Chapter Two

I hurriedly get a hold of myself, drying my eyes on my sleeves and wiping my nose on the inside of my collar. I hear people coming my way, their booted footfalls echoing up the corridor. I get to my feet and scramble to the service elevator. I push the button that takes me all the way up to the top floor and close myself in my room. Buttercup stirs awake but, upon realizing its not Prim who had returned, he curls up into a tighter ball.

"Why do you sleep all day?" I demand of the ugly cat. "You do nothing!"

The exhaustion from sobbing puts me in a fog all the way through dinner to when it's time for bed. I have enough sense to change into my sleeping dress. For some reason, Prim decides to share my bed instead of our mothers. I can't believe how exhausted and numb I am. I drift off to sleep with my back to Prim.

I see Peeta crouched in a corner, holding his hand up to filter the light blinding him. He is filthy, covered in welts, dried blood, and sweat. He looks more skeletal because of his unkemptness. I rush to him.

"Peeta, I'm right here. I'm going to get you out."

Peeta does not react to my voice. I know I'm speaking clearly enough. He just squints right through me, the light.

"Can't you see me?" I whisper.

We both flinch at the sound of a door opening and closing.

"Katniss? Is that you?" Peeta sounds terrified.

A whip slices across Peeta's back, making him scream in agony. He's knocked on his front, gagging. He lifts his head and his eyes lock with mine. He reaches out his trembling hand.

Peeta whimpers, "Katniss ... help me!"

I grab his hand but he can't feel me. He can't see me. I'm just a light. Then I smell the white roses and a cold shiver runs through my whole body.

"Katniss left you in that arena." says the unmistakable voice of President Snow. "She's thousands of miles away. You think she cares about you? She never loved you, Mr. Mellark. You were just a pawn in her Games."

I can't see Snow. All I can hear is his terrible voice saying those lies.

"Peeta, you know that's not true!" I sob, dropping to my knees and cupping his face. "I'm right here!"

"I told Katniss to convince me that she loved you. Convince all of Panem." Snow tells Peeta. "She barely even tried, Mr. Mellark."

Peeta snarls menacingly at the president. He almost sounds like an angry cougar. His teeth are bared and his eyes are flashing viciously.

"I understand." mocks Snow, unimpressed. "Any clever man would need to see proof to reconsider something he's convinced himself to be true."

A photo drops in front of Peeta. He pinches it up and I see through the paper that it's a photo of Gale kissing me in District 12. Peeta's face crumbles. The whip is rising again behind Peeta, whose whole focus is on the photo.

"PEETA, WATCH OUT!" I scream, jumping in front of Peeta to take the blow.

I'm abruptly awakened by Prim shaking me. I see that I had not said anything while I was asleep. Sometimes I do when I have nightmares. It's hard to convince myself that it was merely a nightmare. It had felt so real.

I remember that Prim said President Snow would do anything to Peeta that would break me. She knows full well who the nightmare was about.

"You were having a nightmare." she tells me; I nod. "I thought they would stop, now that Gale and the others rescued Peeta from the Capitol."

"I thought so, too. At least, I hoped they would stop." I whisper so as not to wake our mother. "If Peeta could just get back to the way he used to be - better than he used to be - maybe I'll get better, too. Prim, why is it taking so long?"

Prim has been dreaming of becoming a doctor and is finally getting training to be a nurse. She knows more about sickness and health than I could ever stomach. She's the one who helped our mother with ill patients while I couldn't handle it. Prim is considering me critically, I can tell. She's weighing how much more bad news I can take.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

"Katniss ... Peeta's been deteriorating for a long period of time. His body is not equipped to handle a large amount at one time. They've got to work him up to it, step by step." explains Prim. "The fruit smoothie is not only simple for him to digest, but it's giving him vitamin C so he won't develop Scurvy."

I furrow my brows, "Does he have that?"

"You get it if you have a vitamin C deficiency. Right now, the nurses are trying to prevent many complications for Peeta. Making him feel safe and secure is the hardest." Prim squeezed my hand, "He's going to be alright, Katniss. We've stabilized him."

I nuzzle my head against the pillow, "Now that I have him back, Prim ... I don't think I'd survive if I lost him forever."

Prim holds my hand, "Just try to sleep, okay?"

I know I won't be falling back asleep any time soon. Buttercup walks heavily across my legs and snuggles between me and Prim, purring. I can only wait for my eyelids to grow heavy again and try to shake the nightmare away.

I rouse awake to my mother's touch. We change into our daytime uniforms. My mother and sister wear their nurse training uniforms. I braid my hair at the table before we walk down to breakfast together. I pull up my sleeve for my new schedule to be tattooed.

We retrieve our breakfasts and pick a table together. Gale joins us. He's a large young man, at least six feet tall, who looks like he could be related to me. More so than Prim and my own mother. Our relationship, once very close, has changed in many ways since we came to District 13.

He finishes his breakfast in rather a hurry and departs with barely a 'hello' or 'see you later, Catnip'. Even if my romantic feelings for him have simmered away, I still miss his closeness. Maybe I'm only longing for a time that may never come again. I just can't take his hostility 24/7. My thoughts stray to Peeta and the nightmare I had.

I close my eyes, remembering Peeta's blood splatter the camera lense after he warned us about the incoming Capitol bombers. I take a sip from my class to distract me. I listen to my mother and Prim have small talk. Though their banter has drawn me back from the nightmare and memory, I still think of Peeta. I hope that I got through to him last night, that he would focus on gaining weight back.

I debate over when I should ask President Coin about Peeta's picnic idea. I figure that I should talk it over with his medical team first. I know that starvation has made him susceptible to infection and illness. Finally, I join in my mother and Prim's idle conversation.

"A doctor told me it was just as important to keep his spirits high as it was to keep his body from deteriorating." I recall to Prim.

"Oh, I know who you're talking about. I like him! He's nice." Prim grins.

I mutilate my sausage link while I think of ways to make Peeta feel whole again. His favorite color is sunset orange. He's a talented artist ... Oh! I look to my mother, a question on my lips. She looks at me expectantly. But, I hesitate.

Supplies are strictly monitored. Likely, it'll be against the rules to give a critical patient any. It might be considered a waste. I don't think the doctor would confiscate them from Peeta if he really wants to keep his patients happy. Delly Cartwright, Peeta's friend from District 12, would put a stop to it if I can't be there. I know where the pencils and paper are stored.

"Never mind," I turn back to my breakfast.

I catch Prim's eye and give her a mischievous smile I can't help. We go our separate ways. As I'm climbing the stairs, I spot Finnick. He's around twenty-five years old and is a very handsome man. And he knows it.

Unfortunately, so did President Snow. He was forced into the Captiol's sex slave industry on pain of death. Finnick is tall, athletic, with a chiseled face, tanned skin (though that's faded considerably since moving to District 13), bronze hair, and sea-green eyes.

"Hey, Odair!" I greet him.

He looks around in alarm but settles down when he sees its only me.

"Katniss! Haven't seen you around lately." He jokes, doubling over to exaggerate our height difference.

I hug him anyway. He was there to listen to me after Peeta's second interview. He can relate to me more than Gale can now. Besides, Gale is too busy building weapons of mass destruction with Beetee to have time to listen to my despair over another man.

"Where's Annie?" I ask.

Annie Cresta is Finnick's fiance, a girl who was rescued from the Capitol along with Peeta and Johanna Mason. Normally, they are linked by the hand as if they were cuffed to each other.

Finnick points his elbow over his shoulder, "I'm off to see her now. You can come with me if you want."

"I can't." I groan, holding up my forearm. "I have to go to training."

Finnick checks his own schedule and gives me a sly smile, shushing me with a finger to his lips. He sneaks off in the wrong direction of training. I wish to follow him but if I'm going to District 2, I do need to get in fighting shape. After dinner, I'll smuggle in Peeta's gift.

I sneak away from dinner to the supply closet that I hide in most often. I consider a box of pencils, wondering how Peeta could sharpen them. Then I spot a black ballpoint pen abandoned on the floor. I scribble it on my hand to check if it still had ink. I neatly roll about thirty sheets of white paper and hide it in the waistband of my uniform.

While I'm heading for Peeta's hospital room, I faintly catch the sound of the favorite doctor talking around a corner down the corridor. I figure I should ask him about Peeta going outside someday soon. As I get closer, I overhear what he's instructing another worker.

"Increase his fluids. Bring him a cup of warm salt water. He'll likely still need the slippery-elm tea before lights-out. He reopened those wounds. If he can't speak, we'll have to go with a lidocaine hydrochloride gargle."

I wince, feeling sorry for whoever the doctor is talking about. I touch the doctor's elbow after the worker departs, walking down the corridor towards Peeta's room.

"Hey, I wanted to ask you something." I begin.

"Ask away, Ms. Everdeen." yawns the doctor.

He looks ten times more tired than he did merely a night ago. I don't share Prim's longing for getting into the medical industry. This guy looks like he needs his own bed.

"About Peeta," I continue, ignoring the 'of course' the doctor's eyebrows said. "I wonder if being underground like this might be slowing his progress."

The doctor clears his throat, "He doesn't have anywhere else to go."

"Well, President Coin has given me permission to hunt above ground." I tell him. "And I was hoping I could take Peeta with me. Not to hunt, of course. But to let him get some sun, breathe fresh air. Rekindle his spirits."

The doctor props himself up against the wall, "Mr. Mellark has just set himself back about two weeks of recovery. I don't know if it is wise to let him outside where there can still be fumes from the recent attack."

"'Set himself back'?" I repeat with narrowed eyes. "What do you mean?"

The doctor sighs and waves his hand, "I'll let him tell you. I need to have something to eat. You're here to visit him, aren't you?"

I watch the doctor depart wearily down the hallway away from me. When I defrost from those ominous three words, I dart to Peeta's hospital room. I'm about to panic when I see that his room his empty. Then I startle at the sound of a toilet flushing. A door on the opposite side of the room opens and Peeta exits it with a nurse following behind him.

I sigh in relief. But when he turns his face, I see a fresh scrape across Peeta's left cheekbone and a cut on his lip. The nurse departs from the room, telling Peeta to press a button if he needs to use the toilet again.

"What happened?" I ask breathlessly, rushing to him.

Peeta lets me examine his wounds, "I went crazy. I had to be restrained."

His voice sounds very different from the night before. It sounds croaky, like he has a sore throat.

"They did this to you?" I ask, furious. "Peeta, tell me!"

Peeta shakes his head, "They had to, Katniss. I'd have hurt somebody. They say it was a panic attack. I kept thrashing on the floor while they held me down."

He's sagging between his walking stick and the IV stand. I'm having a hard time buying the idea that Peeta had as much strength as he's implying to require so much force from the security. But, the medical workers are not cruel. Perhaps I should take to heart that Peeta had that much fight left in him.

Peeta gestures at something on his bed, "See that button? If I go crazy again, I need you to click that. Help will come."

That scrape and cut make me reluctant to press such a button. I don't want to bring that down on Peeta again.

I sigh, "What scared you so badly?"

Peeta shakes his head again, "It's nothing."

I gesture at the scrape, "That is not 'nothing', Peeta! You can tell me anything. You know that. I'm the last person who should be judging anyone, least of all you."

Peeta limps over to his bed and I push along his IV stand for him. He gives me a quiet 'thank you' and he eases himself down carefully, trembling all over until he's relaxed. I can tell from his odd movements that he has injured his elbows and knee. His prosthetic leg appears to be damaged by the clicking sound it made, likely during the struggle. I lift that leg onto the bed for him and tuck him in.

He folds his hands over his stomach, gazing up at me weakly. I sink down to my spot at the end of his bed, my braid draping over my shoulder.

"Ever since Gale and the others rescued me, I'm convinced any moment could be my last. And I don't want it spent fighting you." Peeta shares with me. "Loving you would be much wiser."

My lips do an embarrassing twitch sort of thing. Peeta is so open about his feelings towards me. I'm not so open. I express myself more through action than words. I'm convinced that I can't explain my thoughts without sounding pathetic or desperate.

I recall what Finnick said to me during the air raid drill. While the Capitol attacked District 13, he said he knew that I loved Peeta when he hit the force field in our second Games. That our romance was not merely an act to win over support and sponsors. I look at Peeta now and I know that Finnick is right. I just can't get the words out.

It's clear by Peeta's expression that he's pleased enough with my wordless reaction. We finally break our long silent gaze. I look down at my hands.

"I don't understand why you don't just stuff your face." I say, changing the subject back to him. "Remember when we were first reaped? We ate so much we felt sick." I look at Peeta, "They kept food from you, Peeta -"

"They didn't." says Peeta.

I pause, "... What? Of course they did."

"No." Peeta insists darkly. "They gave me food, alright. I just never knew which plate was poisoned, making me so sick I'd rather be dead."

Peeta looked this way after being sick and too scared to eat. That's how he lost so much weight. Puking his insides out, writhing in agony. I imagine him clutching his stomach on a cold floor, vomit dribbled on his chin and clothes. Straining his face.

Blue eyes red and puffy from crying. No wonder the sight of food does not please him. I appreciate it more that he drank the smoothie and forced down a few nuts last night.

My face falls, "Peeta ..."

"That's what I panicked about." Peeta continues, sighing tiredly. "I thought the soup tasted funny and my heart just started pounding out of nowhere. Like I couldn't catch my breath. I thought I was dying. A nurse caught me with my fingers down my throat, doubled over the toilet. He tried to stop me but when I fought him off, he called for backup. Next thing I know, I'm beating my head against the floor with a knee in my back, begging for my life."

I finally say, "You never told me that they poisoned you. I thought they ..."

This was worse than withholding food from Peeta. I now understand why his voice sounds rougher.

"I was trying to forget about it." Peeta excuses. "Like it never happened."

I hug him, tucking his head by mine and I stroke his waves.

"It did happen." I say. "But it will never again, Peeta."

"Some part of me knows that. The other part just keeps saying 'What if, Peeta?' 'What if you're not really free?' 'What if that's not really Katniss?' 'You're just dreaming'. 'What if'. It's irrational, I know."

I shake my head, "I get it, Peeta. But, you've got to fight those thoughts. Did you tell the doctors that Snow poisoned you?"

Peeta nods, "That's why they feed me soups and smoothies all the time. My throat is still healing. They say I nearly lost my tooth enamel."

I scoot closer to him on the bed. We couldn't get any closer than we are now unless I laid down beside him. I glance at the open spot beside him. When I get up to draw the curtains closed, he questions me.

I return to the bed and say, "Scoot, you."

Peeta makes room for me and I lay down beside him. I show him the pearl he gave me on the shore. I keep it in my pocket. It doesn't make sense that he's so comfortable and inviting with me. Laying down, there is a wheeze to his breathing. I worry he's falling ill.

"They hurt you so badly, Peeta." I say quietly, my voice cracking. "I hate them. I'm going to kill Snow. Coin promised me."

Peeta nestles his head into his pillow, "I'm safe now. I'm with you."

If he just had a panic attack, truly he must not be feeling so safe.

I whisper, "Are you angry with me for leaving you in the arena?"

"... Which time?" Peeta teases, narrowing his eyes playfully.

He's lucky that he's 'nearly' emaciated or I would've shoved him.

"Shut-up. Seriously. I've replayed that moment in my head ever since." My eyes don't leave his, pleading for him to understand. "When I'm awake and asleep. Everyday wishing it had been me -"

"Stop that." Peeta tells me fiercely, gripping my hand.

"Peeta, I can't." I say, my lip trembling and I drop my head in defeat to the tears. "It's true."

A sob escapes my control. One choked, pitiful sob.

Peeta tries to catch my eye, "Hey, hey. Don't cry, Katniss. I saw the footage. I saw them take you up into the hovercraft. You couldn't lift a finger."

I dry my eyes and nose on my sleeve, batting my tears away. Admitting this to Peeta was right. He must know that I would trade places with him if Snow had offered. If Snow did not have so much fun torturing Peeta to punish me. He continues to shush me gently, stroking my hair like he did in our cave in the first Games.

Comforting me. As I'm snuggling deeper into his bed, the pen jabs at my side. I had forgotten about my gift to him. The revelation about the Capitol's torture method, infecting Peeta with terror and mistrust, had wiped it clean from my mind.

"Ow!" I hiss, flinching away.

Peeta's alert and moves from me hurriedly, "What happened? Did I hurt you?"

He's confused by my smile. I'm now excited to give it to him.

"No." I shake my head, giggling as I would with Prim, "I hurt myself on your present."

Peeta raised one brow, "You brought me a present? I thought my iron leg pinched you or something."

I sit up to give him the pen and the roll of paper, which has been folded under my weight.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I can get you some more paper -"

"No! This is wonderful!" Peeta exclaims, almost too heartily so I suspect he's overacting for my benefit; his raspy voice cracks a lot. "I can't believe it!"

"Really?" I offer again, "It's no problem."

"If you get in trouble for stealing, it'll be my problem." Peeta assures me, flattening the creases in the paper. "You have no idea how happy this makes me."

He looks at me with such warmth I won't let myself believe he's acting. I see a light sparkle in his hopeless eyes. Maybe he's not acting at all. Maybe I really did make him this happy.

"I'm glad you like it," I breathe, locking my eyes with his.

"I'll draw something for you." he promises me, smiling warmly.

I lean over him, propping myself up on my hands, lowering my lids. Peeta glances between my eyes and my gaped lips. Our lips meet and I taste the mint of toothpaste. But I smell the lingering acidity of vomit mixed with the soap from his hair. I dip my chin up and down, pressing firmer to his lips.

Gradually, I sink down so that I'm laying on my front, stretching to keep our lips lathering each other. He gives a moan, one of longing. He cups the back of my head with his hand. I lost track of time as we laid together like this. I imagine that we're somewhere far away from District 13.

That we have a luxurious cabin to ourselves in the mountains. Instead of a bed, we're laying on a soft thick blanket out on our master balcony, under the stars. I smell hot chocolate and fresh bread. I run my hands from his temple, through his wavy hair. Massage his scalp.

In his arms, there was no war. I open my eyes and I'm yanked back to reality. The reality of Peeta's hollow cheeks and sunken eyes. But, I do accept something. Maybe, just maybe ... no.

Definitely.

I love Peeta Mellark.