Ch. 17- What I know of Love

Thwump.

Thwump, thwump.

Thwump.

That beat. No, that pulse. It sounded like his heart was beating in his ears. He'd been gone from it for so long that coming back to it now it felt different. Like his heart was beating in a different way. The pace of it. The sound of it—thwump. His whole body swayed in and out of being like fog sifting through a screen. The sound—thwump, thwump—it was the only thing he could lock on to.

Slowly, excruciatingly slow, Peeta's senses returned to him. It was like his body was trapped—frozen and suspended in space and time. His mind had awakened, but his body was not his own. Something else was in control. He wrestled against the dark. He fought for the control he'd lost. To at least be able to open his eyes and see, to escape from the dark prison of his mind because suddenly everything in him was screaming. A thousand screams or one scream echoing on into forever, he didn't know. There had been mutts. Slashing. Clawing. Biting. Everywhere. They were overwhelmed.

Anger—pulsing, burning, red-hot rage. It coursed through his body, infiltrating even the smallest molecule of his being until there was nothing left to feel but hate and pain and the need to kill, to maim. He needed to kill those mutts. They would die for what they did. No muttation would be safe.

Thwump, thwump!

And just like that it was over. Like the press of a button, everything was released and he was slammed back into his body with the force of a bullet to the brain. He opened his eyes and everything was green and spinning, a terrible vortex of green. He tried sitting up and hissed in pain. His muscles were stiff and cramped. He groaned and managed to get enough energy to roll onto his side. Now everything was brown dirt and dead leaves and vines. They still spun unsettlingly. If things didn't stop spinning soon he'd—

His stomach convulsed, tightening and loosening in rapid succession. His throat burned and then his stomach was purged of its contents: mostly bile and foam. There was nothing else inside him to give. It soaked into the detritus of the forest floor, the foam bubbling and popping before his eyes. The smell of it stung at his nostrils.

"It's okay, Peeta. Get it all out. You're safe. You just need something to drink and eat, here sit up."

It was Finnick. His voice was strained with tiredness, but most of all it sounded tremendously relieved. Peeta's vision swirled again as hands helped lift his back up into a sitting position. Now he realized why everything was so green. They were in a hut made of vibrant green vines and giant palm fronds. The sun hit them from the outside and lit them up like neon city lights. A coconut half was brought to his lips, but it was filled with cool water. He gulped it down greedily, letting it cool and soothe his angry throat and mutinous stomach. Then a piece of fried something or other was offered to him and he ate it happily, not caring what creature he was devouring as long as it gave him sustenance.

The dizzy spell slowly dissipated and he was left feeling achy and sore all over, but for the most part wholly intact and alive. They sat in silence for a bit as Peeta came back to himself. But the longer they sat there the more obvious it became that something was off.

"Wh'appened?" Peeta croaked. It felt like he was trying to talk for the first time in his life and his lips and tongue didn't know how to form the words properly.

Finnick's brilliant green eyes shifted about. Peeta felt the anxiety beginning to build up again. He was just now remembering how things had left off. How they were in the Quarter Quell.

"Well… There's no easy way to say it, so I'm just going to tell you." Finnick pushed more water on Peeta before continuing, but he found he couldn't swallow at the moment. "You ran into the force field that rings the perimeter of the Arena. It almost killed you. You've been unconscious for the better part of three days. I'm still not sure why…"

Finnick must have been ready for it because Peeta flailed, trying to stand, crying out in anger, but Finnick's arms locked onto his biceps and held him firmly against the ground.

"C-ATO? Pr-im!" Peeta coughed out their names. "Where are they? Where are they Finnick?"

"Calm down, you need to go slow or you'll hurt yourself." Finnick stayed utterly calm and collected, despite Peeta's hysterics.

"Fuck myself. What of the others?"

"They're alive."

Peeta searched his eyes and found no lies. Only truth. He nodded and sat back and let Finnick continue for the moment. He was still tired.

"The mutt's disappeared and I had to do CPR to revive you." Peeta must have given a look because he explained. "It's basically a method to keep your heart beating and your lungs breathing. It worked and then we were attacked. The careers must have been close and heard our fight with the mutts. Cato demanded I take you and run because you were still unconscious and so I did. I didn't want to leave them, but we couldn't protect you and fight all of them. I don't know what happened after I took off, but I know Cashmere and the two morphling addicts from Six died. Prim and Cato are alive, I just don't know where…" Finnick trailed off for a second before reconnecting eyes with Peeta. "And there's something else. I've heard more deaths, screams and such, but there are never any cannons following them nor pictures in the night sky. People are dying in here with us and they didn't come here as tributes."

A little thought that had been tugging at the back of his brain trying to get his attention finally had it. "I noticed that!" Peeta exclaimed and then fell into a coughing spell. Finnick handed him more water and he drank it before continuing.

"The man who died last—well a few nights ago in the fog, there was no cannon. It bothered me then, but I couldn't place why. Then the same thing happened with the person attacked by the monkey mutts. Why was there no cannon? Why didn't we recognize that man?"

"I haven't a clue. Only tributes should be in here."

They sat in silence contemplating the newest mystery before them. Who were these people? Were they trying to break into the Arena or were they already here and by accident trapped inside? Every idea seemed as unlikely as the next and yet there was no denying people were dying inside the Arena and they weren't tributes. Peeta realized how easily he could have been just another dead tribute by now if it weren't for Finnick.

"I—thank you, Finnick." Peeta interrupted the silence. "That's three times now you've saved my life."

He tried to convey through his eyes that he really meant it. Finnick now had his full trust. He knew there wasn't anything he could do in return for him, but he could at least trust he wouldn't turn on Peeta and try to kill him or the people he loved. He'd had the chance plenty of times.

"Don't worry about it." Finnick shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe it's what I'm supposed to do."

With a swift push off the ground Finnick pulled up on his feet and exited the hut leaving Peeta to interpret what he'd just said. Was he just playing it off as no big deal, discomforted by the gratitude or was there some other agenda he didn't know of? Now that Peeta thought about it all of his actions since he met Finnick didn't really seem to make sense. They'd never met before, yet Finnick had put his neck on the line for Peeta's sake on too many occasions to count.

Peeta decided to follow him out of the shelter. He'd been out for three days and he was tired of being stationary. His ankles cracked and his bones groaned under the weight of his body, but he managed to make his way out with out falling over. A victory if anyone asked him. He spotted his bow and arrow on the ground and was thankful to see it had made it with him.

This section of the jungle was flatter than the rest. It might have been a valley or basin of some sort, but Peeta didn't know much about topography to guess. Finnick was putting together a pack of supplies in a netted rope of vines he had constructed while Peeta took in his surroundings.

"So what all's happened while I was out?"

"Not much. Both tributes from Eleven died, Chaff and Seeder. Who knows what got them though, the jungle or a tribute." Finnick looked up and around at the jungle suspiciously. "We should get a move on though, before our section activates."

Peeta looked around at the forest in confusion. "Our section?"

"Let's move out, look for the others and then I'll explain."

While unsure if he was ready for a long hike through the humid jungle Peeta knew there was no other choice than to throw himself back into it. This was the Hunger Games and it didn't wait for anyone. Besides Peeta was more than anxious to find Cato and Prim. He was sure the audience felt the same. If only they could ask them where the others were. The longer they were separated the more chance there was of something happening to them and Peeta wasn't about to let that happen. So he retrieved his bow and arrows and slung them over his back. Then looking around he realized that was all he had. He didn't even have the spile. The last he remembered of it Prim had it. He hoped she still did.

"Ready?"

"Ready." Peeta replied and then fell in line behind Finnick as he led them on the search for Cato and Prim.

In the netted sack Finnick had made Peeta could see the two halves of a coconut he had been using to hold water, some more coiled rope he'd made from vines, and leftovers of what ever creature he had cooked up that morning wrapped in leaves. It wasn't much, but it was a hell of a lot better than nothing. Finnick marched forward determinedly, his trident always at the ready. Peeta figured he was probably leading them back to the beach where they could re-orient themselves and begin a proper search.

The more he thought of it the more daunted Peeta became by the task ahead. This arena was huge and filled with deadly Gamemaker designed traps at every turn. What if they were holed up in a cave somewhere like Peeta had done with Cato last year? God how he yearned for simpler times like then. When it was just the two of them. All they had was each other and that was all they needed. And wasn't that a fucked up thought? When the 74th Hunger Games was actually a refuge compared to now. Everything was so infinitely more complicated now. So much more was at stake. What if they walked right past each other, separated by the dense foliage? The search might never end… until they ran into Asasia.

Peeta could hear the pace of his heart ramping up the more he thought of it. The dull thwump, thwump grew inside his head until he was trapped by the sound of it. It echoed around his skull like the insistent beat of tribal drums in a sealed cavern. The sound just bounced around endless, building and building. His feet stopped moving and the world shifted. Everything turned muted and dull like the changing of a lens. Then he moved again. He moved forward with purpose. The muscles of his abdomen clenched and unclenched. His hands fisted. His feet padded silently against the soft spongy earth of the forest floor. A bug buzzed past his left ear.

There was nothing ahead, nothing behind. Only progress. March forward. March on. Feel the workings of his muscles. Know how the power they held with in could end a life as easy as squashing an insect. His eyes locked onto a figure ahead of him. He analyzed it closely. There was a healing wound on its shoulder. A bite mark almost, other minor scrapes and bruises, but his eyes honed in on the clearly pulsating vein on the side of its neck. Each beat an invocation of his name.

The figure ahead stopped walking and turned around and suddenly all that anger and rage was back ten-fold. It had been pressure-cooking in his stomach and now exploded forth and turned him hot all over like a furnace. The figure spoke a name—Peeta—but it wasn't a man. It was a muttation. The face was warped and disfigured. Whiskers sprouted from the snout nose and lips peeled back to reveal slimy fangs, but it was the eyes, those sea green eyes that held an almost human-like intelligence that enraged him most.

Kill.

Kill.

Kill…

"What's wrong with you?" Finnick broke through, reaching forward with a hand.

"Don't!" Peeta shouted and jumped backwards, tripping and landing on his ass.

He was on the verge of hyperventilating. He rubbed his eyes and then looked at Finnick's worried face one more time. But it was the same as it had always been. Perfectly placed cheekbones, smooth jaw, windswept dirty blonde locks, staggering green eyes. He shook his head hoping to clear it. Breath, just breath Peeta. He focused on his breaths and felt his heart rate fall back into a normal range.

"Peeta?" Finnick asked, dripping with worry and maybe something else. Hesitation? "Is it your heart? Your head? Tell me."

He leaned in again towards Peeta and this time he let him. Peeta took his outstretched hand and jumped back on his feet. Finnick examined him from head to toe with his eyes.

"Sorry, I'm not sure what just happened. Just got a little disoriented." Peeta tried to explain, but he didn't know what to explain. He was scared and he didn't know what of.

It wasn't right, but there wasn't time to think about it because suddenly the jungle came alive. The rustling of leaves all around them put Peeta on high alert. Peeta strung an arrow, expecting more monkey-like mutations, but nothing came at them from the trees.

"We're out of time." Finnick stated. He seemed resigned to the fact, but not overly worried.

Peeta was about to ask what was up when suddenly he heard Gale's voice. The bow dropped from his hands to the jungle floor.

"Peeta, help! Help me!" Gale's deep and normally soothing voice was ragged and broken. He was on his last legs and begging. "Please, make it stop! Just make it end—AHHHH!"

"GALE?" Peeta screamed out in return.

Every muscle was tense. His eyes darted in every direction trying to discern where it was coming from, but his voice seemed to be all around. My god, what are the Gamemakers playing at? Peeta thought horrified. Was this it? They were sending in tributes loved ones to die in the Arena with them?

"It's okay Peeta, it's not him."

"Finny? Finny where are you?" Suddenly a woman's voice joined in with Gale's and Finnick visibly paled, his normally glowing tanned skin turned sickly white.

"ARRGHHH!" Gale's cry echoed out across the forest and then the female's screech joined in. She was hollering for Finnick. Peeta spun on the spot to face him and saw his face pinched in pain and yet he was doing nothing.

"What do you mean it's not him? I hear him, we have to do something!" Peeta was about to run off when Finnick shouted back.

"No we don't because its jabberjays! Another trick of the arena." Finnick pulled Peeta back before he ran off into the wild and got lost. "Look, up, in the trees. There. You see?"

Following the line of sight from Finnick's pointed index finger Peeta spotted the little black birds with white crested chest's perched all along the branches of the trees above them. They all had their black orb eyes trained on the tributes below them as they spouted memorized human speech. But even if it wasn't really Gale's voice he was terrified to think how they came to know his voice. Something terrible had happened. Peeta was sure of it. And worse still now the audience had more evidence that this Gale was more important that he wanted to let on.

"The sun's set and the monsters are coming. I need you, Finny!" The woman shouted. It was disorienting to watch a particular bird's beak move and a human voice fall out. "You promised you'd always be there!"

The blood had come back to Finnick's face, but there was a visible twitch to his eye and a hunched demeanor that told Peeta whoever's voice that was it was causing him just as much pain as it was for Peeta to hear Gale's tortured cries.

"We need to get out of here," Peeta said. He'd had enough. He wouldn't sit here and subject himself to the sounds of his friend's torture. Not only where their physical terrors in this forest, but psychological ones as well.

"We can't. They'll just follow us to the edge of the section where we will be trapped by an invisible barrier. It was the safest area I could find for us. At least the birds don't attack us." Finnick explained dejectedly.

He dropped to the ground, resigned to their predicament. Peeta had an inkling that he had been through this many times now. Peeta took a seat across from him and tried to ignore the newest voices that joined the chorus. One of them was his dad, the others were unknown to him, but they most definitely meant something to Finnick.

"I think I've figured it out though." Finnick suddenly spoke some time later.

"Huh?" Peeta looked up from picking at his nails.

"This Arena is broken up into sections; each one with some deadly trick or mind-game. This one activates almost exactly every twelve hours. I've been here three days now so I've had time to count the hours. I've heard the other one's trigger at varying intervals too."

Suddenly Peeta understood. It begins at midnight.

"It's a clock!"

With his finger Peeta traced a circle in the dirt between them and drew twelve spokes, just like the sand spokes that spread out from the Cornucopia at the center of the Arena.

"Each section must be like a section of the clock and so each one is triggered when it reaches that time of day. Like the lightning and storm," Peeta pointed at a section of the clock, "And then it leads in to the fog and monkey mutts and so forth."

Finnick scratched the bottom of his chin before nodding. "It's not that far of a leap actually. There's always a bell that tolls at what's probably midnight and noon. It tolls twelve times followed by a strike of lightning to that big burnt tree. That must be the start of the clock. Maybe we can use that to our advantage—"

"FINNICK!" The woman suddenly interrupted with a torturous scream and Finnick twitched before completely withdrawing back in on himself.

Gale and his father's voice grew louder too and with their conversation now ruined Peeta couldn't drown them out. Each scream, each pleading word was like an icy knife to the heart. Peeta could see Finnick was dealing with it just as well as he was. His face was twisted in agony like he was the one being tortured. Veins bulged from his temple as everything in him strained against the psychological pain being inflicted upon them. Reaching out, Peeta laid a hand atop Finnick's clamped fist. His eyes suddenly darted to look at Peeta; wide and terrified like an abused dog. The usually vibrant sea green eyes of his were muted and muddy. Then he took a deep breath and let it all out, his hand unclenching to accept Peeta's into his palm. They held on to each other tight. This was their grounding. They would help and hold each other through this because otherwise it would drive him insane. They weren't alone for this. They didn't have to suffer in isolation in their minds.

Peeta wasn't sure how Finnick did this the past three days with out him. They spent the next half hour sitting in silence. Except for the Jabberjays. Every now and then a particularly brutal scream or heart wrenching plead would escape from the Jabberjay's beaks and they'd flinch anew. But they still held each other's hand, knowing there had to be an end. That it wasn't real. This was though, the hand they held was real and they were here for each other.

"You know what I know of love?" Finnick asked out of the blue.

Hearing his voice was almost like a shock to the system and he almost let go of Finnick's hand. They hadn't talked in so long, trapped in their minds with the sick soundtrack of Jabberjays the only noise they could hear.

"What are you talking about?" Peeta asked confused.

"You asked me the other night what I knew of love," Said Finnick. He wasn't looking at Peeta, but up into the trees. Peeta watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "Well I do know a few things about it, which I know must truly shock you." His words were heavy with sarcasm and Peeta's hand felt hot and clammy in Finnick's palm. His eyes were still trained on the trees above, the Jabberjays in particular. Peeta had an inkling that the person he was talking of might be one of the voices they were imitating. Finnick was being vague in hopes that he could still protect her identity from the audience, but it seemed like the Capitol already knew anyways.

"Finny I needed you," the familiar female's voice sobbed from a Jabberjay and Finnick finally let go of Peeta's hand, his eyes falling back to the earth.

"I know love isn't always rational. I know it can span time and place and if you feel it, if you truly feel it and know they're the one then nothing will keep you apart. You will always be together, connected, even when hundreds of miles separate you, even when your realities keep you apart..."

Finnick was drawing the image of a woman in the dirt with his fingers, tracing lovingly the pattern of her hair as it fell across her face. Peeta watched Finnick as he talked and felt inside him just how much he wished he could be touching her hair. He began to seriously re-evaluate the impression he had of Finnick. He was so much more than the sexualized joker he liked to play. And maybe Peeta was beginning to reevaluate some things about his love life…

"Because if you truly love someone its worth the fight. If it's true love its selfless. Everything you do suddenly stops being about you and starts becoming about them. How can I make life better for her? How can I always make sure she knows she's loved? How can I—"

BOOM!

The cannon fire jolted both of them to their feet, weapons at the ready. Peeta notched an arrow in his bow and they fell back-to-back, just in case someone else was trapped in the section with them. There would be no sneak attacks today.

Then they realized everything had been quiet for a few minutes now and Peeta realized they were finally free of the Jabberjays. The time must have finally run out for their section. Finnick noticed it too.

"Come on we're not far from the beach now."

They both took off at a light jog towards the beach and Cornucopia. In reality only a couple of hours had passed since he had woken and yet it felt like so much more. He had come to a new understanding of Finnick, figured out the configuration of the Arena, learned people in here are dying and they aren't tributes, and worst of all something might be wrong with him. Was it a hallucination or something else when he saw Finnick as a muttation?

As they jogged through the jungle the only sound that kept them company was the pad of their feet against the earth and their breath. But the earth-quaking roar that unexpectedly ripped through the forest shattered that peace. They both halted in their tracks and looked in the direction of the roar. The next section of the clock was triggered. They'd heard that beastly roar before, but this time they were much closer to the source and it set Peeta's nerves on fire. There were too many obstacles in this Arena. How were they expected to overcome them all and become victor? How was Peeta supposed to guarantee any of his loved one's safety to the end of the games? And now with his sanity in question the quest seemed even more insurmountable. He just needed to find Cato. Out of anyone he could possibly understand. He had struggled against the more brutal aspects of his personality to become the man Peeta fell in love with so maybe he could help Peeta fight this too.

They picked up their speed and ran until suddenly they burst through the dense green foliage onto the beach. The sun was beginning to set behind them and Peeta grew more frightful at the prospects of finding Cato and Prim. Another roar shook the jungle just to their left and more birds took flight in the distance, frightened by the beast. Peeta could only imagine what was contained within the depths of that jungle section.

Just as he was about to ask where they start they heard screaming. It was coming from the opposing side of the beach. There was a lot of commotion and it sounded like it was just at the edge of the jungle. They weren't close enough to make out the individual sounds, but a fierce battle raged just inside the tree line. They were shouting and grunting in exertion and fear. Peeta aimed is bow, ready to take out the next person that broke through the forest barrier to the beach when he heard it again.

"PEETA!"

It was Gale's voice. But the Jabberjay section was done. It didn't make sense. Finnick whipped around to look in the direction of the newest scream. He recognized the voice too after the hour they spent in the jungle listening to his tortured cries. And it came from the beast's section.

Suddenly a body breached the forest line on the other side of the beach where the battle raged and Peeta gasped.

It was Prim.

And she was drenched in blood.

"PEETA! HELP! HELP ME PEETA!" Gale's voice cried out in utter terror and Peeta knew in his heart the truth.

There Primrose stood on one side of the beach, covered down to her toes in dark red blood and then in the forest behind Peeta came the very real cries of help from Gale. Finnick locked eyes with Peeta and must have recognized something in Peeta's wild ones because he tried to lunge for Peeta, but he was too late. Peeta dodged him, knocking his leg out from under him and sending Finnick sprawling into the sand. Then Peeta took off at full sprint straight into the jungle behind them, the one that shook with the roars of the monstrous beast and Gale's screams.

Thoughts? Reflections? Reviews? Love you all and I promise I will have the next chapter up by next Sunday!

xoxo,

Crobb07