Disclaimer: This fanfic is rated 'M' for language and sexual content. I do not own any of the characters of The Hunger Games.

Chapter 25: Blindsided

"What was the reading again?" The tip of the fine-point Sharpie hovers over the page as my eyes shift over the numbers I've already scrawled across the notebook.

"I said one-point-three-six-four," Gloss drones in an unenthusiastic tone.

"Seriously, how does that number even make any sense to you?" I snap, my frustration finally getting the better of me. We've been at this monitoring location for almost an hour now, and it only should have taken us twenty minutes. Between Gloss' lack of energy and wandering attention span today and my short fuse due to my lack of sleep from last night, we're a toxic combination to be around. "If this stream was really flowing that fast, you wouldn't be standing here talking to me. Do you even think about what you're saying or do you just read the numbers off that device like a robot? Do it again!"

"Cut me some fucking slack, would ya?! I had a rough night and that snarky attitude of yours is starting to give me a headache."

He had a rough night? I'm sure as hell he did.

"You're not the only one who had a rough night, you know," I hiss, "and you don't see me here making excuses and slacking. Now take the damn reading again and actually watch the fucking numbers this time!"

Gloss shoots me a dubious stare before his lips curl downwards into a frown. The way his fist clenches the handle of the monitoring rod is a sure fire sign that I've crossed the line. Shit. My little outburst was uncalled for. Sure he's been slacking off all morning, but maybe he does have a good excuse. The guy did save my life, and this is how I treat him? The least I could do is show him some decency, like he's a human being and not a piece of trash.

I scrub my face with my free hand, wiping away the sweat that's collected along my hairline and inhale a deep breath through my nose. My eyes screw shut and I slowly count backwards from ten, releasing a steady breath through my mouth when I get to zero. "Listen, I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. Can you just do it over again please?"

Gloss looks stunned, as though my apology was spoken in Latin. He eventually sighs and resets the monitoring device, a smirk playing on his lips. "See? Now when you ask like that, how can I resist?"

I tried to not bring my emotions from last night with me to work this morning, but I just couldn't bring myself to plaster a fake happy-go-lucky smile on my face today. I was so out of it when I dragged myself out of bed this morning that I forgot to bring a lunch, so the only thing I have to last me until we return to the office is a lame box of raisins and a granola bar.

With my car still at Finnick's, I was more than thankful when my father woke me up with a knock at my door and offered me a ride instead of heading out earlier like he usually does. Even he knew something was off when I declined his offer to buy me a fancy coffee on our drive in to work. I could tell he wanted to probe me for the details pertaining to the dark circles under my eyes and my sour mood, but he just played it cool and squeezed my shoulder reassuringly when he let me off at the main office.

By the time Finnick dropped me off at home last night, it was almost pushing 11:30. I was past the point of exhaustion—drained both mentally and emotionally. I'm still surprised that I made it up to my room and didn't wake up dazed and confused on the living room couch. I'd even managed to change out of that god-forsaken dress and into some PJs before I crawled into bed with my cellphone in hand, although I did feel a twinge of regret when I found the dress in a crumpled mess on the floor in the morning right where I left it. I should have hung it up at least; now I owe Prim a dry cleaning bill.

Once I was settled under the covers, I finally built up enough courage to check my messages. There were seven texts and three voice messages. All from Peeta of course, expect for one that was from Finnick.

Peeta: I'm sorry, please come back

Peeta: Katniss, where are you?

Peeta: Please tell me where you are? Are you OK?

Peeta: I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you off. I'm such a fucking idiot. Please call me. I need to know that you're OK.

Peeta: You're starting to worry me. I'm going crazy. Where are you?

Peeta: Finnick just called me. I'm glad you're home safe. Can we talk? Tomorrow? I'm sorry Katniss. I love you.

Finnick: The shit I do for you, Everdeen. You owe me.

The voice messages left me feeling just as guilt ridden and distraught, the tremor and tone of his voice in each message getting progressively more worried and frustrated. Each time he apologized, it sent a stinging pain straight through my heart. He has nothing to apologize for. Nothing. I'm the one who was in the wrong; who overreacted and walked out. So I'm the one that should be groveling at his feet and as Finnick so eloquently stated, begging for his forgiveness.

I promised myself I wouldn't cry, but I couldn't hold back the few tears that streamed down my heated cheeks. I listened to his messages over and over again, as though it was some sort of self-inflicted punishment for the pain I'd caused him. I typed out a lame apology that I knew wouldn't suffice, but it was all I could offer. If I had called him, I wouldn't have been able to articulate two coherent words. He messaged me back almost immediately and offered to pick me up after work the next day since my car was still parked outside Finnick's house.

Since my arrival at work this morning, I've been a nervous wreck, stressing over every possible direction our conversation later on could go. I've never been one for thinking on my feet but after staying up almost all night trying to prepare the perfect apology, I'm still came up empty-handed. Maybe I'm over thinking this. Short and sincere is more my style and Peeta knows me well enough to know that I'm useless with words.

I wonder if I'll ever get anything right when it comes to relationships. I wish I could turn back time for just one night and redo everything that transpired between us. I was supposed to go to his apartment, enjoy the meal he so thoughtfully prepared for me, share a few laughs and stories with him and his father over a bottle of wine, and then end our perfect evening tangled up beneath his sheets and fall asleep in his arms.

But no. I just had to go and ruin it. Walking out on Peeta ranks high up there, if not right on top, on my list of the stupidest and most selfish things I've ever done. He didn't deserve it. Any of it. My irrational anger, my incriminating words, my persistent stubbornness. And the fact that after enduring all of my wrath and the way I treated him, his main concern was still about my well-being after I ran off. I could live a hundred lifetimes and still not deserve him. That was the final straw.

I have to change. I know I do. If not for myself, for Peeta. He deserves the best anyone can offer and to be happy, even if I still can't understand why someone like him is so ardently set on someone as flawed as me. Maybe one day I'll understand why, even if I can't see it now, but he does. He must see something that I for the life of me I am blind to.

The screech of a blue jay brings me back to the present, and I shake my head before sneaking a glance over at Gloss to see if he's still paying attention to the numbers on the device. Thankfully he is and I recall the promise I made to Finnick last night. If I really am going to through with this whole turning a new leaf thing, what better way to start off than with the person right in front of me?

I clear my throat and start to fidget with the pen in my hand. "Um, Gloss?"

"Mmmhmm?" he says without looking up from the screen.

"I, uh…well, I not good at this kind of stuff but…I never did really thank—"

Crack! Boom!

The unexpected sound slices through the air like a bolt of lightning, and it scares the shit out of me as I almost drop the notebook into the stream. My eyes instinctively search around us frantically to determine the source of the sound, but nothing seems out of the ordinary, expect for the flock of birds that took flight when the noise sounded.

"What the fuck was that?" Gloss yells. "I thought you said there wasn't supposed to be a blast today?"

I look down at my watch. It's only eleven-thirty. Blasts usually occur in the afternoon around one, so even if I had misread the whiteboard this morning and there was a blast scheduled, it wouldn't be happening now. Something is off. Something has to be wrong. My instincts are on high alert and there's an unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"That didn't sound like a typical blast," I say as I cap the pen in my hand and shove the notebook under my arm. "Do you think we should call Haymitch?"

Gloss shrugs, and we wait in silence a few more minutes, but nothing else follows and soon the buzzing of the insects and the chirping of the birds fills the air again.

"Well, whatever it was, if it was an emergency someone would have called us by now." He wades back to the bank of the stream and lifts the measuring device over his head. "Here, can you take over? I don't know what's wrong with it. I just can't seem to get an accurate reading."

"Fine." I roll my eyes playfully and hand the notebook to him as I take the strap of the device and loop it around my neck. I take a step into the stream but forgetting that the streambed is extremely soft and mucky, I'm almost helpless as I feel my balance start to waver.

"Whoa there!" Gloss calls out, and his hand finds my mine just in time to keep me from falling in. Getting drenched is the last thing I need today so I'm quite thankful for his help.

"Thanks," I mutter after I regain my balance and pry my hand out from his. I wipe the sweat off my palms and feel his hand on my shoulder.

"You sure you're OK?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you."

When I wade out far enough to the tag line that's strung up across the breadth of the stream, I set up the measuring device at the first recording location and start watching the numbers on the screen as they roll by. Everything seems to be working fine so I have no idea what Gloss was talking about.

"Appears to be working just fine," I call out.

"Like I said, I'm just having an off day I guess."

Ugh, this is going to be another long day.

I was right. The morning seemed to pass by at a snail's pace while the afternoon dragged on even slower. Thankfully though, neither of us took a tumble into the stream and the mosquitoes spared us.

When we pull into the main office, it's almost pushing four-thirty, so we're both a little surprised to see the parking lot so full for a Wednesday afternoon. All the work trucks appear to be accounted for and a few guys are standing out in front of the building with forlorn looks on their faces.

"Wonder what's going on," Gloss says aloud as he squints through the windshield. "There wasn't some meeting we were supposed to be back for, was there?"

I shake my head and check our work phone to see if there were any missed calls from Haymitch, but there's nothing. Hmm, that's weird. Even though we're summer students, we're usually privy to most of the staff meetings. I grab my sunglasses from the dash and open the door. "Well, let's find out what this is all about."

Gloss is at my heels as we approach the group standing around the front of the office, but they stop talking as soon as we're within earshot. I recognize a few of the men as friends of my father's, but an unsettled feeling washes over me due to the awkward silence. I try to study their faces but most of them won't even look at me. Something's wrong.

The door to the office swings open, sending a gust of cool air into my face and out staggers Haymitch, his hair a matted mess and his face full of mixed emotions.

"Oh, you're back," he grunts as he holds the door open with his foot. "We gotta talk, but just you though." He points to me, and I glance over at Gloss who's just as confused as I am.

Gloss looks back and forth between Haymitch and me a few times, as if waiting for me to dismiss him instead of Haymitch. He must sense something is off too and it obviously has something to do with me. I finally give him a discreet nod, and his lips straighten into a thin line. "I guess I'll start unloading our gear then."

Haymitch motions for me to follow him inside and he's right behind me as we ascend the stairs up to his office, each creak of the old wooden steps rubbing my nerves the wrong way.

"You might want to have a seat, Sweetheart." I take the closest chair to the door and Haymitch plops down into his behind his desk.

"So what's all the fuss about?" I ask, my composure starting to wane due to the evasiveness from everyone around me. "Why's everyone acting like someone died?"

Haymitch frowns, and the moment the words are out of my mouth, my mind connects the dots. The blast. It definitely wasn't scheduled. There must have been an accident. My eyes widen as a heaviness settles over my body and the air around me seems too thicken as my lungs struggle to expand and contract.

"Haymitch," I say, trying to keep my voice steady even though the anticipation has got me wound so tight I feel as though I'll snap at any moment. "Where's my father?"

I watch as he swipes a hand across his stubbly chin and scratches a patch under his neck. "He's alive, if that's what you're getting at."

I release a shaky breath and bury my face in my trembling hands. Relief never felt so sweet. "Damn it, Haymitch! Then why all of this? Why the hell did you bring me all the way up here for? You scared the shit out of me! I thought he was dead!" My hands are gripping the armrests of the chair so tightly that my knuckles are starting to turn white.

"I brought you up here because I thought you should know that he's in the hospital."

My face drops again as another wave of mixed emotions and questions rushes over me. He's hurt. Why else would he be in the hospital? He's alive though, but in what condition? I rub my palms against my jeans and brace myself for the damage report. "It was that blast, wasn't it? How bad is it?"

Haymitch clears his throat and rests his elbows on the edge of his desk to steeple his fingers in front of his mouth. "What you heard was no ordinary blast. Your dad and Gary Hawthorne were out in the south pit today surveying the quarry bottom when a blast went off somewhere along the pit wall. It caused a rockslide and, well, it took 'em by surprise. Thankfully your dad had enough sense to bring his radio with him and didn't leave it in the truck like he usually does, or else we might not have…"

He trails off to pause and study my hardened face. He's met with my stony grey eyes, and I motion for him to continue. I don't want my mind to go down that dark road. "Well, we found them quickly enough but by the time we were able to get them dislodged from the rubble, I could tell right away that he'd lost a lot of blood. His leg and his shoulder looked pretty busted up and by the time the ambulance left with him, he was drifting in and out of consciousness. Hawthorne seemed to be in better shape though; a few broken ribs I think, and maybe a broken arm and a nasty gash on his head."

"But he'll be fine though, right? My father?"

"He's in stable condition for now, but…like I said, he's leg was pretty banged up. That's all I know for now."

I nod my head in response, hearing his words but not really processing them. A millions questions are going through my mind but one single underlying thought is prominent amidst the chaos. He's alive. That's all that matters. They're both alive. "Where's Gale? Does he know?"

"Yes, one of the guys drove him to the hospital just before you two arrived. Since your father's stable, I decided it was best to wait for you to get back. That's not the kind of news anyone needs to hear over the phone."

I nod numbly, my head swimming with so many emotions, but I'm already too mentally spent to start sorting them out. Instead, I just stare at my fingers as I absentmindedly tie knots with the strings of my hooded sweatshirt. The office is eerily quiet. We must be the only ones in here.

There's a sudden knock on the doorframe that startles me and I turn my head to see Gloss hovering in the doorway. "Hey, I just heard about your dad. I'm so sorry Katniss." He takes off his hat and runs his fingers through his sweaty hair. "I, uh…I can take you to the hospital if you want. It's the least I could do."

"I think that's a great idea, kid," Haymitch says with a nod. "Thanks. I have a few things I need to take care of here, or else I would offer to take you to the hospital myself, but I'll be over there later this evening. I'll see you then, OK?" He stands up from behind his desk and places a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it gently. "It'll be alright, Sweetheart, I promise."

During the hour-long drive in Gloss' car to Capitol General Hospital, which is located two districts over, time seems to stand still and move too fast all at once. I stare out the passenger side window for most of the drive, wrapped up in my own little world.

What if things had ended differently? What if my father hadn't had his radio on him when the blast went off? Would they still be searching for them right now? Fuck. I can't imagine what it'd be like to be trapped beneath a pile of rubble with no idea if anyone was going to find you. Where are my mother and Prim? Do they know? They must be there already. I shake my head to try and clear it. I should really make an effort to talk about something else, anything really, to keep my mind from going to darker places.

As if sensing the need to break the silence, Gloss clears his throat. "Hey, it'll be OK, just like Haymitch said."

I feel Gloss' hand on my arm and it breaks me from my thoughts. Normally I'd shy away from any contact from him, but for some reason it's doesn't bother me one bit. It's not meant to be intimate; it's meant to be comforting, I can tell by the look in his eyes. It's then that I realize I never did get the chance to say what I wanted to him. At least that will be somewhat of a distraction.

"Gloss, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, shoot."

"Why me? I mean, why do you like me?"

I'm met with silence. He doesn't look over. His eyes stay trained to the road in front of him, making it hard to read his face as I wait for an answer, but I spot a bit of redness starting to creep up the back of his neck.

"Uh, well…that was a bit out of left field. Are you serious?" He turns to look at me and I stare back at him, unmoving. "OK, then. Well, uh, for starters you're hot," he says with a smirk. I shake my head. I should have expected he'd say something like that. He chuckles, and the sound is a welcomed distraction from the intensity that's surrounded us the moment we left the quarry.

"I'm serious, you're pretty cool when, you know, you're not all sour-puss faced and pissed off." I wrinkle my nose, and I let out a strained laugh. Sensing that he's helping to lighten the mood, he grins at me and sticks his tongue out. "And you're smart, damn smart, and confident, and your stubbornness is oddly enough a turn on." Now it's my turn to blush and I redirect my gaze to my lap. "But if I'm being completely honest, I think what attracted me most to you was the overall package."

"What do you mean?"

"I've always thought that you encompassed all the qualities of the kind of girl I wanted to be with. The kind of girl I'd end up marrying someday. Life with a girl like you would never get boring, that's for sure," he says with a laugh.

The blush that was moments ago contained to my cheeks now starts to spread to the rest of my face and down my neck from the sincerity in his words. I'm not sure why I ever let what happened between us get to me the way it did. I'm the one who let it happen. When I woke up the day after we'd slept together, it was as if it changed me, that it had somehow made me less of a person for having a one-night stand. Why I ever thought that one night of fun with a guy who did nothing but make me feel wanted would somehow brand me a whore, I'll never know. Thinking back on it now, that was stupid. Why would one selfish choice tarnish my virtue and brand me a harlot? But I let it; I let myself think that no one would ever want me after that. It's not his fault, I did it to myself and I guess all this time I was blaming him, as if he made me feel this way. He didn't. I'm the only one responsible for making myself feel cheap and damaged.

I release a labored breath. "I'm sorry for the way I've treated you. I could have handled…what happened between us, a lot better."

"Nah, that's OK, I get it. I'm just not your type. I'll get over it."

"No, seriously. I was a bitch when I didn't have to be, and I also never really thanked you for saving my life."

"Don't worry about it, that was nothing."

I reach my hand out and grasp his forearm, causing him to look me straight in the eye as I try to convey to him my deepest sincerity with this one gesture. "No, it wasn't nothing. It was my life, so thank you."

Gloss' lips flatten into a tight smile before he looks back to the road and I withdraw my hand back to my side. I take a deep breath as a similar feeling to the one I felt the night I talked with Gale settles over me, and I feel greatly relieved getting this off my chest.

The rest of the drive passes in silence. Not an awkward one, but a comfortable one. I can't stop my mind from drifting to what will be awaiting me at the hospital. I'm sure my mother and Prim are already there, along with the rest of the Hawthorne clan, and I retrieve my phone to see if I have any missed calls, but the battery is dead. Great. I can only imagine what a wreck my mother will be and Prim too. She's so like my mother in so many ways and keeping it together under stressful situations isn't one of her fortes. So that means I'll need to be the one to get us through this, for all of our sakes. It's what my father would want me to do, keep everyone else sane amongst all the chaos and uncertainty.

Twenty minutes later we pull up to the entrance to the emergency room. As I collect my belongings, Gloss leans over and I'm a bit surprised when he pulls me into a brief yet fierce hug.

"He'll be alright, Katniss. You'll be alright."

I respond with a timid smile as I shut the door behind me. The rumble of the car engine fades into the distance as he drives off and once the automatic doors open for me I'm hit with the distinct sterile stench of bleach; it makes my stomach turn and my nostrils tingle.

A friendly looking red-head at the nurses' station greets me with a smile as I approach the information desk and inform her who I'm here to see. Her face falls slightly as she scrolls through her computer screen, her eyes darting over to assess me briefly before she pulls out a pen from her front pocket and locates a pad of paper. She scribbles down some numbers and then rips off the piece of paper, handing it to me and giving me a sympathetic smile.

"I know your mother," she says as she pats my hand gently. "Your father is currently in surgery, but you'll find the rest of your family up on the third floor waiting room. The elevators are to your right, or you can take the stairs at the end of the hall."

I mutter a quick "thanks" before making my way down to the end of the hall towards the stairs. My legs are burning as I sprint up the steps to assess the damage my mother and Prim are in, but another part is holding me back, making my feet feel like I've got fifty-pound weights strapped to my shoes. My mind is numb as I take each step cautiously, and when I finally reach the third floor and push through the double doors leading to the waiting room, I swallow thickly as I search for my family.

My mother is seated in a sterile, uncomfortable-looking blue chair, her face blank and her eyes staring straight ahead at the wall in front of her. Prim is nowhere to be seen but I'm somewhat relieved to see the entire Hawthorne clan just a few seats away. Posy is curled up in Hazelle's arms, kicking her feet lightly into the air while playing with the hair of a doll in her arms. She's obviously too young to realize what's happened to her father, but Hazelle seems to be holding up well enough. Vick is seated next to them, his legs bouncing rapidly off the ground as he pretends to flip through a magazine. Rory and Gale are missing too, but I'm sure they're around here somewhere.

Hazelle smiles and nods when she spots me before turning to look over at my mother, who still hasn't realized that I'm here. I push back the tears that are threatening to well up behind my eyes as I kneel down in front of her and take her cold hands in mine.

"Mom?" She doesn't respond. "Mom, where's Prim?" I wait and bring my hand to stroke her cheek, hoping the physical contact will draw out from her daze. She blinks a few times, and I breathe a sigh of relief when the hazy fog that seems to have clouded her eyes fades and she looks down at me.

"Katniss," she whispers. "You're here."

I push myself up to my feet and take the seat next to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulder. With my eyes trained to the floor, I ask the one question that's been weighing heavy on mind since the minute we left the quarry. "How is he?"

She squeezes my hand and it's as if a switch has flipped and her face relaxes for a fraction as she switches into nurse mode. "He's in surgery. When they called me, they said he was pretty banged up, but by the time Prim and I got here they had already set his shoulder, but…his leg…"

"What about it?"

My mother releases a deep breath. "They couldn't assure me that they could save it. That's why he's in there right now, accessing the amount of nerve damage."

My whole body shudders as my mother's words sink in. "But he's alive, that's all that matters."

"Yes…but…" She trails off as her face falls again and she's back in 'distraught wife' mode, her bottom lip trembling. "He'll never be the same."

I feel a tinge of anger upon hearing her words. The way her voice breaks, it's as if she's mourning the loss of the man she knows, as though my father will be somewhat less of a man when he comes out of this. A lost leg we can deal with; sure things won't be the same as before and it might be a long and tedious road to recovery, but he's alive and breathing. It could be worse. Much worse. That you can't take back once it's gone. The rational part of my brain is telling me to take a step back. It's obvious that she's still in shock, and like me, she probably thought the worse that he was dead when she got the call—that the man she loves, the father of her children, was gone in an instant. I should cut her some slack.

I swallow down my anger and pull her in closer. I find myself repeating the words Gloss left me with, "He'll be alright. We'll be alright."

My mother rests her head against my shoulder and I can feel the tears rolling down her cheeks starting to dampen my shirt. I need to be strong for her and for Prim; it's what my father would want.

Speaking of Prim, it's then that I finally spot her as she rounds the corner of the hall, the majority of her face tucked into Rory's chest and her arms wrapped tightly around his middle as he awkwardly leads her back to the waiting room. I watch as he leans down and places a soft kiss to her hair and whispers something in her ear. When she looks up, her eyes rimmed with red and cheeks blotchy, she catches sight of my mother and me and breaks free from Rory. She crosses the room and is in my lap in an instant, wrapping her arms around my neck and holding onto me for dear life.

Her tears start to flow again, and I bite my lip to fight back the overwhelming urge to join them, but I have to be strong for them. Instead, I rock them both gently and reassure them that everything will be alright. There will be time for me to wallow in my own feeling later.

I'm not really sure how long we sit there, all huddled together as we wait for any news. Even though I've glanced over at the clock on the wall over a hundred times, the numbers don't register and I feel like the minutes are dragging by like molasses. Hazelle informs me that her husband made it through with only a dislocated shoulder and a bit of a nasty cut on his head. When I ask where Gale is, she says she sent him down to the cafeteria on a mission to find some food for Posy and Vick since he was pacing the halls like a madman while they waited for Mr. Hawthorne to wake up. Like me, he deals with nervous energy better when he has a purpose.

Prim eventually dozes off in my arms, and I somehow manage to transfer her over to my mother's lap without her waking. My stomach grumbles loudly, and I realize that I haven't eaten since my meager granola bar and raisins from this morning. Maybe a trip down to the cafeteria might not be such a bad idea; I'm sure my mother and Prim are just as hungry and would be grateful for something to nibble on.

I decide to take the elevator down this time in search of the cafeteria, hoping that it's still open. If not, I could always raid the vending machines I guess. After punching in the button for the ground floor, I open my wallet in search of cash but curse under my breath when I realize that I'm out. Just perfect, there goes the vending machine option. Could this day get any worse?

When the elevator doors open, I lift my head and take a few steps forward, but I freeze in place the moment I come face to face with the one person I've yet to see today but have longed to since last night.

His blue eyes and apprehensive smile are my undoing. Before he can utter a word, I close the distance between us and I fling myself into his arms. He staggers back a bit and drops the bag in his hand to the floor as he moves to right his balance. His arms wrap around my waist, enveloping me in a warm embrace that makes my tense muscles melt, and he lifts me off my feet. We cling to each other as I breathe him in, the heady scent that is distinctly Peeta, and my needy lips search out his as my eyelids fall shut, blocking out the rest of world. I'm desperate to feel every inch of him, to convince myself that he's real and that he's really here.

When we finally break free, he cups my chin in his hand and runs his thumb along my lower lip. "Hey," he breathes, his warm breath fanning over my face.

"Peeta, I-I…I'm so sorry—"

"Katniss." He silences me with a soft kiss. "Now's not the time, it's fine. We'll talk later. How's your father?"

"I'm not sure yet, he's still in surgery."

He nods and brushes my hair out of my face. "How are you?"

"As good as I can be, I guess." I force a smile but all I really want to do is just bury my face in his shirt and not come out until this is all over. I look down and notice the bag on the floor by his feet. "What's that?"

He leans down and opens the bag for me to peek in and a smile spreads across my face when I spy the familiar scroll of "Mellark's Bakery" across the top of a white box. "Come on, let's get back to your family."

I follow him back into the elevator and cling to his side the short ride back up to the third floor. When the doors open and we step out into the waiting room, I find Prim still fast asleep in my mother's lap, just as I left her. My mother doesn't even notice when we approach her until I place my hand on her shoulder and gently squeeze it. She doesn't move at first or turn to face me, but eventually she lifts her hand to mine.

"Mom, Peeta brought us some food. Here, you should eat something."

She finally looks up at us and when her eyes find Peeta, she breathes a sigh of relief. "That's so kind of you, Peeta, really, thank you."

"There's enough for everyone, so please help yourselves," he says as he places the large box of sandwiches on the table. I retrieve two thermoses and cups from the bag and place them down next to the food.

I don't think anyone realized how hungry they are until Peeta opens the box and the smell of fresh bread, meat, and cheese wafts out to fill the room. He backs away and takes a seat in one of the empty chairs off to the side and just watches everyone around him. He seems content to having been useful somehow I'm sure, but humble enough to just fade into the background quietly. Prim finally awakens from the rustling of everyone around her and stares at the food on the table before her. As everyone digs in, it's as if the awkward tension from before has been lifted and everyone seems normal, if only for a little while.

I quickly scarf down half a roast beef sandwich and wash it down with a warm cup of tea. I can feel Peeta's eyes on me and once my belly is full and my hands have been warmed by the tea, I sneak away from the crowd and crawl into his lap.

"Come here," he whispers as he wraps an arm around my waist, his fingers tracing circles onto my hip.

"Peeta, I-I'm so sorry I never meant to hurt—"

"Shhh, I know. I'm here now, OK?" I run a hand through his hair and then down the side of his face. I want to say something, apologize a hundred times over, but the look in his eyes silences me. "Listen, we're going to fight, that's just how relationships work, the way it is, but I promise that I'll never leave you."

"And I promise that I'll never walk out on you like that again."

"Deal." Peeta's smile is like a ray of light, a sign of hope that things will get better. And I believe him.

I bury my face into his chest, no longer able to hold myself together. "Don't let me go."

He reaches his other arm around me to circle my waist and I lean into him, letting him hold me close as he rests his cheek atop my head. As my tears finally begin to fall, soaking his t-shirt, he doesn't let me go. He brings a hand to rest behind my head and rocks me gently back and forth.

I'm not sure how long we sit there, intertwined within each other's arms, not saying a single word. Just listening to the beating of his heart through his chest and the feel of his breath on the top of my head is all I need right now. He feels so impossibly warm and I'm grateful for it; hospitals are always too cold for my liking.

"Mrs. Everdeen?" A voice from behind us causes us all to turn our heads. "Your husband is out of surgery now. Everything went as well as we could have hoped for. We expect that he'll make a full recovery. He's still under but he should wake up any time now. You can come see him now if you're ready."

My mother and Prim are on their feet in no time and I untangle myself from Peeta's arms. He squeezes my hand reassuringly, and I turn back to look at him.

"Please don't leave, stay here and wait for me?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"Always."

Author's Note: Ack! So, any guesses on whether or not Mr. Everdeen keeps that leg or not? Bit a twist on canon there, hope you liked it :) One more chapter after this and YES, it will be all Everlark for those of you who are wondering, as well as the epilogue.

A big thank you to Court81981 for her speedy beta skills and hilarious comments that keep me focused!

To all my faithful readers who have stuck with me so far, THANK YOU for taking the time to follow/favorite and especially review my work, your notes of encouragement and interest are what drives my creative spirit!

As always, come and visit me on tumblr (pookieh) for fic updates/drabbles and my borderline obsessive love of The Hunger Games and Everlark fanfiction.