unorthodox, considering every time I've met her she's pushed me away.
"I don't really understand why you're here," I reply, seemingly gathering myself together and asking for something honest from someone.
"I've been away. They had me fighting. But I've developed something and so they won't let me go anymore. And I can't be here and not see you. You should know everything – they've been talking about it in their meetings. They're too afraid to tell you in case it gets bad – but I think you should try it. I want you to remember. Peeta, I need you to remember," Her hands move from their clutches in mine and brush against my cheeks, her skin burning into mine. I try to take in her words, try to understand what she's telling me, but it's only frazzled and jumbled bits.
"What's wrong with you?" It seems like the most basic question I can ask, the caring question, the one that should be asked after that spew of words. Not to mention the way my gut seems to clench at the thought of her being sick too.
"Don't! Stop doing that. I'm here to help you this time – We're going to save you this time, like we should have in the Arena," She's nearly shouting and I feel myself inadvertently recoil. Our quiet conversation has evolved into a frantic mess.
"I don't understand Katniss. I don't understand why you're here – why now? I don't even know you. All I know is that there's something about you and that I can't figure it out, like a puzzle that I can't solve. I don't understand anything and it's driving me insane!" I yell, sitting up and putting some much needed space between us. Heroes are not what I need – what I need is something tangible.
"Peeta!" She's kneeling before me now, her hands on my knees as I recognize that her body is slow to move. My face must show my concern because she faces me head on and frowns. "Stop thinking about me. You always do this – don't put me first right now. It'll only get you killed," She takes in a breath and looks at me steady, her eyes boring into mine. "Do you want me to tell you everything? It might set you off. It might hurt. But it might work."
Taking a moment, I lean back in my spot and press my back up against the wall. The dark light in my room, coupled with the red numbers that warn me that it's the early morning, convince me that this is actually insanity. That I must be dreaming. She's not really here, offering salvation or death.
This isn't real.
There's only one way to find out. Hesitating, I pull in a breath and lift my fingers to her chin. I close my eyes at her touch, exploring her face and taking in the feel of it. Memorizing the skin of her cheek, the swoop of her brow, the touch of her hair.
"Real or not real?" I murmur, letting the feel of her fill me and rouse old stories or memories or whatever they are.
"You loved me, Peeta," Her response catches me off guard and my eyes shock open, staring wide into hers. Her fingers find mine still lingering on her collarbone, my thumb caressing the scar that runs from her shoulder to her neck, as she grips my hand tight in hers.
"I know," And I do. I remember that. I remember the way I'd felt when I painted the picture that Annie saved. I understand that only if there was something more to Katniss would I be okay with waking up next to her. My body remembers her. My hands are familiar with her touch.
I love Katniss Everdeen, the symbol of hope, the Mockingjay.
The thought is terrifying.
AN: Heading back to work. Leave the "this story is deteriorating in coherency" rotten tomatoes in the basket - I'll send them to my boss after this weekend of hell is over.
