Wait no longer! A new chapter has finally arrived! Sorry to all who have been waiting. As always, your support is greatly appreciated! :) Thanks!
This is my first shot at a FanFiction. I DO NOT own the Hunger Games Series. Some lines taken directly from Suzanne Collins' books.
I haven't read many FanFictions either so any theme resemblance to other Hunger Games FanFiction is entirely coincidental.
Chapter 38:
We sit waiting for Peeta to wake up. According to Prim he has been unconscious for hours and has yet to show signs of stirring. They laid Peeta down next a large bush in hopes of sheltering him from the storm and someone draped a tattered jacket over his left leg. I shudder at the sight of the hunk of metal beside him on the ground. After he and Prim made it into the woods his leg gave out; they hopped along a ways, and eventually Thom found them. It wasn't until Prim extracted the metal that Peeta passed out from the pain. He's lost a lot of blood since then. A fever has set in too.
The sight of Peeta pale and laying prone on the ground sends shock waves through me. He is usually so strong and capable, but now he looks so helpless. Peeta is so still that every so often I hold my breath and watch him, just to see the rise and fall of his chest. He is alive but for how long? His breathing is very shallow. There is always a terrifying moment before I see him inhale, where I panic thinking about what would happen if he didn't this time. It's absolute torture. I just want him to wake up.
As I sit on the ground next to Peeta, a wet chill settles over me, but I hardly notice. At some point Prim curled up and fell asleep, using my lap as a pillow. I absent-mindedly stroke her beautiful blond hair, which has come loose from her braids. This was not the reunion I had expected, but she is here safe and sound. They are both here, and that is all I wanted.
Thankfully over the course of the afternoon the rain lets up and now the sky is clearing in time to catch a glimpse of the sunset through the trees. I know there is no way I will sleep here either, I don't know if I will ever sleep again- it seems too selfish to indulge in peaceful sleep after everything that has happened. Speaking of selfish, I left my mother and all the others at the lake hours ago without a word to anyone and no instructions on what to do. Not that I even know what to do. I was told to get people to the woods so I did; the next step of finding water was only logical, but I have no idea where to go next. Maybe there doesn't have to be a next, maybe we can all just stay at the lake and live there, so long as the Capitol does not find us. I shake my head thinking about what that would be like; I doubt many people would be on board with that plan, although we may not have any other option.
I let out a sigh. "What are we going to do," I whisper to myself.
"We'll figure something out."
The voice is barely above a whisper. I look down at Prim, but she is still asleep. Puzzled, I look to Thom a few feet away. He is still in the Peacekeeper uniform, with eyes closed and chin resting on his chest.
All of a sudden I sense someone else. Glancing down at Peeta I am greeted by a pair of bright blue eyes.
"Oh my gosh, Peeta!" I gasp.
Shaking Prim, I shuffle her off my lap and move closer to Peeta, grasping his limp hand. I hear Prim's confused grumbling, to which I respond with, "He's awake." Instantly she is beside him too, checking his pulse. "Thom, wake up!"
I push Peeta's wet hair away from his eyes. His forehead is burning up.
"What's all the fuss about?" Peeta's voice is groggy, but still holds a humorous lightness to it. He attempts to give a small grin.
A relieved huff of a laugh escapes me. "Nothing, it's no one important just some boy who gave me bread once."
"You're right, he does sound unimportant," he manages a chuckle, but winces in pain as he does so.
"How do you feel?"
"I've been better." He is trying to make a joke, but sounds so weak. Peeta's head shifts from side to side, while his eyes struggle to stay open. Unconsciousness is trying to pull him back under. I know that if he closes his eyes we could lose him again for hours, or longer.
I quickly tap his cheeks, "Stay awake, Peeta."
"His fever still hasn't broken," Prim says urgently. Immediately she begins to prepare a mixture.
Together we prop Peeta up so he can drink some sort of tea. He groans at the sudden movement and coughs as he takes a sip.
"Peeta," Prim's voice is firm. She sounds grown up, not at all like my little sister. "I'm going to check your wound."
"Okay," he replies through gritted teeth. Peeta's grip on my hand tightens in anticipation. His breathing becomes rapid as Prim removes some of the dressing covering the wound. I catch a glimpse of the blood that has seeped through and have to look away. I hear Peeta hiss in pain and take that as an indication the dressing has been removed.
"Can we do anything?" Thom asks Peeta.
Peeta is sucking in long deep breaths through his nose, his jaw locked tightly. "Just talk. Tell me, how is everyone else?"
"Everyone here is fine. Just waiting."
I lock eyes with Peeta, and nothing could have prepared me for the pain present in them. I force myself to ignore his hurt. He needs us to distract him. "I took the rest to the lake." I realize he doesn't know about the lake- Gale does, not Peeta. "My father use to take me there all the time. It's a couple hours away by foot."
"A couple hours?"
I nod. "Your parents and brothers are there. Delly too."
"That's good." There is the smallest hint of relief in his strained voice.
Silence. What do you possibly say next? There is no point in talking about District 12, which we all know is completely destroyed.
Peeta's groan of pain cuts through the awkward silence.
"I'm almost done," Prim reassures. I can't even look at what she is doing to his leg.
"You never told me the story about the uniform," I quickly say to Thom to make conversation, and to further distract Peeta.
"Oh. Well we figured it'd be safer. If they sent Peace Keepers back to check things out once the fires died down, then we could claim to be rounding up survivors. Maybe buy the rest of us enough time to get away."
"Smart."
"Wasn't my idea, I just fit the suit."
"How'd did you get it?"
Thom looks about to speak, but then stops himself. I can see him thinking. "I should let Peeta answer that."
Prim has finished with his leg so Peeta reaches down to cover himself with the jacket again, and then grabs the cup taking another drink. He looks less green now, but still very pale. That's when I realize he won't look at me. He's stalling. A few moments pass before I feel Peeta's clammy fingers reach out and wrap around mine weakly. I give him a puzzled look.
"Darius."
"Darius is here?! Where is he?" The thought of seeing my old friend sends a trickle of warmth through my cold body, until I notice no one is saying anything. I dread asking, but I have to. "What's wrong?"
"He's dead." Even though Peeta's words are soft, their impact hurts. I feel like someone has punched me in the stomach. Silent tears fall down my cheeks as Peeta tells me what happened.
When the rest of the Peacekeepers packed up and shipped out, Darius, along with a handful of others who were considered District sympathizers got left behind. Once the bombs started falling even they became divided on what to do, most headed for the main road like everyone else. Darius apparently saw us from a distance trying to get people to head for the woods so he spread the word too. When the big bomb hit he also got thrown by the blast. He was eventually helped to the woods and taken to where Thom had people gathered. It wasn't until Peeta and Prim came along that they recognized him. They quickly removed Darius' uniform so Prim could examine him but there was little she could do, the majority of the damage was internal. He didn't last much longer.
It feels ridiculous to be crying over a Peace Keeper, but Darius wasn't like the rest of them. He was different, he was my friend. Never again will I see that cheeky grin as he teases me. I never even got to properly thank him for all those times he could have turned me in but chose not to. It's not fair.
No one tries to console me and I wouldn't want them too; we are all mourning right now, and my grief is no more important than any of theirs.
"It's dark, we should try to get some sleep," Thom finally says. "We'll figure out what to do in the morning."
Without question, we all settle down. The chances of me sleeping are still very unlikely, even though I am exhausted. After about an hour of lying with my eyes open, I whisper to Peeta, "You awake?"
"Yeah, I'm forcing myself to. It's actually not that difficult, because my leg is pounding." I can feel him shiver beside me.
"Perfect, we can keep each other company."
"You really should try to sleep Katniss."
"I've been trying; I can't."
"Afraid of what might happen?"
"No. The worst that could happen already has, which is why I can't sleep. I'm also worried about everyone back at the lake and worried what will happen tomorrow, and every day after."
"Come here," he says softly.
I almost refuse, but his arm is already pulling me close. My head finds a spot on his chest below his chin. I hear him take a sharp breath in.
"Sorry," I lift my head in apology.
"Not your fault. It's okay." He shifts a bit to find a slightly more comfortable position.
I cautiously lay my head back down and feel Peeta's arm wrap around my shoulder. Despite the cold damp night, he is radiating heat from his fever. Hopefully he will sweat it out come morning. I can't remember ever being this close to him before; it should feel strange. Instead I feel safe. Which given the circumstances, is a big deal.
"Now you can sleep."
"Nice try." I'm not so exhausted that I can't manage to roll my eyes. "It's not that easy."
"You can't stay awake forever," is Peeta's reply.
I hate to admit that he's right.
After a few moments of shared silence, during which all I can hear is the steady beating of Peeta's heart, he whispers right to me, "This will all be over soon."
Though meant to be reassuring, his statement makes me sad. "How can you be so sure about that? I'm not. I think this is just the beginning."
"All the more reason for you to get some rest," there is the slightest bit of humour in Peeta's voice.
I'm not the one he should be worried about right now, not as he lays here with a fever and a hole in his leg. I try to divert attention away from me. "You're not well, you need sleep too."
"I'll be fine," Peeta insists. "I've been unconscious for most of the day, I've had my turn."
"But what if-"
He cuts me off, "If anything changes you'll be the first person I wake up."
I pause, sorely tempted to give in. I hate that I sound so small and weak when I say, "I just don't know what I'm going to see when I close my eyes."
"Don't worry, it'll be alright." I feel Peeta's hand reach over and cover mine. His is still bandaged from when he caught it on the fence. "I promise I'll be right here the whole night. I'm not going anywhere." He pauses, and I can hear the smile as he says, "I couldn't even if I wanted to."
I allow myself a small huff of a laugh. My body is so relaxed that I finally let exhaustion take over. The last thing I remember is Peeta stoking my hair.
"We need to go join everyone else," Thom announces first thing in the morning.
Overnight two miracles happened. One, I actually managed to sleep- though interrupted by nightmares, but as promised Peeta was right there. And two, Peeta's fever broke.
There is an anxious air surrounding the couple dozen of us left from District Twelve as we gathered together; no one quite knows what the next step is. The biggest problem we face is transporting the wounded, though mostly minor injuries there are a few that are more serious, much like Peeta's. It could be difficult, not to mention dangerous moving them, but the lake is where there is fresh water, more medical aid and most importantly the remaining members of District Twelve. It's unanimous; we have to try.
While the majority of the able bodied people clean up our camp, a few volunteers head back towards the Meadow, dragging back debris that gets converted into make shift stretchers for those who can't walk. As the early morning light filters through the trees we begin the slow trek towards the lake. Those who can take turns carrying the injured; we have to make frequent stops to rest and switch.
Peeta starts out on a stretcher, but insists the whole time he is capable of walking. He has a hole in his leg, is recovering from a fever, and still he wants to walk. Finally, after two hours of listening to him, I relent. His spot on the stretcher is given to a little boy to provide his mother's arms a much needed rest.
Peeta's walking is more like hobbling. I take one of his arms and drape it over my shoulder, wrapping my free arm behind his back to support him. This is even slower, but for Peeta's sake I don't say anything and ignore the pain he is trying so hard not to show. It's not an easy terrain for us to navigate; the rocky and sloping ground is still wet from the rain, causing our feet to squish and slip in the soft mud.
No one says much as we make our way through the woods. Thankfully despite everything, there is calm to everything around us, the kind that comes after a storm, only occasionally interrupted by birds and their cheery songs. I'm thankful for this peacefulness; it is a welcome change after all this chaos.
My stomach growls and I realize I can't remember the last time I ate. I pass around mint leaves and point out berries as we come across them, but it's not enough.
The next time we stop Prim comes over to check Peeta's leg. Prim is exhausted and it shows; there are dark circles under her eyes and her feet drag as we walk. She has taken on a lot in the past twenty four hours. Has it really only been a day? Peeta is not doing so great, there are beads of sweat on his forehead and is looking quite pale again, not to mention his wound has opened up some. Prim insists he goes back on the stretcher and Peeta doesn't protest this time.
As we walk, my hand trails along the rough bark of the trees. I can feel every bump, and pieces of dirt cling to my clammy fingers. It makes me feel connected somehow. This forest is the only real and certain thing I know right now. A little while later I notice the vegetation has changed- it has become fuller and greener. We are close to water. Soon enough I catch a glimpse of the lake in the distance. I can almost smell the water.
"The lake is right up ahead," I say out loud. In that instant the mood of our entire group transforms. Everyone has a new found spring in their step, a little flash of hope in the midst of a desperate situation.
"Katniss, I want to walk."
I turn at the sound of Peeta's voice behind me. "It's not good for your leg."
"I don't care." There is something in his tone that tells me there will be no arguing with him about this.
Helping him off, I once again sling his arm across my shoulder and wrap my arm around his waist. I am able to use my shoulder as added support as we maneuver our way across the last couple yards.
I don't blame him at all for wanting to walk despite his condition. I would be the exact same way. His family and what's left of our district is waiting for us just past the tree line; pride prevents him from wanting to show so much weakness. In his mind, limping back is far better than being carried.
When we all emerge it's as if the whole world stops.
For what feels like an eternity those by the lake simply stare at us in complete silence, looks of shock on their faces. Then an older woman steps forward and hurries to embrace the woman and child at the front of our group. With that the spell is broken and more and more people rush towards us, hugging loved ones and helping to carry the injured.
Peeta, Prim and I head towards the shack. Before we make it to the door, my mother emerges, followed by the Hawthornes.
"Mom!" Prim rushes forward, into my mother's waiting arms. It is a sweet sight but I do not feel compelled to do the same. I watch as she hugs Rory, and then Vick and Posy join in. I smile at Hazelle.
"We are so glad to see you!" Hazelle wraps one arm around me, giving a quick squeeze. "When we couldn't find you, Rory guessed you had gone back."
She takes Peeta's other arm and helps him the rest of the way to the shack. We help lower him to the ground. Beads of sweat have formed on his forehead and his breathing is laboured. To my mother's credit, one glance at Peeta and she immediately hurries to get supplies to treat him.
Since I know I can't watch what she will do to his leg, I walk away. The lake is buzzing with activity and chatter as the new arrivals are tended to. A little bit of hope as been restored.
As I walk around, I spot Peeta's parents a few yards away. His father waves, so I wave back. Then the smile drops from his face. Once I realize he is looking for Peeta, I point in the direction of the shack. I watch as he turns to his wife, speaking, and soon her hard, glaring eyes find me. I instinctively want to run, although I know there is no reason to. After everything, this tiny, shrew woman shouldn't scare me, but old habits and all. Her arms remain crossed as she follows her husband towards Peeta. I watch as Mr. Mellark kneels down to hug his son, he then gently places a hand on my mother's shoulder and nods. In thanks I assume. Mrs. Mellark is still glaring but she does step forward and out of all the things she could have done she picks something out of Peeta's hair. Oddly, I think that's the most affectionate thing I have ever seen from her.
Looking around I am suddenly struck by how many people there are here, over five hundred for sure. The sight of so many people in what was always my sacred space is overwhelming. Unable to stand still any longer I escape into the woods to do some hunting.
My father's bow feels wonderful. I have missed this. Even though it has been such a long time since I last used the bow and arrow, it still feels like a natural extension of my body. For the next hour, all my cares and frustrations disappear. This has always been the most effective and productive way for me to forget about how bad things really are.
I fill my game bag with everything I can find or catch and before leaving I set a few small traps. I feel a little guilty walking past everyone with a full bag of food; I may have a good haul, but it's not that good. I am being selfish. I know I don't have enough to feed the District, but right now there is nothing I can do about it. They will need to find their own source of food. My family comes first; I choose to worry about the rest later.
Inside the tiny shack, along with my mother and Prim, I find the Hawthorns and Peeta. It is a tight fit but is quite cozy. Everyone watches me silently as I drop the bag next to the fire; their eyes are wide at the sight of the food.
"Supper's ready," I say.
While the game cooks we divide up the rest, saving some for later.
"Where are your parents?" I ask Peeta.
"They were invited to stay, but mom insisted they go."
I nod in understanding, and then when he's not looking I set aside a little bit for them. I'll deliver it later.
After we eat, Prim, Rory and the kids go for a walk, while my mother and Hazelle sit by the fire and talk. It all seems too ordinary. Like nothing had happened. Like our district hadn't just been blown to bits. Our lives were merely transported to a new location.
I help Peeta up and we slowly make our way outside, eventually finding a quiet, grassy spot at the edge of the forest with a view of the whole lake. We sit in silence for a long time, just watching everyone. In a way I'm reminded of all the times I sat in another favourite spot of mine, similar to this, except with a very different boy beside me. But I don't really know that person anymore.
"This is quite the place," Peeta eventually says. There is a hint of awe in his voice.
"It really is. For me this is the next closest thing to feeling at home." I then add quietly, "There's not usually this many people here though."
"This must be weird then."
"Very."
More silence. Suddenly I am overwhelmed again by all the people, and all the need, and the fact that I have no idea what we are suppose to do.
I sigh, "I don't think I can do this."
Peeta gives me a puzzled look.
"I am seventeen years old, and all of a sudden I'm responsible for what's left of our district?! Does that not sound crazy to you?"
"It does, and that's why it's not all up to you."
"It sure feels that way. Just from what Haymitch said before, it's like I've been chosen. As if there is this plan that I'm suppose to know about but I don't. Yet somehow I have to figure it out as well as keep everyone alive." As I say it all out loud the panic becomes more real.
One touch from Peeta's hand though and my nerves instantly calm. "You're right. You can't do this on your own and you shouldn't have to. That's a crazy way to think. We are all going to do this together."
"How? I know we are resourceful people but, we were resourceful with what little the Capitol gave us." Suddenly I'm angry. "I hate it. I hate that we had to rely on them. I hate that we now have nothing because of them. I hate that they tried to make us fearful of this place so we couldn't be self sufficient. Everything we did and had before was because of the Capitol, with very few exceptions. This isn't one of their games; there is no one to send us support or parachutes of supplies. We are entirely alone, and I can't hunt enough for everyone here. I feel like up until this point we were just pretending, playing at surviving back in Twelve, but this is the real thing."
Or maybe it had been practice... who knows.