Theme music: "Hide and Seek" by Imogene Heap

The Hospital (Katniss POV)

The Games are over, but the horror has only just begun. I know this with absolute certainty the instant Peeta loses what little color he has and slumps, slides, crumples in my arms. I grab him tighter before he can land on his injured leg and hurt himself even more.

"Peeta!"

His lashes flutter.

I call his name again.

He doesn't answer this time. At all. Not so much as a twitch of awareness on his slack face. His too-long lashes remain fanned out over his cheekbones.

"Peeta! Open your eyes!" I shake him. "Look at me!"

He doesn't. Can't. He can't do it. He can't do this to me. He cannot leave me here.

I scream his name yet again just as the hovercraft ladder descends. I struggle to hold onto him – he cannot leave me here! – and the force field traps us.

They lift him into the craft and I can only watch as blood drips from the toe of his boot. How much has he lost? Am I too late? If I am, I know I will never leave this place, not really. I'll be locked in this moment, tormenting myself with all the ways I'd failed him, straining to think us both out of here. I'd promised him we'd both go home. I'd promised.

The ascent takes an eternity and he keeps bleeding, blood keeps dripping. Dripping, dripping, dripping…!

Help him! Somebody!

Medical personnel swarm the instant the hatch closes beneath us. I'm still frozen in place and I can only watch as they lift him onto a stretcher, carry him off to what looks like a field operating room set right into the belly of the craft.

It's the sound of his name being shouted-whimpered-gasped that makes me realize I've been released from the force field. Someone tries to guide me away, tries to make me sit down, drink something. I shove them away and press my dirty, blood-smeared hands to the glass partition of the medical bay. It fogs with my breath as I mutter against its surface.

I have no idea what I'm saying. Maybe it's his name. Maybe it's his promise. He's supposed to stay with me, no matter what. No matter what.

I think I've reached that point where your mind and body just can't take any more and you shut down.

"Katniss, dear."

I am not anyone's dear. Except maybe… Had Peeta called me—?

"Dearling, let me take you home…"

Someone sobs.

"Katniss, come along now."

I blink and manage to focus my eyes on the reflection beside mine in the glass. The face is pale with splashes of muted color: orange eyelashes and a sky blue wig. It could be Effie. I don't care. I lean my head against the divider and go back to watching the monitors.

"At least sit up properly."

It's definitely Effie. Peeta's heart monitor is beeping shrilly – whipping and scarring my heart again and again with every electronic shriek – and she wants me to correct my posture. What. And then one of the lines squiggles, dives, flattens. The doctors shout out numbers, instructions…

Peeta's heart has just stopped.

I think I lose it.

When I next open my eyes, I'm in a sterile room. A hospital? I've never been in one before, but some of the equipment looks familiar… from the hovercraft… when the doctors had been trying to save Peeta and then his heart had—

His heart—!

"Peeta!" My throat is so dry I barely make a sound. I fix that when I roll out of bed and land on the floor with a crash. My head spins and I realize that I'm still lopsided. Off-balance. I can't hear anything with my left ear. I shake my head, both to clear it and out of some kind of idiotic hope that I'll shift the broken pieces back together and fix whatever's broken in there. Of course nothing happens. No miracles, anyway. Damn it.

Curling up onto my knees, I get ready to stand up. I take a measured breath. My arm stings. It's bleeding. I think I must have torn out a tube or something. It doesn't matter. I try to push myself up and the room suddenly spins… or maybe it's me. I'm reeling. I grit my teeth against the wave of nausea. I've choked down the thickest, most belly-filling and intestine-cramping of Greasy Sae concoctions: pine needles, wild dog, and who knows what else. I can keep it together. I have to.

I have to find Peeta.

But first I have to stand up. Or crawl. Move. Do something.

The door sweeps open and I don't have enough time or energy to realize that being discovered on the floor could be a bad thing before slippered feet are jogging over to me and thin, unfamiliar hands are wrapping around my arms, lifting me up.

"Take me to see Peeta," I demand, making no effort whatsoever to look at anything except the door. "Now. Take me to see him now."

The hands begin guiding me toward the bed I'd just decisively abandoned.

"No!" I turn to give my captor a piece of my mind and I pause. It's the Avox girl from our suite above the Training Center. She'd seemed familiar before, but I hadn't been able to place her, hadn't been able to look past her made-up face to the young woman beneath. Now, though, her expression is drawn with worry and strain and I finally remember where I've seen her before: in the woods outside Twelve.

Gale and I had been hunting. It'd been just another normal summer day until suddenly the sounds of running footsteps and bodies crashing through the underbrush had shattered the peace and quiet. Our first instinct had been to duck down below a rocky ledge, hold still, and wait until whatever had trespassed into our territory had moved on. We had.

And then we'd seen them: a boy and a girl, sprinting and struggling as if their lives had depended on it, bodies thin with hunger, scratched and covered in a layer of forest grime. Where had they come from? This was pretty much the end of the line, wasn't it? There was nothing but wilderness until you hit the devastated coast to the east.

I'd gaped stupidly at them, shifted cautiously although I couldn't have told you why. Was I seriously considering trying to help them? I didn't know. And then it didn't matter. Gale stiffened an instant before I heard it. The hovercraft swooped in so quickly I flinched back. If not for the outcrop we'd taken shelter beneath, they would have seen us.

A ladder descended, catching the girl. The boy was harpooned through the chest. He was probably dead before they could reel him up into the craft, but the girl… In the instant before the force field locked onto her, our eyes met.

Help me.

I hadn't.

How could I have forgotten her face? How could I have not seen it beneath the Capitol makeup?

I startle when I feel the mattress against my thighs. I'm staring at her, caught up in the moment, snared in my failure.

I have no strength to resist her. Anyone else, I would have fought until my body had given out one me, but not her. She settles me back in bed, presses a bandage to my bleeding arm, and tucks me in. When she straightens, clearly intending to leave my side, I panic. I find my voice.

"I'm sorry," I gasp softly.

Her painted lips and brows twitch just the smallest increment in an expression that would have been a gentle, understanding, forgiving smile if she were permitted to show those kinds of human emotions. Her eyes focus sharply on me. Her hand grasps my shoulder, squeezes once.

When she turns away, her expression is a study in indifference, neutrality, passivity. I know I have no right to ask anything from her, but I have to know. "Please," I beg raspingly. "Is Peeta alive?"

At the door to my room, she pauses on the threshold, dips her head once in a gesture that could have been interpreted as submission or deference, but which I feel must be an affirmative: Yes, Peeta is alive.

She slips gracefully into the hall and my strength gives out. I slump back against the mattress.

The monstrous fist clutching my heart, twisting and squeezing it within my chest, falls away but not easily, not graciously: grudgingly and sneering, its claws dragging greedily and fangs showing. Its return will be swift if I start to doubt, if I'm given any reason to believe that I've been lied to. The Avox girl might have lied; she has no reason to do me any favors – I certainly hadn't done her any – but there'd been that look, that almost reassurance.

In the end, I believe her because if I don't I will have nothing left to hold onto. I can't do this without Peeta, and I have to do this. Therefore, Peeta must be alive.

The door opens again. I look up, but it's not anyone I recognize. I don't bother to speak as they slide a needle into my uninjured arm and attach the dangling tube to it. When I close my eyes next, I don't open them for a long time.

My body aches from inactivity when I take in the sterile room again. I shift and frown when I encounter resistance on my wrists and ankles. What?

"Miss Everdeen, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

I frown, tilting my chin back and blinking at the man seated at my bedside table. I don't know him… but I do. "President Snow," I wheeze. My mouth is dry and my tongue thick. It hurts to swallow.

"If you'll permit me?" he gently asks, offering what appears to be a cup of water with a straw poking through the lid.

Reluctantly, I nod. I'm too dazed to refuse, but I do not like his eyes. They are cold. His lips smile, but his eyes burn like a wasteland of ice. As he presents the water to me, holds it within easy reach of my mouth, he continues, "Please forgive the restraints. I'm sure they're unnecessary, but there is no arguing with doctors, you know."

I don't, but I sip the water slowly instead. The longer I do, the more he'll say and I'm wary of the moment when he asks for a response. I'm not good with words and I feel as if I'm suddenly on trial. Why is the president of Panem sitting here, waiting for me to wake, tending to me? He wants something. People always want something. That's the way the world works.

I have no desire to find out what had brought President Snow here. I just want him to leave. I want to see Peeta. I want to feel his hand in mine, his warmth soaking into my skin and calming me.

"Not too much, now," Snow warns.

Why? What could be dangerous about drinking half a cup of water? Unless it's not really water at all?

Fear closes my throat.

The cup is taken away.

"I'd like to see Peeta," I blurt before I can stop myself.

"So you will," he replies. "So you will. The recap interview is tomorrow night. You'll see him then."

No. That's not soon enough. I shake my head, frustrated both by this annoying roadblock and my inability to think of the words to change his mind. Peeta would know what to say. He's so good at saying things.

"Why am I tied down?" I manage to choke out. Do they think I'd actually attack President Snow? I doubt I have enough energy to sit up.

"Ah, yes. Well, when you fell out of bed yesterday, you very nearly gave yourself a concussion. The medication combined with the damage to your inner ear has made you unsteady. The restraints are for your safety."

Of course. Because nothing bad must happen to me while I'm in the Capitol.

"I must congratulate you. I cannot recall a more riveting Hunger Games," he muses, watching my face carefully.

I can't help the flare of anger in response. Who wouldn't be furious in response to a comment like that? Peeta had nearly died; I'd risked my life to keep him alive; terror and uncertainty had been our constant companions… and I'm told it was spectacularly entertaining.

Maybe the restraints are really here for the president's protection, not mine.

I clench my jaw and swallow down my rage. "For me, too," I mutter.

He chuckles softly and a strange scent drifts on the air. Roses and… blood?

I stiffen.

I am in danger. Peeta is in danger. Our families are in danger. I know this to be completely and utterly true. Hunter's instinct.

"The citizens were quite taken with the both of you," Snow remarks, his unblinking stare locked onto me. "Of course, with how charming Mr. Mellark is, he has acquired quite the following here in the Capitol."

I don't like the sound of that. I can feel each individual heartbeat pound against my ribs.

"While you, Miss Everdeen, seem to be quite popular in the districts."

I hold perfectly still. I know what Snow is now. I've seen his kind before in the wild. He is a snake. If I move, he will strike.

"In fact, you upset a lot of people when young Rue passed."

"That wasn't my intention," I whisper.

"Regardless of your intent, several districts reacted. I hope you understand; senseless violence is never the answer. It never gets anyone anywhere."

The threat fills my veins with ice. I can't think of a response, so I nod in mindless agreement.

"It would have been a matter of a moment to ensure a single winner, you understand."

Yes, I do.

"But the Capitol has no use for martyrs."

I fist my hands to hold back my tremors.

"We do, however, appreciate charm and talent. Mr. Mellark is very talented, is he not? He has a great many admirers here who would pay anything for a private introduction. Or, say, an evening of his time."

Is he… Is he suggesting… telling me that he'd… he'd… Peeta would be forced to…?

My stuttering thoughts collapse… burn… explode. "You will not touch him!" I hiss. I can't remember ever being this furious, so furious my brain has no room of anything other than the flames of agony that I will use to sear-char-annihilate him.

Rather than getting angry, the president sits back, looking very satisfied with himself. "Ah, I'd thought so."

I don't know what he'd thought and I don't care. "Leave Peeta alone."

"Happily. I'm sure you'll take very good care of him in Twelve, won't you?"

It's an order. I don't understand. Why threaten Peeta and then agree to send him home with me? What the hell is going on?

"Hm." He considers me for a moment. "Let us speak plainly, then, and honestly… to save time."

"Yes," I agree readily. I just want him to say it so I can contain the amorphous dread that is trying to swallow me whole. I need to know what I'm fighting, what the risks are, what the price of failure will be. I need to arm myself. I need to protect Peeta. I'd promised him. I keep my promises.

"There have been uprisings in Districts Eight and Eleven," Snow informs me bluntly. "Because of you, Miss Everdeen, and your performance during the Games. You did not play by the rules… and you've gotten away with it. So far."

I don't have to ask what I did wrong. I know what I did. I sang to Rue. I buried her with flowers. I saluted her and her district. I rebelled and I hadn't even known I was doing it until now. It boggles my mind that such a simple thing could incite an uprising in other districts.

"You have created this mess," Snow lectures, "and you will clean it up."

"How?" I need instructions. If he doesn't tell me exactly what he wants, I'll screw it up. And if I screw it up… I gulp, imagining the look on Peeta's face – confusion and irritation and befuddlement – upon receiving a summons ordering him to return to the Capitol. He won't know what that means, but I will. They will use him. They will destroy him. He is too good and pure to play their games, to adapt, to win. I would rather kill him myself than let him endure that.

"How?" Snow echoes mockingly and then instructs me, "With love, Miss Everdeen. You are a girl in love, are you not? Or was there some other reason why you reached for those nightlock berries?"

I blink at him, startled. The uprising isn't about Rue's death? It's about those stupid berries? "I couldn't go home without him," I admit. "I couldn't leave him there. He had to live."

"An admirable sentiment, but open to interpretation," the president cautions. "Be sure your words and actions are interpreted as you intend in the future."

I nod. I feel dizzy. I just want this nightmare to be over.

"Well, I think I've taken up enough of your time," Snow says, standing. "I look forward to tomorrow evening and your reunion with your lover."

Lover? Peeta isn't my—

Oh.

I see.

Again, I can only nod.

I stare at my empty lap, my restrained hands aching in their tight fists, and I don't look up until the president's footsteps halt just this side of the door.

"Your sister, Primrose," he says suddenly and my chin jerks. He muses with a deceivingly gentle smile, "How many more Reapings does she have ahead of her? Six, isn't it?"

I'm too terrified to speak, too enraged to blink, too desperate to think.

"May the odds be in her favor," he bids me, tips his head in my direction as if to pay his respects, and departs.

The door shuts behind him. Silence descends in concert with a single tear, which crawls down my cheek and cools on my jaw. I'd been right about the horror of the Games. The arena had merely been the warm-up. The real horror starts now.

NOTES: So Katniss doesn't recognize the Avox girl right away (like she does in the book). Also, unlike the books, the damage to Katniss' ear is permanent. One thing I definitely borrowed from the books is the moment Katniss has when she realizes she can't let Peeta die because she will be stuck in that moment in the arena forever, trying to think their way out.