Katniss paced the hallway in triage, just out of the view of the waiting patients. Her shift was over, but she couldn't leave. Not until she knew.
When the call had come in about the flashover, about the fire trucks full of volunteer firefighters trapped inside the massive bush fire raging only 20 km away, she knew, deep in her gut. She knew Peeta was one of them.
She was firmly but kindly removed from duty, moved aside as the others set in motion protocols for dealing with a large number of injured.
Despite her efforts to keep what she and Peeta were doing private, to keep how she felt about him quiet, they apparently all knew. There truly were no secrets in small towns.
No one chased her away though, as she paced the halls.
Katniss had often wondered, in the past, why the families of the sick and wounded remained in vigil outside her triage rooms and operating theatres, even when there was nothing they could do, even when they knew the wait would be interminable. Wondered why they stayed. And now she understood. It was because there was no other choice. She was held in place as if by an unknown force, unable to resist. Helpless.
Fear was a living thing inside her, churning. She was a physician, damnit, she was used to desperate situations, cool under pressure, detached. But not today.
"Hey," a deep voice said behind her as a large hand landed on her shoulder. Gale Hawthorne. Though they'd had a bit of a rough start, they worked well together. They were more alike than Katniss had realised at first. There was mutual respect, if not quite a friendship.
"Gale," Katniss said, swallowing back her terror, fixing the bland expression on her face that worked so well in treatment rooms. She turned to face him.
He raised an eyebrow, apparently unconvinced by her mask. "You should go home," he said softly. "They'll likely put them right onto the plane and fly them out to Sydney." Them meaning the injured firefighters. There was a major trauma centre in the city, far better equipped than their small, rural hospital. A small airfield behind the hospital spoke to how often they had to transport the injured away to where there were more resources.
What Gale didn't say was assuming any of them survived. But Katniss couldn't accept that. She couldn't give in to the hopelessness.
"I can't," Katniss said honestly. Gale nodded, and squeezed her shoulder, but didn't otherwise try to convince her. He stayed with her a few minutes longer in quiet support. Eventually, though, he left again to join the medical fray.
Left Katniss alone with her regrets.
Doctors and nurses hurried by, the regular rhythm of accident and emerg didn't slow just because the bottom had fallen out of Katniss's world. But all wore the same grim expressions, the same fear, the same anxiety. Some nodded as they passed, sympathy in their eyes. The solidarity of a small town where everyone knew every one of those firefighters. Knew her too, now.
Katniss wasn't one for praying, it hadn't brought her father back, nor had it worked when Prim was sick. But she found herself making promises, sending out bargains to the unknown. Please let him come back. Please give her another chance.
There was a scuffle of some sort, the sound of lots of footsteps, coming from the waiting area. A patient coding, maybe. But voices drifted back, shouts and cheers, and she ran.
She rounded the corner and skidded to a stop at the sight before her. Six people in turnout gear, coated in so much ash and filth they were almost indistinguishable from each other. Six people, alive, whole and standing under their own power.
One was apart from the others, head swivelling as he scanned the gathered hospital workers, blue eyes bright in his blackened face. His hair was flattened to his head and dark with grime and sweat, but she didn't need to see his golden curls to recognise him. His eyes landed on her, and his teeth flashed white in a grin.
Katniss covered the final few paces between them, leaping into his arms without thought. He grunted and wobbled slightly at the impact, the only sign of the ordeal he'd been through. But his arms were around her, clutching her impossibly tight as he pressed his face into the crook of her neck. He smelled of smoke and dirt and adrenaline. He smelled like home.
She wrapped her legs around his hips and clung, uncaring of the people milling around them, her patients and coworkers and peers. Her friends, she realised. Her community.
"Katniss," Peeta whispered against her hair, his voice hoarse, smoke-damaged maybe. She started to pull back, to assess him, but his big hand cupped her head, kept her pressed snugly against him. "I love you," he said, and her heart skipped a beat. "I love you and I need you to stay with me. Or if you can't stay, take me with you. I'll go anywhere, as long as I'm by your side. You're it for me." His voice broke and his grip tightened further, as if he was afraid of her response. Her heart cracked a little, her Peeta, the best man she knew. He hid a world of vulnerability under that hotshot persona. But she saw him. She knew him. She wanted him.
Always.
"I love you, too," she whispered, barely a breath. Her heart pounded in her throat. She had never said those words to anyone outside of her family, had never felt them for anyone but her parents and Prim before. But she felt the truth of them now.
Peeta's grip loosened, his hand sliding around to cup her cheek, disbelief widening his eyes. "Yeah?" he said.
She laughed. "Yes. I love you." And then there were no more words because he was kissing her. Kissing her like his life depended on it. Faintly, she registered cheering, but she didn't care. Let them see.