DISLCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN OR CLAIM ANY RIGHTS TO THE HUNGER GAMES TRIOLGY.
A/N: Up to chapter 8 whoo! Please review! ^.^ this chapter started out really short but when I started getting into it, I couldn't stop, so this one is a long one. Enjoy J
After walking 6 blocks south, a rebel hovercraft materialises overhead and two ladders drop. We both struggle to climb the ladder with the boxes of drugs under our arms. But we manage to climb until we both have it least one foot on a rung of the ladder after we get a secure hold of ourselves the electric current freezes in place. This was the same when Peeta and I won the first games. Once the ladder recoils us into the hovercraft the electric current disappears and I fall to the floor. The events of everything that has occurred over the past day has finally caught up with me. My eyelids are so heavy, I feel like I will pass out at any moment.
When I open my eyes again, I'm in thirteen. Back in my compartment with my mother and Prim. As I stretch my muscles out I notice that Buttercup sits at the edge of Prims bed, staring at me intently. "Don't worry I can't cook you here." I mutter as I force myself up.
When I get out of bed I realise I am still in the same dirty clothes I went to the Capitol in. I desperately want to see Peeta and the rest of the squad but I decide against it. I know I'm putting off the inventiable but I don't want to face it, if Peeta can't be saved. That they didn't make it out with everything he needed. I turn the taps on and squat under the warm spray, elbows on my knees, head in my hands. Eventually I lift myself up, my muscles feeling stiff and sore. I throw on my mundane grey jumpsuit, and brush my teeth effectively killing another 5 minutes. Before I leave, I take my pearl that Peeta gave me and the rope Finnick had got for me, knowing well that I will need it.
I exit my compartment and start to work my way down the hospital wing. I pass a few citizens who give a smile, some a wave. I feel proud that I can give these people some hope, after been hidden away and oppressed for so long. But insecurities and anxiety fill my being, what if this rebellion fails and they wipe us out completely? What will be left then? I try to ignore them and focus on my mission. To save Peeta and be the MockingJay. Anything else is irrelevant.
When I reach the hospital wing, the same nurse I spoke to when I first came looking for Peeta is sitting behind the desk. She perks up as soon as I enter and motions for me to come over. "You need to go to command before anything else happens." She says softly, squeezing my arm reassuringly. Disappointment bubbles up within me, as I know this will only mean one thing. I have failed Peeta. I don't argue or scream anymore, but just obey to what I am told.
I swallow down my tears and force myself to command. I don't knock but gracefully let myself in. Immediately I see Beetee hunched over the table with Plutarch next to him, obviously discussing something important judging by the concentrated expression spread across his face. Haymitch sits across from them, not looking as involved.
"Hello?" I say, but it comes out more like a question than a statement.
Haymitch and Plutarch look up and Beetee swivels around his wheel chair and has a small smile. "Katniss, wonderful to see you well rested, have a seat."
I sit down and both Plutarch and Haymitch have a strange expression.
"How's Peeta?" I ask, blurting out the only thing that I can think of right now.
Beetee taps his fingertips on the glass table and hesitates as if trying to conjure up the words of what to say. "While you were in the Capitol he had to be put into what we call an induced coma." I go to speak Plutarch raises his hand, motioning for me not to say anything and let Beetee continue. "We have done this to prolong his survival. And because in order for the treatment to work, he has to be under heavy sedation, otherwise it will not work."
My mouth drops open. "Treatment? So they got everything out?"
"Yes." Haymitch says with a pleased look on his face.
"Without you're determination, we have no doubt Peeta wouldn't have survived." Plutarch adds on.
"Where is Peeta now? How long will he be unconscious for?" I ask.
Beetee scratches his head. "That what we don't know. It could be days, weeks even. We just have to be patient. His condition is the worst we've seen so we don't even know if this will work Katniss. I'm sorry." He says softly.
Haymitch gets up and starts to walk over to me, as if to be ready for a violent reaction.
"No know if it will work?" I repeat sharply taking a step away from Haymitch. "You said a 90% success rate, what the hell?" I yell slamming my hands on the table, leaving a satisfying crack.
"Katniss." Plutarch says calmly. "Because the severity of Peeta's condition, the likely hood of the outcome is unknown. We're all very optimistic. You just need to stay calm."
I let out a defeated sigh. "Can I at least go see him?"
"I'm sorry Katniss, he is still in isolation." Beetee says.
"But we've moved him into a room with a window so the doctors can monitor his progress without causing any risk for Peeta. So you can see him through that." Plutarch adds on finishing Beetees sentence.
I don't push my limits, as I try to understand it is was is safest for Peeta. I swallow back everything I'm feeling and make my way up back to the hospital wing.
When I arrive the same nurse is still at the desk, again she pipes up as soon as I come in. "Plutarch called, he said you would be coming. Would you like me to show you to his observation room?" She asks sweetly.
I don't dare to speak in case the ugly sobs will present themselves. Instead I take a deep breath forcing myself back into one piece and nod.
The observation room is a lot like I expected, very plain. Light grey walls and dark grey carpet, a glass table with chairs surrounding it, a pitcher of water in the middle of it too. I look to the front of room where a large window sits. It is hidden away behind ivory colored blinds that are pulled shut. I turn around to notice the nurse had left, I'm grateful she appreciates my privacy. Taking a deep breath, I pace myself and walk slowly to the window lined with dust. I hold the rope that controls the blinds and hold it for just a moment. Bracing myself for what I might or might not see.
When the blinds are pulled all the way and I open my eyes, I'm slightly relieved to what I see. A boy with no longer yellow patchy skin, but his normal shade instead. He looks much healthier despite all the monitors and machines. He looks at peace, but I can't imagine the night terrors that will certainly be riddling is mind at this moment. And his subconscious choice to wake up has been taken away from him. Sacrificing his mental health for his physical one. But Peeta is a fighter, always has been. Especially his mother as he grew up. He should've become the Mockingjay, he shouldn't have ever had to pay the price for my mistakes. Rage riddles my being that they didn't rescue Peeta from that Arena, but me instead.
"How is he?" asks a voice that could be no other than Finnick. His question snaps me out of my thought.
"I'm not sure" I say nervously.
"Was I right?" He asks. I don't have to ask what he was right about because I know. When we were in the bunker after Peeta warned us about the attack on thirteen and he had said to me that he had misjudged me that I do love Peeta. He was, I do love Peeta.
"Yes." I say staring out to a very unconscious Peeta.
"Just keep making knots. No point sitting here wondering when he will wake up, better to distract yourself, like I said." Finnick says softly.
I clutch the rope in my pocket and pull it out and raise it to show Finnick. He replies with a smile and says. "You should meet Annie you know, you have a lot in common."
"Maybe another time when Peeta can meet her too." I reply softly. I am in no fit state to see anyone else other than Peeta at this moment.
Finnick nods and then there is a knock at the door, before either of us can answer Johanna walks in. I'm taken back by how different she looks now. No longer emaciated and riddled with oozing scabs. Other than her shaved head she looks very normal, well as normal as any of us could be.
"Wow didn't realize I was joining a party." Johanna says sarcastically.
Finnick laughs too but all I can do is stand silent.
"Cheer up brainless Peeta will be fine." She says.
"You don't know that." Is all I can mumble.
Johanna rolls her eyes, "No I don't." She says firmly, "But I don't know if my scars will heal either, we just tell ourselves these things to get through the day easier. Suck it up and tell yourself he will be okay."
I nod to her response, but I can't. I will never allow myself to get my hopes like I did the day Peeta returned, when he seemed that he would be okay. But when Peeta returned from emergency surgery and Haymitch had told me he probably wouldn't make it through this, I felt similar to how I felt when my father died. I remember it so vividly.
The lifts were screeching, burning up and down their cables as they vomited smoke-blackened miners into the light of day. With each group came cries of relief, relatives diving under the rope to lead off their husbands, wives, children, parents, siblings. We stood there in the freezing air as the afternoon turned overcast, a light snow dusted the earth. The lift moved more slowly now and disgorged fewer beings. I knelt down and pressed my hands to the cinders, wanting so badly to pull my father free. If there was a feeling more helpless than trying to reach for someone you love whose trapped underground I didn't know it.
With Peeta it had become the same. He was trapped under the repercussions of everything I ever tried to save him from, and knowing it was ultimately my fault was an excruciating despair in itself. When I had lost Peeta to the Capitol, I didn't realize until then how much of affect Peeta had on me. How much I craved his touch, his smile, his laugh, I could go on for an hour about all the things I didn't realize I missed. And now it felt it was all coming back to me again, all the things I craved from Peeta. But this time he wasn't out of reach by distance, he was only a window away. I think that was the worst part of it all. Knowing how close he was to me, but so far away under the treatment and isolation from preventing him getting worse. I hold deeply onto the memories I was able to share with him, like the morning after he was rescued from the Capitol and I finally was able to see his smile, that day I admitted that I loved him. I could will never forget that. I long so badly to experience those moments again.
When I finally opened up to loving Peeta it was like Snow knew my feelings as soon as I did and stripped them away from me. Another part of me that had become a part of his games. But now, he has taken everything away from me, and what I was able to keep is under the security of District 13. He no longer has ammunition on me, and this time it's my turn to retaliate.