Chapter Five

That one sentence made me temporarily forget I just had a splenectomy. Peeta can't be sick. He can't be. I gulp and shake my head, my eyes darting all over the place. Not looking at anything in particular.

Searching for Peeta. My emotions are slipping through my grasp.

"Pneumonia?" I repeat tremulously.

Haymitch nods. I cry 'no' and he attempts to console me. But, his expression is like he's dealing with a toddler who is about to throw a tantrum.

"I have to see him!" I say urgently.

I fling away my bedsheet and swing my legs over the ledge of the bed. Narrowly missing kicking Haymitch in the shoulder. I sit up straight and gasp, clutching at my thick bandages. It was as though I had been shot all over again. That feeling of a sledgehammer smashing into my ribs.

"Easy!" Haymitch scathes, jumping up to help me.

I cringe away from his touch and weakly drop back onto my pillow. I'm breathless with the pain, squinting through it at Haymitch. In my mind, I'm taken back to the cave Peeta and I shared in our first Games. I nearly lost him to blood poisoning as a result of Cato stabbing his leg. Even now, I can feel the heat of his dry forehead on my fingertips.

"They have canceled his physical therapy till he beats this thing. He's got a 101° fever -"

"It's my fault!" I whimper. "It's all my fault."

Naturally, my mind is presenting me with the worse possible scenario. I see Peeta emaciated all over again, his pale skin shiny with sweat, and his blond hair greased to his burning forehead. I know what his coughs sound like. I heard them echo in our cave. Gritting my teeth together, I beat my bed with my fists till Haymitch pins down my arms.

I can't struggle much underneath his weight. So, I go lifeless. Blinking deliriously up at the ceiling.

"Katniss, there are some things in life that are out of our control." He tells me. "It's out of our hands. He's going to make it. You know I wouldn't tell you that if it weren't true. Right?"

No, I don't know that. You'll say anything to get me to do what you want. But, District 13 is far more advanced than mine ever was. Though it does not have the Capitol's lab medicine. I hate to acknowledge it, but they'd probably be capable of fixing Peeta's pneumonia in less than a day. I study Haymitch's expression, looking for any sign that he's lying.

"He's not going to die. You're promising me ... again?" I ask him tearfully.

Haymitch sighs but its Johanna whom answers from behind the curtain dividing us, "He's going to have to try pretty damn hard to die with your family watching over him."

There's a bite to the way she says 'family'. But, I don't take offense because Johanna is alone. She has gained more weight back than Peeta has and her hair is beginning to grow. Apparently the Capitol did not poison her food, reserving that torture for Peeta. I assume this because she's was not hooked up to a feeding tube.

Then Johanna added hatefully, "Yep. Your cute little Prim will be there to wipe that smelly dark phlegm from his chin he keeps coughing up -"

"Quiet, Mason!" Haymitch cut across her angrily

I ignore Haymitch's outrage, "You've seen him, Johanna?!"

This was clearly not the sort of way Johanna had been counting on me responding. I don't trust Haymitch's promises anymore. I need someone who has no cause to lie to me. Someone who never sugarcoats anything. Someone who wants to see me suffer with the truth.

Johanna replies, "Never seen anyone more pitiful." I'm not sure if she's referring to me or Peeta. "I've never seen anyone lose it so quickly. Peeta tried to yank his feeding tube from his nose but he started puking all over himself. He got infected soon after they gave him a sedative."

As I let those details sink into my brain, I hear her leave the room. I call for her to return because I need more information. I'm not the crying type. But I feel the tears brimming and my throat constricting.

It has nothing to do with the pain that I am in. I had spent several weeks in District 2. I wish I had never left. What I could've done to prevent this for Peeta, I do not know. But, at least he would not have had to suffer alone.

Coughing up puss and blood.

"When can I see him?" I ask Haymitch.

Haymitch replies, "Well, your doctor wants you up and moving as soon as possible. That's not going to happen today, Katniss."

I'm bedbound for about a week and half, but I'm not without visitors. Cressida and the insects film me here to prove to Panem that I was not assassinated. In light of Peeta's health downfall, I promise the Capitol to expect us soon.

It's Snow's doing that Peeta is so ill. Why his recovery is so complicated. I placate myself with daydreams of killing that monster. I hope my hatred showed on my face while the camera was on me. That Snow felt threatened by my determination at all.

After Haymitch, Gale stops by to tell me that the rebels have taken District 2 under their control. Many of the Nut employees turned on the Capitol's soldiers. Gale and I still disagree over what is justifiable during a war. But he promises to check on Peeta for me. Finnick also drops by to tell Johanna and I about his wedding.

Finally, I'm allowed to take short walks as part of my rehabilitation. I have only one destination in mind. I pass by the flurry of activity in preparation for Finnick & Annie's wedding. When I see the healers, I can feel from the way they look at me that they know I won't have a date to the wedding ceremony. Johanna was not lying about my family being part of Peeta's medical team.

They're not wearing the same colored uniforms, off-white scrubs, but they've each got their grey scrubs on. Prim hugs me gently, careful not to hurt my side. My mother rubs my back and they ask me how I am feeling. However, because my emotions seem to depend on Peeta's wellbeing, I respond like this:

"How's Peeta?"

"Vomit slipped into in his lungs while he was purging himself." my mother tells me. "It's called aspiration pneumonia. Outcome depends on one's health prior to infection, what type of bacteria we're dealing with, and how much of his lungs are damaged."

His health prior to infection was 'on Death's doorstep' to me. My family reads the anguish in my face.

"We're using a noninvasive form of ventilation to help him breathe and cough when he needs to." adds Prim.

I nod, seeing the mask over Peeta's face. In terms of weight gain, I could not see a difference between the way Peeta looked now and the day I left him. Maybe I would if I could see him out from under his bed sheet. His cheeks still look as sunken as ever.

"What're they feeding him?" I ask them. "Has he lost any weight since I've been gone?"

"No, honey." My mother assures me. "In fact, he's almost at one-hundred and thirty pounds. His head doctor said that if-when he reaches one-forty, he can be taken off the feeding tube. It's better sooner than later that he eats for himself."

Prim answers my first question, "Carrots, spinach, special teas in addition to the antibiotics. A lot of garlic, applying it topically to his chest. They're doing everything they can to heal the infection and maintain his weight gain."

I had been so worried that the illness would cause him to lose weight.

"It's good timing that they installed the feeding tube." I mutter.

My mother nods, "If they had waited, it might have been impossible. And he'd be in a very precarious spot indeed."

I squeeze their hands, "Thank you."

Prim hands me a container, "Coat his pectorals and ribs with this. It's garlic cream. It'll help him heal more naturally."

When I sit at his bedside, I can see a bluish discoloration in his fair skin. He wheezes behind his translucent mask, which covers his nose and mouth. Strapped to the back of his head with an elastic band. He's not wearing his hospital gown. I wonder if he's entirely nude beneath the bed sheet till I spot the outline of the waistband of his drawstring pants.

"Peeta?" I whisper, drying his forehead with my sleeve. "It's me. It's Katniss."

I wait but Peeta does not stir. I roll his bed sheet out of the way, down to his navel. I dip my fingers in the container and spread the pungent cream across his chest with the firmness of a feather. Peeta coughs harshly, making me jolt. The dark phlegm resembles pond water, brackish and stagnant.

I lift the mask and wipe his lips with a paper towel from the roll set on the nearest countertop. I examine it more closely on the towel. It's rather thick and has the stench of festering flesh. I know that if he were just one of my mother's patients in our kitchen, I'd run like hell to my woods. But I remain at his side.

Nothing will split me from him again. I lean forward and kiss his lips before replacing the mask. Peeta slowly blinks his eyes open as I sit back.

I beam at him, "Hey, Peeta. I missed you."

His pupils dilate in the sea of light blue when he recognizes me. I watch his lips form my name and he lifts his hand to his mask, moving it off to the side. I take up his free hand, holding it to my cool cheek. I feel his finger reach out to touch a strand of my straight hair. He sighs, tilting his head lethargically while he rubs the lock between his thumb and index finger.

"I'm dreaming." He murmurs. "I must be."

He strokes my cheek with the curve of his fingers. I lean into his touch, kissing his ring finger. He sighs and shuts his eyes for a moment, swallowing deeply.

"You're not dreaming." I assure him.

He bats his eyes open, smiling up at me. I never knew how effective that smile was on me. It improves his current state a fair amount. Filling me with warmth and hope.

"Are you okay?" He asks, barely above a whisper, furrowing his brows.

I can hear a crackle in his deepened voice. He's blinking so heavily.

"Cinna did his job well," I nod, massaging his hand.

He eyes the bulge of bandages beneath my grey top.

Peeta swallows hard, "Oh, Katniss ..."

"I'm doing a lot better. Almost as good as new!" I assure him. "Oh, how I wanted to see you. Waiting was more torturous than any pain my body has."

"But I saw you get shot!" He croaks tearfully, breathing shallowly. "I saw it on the television. I'll never forget that sound."

I shush him, stroking his face. He must not go into a panic attack. With his lungs infected, he could choke and suffocate. My urgency shows on my face.

"I'm just glad to hear the sound of your voice again," I continue as calmly as I can. "I missed you ... so, so much."

Peeta swallows dryly, trying to slow his panic. He keeps his eyes on me. I shush him and keep stroking his face. Finally, his breathing returns to what it was before. Then, something changes behind Peeta's eyes. His pupils dilate alarmingly in the bright light. They become glassier.

"Peeta?" I frown. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"It's so bright in here. Where's Katniss?" he asks me.

I lean closer, "It's okay. I'm right here. Can't you see me?"

"I'm looking for Katniss." Peeta insists. "Please, tell me which is her room. I promise I'll go back after -"

"Peeta?"

"I just need to see her! Please! It's only a moment, I swear! Her soft olive skin, her hair. Those eyes like a storm -"

Now I understand. Peeta has slipped into a hallucination brought on by his high fever. I imagine he's reliving my return from District 2. He tried to come visit me, possibly escaped his room alone and got caught by Boggs or someone else. Another guard.

I squeeze his hand, "Peeta! It's me."

That glassiness melts away and he smiles at me, whispering my name. His pupils return to normal.

Then he looks off into the distance, "... I couldn't save you."

His eyes close and his hand grows heavier in my grasp. I look to his heart monitor to confirm that he has drifted off to sleep, not died in my arms. I set the mask back over his nose and lips. I stroke the sweaty wavy locks from his steaming forehead.

"He's so fatigued." I say to Prim.

"He has decreased mental awareness." Prim nods, "He's been drifting in and out of consciousness for a while. You know ... since we watched you get shot."

I console Prim as we walk away down the corridor. I had to leave so that the healers could get back to fighting the infection in Peeta's lungs. I had not finished coating his chest with the garlic cream. The whole time I've been recovering, I've been focusing on how my near-assassination had affected Peeta. I had not considered how it would affect my little sister let alone my mother.

It must have been a rude awakening for them. That although I'm out of the Hunger Games, I may never leave the line of fire.

"I'm so sorry that you had to see me get shot." I tell her. "They all reminded me of dad dying. I wanted it all to stop. I wasn't thinking about anyone else. I should've been, I know. I'm sorry -"

Prim shakes her head, "It's not your fault. It was really brave of you to go into the fray like that." She gazes up at me, "I know I'm just thirteen. But I can handle a lot more now, Katniss. You've made me stronger."

I have to hug her and give her a kiss.

I can't stand watching Peeta suffer and my family is reluctant to watch me torture myself by doing so. Whatever my mother says to reassure me, Peeta is too weak to speak to me after that day. So, I agree to take Annie to my District 12 Victor's Village house so that she can choose a dress from Cinna's wardrobe for her wedding. She's a kind but strange girl, afflicted with a bad case of PTSD.

But underneath that, I can see the girl who Finnick fell so deeply in love with. Together we choose a tuxedo for Finnick from Peeta's house. It will need to be altered because he's much larger than Peeta. But, at least the couple won't be married in the drab District 13 grey uniform. I keep myself busy by helping with the preparations.

The wedding is not just to celebrate Finnick's union with Annie. It's also an opportunity for more Propo filming. Peeta has been sick for four days. I come by every day to check if he's awake to talk to me. But, every time I am disappointed.

Keeping busy is the only way to keep my mind off him. I'm in one of these states of concentration in my room when I hear my name being called. I turn to see my mother breathless in the doorway.

"Come quickly, it's Peeta." She gestures at the hallway.

I follow her at almost a run, "What's happening?"

"It's a pleural effusion. Too much fluid around his lungs." explains my mother. "He's asking for you."

"He's awake?" I ask.

"Yes."

"Is this serious?"

"Not if we get to work right away. He's too scared to let anyone get near him. I suggested I get you."

I run ahead of my mother and get inside Peeta's hospital room before her. His bed sheet is piled in a heap on the floor. His medical team is disheveled and wear looks of impatience. Peeta is curled up on his side, his fists set to strike anyone who dares to come near.

"Peeta!" I call to him.

His bloodshot eyes find me and I can that my presence relaxes him almost instantly.

"Katniss?" he pants breathlessly.

I close the distance between us while my mother arrives behind me. As he uncoils his body, Peeta strains his face. He grits his teeth and groans in agony. His breathing is shallow again and he keeps his hands against his ribs. I help him onto his back.

"What's happening?" He asks me.

I repeat what my mother told me and add, "It won't get serious if you let them do their job."

We stare into each other's eyes for a long moment. Eventually, Peeta nods. A healer approaches Peeta and he just looks at her. Confident that she won't get hit now with me here, she listens with a stethoscope against his ribs. Another healer taps him on the chest.

"Has the x-ray been taken?" My mother asks them.

One healer nods, "It's a complicated pleural effusion. If we don't drain the fluid now, it will harden into a ring around his lungs and cause permanent breathing difficulties."

My mother nods back and turns to Peeta, "Alright, Peeta. We're going to do a tube thoracotomy. I'll be making a small incision in the chest wall and insert a plastic tube. The tube will be attached to a suction for a few days."

I grit my teeth, closing my eyes for a moment. I let my lips tremble a few waves. Then I push away my uneasiness with sick people to be there for Peeta. The healers and my mother retrieve the equipment while I try to soothe Peeta. I coax him into taking sips from his special tea.

I stroke his hair back over and over again, planting a lingering kiss on his lips. They're not as hot as they were a few days ago. My mother returns to his bedside with a scalpel .

"Are you ready, Peeta?" I ask.

Peeta manages to grin for me, "Now I am."

He lets the healers sit him on the side of the bed, his legs dangling over. My mother nods from his hands to me. I take his clammy hands and kneel before him.

"Just keep your eyes fixed on me, okay?" I ask him gently.

Peeta nods, pursing his lips. My mother makes the incision quickly enough but Peeta lets out a hiss from behind his gritted teeth. I stroke his hands with my thumb. They insert the tube.

"Katniss, it hurts!" He whimpers.

He coughs hoarsely, tears gliding down his sweaty face.

"It'll make you feel better." I promise, shushing him. "It just has to be done, honey."

It's the first time I've called Peeta that pet-name with sincerity. It's a nice thing to call one's lover. I heard my parents call each other by that sentiment when I was young. I had called him 'honey' several times while we were trying to convince the Districts and the Capitol of our love story. I stand up and Peeta rests his forehead just below my clavicles, leaning into me.

I stroke the waves of his hair, easing my breathing so that his head doesn't bounce up and down too quickly. I cradle his head there and turn to my mother. She nods and I tell Peeta that its over.

"Does this mean that the pneumonia is getting worse?" I ask her.

She shakes her head, "His fever has gone down a few degrees. We'll keep the tube in for a few days. It should suck out most of the infection. I'm confident that this is his last complication."

My old self would suspect she's lying for my benefit. But, she's becoming a good liar so I can't tell. My only choice is to hope that she's right. Peeta turns his head, his ear over my heart.

"You did so well," I compliment him.

He croaks to his healers, "I'm sorry that I went crazy."

"You're not crazy!" I tell him seriously. "You were just ... confused. Startled. No wonder after what you've been through."

Peeta lays back in his bed and I tuck him in a new clean sheet. Most of the healers and my mother leave. The healers act like they couldn't leave fast enough. I have a feeling that the head doctor is starting to trust me again because there's no guard outside Peeta's door.

"I wish I could be your date to Finnick's wedding." Peeta says.

I take a seat at the foot of his bed. Like old times.

I shrug, "It's the week after the next. Don't count yourself out so soon."

Peeta yawns and shakes his head, "How can you be so hopeful?"

"I blame you." I chuckle.

He scoffs, "Well, I think I can trust Gale to take you-"

"Shut-up." I shake my head, narrowing my eyes down at him.

I share with him how Gale and I are not getting along as well as we used to. I tell him about the dining hall being decorated. I'm not as good at describing things as he is. But I think I do a good enough job. Soon its apparent that the ordeal has exhausted him. I sing to him till he falls asleep.

On Finnick and Annie's 'big day', every one of the 300 guests wears their everyday uniforms. But the decorations are made of autumn foliage. There is a choir made up of children and a man playing a fiddle. Conducted by Dalton, Finnick marries his one true love. In spite of my heartbreak for Peeta, my smile is genuine at this wedding.

Cressida and the insects linger their cameras on the newlyweds and me. The dancing is so much fun. Then came the wedding cake, wheeled out by four people. The icing is perfectly sculpted and colored to depict crashing waves. There are fish and seals painted swimming along beneath sailboats and past sea flowers. I know of only one person in District 13 whose capable of such artistry.

"Who decorated it?" I ask, not daring to assume.

"I did." comes a voice I would know anywhere.

I nearly drop my cup of apple cider. Peeta is standing across from me, beaming. This is the first time I've seen him out of his hospital gown. He's wearing grey pants and a grey shirt identical to the rest of us. Its jarring to see him out of his hospital gown and his feeding tube is gone!

He still looks too thin but a great deal better than he did when he was rescued. I wonder if I'm starting to see things after watching Finnick and Annie's nuptials.

Johanna pinches my elbow, "Go on, brainless."

Now I know that I'm not dreaming. I run up to him, grey eyes wide with surprise and confusion.

"When did you get here? How? Should -?" my words are tumbling out of my mouth. "I can't believe it!"

Recklessly, I throw my arms about his neck and burry my face in the curve there. His skin smells of soap and it's just the right temperature. His fever is gone!

"Go easy on me." Peeta chuckles rustily. "I'm still a little under the weather."

I back off instantly, "Oh, sorry. Then why have you come?"

"I couldn't let a bad case of the coughs keep me from Finnick's wedding!" Peeta grins.

I'm convinced that Peeta puppy-dog-eyed his head doctor into letting him out. Maybe as his death wish. I now sense that this energy he's outputting is fabricated. I see through the facade the fatigue behind his eyes. He's here to make my night.

"Peeta -" I begin carefully.

Peeta held up a finger, gazing over my head, "Hear that? The music's starting again." He offers me his hand. "May I have this dance?"

I'm out of excuses, "A slow one."

I take his hand and follow him to the center of the dance floor where Finnick and Annie are still dancing together. He takes one of my hands and I place the remaining one on his shoulder. I enjoy the feel of his free hand on my lower back, just above my rear. He leads us around the dance floor. I think I might cry from happiness.

"I met the goal, Katniss." He tells me. "I'm one-thirty-five now. The healers say that I can move out of the hospital soon. When they can take a sonogram of my lungs."

I beam at him, "Oh, Peeta. You're going to make me cry."

Peeta laughs, "For a good reason, I hope?"

I nod, resting my ear over his heart. I tell him that I love him and he tells me that he loves me. Finnick jokes that we're stealing the spotlight from him and Annie. We ignore the cameras honed in on us. I can't wait to see him free of the hospital. I don't know if he can join Johanna and I in training.

But, I'll be damned if I go hunt down Snow without Peeta.

Writer's Note: I apologize for the delay in updating this fic. I hope you all enjoyed it! Time-wise, we're in chapter 16 of Mockingjay.