District 13 guards descend on our table, attempting to detain Gale and Rye. Rye is fuming at Gale, who is simply holding his hands in the air as the guards approach. When one twists Gale's arm behind his back, Johanna stands and shoves the guard backwards, and he falls to the floor hard. I jump across the table to Peeta, whispering to him but he's not coming around. Another guard pulls out a baton, at which point Finnick throws himself in front of Johanna.
"Enough!" we hear a voice bellow across the room. Boggs is standing at the end of the dining hall. He crosses to our table. "All of you, with me. Right now." He dismisses the guards, who grumble before repossessing their posts.
Everyone at the table leaves their trays as is and stands, except for me.
"Peeta! Peeta!" I whisper, shaking his shoulder, but he's out cold. "I need… I need…" I ramble. "I need a medic!" I yell, and Boggs speaks into his communicuff and dispatches a crew from the hospital. Everyone stands around awkwardly waiting until two people clad in white medic uniforms finally appear in the dining hall. They load Peeta onto a stretcher. I'm about to follow them out when Boggs gestures to me.
"You too, Soldier Everdeen," he says, and my stomach boils. Boggs leads us all up to Command. I stare at the gray walls in the hallway, and only raise my head when I notice Haymitch catching up to our crew.
"Let me do the talking, sweetheart," he says. Apparently he's already been filled in. I wonder if Boggs somehow communicated with him, but the thought slips from my mind when we enter Command. The room is silent, the table empty. Coin, Plutarch, Fulvia, and a few people I don't recognize stand around the space, some with arms folded, others with neutral faces. What is this, a tribunal? We sit around the table – Finnick and Annie, Gale and Johanna, Delly and Rye, and me. Haymitch stays standing and Boggs crosses the room to Coin.
"How is Soldier Mellark?" Coin asks, and then her eyes fall on Rye. "The other Soldier Mellark."
"Word from the hospital ward is he's fine. He was still coming down from the flash when he came to. He's a bit disoriented, but appears to be alright," Boggs explains.
Coin nods and switches her attention. "Soldier Hawthorne, I expected more restraint from you. Assaulting a fellow member of your unit in front of civilians is quite out of the ordinary."
"He asked me to, ma'am," Gale offers, with more veneration than I'll ever give this woman.
"The kid flashed," Haymitch says. "Gale was talking a precaution. Maybe over the top, but keeping the Mockingjay safe is a top priority. Rye hasn't been made aware of Peeta's condition and was simply acting defensively. It's a misunderstanding, really." Rye shifts uncomfortably.
Coin moves her silver eyes from Haymitch back to Gale, and then she clears her throat and addresses the group as a whole. "The assault on the Capitol will begin in two weeks' time. Were schedules more permissive, I would take this matter further, but seeing as how numerous assets from our lead squad were involved in the altercation, I cannot afford such a substantial change in direction so late in the game. I expect each and every one of your to be on your best behavior until deployment. Any additional infractions will not be met so mercifully."
We nod silently, but all I hear in my head is the first firm detail we've had on the timetable. Two weeks. Two weeks. This will all come to a head in two weeks. This will all come to an end.
Coin's stare moves to Rye. "I don't know you, Soldier Mellark. From what I've seen on television, you do not appear to be a serious man. You should note District Thirteen is a serious place. You'd be wise to remember that." It's a miracle Rye doesn't stick his tongue out at her. For being Peeta's older brother, he's more juvenile than anything.
We're dismissed to our schedules, except for Haymitch, who has been missing more and more training sessions due to meetings in Command. While the rest of my group returns to training, my feet lead me to the hospital. I know I shouldn't. He probably doesn't want to see me right now.
Peeta's still sleeping when I show up. I stand outside his room and watch him through the glass. Sleeping. Is that the right word for someone who has been knocked unconscious? This scenario is hauntingly familiar. This is my fault.
"He'll be okay, Katniss," I hear my little sister intimate. I turn around to find Prim standing next to me.
"What are you doing here, little duck? Shouldn't you be in class?" I ask. I've seen so much less of Prim since training started. Since I actually started doing what the purple ink on my arm told me to.
"I have an internship this trimester," she explains. I nod and look back at Peeta. "He'll wake up soon. Go see him."
"They said he was already awake," I murmur.
"He was, but he was still struggling with the flash so they gave him some morphling and it knocked him out," she says. She watches my face. "He's okay, Katniss," she says reassuringly.
"Thanks," I reply, and hug her tight. She's gotten so much older. Every time I blink my little sister reflects more and more who she'll be when she grows up than the little girl with the wide, innocent eyes. I open the door to Peeta's room and pull the chair next to his bed. I drop my head down and lay my arms across his legs. I close my eyes.
"What does it mean when you say he 'flashes'?" Rye asks me from the doorway. I sit up. This isn't my story to tell.
"You should talk about it with Peeta," I answer.
"I want to hear it from you," Rye responds. "Katniss, he said he wants to kill you. What are you still doing here?" My eyes drift back to the boy in the bed, and Peeta begins to stir. His legs shift and sounds garble in his throat like when you are still asleep enough to hold onto a dream, but awake enough to know you're about to lose it. He wakes, bleary-eyed, and focuses on me.
"Oh god, Katniss. Did I hurt you?" he asks, remembering at least some of the earlier events.
"No, I'm fine. You were in control the whole time," I offer. His eyes drift off me and land on Rye. His cheeks burn and I can feel the shame radiating from him. I stand. "I have training," I mumble, and dismiss myself. I look through the glass and see Rye take my seat next to Peeta.
That night I run until my legs burn and my lungs beg for compassion. I go back to my empty compartment and shower. I run my face under the lukewarm water and try to clear my thoughts, but under my eyelids I see the Capitol burn with me in it. I shut off the water and dally with my nightly routine. I keep staring at the door waiting for Peeta, but it remains dormant. I know he was discharged from the hospital. I crawl in bed and stare at the handle in the dark. My eyes burn and sleep creeps up on me, but I force myself awake. I can't sleep without him, or I'm going to slip back into a nightmarish hell of reapings and war.
I get on my feet and walk down the hall to the Mellark compartment. I lightly knock on the door and Rye answers.
"Hey Katniss," he whispers, keeping his voice low.
"Is Peeta sleeping?" I ask.
"No, but his head hurts. Trying to keep it down," Rye returns.
"Oh, I'll just go. Sorry," I offer, but he grabs my hand.
"I didn't say you had to leave," he states, opening the door wider. Peeta is lying in his bed facing the wall. Bed is a generous word for the accommodations of 13. It's more like a single person cot with one side against the perimeter of each cookie cutter room. That's what Peeta called it one night when we stayed up talking. I asked what he meant, and he said when you make sugar cookies, you use a special shaped cutter to make sure all the cookies look exactly the same. District 13 is a cookie cutter district.
Peeta's pillow is pressed over his head as he tries to force out the light and sound. "I'm going to shower," Rye says, heading to the bathroom and closing the door. I sit on the edge of Peeta's bed. He pulls the pillow around his head harder.
"Go away, Katniss," he says. My head is telling me to run. Maybe this self-destructive streak will get me killed. At this point I don't care. I drop down next to him and press my chest to his back. I tuck my knees behind his and wrap my arms around his waist. His entire body is vibrating, trembling at such a high frequency it's practically imperceptible until you feel it against your skin. I scratch his back with my fingertips and I feel him still beneath my touch.
"Why didn't you tell him?" I whisper. I try to keep the tone out of my voice. I don't want to sound like I'm accusing him of something.
"I just wanted someone not to look at me like I'm an imposter. I couldn't have him look at me the way all of you do," he rambles. My fingers pause.
"Coin says we deploy in two weeks. Are you coming?" I ask his back, keeping my voice low.
"I don't want to kill anyone, Katniss," Peeta murmurs into his pillow.
"You won't," I say. "You were in control today, and it was a new trigger. You didn't lose it."
Peeta rolls over and faces me. "You're just seeing what you want to see," he replies. I remember him saying that on the train tracks about himself. That he should have known I didn't love him in the first Arena. That he was just seeing what he wanted to see. We lie there, still. Our heads sharing a pillow, our faces so close I can feel his breath.
"Come to my room," I whisper.
"Why are you doing this?" he breathes. I pull my body in closer to his.
"Because I'm selfish," I answer honestly.
"They say I loved you," he states.
"You did," I whisper, and the past tense feels like gravel in my mouth. He said he loved me. He said so today. Peeta's brow furrows.
"Did you love me?" Peeta asks quietly.
"I do," I breathe. He loses his confidence and drops his gaze. "I'm sorry," I offer, too little too late.
"It just… I have all these memories of you pushing me away. And they aren't violent or shiny and…those aren't real?" he asks. He's confused.
"Some of it is real," I confess. No lying. I wait, and I realize Peeta can't see anything but gray anymore. He can't see real or not real. He needs black and white now, but we've never been that simple. "What do you remember?" I ask, my voice small. I'm not sure I want to know how much of us he's lost.
"Bits and pieces here and there. I remember–" He starts but swallows the word. He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. He's seeing something I'm not. When his voice returns, it's like he's thinking more than he's speaking. "I remember you stepping away from me on the train tracks. I remember the days and weeks alone after the Games, with my family down at the bakery and you pretending I didn't exist. I remember you drifting away in the ocean. But…" He pauses. "I remember you sneaking into my room in Victor's Village. I remember sketching you in the sunlight. I remember kissing you in a doorway, but when I open my eyes the place shifts," he rambles.
"You've kissed me in more than one doorway," I reply, and his eyes shoot up to mine.
"What are we doing here, Katniss?" he asks, shifting his weight so we're only a breath apart.
"Living," I answer.