A/N I didn't expect to be able to write, but I was! Huzzah! Since I have the chance, I have to plug an amazing story I discovered recently: sweetheart by koalakoala9836. It's Haymitch-centric and really, really excellent.

I realize I enjoy writing Prim/Peeta way too much, considering they have… no scenes together in the books? Weird.

This scene: MJ Prim goes to visit Peeta in his "cell" after he's been high-jacked.

Prim

I hesitate outside the door. Do I want to do this? Haymtich said he called Katniss a mutt. It's 2:00 in the morning- everyone is asleep, I have no protection. But Haymitch said he was a little better. He might remember me. I could help him. Help my sister, who, though she doesn't say anything to me (I wish you would wake me up more often, I said, but she doesn't), is suffering. I walk in.

Peeta is sitting on his bed, chains keeping his hands down so he can't attack me. His hands are covering his face, and he's sitting stiffly, like he's frozen.

"Peeta?" I say softly.

His head snaps up, and for a moment, his eyes are wild as he looks at me. But then he sags back against the wall, and he seems to remember me, But his eyes are different, pretty blue eyes that always seemed to understand. Always filled with a sort of calm. Different.

"Do you remember me?" I ask hesitantly.

"Sure. Prim Everdeen," he says finally. "Katniss Everdeen's little sister." His voice is different too.

"You used to let me watch you frost cake sometimes. When Katniss was gone hunting?" He nods slowly, and his eyes drop away from mine and look down at his hands. They're shaking.

"I remember," he whispers.

I walk slowly until I am in front of him, then beside him. He stiffens and moves away, but he doesn't attack me. Maybe the Capitol didn't see why they would need to alter his memories of me. Just Katniss,

"Katniss isn't a muttation," I say finally. "She's just sad. And everyone's Mockingjay, I guess."

"Sad?" He repeats, doubtfully. "Katniss doesn't get sad," his voice caustic, sharper than I have ever heard it before. I inch away from him a little before I can stop myself. "She just kills people. Do you know how many people she's killed?"

"Do you know she used to fall asleep holding that pearl you gave her?" I reply, avoiding his question. Yes, yes I know how many people my sister has killed. For me. Because she volunteered to protect me. Their blood is on my hands as well. As much on my hands as on the hands of my older sister, who screams her pain out nearly every night. Neither I nor Mother know how to fix that kind of pain. But I could help fix the one who does.

Peeta's eyes are closed again. He's even stiffer than he was before.

"You must remember the pearl," I say softly.

"Yes… No. I don't know."

I scoot closer and reach out slowly, press my hand against the back of his until he opens his fist. I hold his trembling hand tightly.

"You have to remember, Peeta," I say. "She needs you to remember. Do you remember her saying she needed you?"

He shakes his head, makes to pull his hand away, but I hold on. "Please remember." I let go, stand up. When he looks up, he almost looks like himself, except I have never seen Peeta look so haunted. "Annie and Finnick are getting married you know. Maybe you could make them a cake."

He says nothing, stares into his hands. "Please leave," he whispers. "Before I hurt you."

I walk out of the room and cry silently. For him. For her.

For a small, forgotten pearl and a lost boy.