Chapter 2

~ Peeta ~

"Don't say it again, Haymitch."

Haymitch closed his mouth. I know he meant well, but having him predict that Katniss would be home 'any minute' several times an hour since the sun set five hours ago was actually making the situation feel more hopeless than... no, it was midnight, so it really was hopeless. She'd never stayed out more than a half hour past sunset. Ever. She knew better. That's when the predators came out. I couldn't even think...

Sae reached over from the chair next to mine, where she'd convinced me to settle since wearing a rut across the floor wouldn't help anything, and patted my arm soothingly. She'd already been to the Hob and a number of other places across town. Haymitch had phoned several of his contacts on the outskirts and at the mines, who would sweep the edge of the woods and call the second they caught wind of her wherabouts, and I had... I'd baked. And baked more. And cleaned. And fed Sae and Haymitch. And waited on the porch. And sat by the phone. And curled into a ball. And paced across the living room, the kitchen, up and down the hallway. I was useless and unworthy, and scared out of my mind.

I dropped my head in my hands, willing the tears not to fall. I hadn't been this scared in the Games, not even when I realized she'd drugged me to go retrieve the medicine. Not even when we were separated and I was taken prisoner. Not even when I endured the hallucinations that had her committing heinous atrocities. Those had all happened when she was controlled, determined, and powerful.

Now, I feared she may still be determined, but to commit an atrocity against herself. I had thought she was doing better. If only I'd...

There was a 'click' in the kitchen. I don't remember how I got there, but she had barely closed the back door behind her when I took her arms and spun her around. My hands went to her face, her forehead, her shoulders, then slid around her back to hold her against me.

"Are you all right? Are you hurt?" I pulled back to examine her face. She looked exhausted and shaken, but just shook her head. I wrapped my arms around her again. "Oh thank goodness you're safe." My heart thudded an abnormal rhythm of sick relief, and tears stung my dry eyes as I breathed in the scent of her hair, felt her warm cheek against my face.

She brought her arms to rest around my waist and leaned into me a bit. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

I pulled back to kiss her forehead. "We'll talk about it later."

"Thanks for making an appearance, Sweetheart," Haymitch's voice carried from the front door. "We'll see you tomorrow."

"Thank you both," I called over my shoulder to them, and the front door closed heavily.

Katniss rubbed her face. "What time is it?" her voice cracked tiredly.

"After midnight," my voice had a tinge of harshness to it, both intended and not.

"Mmm..." she nodded. "I think I'll go to bed."

I still had ahold of her. "I think you should eat something first," I suggested, again a bit harshly.

She swallowed, then nodded. I sat her down at the kitchen table and warmed up a bowl of broth and toasted a piece of bread. I watched her eat; she did so quite a lot more slowly than usual. She wouldn't look at me.

"More?" I asked when she'd finished. She shook her head.

I nodded and took her dishes to the sink, turning on the water. I was so grateful that she was here, that she'd come home, that she was unhurt, but I was desperate for a way to reach her. To figure out what motivated her to stay out all day and part of the night. To make her understand that she shouldn't do that to me. Dishes clean, I shut the water off and leaned against the sink, hands still dripping.

"I saw Gale today." Her voice was just above a whisper, but even and clear. I believe my heart did stop, then sputter back to some kind of disjointed rhythm. I turned to face her.

"You... what?"

She gulped, then sighed. "I keep forgetting, it was so real... I dreamed, or... hallucinated... Gale snuck up on me in the woods. By the pond. He... asked me... he asked me to avenge him."

Her eyes didn't meet mine until after she'd finished. I imagine the look on my face was of confusion and disbelief, because hers was pleading, tears shining in her eyes and all.

Oh wonderful. Even in death, Gale Hawthorne had a way of mesmerising Katniss. It was never in my heart to lay blame, but I felt myself blaming him for the distance between Katniss and me. It wasn't right to do, and it wasn't fair to anyone. But it was how I felt.

Katniss shook her head suddenly. eyes back to the floor. "Silly, I know." She used the table to help her stand, obviously tired and weak. "Thanks for supper." At the doorway, she turned back to me. "I'm sorry I worried you," she told me quietly.

She treaded softly up the stairs, and I heard the water come on in the bathroom. I just stood there, slow and stupid as ever. My hands had started to dry and I finished them on my pants. I was still reeling from the lingering fear. And at the same time, I was grateful. Most importantly, that she was home, unharmed and safe, at least as unharmed as I could gather. And selfishly, that the fear of losing her was the only thing I had that consistently deterred the tremors. And lately, I'd been due for an earthquake.

She was already in bed when I came up. I leaned in the doorway; she'd left the light on and was on her side facing me, blinking sleepily. She patted the bed when I came in and I sat on the edge, reaching out to stroke her hair. And we stayed that way for a while.

"You're not coming to bed, are you," she said softly.

I looked down at the sheets, then shook my head, feeling the need to explain, but not wanting to give her fodder for discussion. "I'm going to stay downstairs tonight... I just don't feel well," I fibbed.

She sighed, then nodded. "I feel awful for scaring you like that," she said.

I offered her a tiny smile, but it was sad. "It's not about that," I fibbed again. "But please don't do that to me," I asked her, and she nodded. I leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Sleep now."

The trees played shadows against the wallpaper in the living room when I finally curled up on the couch in an attempt to spend the rest of the night in unconsciousness. She knew there was more than just 'not feeling well,' which was the best explanation I had that was not an outright lie. She just knew these things. If the tremors were going to come in the night, I wanted to be as far away from her as I could reasonably be. And I'd locked her bedroom door from the inside, for good measure.

~ Katniss ~

I dreamed of Prim. It wasn't a bad dream either, just left me with an overwhelming emptiness when I awoke. These nights were fewer, and sometimes I wished for the consistency of nightmares... but the way Peeta was last night, I'm glad I didn't wake screaming.

I dressed and went hunting for my jacket, finding it draped over the tub where I'd left it last night. The right sleeve had hung down in a residual puddle of water and was damp at the wrist. It was annoying, but wearable, and it would dry.

Peeta was still asleep when I came down, despite the sunlight streaming in. I cut a piece of bread from last night's loaf, a savory pumpkin nut creation that tasted better warm, but would do just fine. I stuffed the piece in my mouth and cut a second piece, wrapped it in cloth with a piece of cheese and put both in my bag. I looked longingly over at Peeta; I hated the thought of waking him, but to leave him to wake in an empty house after what I put him through last night would be an atrocious thing to do.

Face-down was such a peaceful position for him, arms on either side of his head, feet flopped over the arm of the couch. Children often slept this way. Prim usually did... oh Prim. After last night's dream, you'll be with me all day, won't you? I thought to myself. I sighed, and decided I would have to be okay with that. I ran my hand along Peeta's arm, up to his shoulder and whispered his name.

"Mmm..." he groaned, blinking into wakefulness.

"Morning," I said, trying to sound as soothingly cheerful as I could. He smiled at me and held onto my hand. "Any problems?"

He shook his head and yawned.

I nodded. "I'm going out for a while," I began. He looked suddenly apprehensive. "Just a few hours, I'll be back by lunch. I promise."

He seemed mildly reassured. "Okay," he whispered, stroking my arm.

I brought his hand to my lips and kissed his fingers. "Need anything while I'm out?"

He yawned again, turning onto his side and pointing toward the door, or rather, to the folded paper on the table next to the door. One of our routines, since I mostly went out alone and he rarely ventured out without me, was the passing of notes. Just little things, words of encouragement, things to remember, lists with notes in the margins. Little things, to remind us that we were a team. I retrieved the paper and looked it over, just a few things from the market. He gave a little wave from the couch, and I returned it with a small smile.

If you'd told me that this was going to be one of those eventful days, I'd totally have believed you. I just would have had a different train of thought entirely. This was not my first thought when I dove headfirst under the remainder of the dead wire fence, as I'd done almost every single day since I was eleven, but it was in the top three. First, was 'Oh good grief this hurts,' as somehow, I didn't see the loose wire from the row above that had broken free and proceeded to snag my braid, wrenching my head back as my neck argued with the forward momentum of my body. My next thought, laced with profanity, concerned the fact that in this position, I couldn't move to reach the knife sheathed at my left ankle, and the more I moved, the more it hurt and the more trapped my hair became. My third thought played out, and if the annoying pain in my neck wasn't so, well... irritating, I might have had a good and sarcastic laugh at myself. Gale sure as heck would have been rolling on the ground laughing at me. I'm certain I looked ridiculous.

Okay, problem. The meadow was not exactly in the center of town. I could sit here on a busy day and not see anyone for a half hour or more. Well, I could sit here and ponder my predicament (and endure the now searing pain shooting down my neck and back), or I could start raising a fuss and get the embarrassment over with. I chose the latter, obviously, and was thankful I didn't have to wait long. I just wished I could see who'd heard me.

"Well now look what you've done to yourself," a distinctively male voice teased. "You'd think places where the fence was actually, oh I don't know... gone... would be a better way through?"

Thom. Of all people, someone Gale used to work with. I'd know that voice almost anywhere. Just my luck. My neck hurt too much to protest though. What was I going to say, 'Oh, not you. Send someone else to help me get unstuck?'

"Hey Thom. Cut me free?" I tried to sound less pained, and I wasn't sure if I pulled it off.

"Surely."

He must have had his own blade, most of the former miners did, for emergencies, and now, out of habit. You never know when you might need a blade. And I was thankful for this, and then, thankful for the relief one swift stroke made. I scurried back under the fence, and was halfway to thanking him when I saw. I tried to keep my voice calm.

"Thom, I meant cut the wire... not my hair." More than a foot of my braid hung, badly entangled, from the fence, like a flag in the wind.

Thom shrugged. "It'll grow back won't it?" He patted my knee with finality and headed back toward town, leaving me to feel the back of my head. I'm glad I didn't have a mirror... It didn't take seeing one to know my hair, what was left of it, fell above my shoulders.

I ignored the amused looks I got in the market. It didn't matter, it was just hair. It didn't matter. Not that I hadn't cut it in years, not that Prim had brushed the ends of the hair that was now gone... no, it didn't matter. Prim didn't... wouldn't have wanted me to dwell, and so I didn't. Much.

I visited Sae at the Hob, and she made me sit a while so she could even out the ends. I figured it couldn't get any worse, so I let her. I heard her chuckle a few times. I suppose it was good to be the reason for others' delight for once. I was doing my civic duty, keeping the people happy. It was stupid to be vainly miserable about hair. It was just... hair. Cinna would have done something spectacularly understated and appropriate with it. Cinna... another person I missed dearly.

I put the hood of my jacket over my head coming up the front walk. An aroma of warm wheat and spices hit me from the front door, and I called out to him preemptively.

"Peeta, don't freak out okay?" I called.

"About what?" I heard from the kitchen. I paused in the doorway, he was taking bread out of the oven. I waited for him to finish, he was always so meticulous with his baking. Finally he clicked off the oven, chucked his oven mitts and turned to greet me.

"Don't freak out about what?"

I searched his face, so much more pleasant than last night, not a trace of worry left. I sighed and slowly dropped my hood. And then everything seemed to happen at once.

His eyes flashed, then went flat black, the color draining from his face. I stepped back, startled, as his breathing rose, teeth and fists clenching. Then the shaking started. My heart plummeted. This was no ordinary tremor. This was everything that had been done to him, reawakened, reset, hitting him full-force.

I backed out of the room to the front door again, and it was like something from one of those silly horror movies Haymitch dug up from the Capitol archives. As I turned the handle, Peeta, or rather, Un-Peeta, Capitol Peeta, Tortured Peeta rounded the corner in pursuit.

I tripped backward down the steps, grabbing the handrail for purchase and spinning around at the bottom to run, and run I did. I didn't have anywhere to run to, except two doors down and across the street. Kicking the scattering geese out of the way, I banged on Haymitch's door, hollering, but not soon enough. I was being knocked to the ground, hands clawing at my face, fingers struggling to get around my throat. I couldn't do anything but scream. My foot kicked out and sent a stray lantern flying.

He might actually kill me this time, I thought in a flash. He was muttering, hateful things I was sure, but either the strangulation or his rage muddled the actual words.

There were so many things I'd wanted to tell him. Things I'd owed him for, time and again, that I wouldn't be able to say. And as my eyes began to close, I thought them as hard as I could, but one thought rose above the rest.

I love you, Peeta Mellark.