CHAPTER 4

PART I

My muscles strained against the weight poised above my chest. Slowly I lowered the bar as my arms bend until the bar is almost touching my chest. Only then do I exhale explosively, grunting with the effort of pushing the weight back up until my arms are straight, elbows nearly, but not quite, locked. I repeated this motion several more times, until my arms are trembling with exertion, then, with a final effort, I dropped the bar onto the rack with a loud clang.

I sat up, grabbed a small towel and quickly mopped my sweating face, and then I stood, running the towel down both of my arms, and only then did I become aware that I'm no longer alone in the gymnasium.

Cinna had been leaning against the door, watching me as I lifted. He stepped forward as our eyes met, slowly walking towards me as he gestured towards the weight bench. "How much weight do you have on that?"

"One hundred kilos," I replied, picking up my water bottle and taking a quick swallow. "Not counting the bar." I recapped the bottle and gave my face another swipe with the towel before continuing. "How long were you watching me?"

"Not long," he admitted. "I stopped off at the sound stage before I came here. Katniss wears her Mockingjay armor well." Cinna paused, as if mulling what to say next. "She looks stunning in black. As I'm sure you've noticed."

I nodded, suddenly wary. What's he getting at? I asked myself. "Yeah. I've noticed."

"Anyway, I was surprised that you weren't there with Katniss and the rest." Cinna said. Even though it wasn't spoken as a question, it wasn't hard to figure out what he was actually saying - Why weren't you at the sound stage as well?

"I was. Plutarch and Fulvia didn't need me," I replied slowly. "They're shooting some scene with Katniss rallying a bunch of computer generated soldiers. Katniss was having trouble saying the lines and Plutarch was getting more and more pissed. I left right after Haymitch came in. Actually, he was the one that suggested I take off for a bit."

"For good reason," Cinna explained. "When I got there, the tension was pretty thick. It was Katniss and Haymitch against Plutarch and Fulvia, with poor Effie stuck in the middle, trying to play peacemaker and keep everyone on schedule at the same time." Another pause. "I don't think that Plutarch will get what he wants by feeding Katniss lines on a sound stage."

"I don't think so, either," I replied, before adding impatiently, "Cinna, what's on your mind?"

Cinna's eyes locked onto mine. "You, Peeta."

"Me?" I asked. "What about me?"

Cinna turned, examining the weight bench that I had just been using. "You know, it's probably not a good idea to use some of this equipment without someone else here. No telling how long it would take for someone to find you if you had an accident."

"Yeah, well, spotters are in short supply right now," I muttered. "There's never anyone in here this time of day. Now, what about me?"

"How do you feel, Peeta?" Cinna asked softly.

"Answering a question with a question?" I replied archly.

"You sound angry," Cinna continued in the same soft voice.

"Is that what this is about? Whether or not I'm pissed?" I snort derisively. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Cinna asked. "A really personal question?"

I waved my hand dismissively. "Go ahead," I sighed resignedly. "You're gonna anyway."

"When was the last time that you and Katniss were...intimate?"

"That's none of your fucking business, Cinna!" I explode. "Why would you even ask me something like that?" I could feel myself flushing with embarrassment. "Unless," I added, the back of my neck and my ears burning, "did she -"

"No," Cinna replied, cutting me off in mid-sentence. "She didn't. She wouldn't ever talk about things like that...even with me." Cinna reached out, placing his hand on my shoulder and squeezing firmly. "But I know her...and you...well enough to know when things aren't quite right. You're stressed. She's stressed. And it's affecting you both."

"Gotta keep up the 'Blood-Soaked Lovers' routine, right?" I snap.

"Peeta, let me be blunt," Cinna said, his voice taking on an edge that I had never heard from him before. "I could give less than a fuck about Plutarch's propos. In the end, he'll do what he does best, and I have every confidence that he will win the information war with the Capitol. But you and Katniss...Peeta, I didn't have much of a family to speak of in the Capitol. My parents, my siblings, all were ardent Snow supporters. We never talked politics but they could all see that I didn't share their enthusiasm. So, gradually, over time, my relationship with my family became cold...distant. And I threw myself into my work...first, on a Prep Team, then as a designer and Stylist in my own right, and always with the Rebellion. But I never felt a personal connection with anyone until I met Katniss Everdeen."

I say nothing. "Katniss was...well, like no one I'd ever met before," Cinna continued. "I'd worked Prep with Portia for years...lower districts, mostly...Eight, Nine, Ten...and the kids that came through the Remake Center were all the same. Scared to death, crying, resigned to dying. And I treated them all gently, with compassion, and always with a smile. I was appalled at how some Preps treated Tributes in Remake...like pieces of meat to be dressed up for display in a butcher's case."

"Cinna, I don't -"

Cinna held up one hand. "Please, Peeta. Just a minute more." He waited until I nodded tersely before continuing. "Then Katniss came along, in my very first Games as a Stylist, and she was different. I could tell that there was something special about her from the moment I watched her volunteer for her sister. And when I met her...she was scared, sure, but she was determined...and angry. And when I found out why Gale volunteered for you...well, I knew right then that District Twelve just might have a Victor."

"Katniss was the first district citizen that I got to know well," Cinna continued. "And the more I got to know her, the more I liked her. I already knew she was something special when she volunteered for her sister and from how Gale volunteered just to help her win the Games. And the next year, you came along, and, while your motivation for volunteering wasn't quite as...pure...as Katniss's, you still acquitted yourself admirably. You ended up earning something that, in its own way, was even harder than winning the Games. You earned Katniss's respect...and her love."

"So, what does all this have to do with Katniss and myself?" I asked impatiently.

"Why don't you tell me why you're angry?" Cinna countered gently.

Cinna's question made me stop and think. I've been angry ever since Reaping Day, when all this started. Oh, sure, Katniss and I had sought out the Rebellion and we were willing participants in the Reaping Day Uprising, but Cinna was right. I was angry, and I didn't know exactly why, although Snow knows that there's plenty in my life to be angry about.

"I...I'm not sure," I stammered. "So much has gone on in the last few weeks. Maybe this is the first time that I've had time to let it show."

Cinna nodded approvingly. "You're getting there. But we've been here in Thirteen for a while now. What's changed?"

I think back to when we first arrived. "It was so confusing at first. There was Coin to deal with, and you, along with the rest, being treated like criminals, and then..." My voice trailed off as the image of Portia and my Prep Team, bound and kneeling in City Circle, brutally executed on a live Holo broadcast, flooded my mind.

"And then what, Peeta?" Cinna prodded gently.

"I watched Portia die," I replied, my voice a near-whisper. "I watched her being murdered by Snow's order."

"But you've watched others die," Cinna pointed out. "Husker, Evie, and Gamma were your allies...and your friends. You saw them all die in the arena. You watched Gale die in Katniss's arms during Mandatory Viewing. You saw your father and brother burn to death. You watched Cressida die...you even killed her murderer. You watched your mother, brother, and his wife die when Twelve was firebombed. You've seen death, and you've killed. Why is Portia different?"

"I don't know." I sat down on the weight bench, clutching my towel in both hands. "She just was." I looked up at Cinna. "I see her face every night when I go to sleep. I see what that bullet did to her. She knew what was coming. And she was helpless to stop it."

"There's your answer," Cinna said softly, as he sat down on the bench beside me. "She was helpless. She couldn't run, or fight back. Your alliance...they all fought, except for Evie, and she deliberately sacrificed herself. Gale sacrificed himself for Katniss. Your father and brother died in an accident. Cressida sacrificed herself for Katniss. Your mother and your brother chose to remain in Twelve. But Portia -"

"She died for nothing," I said, interrupting Cinna. "Nothing," I repeated, the word bitter in my mouth.

"Not for nothing," Cinna corrected. "She died for a very specific purpose. She died to shake you and Katniss up."

I glanced up from the towel that I had been busy twisting in my hands. "You mean Snow killed her to get to Katniss and I?"

Cinna nodded. "In part. More to get to you. She was your Stylist, after all. Do you play chess, Peeta?"

"Huh?" The question startled me with its randomness. "What's that go to do with -"

"Snow is a chess master," Cinna went on. "He's one of the most skilled players in the Capitol. You and Katniss...you've started something. Other districts are in revolt. You've embarrassed the President of Panem. And he may suspect that you've taken refuge here in Thirteen...for that matter, he may know, but he can't reach you directly...so he does the next best thing. He uses his pawns to attack you...a rook...to weaken Katniss...the queen."

"Portia was a member of the Rebellion," Cinna continued. "She was caught, and, along with her Prep Team, was probably tortured before the High Tribunal could find her guilty of treason and sentence her and the rest to death. But Snow ordered their hoods removed. He wanted you to see their faces. He wanted to shake you up, knowing it would affect Katniss also. And, Peeta, he was right."

"I noticed that you didn't compare me to a chess king," I said after a moment. "While you did compare Katniss to a queen."

"A rook is much more versatile, like you," Cinna replied. "Peeta, you and Katniss have been under tremendous stress, and you both have handled it remarkably well, all things considered. But Snow will stop at nothing to break you both."

"Then we can't let him," I said firmly, even while asking myself how?

"Here's what you need to do." Was Cinna reading my mind? "Tonight, you and Katniss need to go to your quarters and lock the door. And don't come out until wake-up tomorrow morning."

I could feel myself blushing in spite of myself. "You really think that will help?"

"It's a start," Cinna replied laconically. "Next, you both need to find something to occupy your time with something other than the Rebellion. Something active...and outdoors. You both need to work up a sweat. And you both need to get out of this rabbit warren."

"What about this?" I asked, holding up my arm and displaying my schedule.

"I'll talk to Plutarch," Cinna replied. "At least he will listen to me and not look at me like I'm some kind of spy or criminal."

"Wait a minute," I said. "What if Katniss...what if she decides to spend tonight in her own quarters?"

Cinna smiled. "Oh, don't worry. I'll have a little chat with her once Plutarch is finished with her for the day." He stood up. "Come on. He should be just about done with her for now."

I followed Cinna out of the gym. "You know," I said, as we headed toward the sound stage, "I don't think I've ever heard you curse before today."

Cinna smiled cryptically. "Got your attention, didn't it?"

I had to agree.

PART II

Cinna went to the sound stage to speak to Katniss after he and I left the gym. I wanted to go back to my quarters to shower following my workout, but that was out of the question. The shower didn't work until it was my designated time to bathe. So I decided to head to the hospital to see if I could cajole a pre-moistened body wipe or two from either Mrs. Everdeen or Prim.

When I got to the hospital I didn't find either of the Everdeen Healers. What I did find was the Doctor.

The Mine Company Doctor...whose name, I had only recently learned, was Josephus Picardo...had been assigned to work in the hospital, along with Mrs. Everdeen and Prim. Under close supervision, of course. Even though they were no longer confined, the Capitol expatriates and the Rebel Peacekeepers were still required to wear ankle trackers. I had noticed Cinna's when we were talking earlier.

The hospital had returned to some semblance of calm organization following our arrival here. The vast majority of injured that we had brought out of District Twelve had been discharged, with only a handful of the more serious cases still remaining. I spotted a floor nurse at a nurse's station, along with a medical technician, but aside from those two staffers the place seemed oddly deserted.

The nurse seemed to recognize me as I wandered through the ward, as I was allowed unchallenged access to pretty much everything. I was systematically checking "staff only" spaces in the hope that I would somehow stumble upon the Everdeens. That didn't happen. Instead I stumbled across Doctor Picardo.

I found him in a utility closet, busily scrubbing and disinfecting a stack of bedpans. He glanced up at the sound of the door opening but said nothing, instead refocusing his attention on the task at hand.

"Excuse me," I muttered. "I was looking for the Everdeens...Una and Primrose."

"As you can see, they are not here," Picardo said with an edge to his voice. "I believe that they are currently engaged in some vital floor-scrubbing in the East wing."

"East wing. Got it. Thank you." I turned to leave, but stopped myself in the doorway. "Doctor? Why do they have you scrubbing bedpans? Aren't you a...well, a doctor?"

"Yes," Picardo almost spit the word, his bitterness apparent. "At least, I was, the last time I checked my diploma." The Doctor stopped, dropping the stainless steel bedpan into the washbasin with a loud clatter, and spun toward me. "This must be quite gratifying to you, seeing me reduced to common orderly."

"You know," I said evenly, keeping my rising temper under control, "it was Katniss and I that arranged for your release."

"She needed her Stylist, Escort, and Prep Team," Picardo replied, almost smugly. "The rest of us were incidental."

"If that was the case, then why bother getting the rest of you released?" I asked. "Doctor, you did your best to save Cressida. Katniss and I are both grateful to you for what you did for her. And we arranged for everyone's release because it was the right...and decent...thing to do."

"Perhaps you do feel some sense of debt to me," Picardo continued, not quite as self-righteously as before, " but you owe nothing to Petronia Goldsmith or her staff. She -"

"Wait a minute," I interrupted. "'Petronia Goldsmith?' Who's she?"

"The woman that your Mentor so derisively refers to as 'Duchess,'" Picardo replied. "Perhaps I did assist you in some small way, but she and the rest of her staff have been unwilling participants in your little Rebellion from the beginning."

I shake my head. "It doesn't matter. You, her, the people from Capitol Liaison that came with us...if we had left you behind you would all be dead now. Is that preferable? Besides, we all need to learn how to get along and work with each other eventually. And, like I said, it was the decent thing to do."

Picardo stared at me for a moment, his confusion evident on his face. Finally he shook his head. "This would have never happened in the Capitol if the roles were reversed."

I smiled. "This isn't the Capitol."

"Indeed it is not," Picardo replied. He turned and picked up a towel, quickly wiping his hands. "Come with me. I know where they're working."

I pointed to the stack of bedpans. "What about those?"

Picardo snorted. "Make work. Almost all of them were already clean." He paused at the door and gestured with one hand. "Come along, young Victor."

I followed the Doctor through a somewhat confusing maze of corridors. As we walked, I understood why he was escorting me. It would have taken me twice as long to find my own way, even with directions.

Picardo and I entered a large, open room marked with a large sign that read "Primary Trauma Center." Mrs. Everdeen and Prim were working on the far side of the room, carefully scrubbing the already-gleaming floor. Picardo cleared his throat slightly. "Madam," he said, almost formally. "Miss Everdeen. I've brought you a visitor."

Both Everdeen women looked up tiredly at the sound of the Doctor's voice, smiles creasing their faces when they saw that it was I with him. Tiredly, they climbed to their feet, both giving me a quick, welcoming hug.

"Peeta," Mrs. Everdeen said warmly, "what are you doing here? I thought you were with Katniss today recording something for Plutarch Heavensbee."

"Long story," I murmured. "As it is, it turned out that they really didn't need me. I was wondering if I could get one or two of those large wipes that they have here."

"Sure, Peeta," Prim said with a smile. "Take just a second." She quickly wiped her hands on her medical uniform apron and turned toward a nearby storage locker. "Is two okay?" She called over her shoulder as she opened the locker door.

"That would be fine, thank you, Prim," I replied. Prim reached up, grabbed a pair of plastic wrapped wipes, and then shuts the locker before turning back toward me and handing me the packages.

"Here you go," she said with another smile. "You need to come up to Level Two and visit sometime," she added. "Buttercup misses you."

"I'll -" I began, before a loud, unpleasant voice interrupted me.

"You! Capitolite! Don't tell me that you're done with those bedpans already!" The voice came from behind me, and, from the expressions on the faces of both Mrs. Everdeen and Prim, neither was happy to see the source of the voice.

"Those bedpans needed cleaning about as much as I need a third eye," Picardo replied defiantly. I turned around and saw six or seven District Thirteen medical types, both men and women, entering the Trauma room. The man in front...a large, unpleasant looking character...was the one that spoke earlier.

"Don't give me any shit, Capitolite, or you'll be back in re-education faster than you can say 'Coriolanus Snow,'" he snarled. Behind him the others chuckled softly as I felt my anger once again rising.

"Don't you think Dr. Picardo would be of more use as a doctor than as an orderly?" I snapped.

The man who had spoken looked at me uncertainly as recognition crossed his face. "You're the Victor, Peeta Mellark," he said. He stepped forward, extending his right hand to me. "It's an honor to finally meet you."

I ignored his hand. "Dr. Picardo is a doctor," I continued. "Why isn't he working as one?"

The man's eyes narrowed and he slowly lowered his hand. "He's a Capitolite," he muttered lamely. Behind him I heard another voice say, "Get the on-call doc in here."

One of the men spun around and hurried out of the room. "That doesn't answer my question," I said. "Dr. Picardo is a doctor, and a damn good one. He should be treating patients, not scrubbing their shit out of a bedpan."

I felt a hand on my shoulder. "No need to defend me, young man," Picardo said softly. "Their treatment of me is consistent with what I've come to expect from these troglodytes. However," he continued, turning and extending his hand toward Mrs. Everdeen and Prim, "treating these two skilled Healers in the same fashion is unforgivable."

"No disrespect intended, Mrs. Everdeen," one of the women medics said, "but you and your daughter are, after all, folk healers. Our medicine here is based on science, not on home remedies, medicinal plants, and herbs."

"'Folk healers?'" Picardo repeated indignantly. "'Home remedies?' And here I thought that only Capitol citizens could display such arrogance!"

Mrs. Everdeen laid her hand lightly on Picardo's arm. "It's quite alright, Doctor," she said softly. "Prim and I have been treated with respect and we do keep busy."

Picardo glanced down at Mrs. Everdeen, his expression at once gentle and firm. "No, madam," he replied. "It is not alright." At that moment the man that had left the room returned, accompanied by an older man wearing a long white lab coat as well as five or six additional medical types.

Picardo smiled grimly as he turned back to the large, unpleasant man that had originally spoken, seemingly unaware of the new arrivals. "Let me ask a question of you," he said, and then glanced at the others in the room as he raised his voice. "Actually, let me ask this question of you all, given the fact that you are all now embroiled in a war." He paused for a moment, casting a quick glance at Mrs. Everdeen and Prim. "I would like to see a show of hands of all present, here today, that have treated gunshot wounds."

About half of the medics present raised their hands. I noticed that the older, white-coated man didn't raise his hand, but both of the Everdeen women did. The man in the white lab coat...I realized that this must be the on-call doctor...smiled slightly as Picardo spoke.

"Excellent," Picardo said as he, too, raised his hand. "I will assume, then, that the bulk of your experience was in dealing with the casualties that had come in from District Twelve." He lowered his hand and the others did the same.

"Look, Capitolite, I don't see what you're trying to prove here," the large, unpleasant man barked. I noticed that his hand had been raised. He turned towards the man in the white lab coat. "Dr. Aurelius, this Capitolite is causing problems and refuses to work."

"Let him talk," the man addressed as Dr. Aurelius said calmly. "No harm in that, is there?"

"Thank you, doctor," Picardo said, inclining his head slightly towards Dr. Aurelius. "Now, then. May I please see a show of hands of those of you that have treated gunshot wounds while being under fire at the same time."

This time, only three hands went up. Picardo raised his hand, along with the Everdeens. "I thought so," Picardo said smugly as he lowered his hand. "Not one of you present has known the terror of hearing bullets crack over your head even as you struggle to save the life that's in your hands. And yet, you dismissively relegate these two Healers -" he points dramatically at the Everdeens "- to floors, sheets, and bedpans. They can improvise on the battlefield, using whatever materials are handy. I've personally witnessed their skill. Can any of you?"

Picardo's question was met with silence. Finally, Dr. Aurelius stepped forward. "You make a compelling point...doctor," he said softly, before turning to face the other medics. "I'll take care of this. You all have work to do, I'm sure."

The other medics dispersed to resume whatever duties they had been performing earlier as Dr. Aurelius turned to face Dr. Picardo. Aurelius extended his hand toward Picardo, who grasped it without hesitation. "I'm glad that I've finally gotten a chance to meet you, doctor," Aurelius said sincerely. "I'd heard of you, of course, but things have been somewhat hectic around here until recently. And, for the record, I'm appalled that you were relegated to bedpan duty. My name is Aurelius. I'm on staff here."

"Josephus Picardo." Picardo shook Aurelius's hand firmly. "And, for the record, my concern is not wholly for myself." He turned and indicated Mrs. Everdeen and Prim. "These ladies should not be performing menial tasks here. I've had the privilege of watching them work under duress. They are as skilled as any trauma team that I've ever seen, and they don't rattle easily."

"So I've been given to understand," Aurelius said dryly, as he turned towards the Healers. "Ladies, I've spoken with a number of survivors from District Twelve. All have had nothing but glowing praise for your skills."

"Thank you, doctor," Mrs. Everdeen murmured, while Prim smiled shyly, saying nothing.

"I'll speak with the Chief Surgeon about reassigning all of you to duties more suited to your skills," Aurelius continued. "Ladies, how would you feel about working with our Chief of Trauma Medicine?"

"Prim and I will work wherever we are assigned, doctor," Mrs. Everdeen replied, but, from Prim's smile, I could tell that this news was quite welcome.

"Excellent," Aurelius said with a smile. "Now, doctor," he continued, turning back to Picardo, "what is your specialty?"

"Internal medicine," Picardo replied, "and some general surgery."

"Both will be welcome here," Aurelius said. "Doctor...ladies...once we finish up here we will all pay a visit to the Chief Surgeon. Considering that the Rebellion is about to heat up, I daresay that he will be quite receptive to my suggestions of adding you all to the medical staff here."

"That would be...welcome, indeed, doctor," Picardo said gratefully. "Thank you."

"I should be the one thanking you," Aurelius replied. "My training is in psychiatry. I've been pressed into service as a general surgeon only out of necessity." He turned to me before continuing. "Along those lines, Mr. Mellark, I was wondering if I might be able to schedule some time to speak with you and Miss Everdeen."

"What about?" I asked warily.

"Do you know what a psychiatrist does?" Aurelius asked.

"Yeah," I replied. "You're a head doctor. You deal with crazy people."

Aurelius chuckled softly. "In part. Actually, I try to prevent people from becoming crazy. And that's why I would like to speak with you and Miss Everdeen, and Mr. Abernathy as well."

"I don't understand," I admit.

"I've studied Victors for years from here in Thirteen," Aurelius explained. "I've watched thousands of hours of recordings of Victors. And I think I can help you."

"With what?" I asked. "Are you saying that we're crazy?"

"Not at all," he replied. "But you've experienced things that have a direct bearing on my work here." He paused for a moment. "May I ask a personal question?" Aurelius asked.

"That depends," I said defensively.

"Do you suffer from recurrent nightmares?" Aurelius asked.

My eyes narrowed slightly before I replied. "Yes."

"How about Miss Everdeen and Mr. Abernathy?"

"Yes," I replied after a moment.

"I have a theory," Aurelius said after a moment. "The stress of the Games, especially at such a young age, causes a great deal of mental trauma to the survivors...in other words, to you Victors. Recurring nightmares, flashbacks, sleeplessness, and substance abuse are all common symptoms. And these symptoms will become all too common in soldiers that will be soon fighting a war against the Capitol. That's why I wish to speak with the three of you. If I can develop treatment strategies before we are completely embroiled in war then perhaps I may be able to mitigate the long term effects of such trauma."

"So, you want to experiment on us?" I asked, almost angrily.

"I want to help you," Aurelius explained gently. "And, perhaps, learn how to help others. You are under no obligation to participate, however."

I mulled it over for a moment. "I'll think about it," I finally said. "And I'll talk to Katniss and Haymitch about it also."

"That's all I ask," Aurelius replied. He pulled a pad of paper and a pencil from one pocket and scribbled something on the pad. "Here's my comm number." He ripped the top paper from the pad and handed it to me. "Call me anytime."

I nodded and shoved the paper into a pocket. Mrs. Everdeen and Prim said nothing, but the doubt on their faces spoke volumes.

As closed off as Katniss is, none of us thought there was any chance of her willingly talking to anyone about the horrors that she dealt with on a daily basis inside her head...let alone this District Thirteen head doctor.

PART III

Cinna was right about one thing. Katniss and I desperately needed our time together.

We said little at dinner. She confirmed that Cinna had spoken with her earlier, but neither of us discussed our conversations. And I did not mention what Dr. Aurelius wanted to do with us.

I couldn't help but wonder if we would be ordered to speak with him if we didn't do so voluntarily. From what I've seen of President Coin, I had no doubt that she would not hesitate to issue such an order. And that would be disastrous for us, because I also had no doubt that Katniss would deliberately disobey such an order.

I did learn over dinner why Haymitch had been under restraints while in the hospital. It wasn't due to delirium tremens. It was his reaction to learning the news that Effie Trinket had been incarcerated in re-education and was being treated like a common criminal. I guess his feelings for Effie run a lot deeper than he is willing to show, although I couldn't say that I was all that surprised.

Other than that, for the most part Katniss and I had eaten our meals in silence. It was funny, in a way, how suddenly awkward we were around each other. Both of us knew and understood Cinna's directive to "lock the door until wake-up," but it was the thought that a man that both of us respected and trusted had basically ordered us to make love that fueled our sudden shyness with one another. But Cinna was right. We had allowed the stress of everything that's happened recently, coupled with Katniss's injury during the Reaping Day Uprising, come between the both of us.

It was Katniss that made the first move. Our meal over, she reached down and grabbed my hand firmly in her own as we made our way from the Level Two Mess Hall down to my quarters on Level Twenty. On the way, we exchanged murmured greetings with several different people, both District Twelve refugees as well as soldiers from District Thirteen. It all felt so natural and yet forced at the same time, but Katniss's warm hand in mine was having a very welcoming effect on me.

And, as we reached my quarters and I slid the door closed behind us, locking it firmly, I could see that just our simple touch had affected Katniss as well. For when she turned back toward me as I locked the door, I could see very obvious desire smoldering in her eyes.

Still, I hesitated. Katniss took a tentative step towards me, desire still burning in her eyes as she nervously bit her lower lip. I found that simple gesture very erotic and I could feel my own body reacting in kind.

I gave her a small, nervous smile as I gently placed my hands on her shoulders. "How...how are your ribs?" I asked softly.

Katniss looked up at me, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards as she returned my smile. "Okay," she whispered.

"Because," I stammered, "I don't want...that is, if you're still hurting, we can...I mean, we don't have to -"

"Peeta," Katniss interrupted, her voice low and husky, "shut up."

And then her hands captured my face as she rose up, pressing her lips eagerly, and warmly, to mine.

We had kissed many times since coming to Thirteen, but the last time that she had kissed me like this was before the Reaping Day Uprising. My own hands slid around her slender waist as her hands slid down my face as she wrapped her arms around my neck, even as her tongue slid out sensuously, tracing my lips impatiently, coaxing my own tongue out to meet hers in a slow, sensual duel.

She never broke our kiss as her hands went to the front of my coverall, fighting with the zippers, buttons and snaps in a frantic attempt to strip the plain garment off of me, even as my own fingers began to clumsily work on her own coverall. Both of us were moaning slightly as we fought to strip the clothes off the other. Finally, reluctantly, our lips parted as we both collapsed heavily to the narrow bed, fumbling with our fingers at the laces on our boots, kicking our legs frantically in our efforts to shed the heavy footwear.

Katniss and I were both laughing and cursing as we kicked our legs out, boots flying from our feet to land with solid thumps on the floor, as we continued to fight with our clothing. Finally, both sets of coveralls lay in crumpled heaps on the floor, to be quickly followed by t-shirts and underwear, until, both of us naked, Katniss pushed me back onto the bed and knelt above me, her hair disheveled as she swung one leg over me, straddling me as she leaned down to capture my mouth with hers once more.

"It's been too long," Katniss moaned into my mouth as her hand snaked down between our bodies, finding my swollen manhood and stroking it firmly, even as my own hands slid down her smooth back and over her firm buttocks, my fingers probing between her thighs, finding her sweet, wet center and caressing gently, bringing forth new moans as my fingers teased her sensitive flesh.

Suddenly Katniss shifted, positioning herself above me as she quickly guided me to her wet nether lips, slowly, carefully lowering herself as we both moaned with the exquisite sensations flooding our bodies. Once again her mouth descended on mine as she began thrusting her hips, grinding against me almost frantically, her nipples grazing my own as my own hips bucked upwards, locking against hers in a sensual rhythm.

"I love you, Katniss," I gasped as I felt my climax quickly rising. My hands grasped her hips, feeling the angular hardness of bone through her silky skin as I continued to thrust upward.

"I love you, Peeta," Katniss gasped in return, holding herself above me, her head thrown back, her eyes tightly shut as her hips continued their swiveling motion on my groin. I could see tears trickling down her cheeks as her mouth opened in a long, continuous, passionate moan.

Suddenly my climax, so long denied, was upon me as I only had time to gasp out, "Oh Katniss, I'm -" before I managed one final thrust upwards as all the tension, all the stress, all the fear of the last few weeks exploded out of me as my shaft pulsed over and over, even as Katniss's own body contracted around me as, with a half gasp, half scream, my explosion triggered her own.

"Me, too," she managed to choke out as our bodies trembled with the force of our combined release. Katniss buried her face against my neck as our mutual pulsations slowly diminished, trailing off as our ragged breathing returned to normal and our hearts slowed until, with a sigh, Katniss raised her head up, turned her face towards mine, and kissed me slowly and lovingly.

"Cinna's pretty fucking smart," Katniss whispered as she finally pulled her mouth from mine.

"Yes he is," I whispered in reply, holding her against me. "That was...that was...wow."

"Yeah," Katniss said softly, her lips curving up in a smile. "Wow."

"And you aren't hurting?" I ask anxiously.

"Peeta, I'm fine," Katniss replied gently. "Cinna's right. We both needed this so badly."

"Yes we did," I agree. I ran my fingers down her bare back, tracing each rise and indentation of her spine, her skin damp and clammy from our sudden exertions. "You'll have to shower with me tonight. Think five minutes is enough for two?"

"We'll make it work," Katniss whispered, kissing me again. When she raised her head up, she said, "My Mom and Prim told me what you did today. Thank you."

"It wasn't me," I admitted. "Dr. Picardo was the one that made them see how wrong they were."

"Prim said there was another doctor there, too." Katniss shifted around, rising up on one elbow as she looked at me solemnly. "She said he wanted to talk to you, me, and Haymitch."

Shit. I should have figured that Prim would say something. "Yeah. About that. I was gonna talk to you about that in the morning. I -"

"It's okay, Peeta," Katniss said softly. "I know that you didn't want anything to spoil...this." Katniss paused for a moment, chewing on her lower lip. "I don't know if I can talk to this man."

"I'll talk to him first," I replied. "And I'll see if Haymitch won't talk to him, too. Maybe he won't need to talk to you."

"Okay," Katniss whispered, laying her head on my chest once again. "Prim told me something else," she added after a minute.

"What's that?" I asked, as I gently caressed her back with my fingertips.

"You know that Pox they people talk about here? The epidemic that killed a bunch of people? Prim said that she heard that Coin's husband and daughter died during the epidemic." Katniss raised her head up and turned toward me as she spoke.

"Well, that explains a lot," I murmured. "No wonder she's so driven."

"There's something else," Katniss continued. "This Pox caused almost all of the men here to become sterile. There's almost no children here younger than Prim. Prim overheard a couple of doctors talking that they need to win the war so they can get some healthy men from other districts into Thirteen for breeding stock."

I shuddered slightly. "Breeding stock." It sounded like they wanted to use healthy males from other districts the same way District Ten used prize bulls.

"So that's what this Rebellion is about?" I asked in amazement.

Katniss nodded. "Prim told me that these doctors said that if they didn't get enough 'breeders' that District Thirteen would basically die out in less than two generations."

"Does Prim think that these doctors know she was listening?" I asked.

"No," Katniss said firmly. "She's sure they don't know."

"Wow." I could hardly believe what Katniss had just told me. If it was true, then this whole war was going to be fought for District Thirteen's benefit.

"Peeta?" I looked over at Katniss. "Please don't say anything."

I smiled at her reassuringly. "I won't," I promised. "It's almost nine. We have five minutes to shower."

Katniss groaned softly as she reluctantly climbed off of me, then helped me up off the bed. As we walked into the bathroom, she said playfully, "I hope you don't mind if I get you all sweaty again later."

I swatted her lightly across her firm buttocks, causing her to squeal softly. "I'm counting on it," I replied with a grin.

Later on that night, as we lay nestled in each other's arms, what Katniss had told me kept running through my mind. And I knew that there was no way that I would not be able to keep my mouth shut about Coin's plan. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more it angered me.

Coin may pretend that her motivations for supporting the Rebellion were pure, but now I knew better. If that was her real reason for coming forward now, then why didn't she just admit that she was trying to do what was best for her district? And, as I drifted in and out of a fitful sleep, this revelation made me wonder.

What else wasn't she telling us?

The sound of the comm unit's urgent buzzing woke me from my restless sleep. I glanced at the digital display as I stumbled out of bed to answer the call. Two minutes after three. Shit. This better be good.

Irritably, I punched the "ANSWER CALL" button on the comm unit. "What is it?" I bark.

"Well, good mornin' to you, too, sunshine," Haymitch's voice echoed from the speaker grill. "Sorry to interrupt your...beauty sleep...but I thought you might wanna hear this."

"Who is it?" Katniss muttered sleepily, rising up on one elbow while trying to flush the fog of sleep from her brain.

"It's Haymitch," I replied, before turning back to the comm unit.

"Oh, good," Haymitch said. "Katniss is there with you. Saves me from makin' another call."

"Haymitch, cut the shit!" I snapped. "It's late. What do you want?"

"Well," Haymitch drawled, "just to let you two know that two extraction teams have just arrived, not five minutes apart, with two more Victors to add to our growing party."

"What?" Suddenly I was wide-awake. "Who?"

"Kid, they're not in real good shape," Haymitch continued.

"Dammit, Haymitch!" Katniss barked. "Who?"

"They've both been taken to the hospital," Haymitch replied, his voice now serious. "It's Finnick Odair and Beetee Latier." Haymitch paused for a moment. "They...they're both hurt."

I felt a sudden pang of sympathy for Haymitch. He had known both Finnick and Beetee for years, and considered both Victors his close friends.

"How bad?" Katniss managed to choke out. Haymitch replied with a single word.

"Bad."