The Fallen

Summary – Peeta Mellark is the Winner of the 74th Hunger Games after Katniss Everdeen sacrifices herself to save his life. He soon finds himself in the middle of the rebellion as their beacon of hope, their Mockingjay. But as Peeta will soon discover, not all fallen tributes stay dead.

Disclaimer: These are all Suzanne Collin's toys. They're just in my playground.

A/N: Lots of new followers over the last week, so thank you. As I mentioned before I'm currently trying to finish off the final chapters for this now, but life has been a little bit crazy again so I've been struggling to complete, I thought it would be done by now but don't worry I have plenty of complete chapters to keep posting in the meantime. Please show me some more love. I love to read your thoughts and feedback, so dropping a review is massively appreciated.

Anyway in this chapter we are reunited once again with Katniss. Enjoy!

I was woken by a blood curling scream only to quickly realise it was my own. I sat up in the hospital bed clutching at my throat and looked towards the door. No one came to my aid, no one ever did. They had become quite accustomed to my night terrors and only came rushing in when my actions forced them too. I'm sure that they were long over my troublesome behaviour.

I wasn't certain how much time had passed by since I first woke in this room. It certainly felt like years. All of my injuries were long ago healed. The new skin they grafted onto me was now pink, smooth and soft like a baby. There were no signs of my time in the games, no scars whatsoever on my skin. They had smoothed over ones that had even pre-existed before the games. But still they kept me here.

I was drenched in sweat from another horrific nightmare, this one took me back to that moment on the cornucopia, when Peeta had dropped to the floor unconscious and Cato was about to drive the arrow through his chest. Only this time when I tried to save him, I couldn't get to him in time. Cato killed Peeta by driving that damned arrow into his heart. I stood helplessly as I watched him pull it back out stabbed him again, he repeated this over and over, laughing cruelly as his face morphed into a twisted hybrid version of himself and the mutts that had attacked us. Eventually, he ceased stabbing Peeta and then stood to face me, hunched over like some kind of mythical were-creature with thick red blood dripping from his face, "Nobody wins" he hissed in a demonic growl. Then he lunged for me, claws outstretched about to tear out my throat when I woke up.

I untangled myself from the white sheets and padded over to the small adjoining bathroom which contained a toilet, a wash basin and a small shower. I headed for the basin, ran the cold water and splashed some over my face then studied myself in the small mirror.

The dark circles that formed underneath my eyes evidenced how often my nights were like this. I was plagued by these awful nightmares, nightmares from the events of the games and imagining what horrors were about to unfold. My head went to some dark places and I often wondered about who else, which other fallen tributes, they've put through this torturous existence.

I didn't want to be another one of them, but my options were limited. Escape wasn't an option, there was no way out of this room. I knew that there were goons stood outside my door constantly on guard and I also knew that there were camera's covering almost every inch of this room and someone was watching me at all times.

I had tried, once or twice, to make a break for it once I was feeling better after Seneca's visit. I carefully planned out each attempt but each time I didn't get very far. I wasn't able to obtain anymore information about this mysterious place where I was being kept prisoner, that might assist me more on the next try. They had made sure of that, all I saw was a long white corridor that seemed to go on forever. I learned pretty quickly that trying to escape from this room would be impossible.

I felt trapped, claustrophobic and terrified. I didn't want the future Seneca promised me. It was utterly abhorrent. If there was no means of escape. If I were never going to see my family or friends ever again. If I was going to be subjected to this vile treatment by the Capitol, I knew that life certainly wasn't worth living.

However, I soon learned that killing myself wasn't an option either. I had tried to end it numerous times. I couldn't tell you how long it was since my first attempt, it could have been days, weeks or even months, but I remembered standing in this very spot, staring at myself in the mirror. I couldn't stomach the reflection staring back at me.

My sanity at the time was questionable from the lack of sleep and the solitude, not that it's much better now but that night, or day, I guess, I didn't really have any concept of time in here, I really felt like I was losing my mind, in a moment of desperation, I punched the mirror, shattering it into little pieces. I picked up one of the shards and sliced myself across the wrists.

I vaguely remember laughing hysterically at the sight of my own blood flowing across the bright white tiled floor and I was more than ready to welcome the end of this hell. I had almost succeeded, but that was the moment when I learned that my room was full of cameras and that I was being watched constantly, when the Guards came barging in. At the time I had hoped they were coming to finish the job, but I knew that was just wishful thinking. Instead I felt one of them jab me in the neck with something and it knocked me out cold.

When I came around from that incident, my wrists were perfect again, there was no scarring. The room showed no sign of any blood or mishaps and smelled heavily of bleach. The bathroom mirror was replaced with some kind of plastic, perspex mirror that wouldn't smash. I know this because I tried to smash it again, my broken hand didn't appreciate the attempt. I don't know why they even bothered to replace the mirror with a fake one to begin with.

I found that waking from that sleep was bittersweet. On the one hand they had prevented me from killing myself, but on the other, I for once, awoke with no nightmares. It was the most rested I had felt in the longest time and helped return some of my sanity, or at least just enough to help me think a bit more clearly.

Chemically induced sleep was apparently the key to blocking out the nightmares and I prayed they would knock me out with that stuff every night. But when they didn't and I began to feel myself slip back into that dark hole again I grew desperate. That was when I decided to either keep trying to end my life, I knew that I'd either succeed or it would force them to use those drugs on me to knock me out. Either way it was a win for me.

I tore my room apart looking for something, anything I could use to end it all. The awful thing was, I didn't actually want to die. My life was far from ideal, far from perfect, far from easy, but it was mine and I have people who love me and counted on me and I wanted nothing more than to get back to them. But death was a much better option than the future that now lie ahead for me. If there was no escape then I refused to be a play thing for Snow's corrupt friends.

So I got creative and tried everything I could to end it, from strangling myself with threads that I had pulled from clothing and my bed sheets, smashing my head repeatedly into the wall, electrocuting myself with sockets and light fixtures, I even tried starving myself, after all I'd been through it before I knew I could do it again, but after a few skipped meals they caught on to what I was doing, Each time they knocked me out, and I would awake, nightmare free, to find myself strapped down to the bed, healed from any injuries I caused myself. After the starvation attempt, they had began to feed me intravenously through a tube.

Sometimes I would just hurt myself and would tear at my skin with my teeth or fingernails on purpose, they clearly wanted my skin perfect for a reason and I did it as just another excuse for them to knock me out with their magic drugs.

But no matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, the Capitol fought back harder, they always pushed back in ways that told me my efforts were futile and that I needed to be a good girl and behave myself. Eventually, it became harder and harder for me to fight back, to keep trying. I was just so tired.

My behaviour brought me to a point where they now kept me strapped down for most of the day. They only released me for a couple of hours at a time and sometimes when I slept. During these times they seemed to double their watch on me.

I began to lose hope in any aspect of freedom and felt I had no choice but to accept my fate.

After I stopped trying to escape, take my own life or hurt myself, the lovely, blissful knock-out juice went away as well and the nightmares came back in full force. I ached for the lost of those drugs and then I spent a few nights feeling ill and shivering. The "nurse" actually laughed when she told me that it was because I was going through withdrawal symptoms. I had apparently become more reliant on them than anyone had realised. She actually found the situation, MY situation, rather comical.

I blinked now at the stranger in the mirror. I didn't recognize this girl anymore. The once olive skin now pale from the severe lack of any natural light. The one silver eyes now a dull grey, hollow and sunken with what looks like dark bruises underneath them. My body once had some definition, apart from the brief time in my life when I neared starvation, but now I was just skin and bones like it had been back then.

My mind drifted to Peeta as it so often did these days, I was so relieved when I saw that he was the victor. I was stunned to realise that I had grown quite attached to him during the whole crazy process that was the 74th annual Hunger Games. We feigned a romance for the world to see, but I knew that Peeta's feelings were real.

A part of me felt guilty as I played to the camera and strung him along, but my survival instinct was stronger and I did what I could to get us both out of there alive. Although, upon reflection I have since come to realise that for a small part of me, it felt real too. Somehow, he had found a crack in the wall I had spent years building around myself, the protection I created from ever having to endure anything like my mother did when my father died and found his way inside. I could no longer deny that I had grew to care for him, something I swore I'd never do for another person.

My mother, Gale and Prim. That was it, the only three people in the world I allowed myself to care about so I was more than a little perplexed when I found myself thinking about Peeta quite often in here and I wondered when these strange feelings, or feelings of any kind, had snuck up on me beyond just owing him a debt and trying to keep each other alive.

At first my mind was conflicted about him. From the moment we were reaped I already felt a debt to him for him saving my life with that damn bread when I was on the brink of starvation. And then when we were in the Capitol preparing for the Games I felt like I could never understand his motives. I was so in my own head that I never understood why he was saying and doing the things that he did. One minute I believed he was on my side and the next it looked like he was always working against me starting from the moment he said that he didn't want to train with me anymore, then declaring his love for me on live TV, which at the time I felt made me look weak to the sponsors, and then showing up as part of the career pack in the arena.

I couldn't see it then, but having the chance to look back over it all and analyse everything, it was easy to see what his motives were, his feelings were always on show. He was doing it all to protect me, to help me. He wanted to save me and get me back to my family and yet I was the one who ended up sacrificing everything for him.

And now they all believed I was dead. The Capitol made them believe it. I felt bile rise up the back of my throat, I cupped my hands under the running water and drank from them to help swallow it down.

The whole experience bonded me to Peeta in a way I couldn't have predicted. And our time together in the cave only solidified that fact. I replayed that kiss over and over in my head and I have spent hours over analysing the strange feelings I remembered that it stirred within me. After all I've had nothing but time to think about these things.

Watching the footage back on my only companion and source to the outside world these days – the TV – only served to deepen those foreign feelings within me. I don't know how it happened or when I began to acknowledge my feelings for what they were, but I had begun to care quite deeply for the Boy with the bread, the boy who had shown me a great kindness at his own detriment, and saved me and my family from starvation years ago.

I knew that I never would have did what I did for him if I didn't have any feelings for him. I would have saved myself. The old stubborn Katniss would never have admitted that to herself, but she was stronger than I. The Katniss staring back at me now had been isolated for a long and undetermined period of time. This Katniss is now a shell of who she once was, a girl who had been ripped away from everyone that mattered to her and has spent too much time alone, abandoned with only her own mind for company, not counting the TV, which was a dangerous thing to be left alone with indeed.

I thought often about my mother and my sister Prim. I hoped my mother's mind hadn't gone absent again with my 'death' and I prayed she hadn't left Prim to fend for herself. I knew however that Gale would never allow that to happen and he would be helping to provide for them, but I also knew that Peeta would also never allow that. I knew that he would be helping them out, in whatever way that he could, because that's just the kind of person he is.

Tonight, I needed a distraction from my own thoughts so I turned to the Tv for comfort. I was instantly gratified when I was presented with Peeta's face. He was sat having an interview with Ceasar Flickerman. This was his Victor's interview, I knew that it must have been a repeat or something, despite how cloudy my understanding was on the concept of time in here, I still knew deep down that this must have aired weeks if not months ago.

My consciousness and sanity had been quite sporadic in this cell of a room, so I missed his interview when it originally aired. But seeing him now I was completely fixated on his face, obsessing over any little detail that could tell me how he was really feeling, but I didn't need to wait long. Peeta always wore his heart on his sleeve.

"Are you talking about our Girl on Fire, Miss Katniss Everdeen?" Caesar asked Peeta,

"Yes, she was supposed to win this. She was supposed to live." Peeta was usually so good at these interviews, he was flawless at winning over the nation with his charm, but this time I could see he was struggling. He wasn't okay, he was hurting, and it physically pained me to see it.

"I'm sorry, I'm still struggling to accept my reality right now." He then said after a brief pause, "From the very beginning I had planned to die in the arena so I could get her back home to her sister." Of course he was, that was something stupid and selfless that only he would try and do. I had already come to this conclusion myself.

I watched as he finally turned to look into the lens of the camera, his deep blue eyes filled with anguish. I found myself walking over to the screen and reaching out to touch him as if it would provide him with some kind of comfort. "Prim, if you're watching," he said, "I'm so sorry, I tried to get her home to you. I promise I will look after you and make sure that you and your mom are provided for. Katniss is the only reason I'm still here, I can't ever repay that debt but I owe her this at least," Again another conclusion I had already come to myself, but it was such a relief to hear this being confirmed.

I was flooded with a mixture of emotions with his admission. I was relieved that someone would definitely be looking out for and providing for my family when Gale couldn't, not due to Gales own failures but due to the circumstances of District Twelve, I knew very well difficult it was with the two of us providing for our families and now he was out there trying to do it all alone. It wouldn't be easy for him.

I trusted Peeta to be a man of his word. But more than that, I found myself sharing in Peeta's pain that was displayed so obviously in his eyes. I found myself mourning for him just as he was mourning for me.

"Let's take you back to that announcement made in the arena, when it was announced that there could be two victors from the same District, did you think that you and Katniss would make it out together?" Caesar asked next

"We hoped so." Peeta replied, "I mean we we're counting on it. I think that both of us believed that we would be the first couple to win the Games, but then Cato…" he paused and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment clearly being ambushed by the memories of what happened "I guess we were expecting too much of a miracle," he finally finished.

I think a part of me always believed it was too good to be true. Knowing what I know now, I knew they would have never allowed it, not really. It was just a ploy to get us to be the final two and pit Peeta and I against each other for entertainment. I would have killed myself before I let that happen. There was no way I could have ever hurt Peeta Mellark.

"If Katniss was still with us and could see this now, what would you say to her?" Caesar asked

"Katniss is Dead," there was a venom in Peeta's eyes that I've never seen before and if I hadn't of seen it just then I would have never believed it. Don't let the games change you, Peeta. I think remembering our conversation before going into the arena.

"Humor us," Caesar pressed, not fazed by Peeta's sudden shift in demeanour.

The look vanished from Peeta's face and he carefully applied his charming face again, or at least as much of it as he could under these circumstances. I mentally applauded him, I would never have been able to manage all this, not without him to help me. "I would tell her…" I was intrigued to hear what his answer would be, what his message to me would be, "I would tell her that she was stupid,"

I snorted, I didn't expect him to say that. You don't know the half of it, Peeta. I already knew how stupid I was. Hell, all of Panem already knew. "that she should have saved herself to get back to her family." He continued. In all honesty that had been my intention at the start, I knew that in order to get out alive, he had to die. I went into the but I hadn't expected to feel something for him.

I wished I could have been the cold, uncaring Katniss that Haymitch believed me to be, so that I could have focused on taking care of myself and get back to Prim, but I couldn't let him die, how could I? I already owed him my life before the Games began. Peeta is the most selfless person I've ever known. Why did he have to go and worm himself into my head, making me care for him!

"Losing her like that was too much to bear. I would have died for her. I love her. Loved her." He corrected himself.

"She died saving your life," Caesar told him, he then turned back to the audience "Let's take a look at that moment, shall we?" they began to air the clip when it was Cato Peeta and I on the Cornucopia. I muted the TV and turned away no amount of curiosity was going to make me relive that again I'd seen it enough times over the duration of my time in here both on the TV and in my nightmares.

I knew how much it pained him to have asked him to fire that arrow at me. But I genuinely believed I was dead and beyond repair. How wrong I was. I wanted the pain to stop but it was so selfish of me.

My eyes flicked up to the tv frequently, hoping to see more of Peeta post games and I was rewarded with seeing his return to Twelve. I immediately unmuted the TV. I watched him as he sweetly greeted my family before his own, I watched how he hugged Prim and spoke to her with a soft smile. The broadcast didn't record sound from any of this, instead Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith were commentating about it. My mother looked really ill and I grew worried for her. But Prim! Although she was clearly very sad, she looked so strong talking to Peeta, I was so proud of her. I could see that she would be fine without me especially in the knowledge that both Peeta and Gale would be there for her always. I had both their words on that.

Peeta tried to hand Prim the Mockingjay pin but she refused it. Peeta lightly squeezed my mother's shoulder in a show of comfort. I noticed Gale's hostile look towards Peeta. I knew Gale better than anyone, was that jealousy I detected? There was a silent exchange between them that I didn't understand.

Seeing Peeta with my family sent a warmth through me, I knew that he would be there for them. He would help keep them safe and would never let them go hungry. Those foreign feelings for Peeta stirred inside me again and as much as I had begun to accept that they were there I still refused to admit the depth of them. I couldn't afford to dwell on what could have been. This is my life now.

I watched the exchange between Peeta and his family, I had a general idea what his mother was really like so I laughed out loud when I saw her false reaction, clearly putting on a display for the cameras. I was relieved that the reunion with his father and brothers was so much more organic and heartfelt.

The scene then skipped back to Claudius and Caesar talking in the studio. I had expected to see his welcome home speech in front of the Justice building, but they didn't air it. That was weird. When it first aired it would have been live feed that happened straight after this moment, that's what normally happens, I racked my brain to work out why they wouldn't show it again now. I was definitely curious.