Author's Note: Long time to no see! First, happy holidays to you all! Terribly sorry for the long delay, but with the holidays and travel, blah blah updating was simply not a possibility. Fortunately, life has calmed and I am hoping — I always say this don't I? — that I'll be able to get these last several chapters out much quicker! Only three left! Can you believe it? I have been at this story for over a year and we're about to come to a close. But never fear, I have several different stories in store. And possibly several chapters of this story from Peeta's POV. We'll see. Again, thank you to all who have continually showed support for my first dive into Everlark fanfiction! I truly believe this is the best fandom to write for, so thank you for making it that way!

Always, thank you to Court81981 for her continued support and knowledge, making this story all it can be!

Please note, I am no doctor. So some creative liberties may have been taken with this chapter and some a bit in following. So forgive me all you in the medical field that find some of this to be completely wrong — I did try! Now run, enjoy!

Summary: There are also three types of people in Dawson, Texas: those who are trying to flee, those who embrace their small town fate, and the Mellarks. Mellark Ranch; largest cattle ranch South of Dallas, employer of ranch hand, Katniss Everdeen, and home of Ohio State Buckeye running back, Peeta Mellark. And Peeta Mellark is coming home today.

Lone Star State of Mine
Chapter Eighteen: Temporary Home

"Old man, hospital bed, the room is filled with people he loves."

Hospitals.

When you think about it, they're really one of the safest places you can be. If some sort of trauma happens, you want to be near a hospital. You want to know that trained professionals will be there to mend your wounds, ease your pain, and comfort your loved ones. Inside hospital walls there are cures and answers for most aliments, nurses and doctors who have won awards for their trade, and the kind of medical technology that other countries can only dream of owning. We want hospitals. We need hospitals.

And yet the mere mention of the word leads people's stomach to flop over and a sudden clamminess to take over. Because for as much good as hospitals do, most have a terrible story to associate with that medical safe haven. For as much as we want to have a hospital nearby when we cut ourselves at work or break a bone during a sporting activity, we don't want to be that family member who gets the phone call saying we need to rush to the hospital. The phone call — that if received — will alter our world forever. Our minds automatically land on the absolute worst outcome as we break every traffic law known to man to reach our previously unexpected destination.

But the worst is when you arrive there and race through the sliding doors like a bat out of hell. No one is nearly as excited as you are, because they've been trained to stay calm. You don't want calm — you want answers. Once you manage to get the patient's name out — your loved one's name out — they can either lead you one of three ways. The first is straight back to the patient in question. The relief that comes over you is like none you've ever felt as you finally see their familiar face. The second is to the waiting room where a doctor of important status promises to keep you updated on their state. This usually means they're not out of the woods, but they're not yet far enough gone that they're leading you to the third option.

The third way is one I'm all too familiar with. I can still remember the outfit I was wearing when I was led toward that sterile room off to the side of the emergency waiting room. I remember the way my mother gripped my hand so tightly that her knuckles were turning white and a steady throbbing coursed through my own hand. I remember Prim's little eyes looking around our unfamiliar surroundings frantically. She had learned early on in our quick car ride over here that Mom was not in the mood to give answers. She had remained quiet ever since, but the fear was written all over her pale features.

Once we were in the room, the nurse gave us a small smile and assured us the doctor would be in momentarily. I remember taking a seat on the stiff couch, and I watched as Prim roamed around our new, small surroundings. The room was warmly lit and once the door was closed, it almost felt like someone's sitting area: generic paintings hanging on the walls, lamps on the end tables, and several boxes of tissues. Looking back, that should have been my sign.

The doctor comes in not nearly five minutes after the nurse leaves us. My mother and I both sat on the edge of the sofa, our hands entangled together. I pulled Prim to my side, more for my own support than hers. He took a seat on the matching ataman just across the coffee table from our couch. He didn't have any forms, folders, or anything in his hands. He simply leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and glanced at us. His professional demeanor — in hindsight — was lost in his eyes. His face was stone, but his eyes were sad, regretful. But at the time my own emotional stated overruled any awareness. And I know we must have looked completely whitewashed and when he started speaking the expressions only got worse with each sentence.

He was gone and that was their comforting way of telling us. That was their way of making it a private moment of mourning. My mother's strangled gasp filled the air as she leaned back into the cushions, her hand over her mouth. Prim's eyes went wide and I saw a silent tear streak down her cheek. And I'm left completely dumbfounded. I felt as though the air has been sucked out of my lungs, the ground dropped beneath my feet, and I had no hope of finding either anytime soon.

And just like that, the apologetic doctor left and is to be replaced with a minister holding a worn Bible ready to comfort you in your time of need. Another comfort factor the hospital has in place that only assists in rubbing you completely raw. You allow the minister to read from scripture not because you can honestly hear a word their saying, but because you're too numb to turn down any source of possible relief from this sudden heartache.

Within that moment my emotion toward hospitals was forever altered and even as I stand off to the corner of a large waiting room I am reminded of that terrible afternoon so many years ago. I rub my hands together and realize just how clammy they feel. My eyes scan the room as people start to filter in. The news of Mr. Mellark's…status…has reached most of Dawson at this point, and somehow this hospital waiting room has become some sort of morbid town reunion.

The first to arrive are Reese, and Clement and his family. They hug Mrs. Mellark tightly while Beetee and I remain in a darkened corner. I'm not sure about him, but I know I'm wishing I could simply blend into the dated wallpaper behind us. I hadn't even wanted to come, but Mrs. Mellark had insisted as she climbed into the ambulance to be with her husband. Beetee then offered to drive me. I appreciated the gesture, because I knew I wouldn't be able to handle this sort of thing completely alone.

It isn't long before others from the ranch are arriving. Wiress has brought Seeder with her. Wiress, being close to Mrs. Mellark's age, reaches out and hugs the normally distant woman. To my surprise, Mrs. Mellark doesn't let go of Wiress. At this point, she is holding on to the woman's hand while she listened to her two oldest sons talk back and forth. Maybe they are closer than I ever knew. Then again, I had never been one to catch on to other people's relationships.

Haymitch comes rushing into the waiting room soon after, instantly badgering the nearest nurse to ask for an update. Their conversation is extremely hushed in the large room, but I do my best to hear any detail I can. Nothing of value comes to me. And once he nods at the nurse in gratitude he's looking over at Reese and Clement, both getting up to hug the man that's been a somewhat dysfunctional father figure to them both.

Very little news on Mr. Mellark's condition has been given to us. The nursing staff still says it's early and that they are doing their best to stabilize him. It makes me uneasy that nearly two hours after we've been here that there is still very little to update us on, but I try to hide my concern as I stand with Beetee and Seeder. Others are still trickling in, and soon I feel as though most of the room is full of those wanting to hear the status this well-loved man. It warms my heart to see how much he is treasured. He deserves that.

"Katniss."

I look up as I hear my name coming from the entrance to the waiting room. Gale, with Johanna not far behind, comes walking toward me. He glances around the crowded room before looking back at me. Johanna keeps her hand linked with his after they've stopped walking and even in these dark times I'm happy he's finally found someone so connected to him.

"How is he?" Gale asks, "Have you heard anything?"

"Um, I —" I start, clearing my throat. "They haven't updated us in awhile, but Mrs. Mellark said the paramedics thought it was a heart attack."

Gale nods and looks up just as Haymitch is walking toward us. He claps onto Gale's shoulder and looks over at the rest of us. His eyes are unusually sober, and the sadness etched in them causes me to bite my bottom lip and look away for a moment. I am reminded of just how many times I've seen Haymitch out at the ranch. Even after all of Mr. Mellark's boys were done being coached by him, he wasn't just visiting to keep track of his star players, but he was there because they were friends. Good friends, possibly even best friends.

"You holding up alright, girly?" Haymitch asks and he's directing his question toward me.

I nod, "I'm alright."

"Seeing that sort of thing can traumatize a person." Haymitch continues, watching me. He's studying me.

"I've been through worse."

He nods, as if he's just remembering who my father was. Everyone in Dawson knows the story of the Everdeen man who was overworked at Snow's farm and finally killed for it. He reaches across and grasps his hand over my shoulder. Our eyes meet for a moment, and he just gives me a weak smile. "I suppose you have."

"Someone call Peeta?" Beetee asks.

"Mrs. Mellark had Reese call him on his way to the hospital." Haymitch drops his hand from my shoulder and slides it into his jacket pocket. "Said he was able to get a flight out of Chicago pretty quickly."

"He texted me about five minutes ago," Johanna adds. "Said he was grabbing his luggage and he'd be on his way. I think Finnick is picking him up at the airport."

My heart flutters and as much as I hate the circumstances, I am so glad I'll be seeing Peeta. It's selfish and I know that, but I need him here. And I want to be here for him, if he'll allow it.

There is a silence that fills our little group before we slowly start to disperse to different corners. Haymitch walks away first, heading toward a group of local farmers who know Mr. Mellark through trade. Gale mentions something about going to speak with Reese and then leans down to give Johanna a quick kiss atop her head. I watch as he walks away, and soon Beetee follows silently to go sit next to Wiress. I don't even notice Seeder disappear, but soon she's no longer next to me. Instead it's me and Johanna left.

She moves to lean against the wall next to me, "He's going to need you. I hope you're ready for that."

"I am." I look over at her and she gives a quick nod.

And within minutes of our brief conversation ending a doctor comes out from behind a door that leads to the trauma area. Everyone seems to straighten up as they stare in the direction of this woman who hopefully has good news. Reese and Clement instinctively stand and the doctor walks toward them. The doctor must suggest they walk away from the rest of the group, because soon Reese is grabbing his mother's arm and helping her into a standing position. This is the first time she releases Wiress and replaces her with Reese's arm.

They walk toward one of the rooms I am all too familiar with and my stomach intuitively lurches. Is this it? Is she about to tell them they were unable to save the man we are all quietly rooting for. I try to remain calm, but my expression is panicked, and I glance over toward Gale, who is still across the room. His expression matches mine, and when our eyes meet he simply clenches his jaw and looks toward the ground. We're silently begging that this won't be it.

But instead of walking into one of the rooms, the doctor simply stops them once they are a bit farther from the rest of us. Privacy, she's just creating a distance for privacy. I give a sigh of relief, and I feel Johanna's eyes on me. Most are keeping their eyes trained on the family in the corner, but are trying to be respectful by carrying on small conversations as to not hear what the doctor is saying, although we all desperately want to.

And then we hear it: the loud, gasping cry of Mrs. Mellark. My eyes immediately train back toward the family. My heart feels like it has jumped into my chest, and the once conversation-filled room now feels as though you could hear a pin drop. Everyone wants answers. Has Mr. Mellark passed away? Why did the doctor feel the need to give such news in front of everyone? I push myself off the wall I'd been leaning on and start to walk in their direction, but Johanna reaches out to grab my arm. I look back at her and she just stares at me. She's right. I have no right to demand answers, not right now. I am not family. But I feel like family. This man gave me shelter when I had none. It's because of him my family kept food on the table for so long.

I'm frozen in place as I watch the doctor point toward a young nurse who quickly steps up to apparently lead the family back into the trauma area. Reese continues to hold his mother as though he's the only thing keeping her from being a pile on the floor. And Clement reaches for his wife's hand, who has until now simply been sitting with the rest of us. His face is flushed and he's fighting back tears. She sees it and wraps her arms around his waist, becoming his support.

We're all about to be left without answers until Haymitch steps forward and grabs the doctor's arm. At first I can tell she isn't willing to give any information out, but then Haymitch's voice gets louder and I can tell he's begging her. His typical flippant attitude is long gone and has been replaced that of a nervous, broken man. The doctor must see this and ushers him against the wall, instead of standing in the middle of the waiting room. They speak in hushed terms, with us all watching, and when she is finished she leaves a shaken Haymitch leaning against the wall.

Still waiting, we all remain quiet and I'm still terrified. Have we really lost Mr. Mellark? And Peeta isn't even here. Who is going to deliver this news to him? Peeta is the light of his father's eye. Everyone knows that. I close my eyes as I will myself not to cry.

"He – he suffered a massive stroke," Haymitch finally speaks, and his voice shakes with emotion. I look at him, as do most others, and I see a man who's just gotten terrible news. "Which caused him to lose consciousness and prevented oxygen from flowing to his brain — It's going to be a rough 24 hours. He might not make it." He pauses, and I see the tears forming in his eyes. The redness of his face speaks to the emotions he's trying to boil down. "And even if he does, the best case scenario is — they say if — is if he makes it through the night he'll be paralyzed."

There is an audible gasp in the room as the news settles with us. My mouth gapes open and I instantly feel the sting of tears against my eyes. Soon I see Gale moving back toward us, and I step forward into a bone-crushing hug from him. My cheek rests against his shoulder and I close my eyes as I let the reality of it all sink in. Too soon, Gale is releasing me to go stand with Johanna, and I realize I am no longer his only source of comfort. I see Johanna wrap her arms around his middle and look up at him with sympathetic eyes. I turn away, suddenly feeling like I'm invading on a private moment.

I'm left standing in the middle of the waiting room watching as everyone absorbs the news. Haymitch is still leaning against the wall the doctor left him at. I can see his features through the strands of hair hanging in front of his face as he stares at the floor. He looks like the shell of a defeated man and I've never felt more pity for him. Haymitch doesn't have many he can call family, but Mr. Mellark has been that for him.

And even though this news isn't a complete death sentence, for those of us left in the waiting room we feel as though it is. The darkness that Mr. Mellark is still not completely out of the woods weighs on us heavier than the idea that even if he is, he'll be paralyzed. To what degree? I want to ask someone if he'll be paralyzed in his speech, his right side — or is it left when it's a stroke? But no one in this room seems at all concerned with the true details, because the answer will not be what they wish it to be.

My eyes seem to glaze over as my mind slowly processes this devastating information. The people around me become a blur while the heavy pulsing in my ears tunes out their conversations. I lean against the wall that I've all but become a part of these last couple of hours and simply process.

Then the door to the waiting room opens quickly to reveal a harried Peeta, with Finnick and Annie not far behind on his tail. He looks around frantically. He must see a room full of people he recognizes, but none able to comfort him. I push myself off the wall and start to walk toward him quickly. I'm halfway to him before he even registers I'm there. Relief floods though me when I hear his bag drop to the ground, and his arms are soon around me. I am brought into another bone-crushing hug, and my eyes close as I let the familiar sensations overwhelm me.

"I'm so glad you're here," he mumbles into my hair, and I let out a ragged sigh. "I needed you to be here."

I pull away only enough to rest my forehead against his, and I feel the tears run down my cheek as he looks at me. I give a small nod, "I'm not going anywhere again. Not ever."

His hands come to rest on my cheeks, and he pulls me into an emotional kiss. One that I know everyone is watching, but I'll be damned if I care. I know this moment of bliss is going to be short-lived and reality is going to come rushing back all too soon, but before that happens Peeta needs — deserves — to know where I stand.

When we pull away from each other, Haymitch his beside us. He first offers Peeta a tight hug before looking at him with a sorrowful look. "You really need to head back there to see him, son."

Peeta's fear is written right on his face, but all he does is nod. There is a nurse standing by to show him the way, and I realize Haymitch must have gotten her attention while we were caught up in the moment. I'm afraid to leave Peeta alone, like letting him out of my sight again will mean it starts all over, and I can't allow that. But I also must give him the space he needs to be with his family, so I take a step back and wait to watch him leave.

I feel his hand reach mine and grasp tightly. He's silently asking me to go with him, and so I simply follow as the nurse leads us through the doors. The emergency room is filled with cubicles covered by curtains when necessary, and I can hear the cries of a child off in the distance. Nurses are moving quickly, and I realize it must be a busy night for this small hospital.

The nurse leading our way takes us out of what seems like the bullpen of the hospital and down another hallway. This is where she fills Peeta in, graciously, on the details of his father's condition. I try to focus on what's around us instead of re-hearing the terrible news.

This hallway is a much quieter part of the hospital, and there are rooms with actual doors instead of curtains. I can see into several of the rooms, where families sit around beds. The atmosphere here is much slower, but still just as sad. I pull myself closer to Peeta, linking my arm through his and he looks over at me. The stress of the situation is etched across his features, and I want nothing more than to be able to take it away from him.

Finally, we reach a room near the end of the hallway, and the nurse stops just outside the door. She points silently to the nearly closed door and Peeta gives a weak smile of thanks. His hand never leaves my grasp as he walks inside first. The room is only lit by the afternoon light from the single window and the overhead lighting above Mr. Mellark's head. The rest of the room is filled with different wires and tubes, making it look as though the usually strong man has now become a defenseless being.

The sight sickens me, and I keep my stance near the door. Not only because I'm not sure I can handle the sight for much longer, but also because I suddenly feel like an intruder on this extremely sensitive scene. Reese greets his brother first, pulling him into a long hug where I can almost hear both of them sobbing into one another.

My eyes move from Mr. Mellark to Mrs. Mellark sitting beside his bed. Her chin is resting on the spot where their hands are joined, and she looks so grief-stricken. I never expected to feel sympathy for this woman, but right now she looks so lost that it's hard not to. My eyes then move toward Clement's wife, who has decided to keep somewhat of a distance between her and the rest of the family. Her eyes come to rest on mine just as I look at her and she gives me a sweet smile, reaching her hand out. I take it and she pulls me to her. She's petite, like me, but her arm around my shoulders gives me comfort, and I'm suddenly at ease.

We have never really shared any interaction before this, but I am now extremely grateful for her generous behavior. She has always been the one off in the distance at large gatherings. She was never unfriendly, just preoccupied with those around her. And I know that I do not always seem like most approachable person so I can't hold her lack of effort against her when I've made none myself. But today seems like a decent day to start.

I lean against her for silent support, and she does the same. Under different circumstances, I feel as though we'd have a lot to talk about, possibly even find a way to relate to one another besides our connection to Mellark men.

Reese releases his little brother, and soon Peeta is passed over to Clement. They share a long stare before Clement pulls his brother into yet another hug. All three boys are close, but Clement and Peeta have always shared an unspoken bond. I remember Peeta telling me late at night while we were tangled together about how Clement used to protect Reese and him from their mother. How he'd always take the fall if it meant getting the younger two out of trouble. Clement was a lot like Mr. Mellark in that aspect.

When Clement finally unfolds himself from Peeta, they are both red-faced and puffy-eyed. The emotions of the two men are too much for Clement's wife and out of the corner of my eye, I see a tear stream down her cheek. That's when I realize how wet my own cheeks are. I quickly reach my free hand up and wipe the evidence away and quietly clear my throat. But my composure is short-lived when I see Peeta making his way over toward his frail father's side. Mrs. Mellark stands, looking at her youngest son for a long time. For a moment I think she'll reach out and hug him, but instead she simply runs her hand down his arm. I see Peeta flinch and I can tell it takes all he has not to pull away from her.

Grief can cloud a lot of things, but anger is not one of them.

I watch Peeta take a seat in his mother's place and slowly reach up to take his father's hand. If he feels on display having us all watch him, he doesn't show it. He looks up at his ailing father and gives a weak, humorless laugh when the older Mellark finally opens his eyes to look at him.

He's awake, that must be a good sign. And although I have seen very little movement from the man besides his chest heaving with hard breaths, I try to keep a sense of hope that this will all turn around for the better.

"Hey Dad," Peeta croaks. "I guess you're not going to be free this weekend to come watch me play in Ohio."

His father gives his own weak smile, one that is not unnoticeably lopsided, and looks around at all the machines and tubes keeping him comfortable for the time being, "No, I – I – I guess not."

His speech is heavily slurred and hardly understandable, but Peeta is hopeful at the ability for his father to simply grasp the scene in front of him.

I hear Clement tell his wife that the doctors had suggested Mr. Mellark be put into a medically-induced coma to make him the most comfortable, but apparently Mr. Mellark didn't want to leave the world like that — if that was to be the outcome of his terrible situation. And I quietly smile to myself.

"Maa-maybe nex-st time." Mr. Mellark says and I see Peeta's hand tighten around his listless one.

Peeta doesn't say anything — he can't. He's too taken by emotions, and I notice his chin quiver as he looks up at his father with a lost expression. I realize Peeta is losing his hero. Mr. Mellark was everything Peeta ever hoped to be and as I watch them, now I realize just how alike the two of them are. Mr. Mellark is lying there, waiting for an uncertain future, and all he can think to do is comfort his youngest son. Peeta would do the same thing, I'm sure of it.

He lets out a shaking breath and begins, "Sso pr-proud of you, F-feeta."

"Don't, Dad." Peeta openly sobs, and my heart breaks. "Please don't do this."

My own tears continue to fall silently as I watch Peeta put his hands over his face and rub away some of the tears. But more soon replace those tears, and there isn't a dry eye in the room as we watch this intimate interaction. Even Mrs. Mellark sniffles in her place near the edge of the room. And although she's staring out the window, I know she's listening.

"I am so l-lucky to was-ch you gr-grow up. Play ball." Mr. Mellark glances in my direction slowly, seemingly to take all of his strength to do so, and I feel my skin grow warm. "Fh-fall in love."

I feel my knees weaken when Peeta looks at me. The moment is brief, but the fire behind the hurt in his eyes is enough to cause anyone weakness. Before he can turn away, I give a small smile and I feel Clement's wife squeeze me just a bit tighter. Reese and Clement both look in my direction and smile. Mrs. Mellark simply stares. Her expression is unreadable, like always, and I try to brush past it.

Mr. Mellark is looking at Peeta once more when he speaks, "Be ha-happy, Peeta. Do what ma-makes you happy." The room's grief is all but palpable as he continues. "Rh-un ah-way and j-join the damn circus. Just be happy. T-th-ruly and unabashedly happy."

I don't know if I imagine the plea I hear in Mr. Mellark's voice. A plea for happiness he never truly had until his boys came along. He doesn't want Peeta to suffer that same kind of fate. He doesn't want Peeta to settle, like I'm beginning to believe Mr. Mellark himself did after my mother. That whole history is still a fresh wound in my mind, and I can't seem to pass it up every time I sense Mrs. Mellark's bitterness.

"But put her happiness first," Mr. Mellark is still looking at his youngest son, his voice slurring harder. Everyone in the room knows who he is talking about and their eyes are back on me. Except for Peeta, his eyes are still locked on his father's. "Tha-th's going to be the key to y-your happiness. Pha-phretty sure it already is."

The room is silent for a long moment, everyone just letting his words sink in. And all I want to do is wrap myself around Peeta and never let go. Mr. Mellark may have known that Peeta's happiness is linked to mine, but he forgot to mention how much mine is linked to his. We're linked together. We have been for so long, whether or not I was ready for it.

Peeta stands and leans in to give his father a gentle sort of hug before moving away from him. His eyes are still damp from tears, but he seems to have gained some composure, for now. Reese takes this opportunity to sit down in the chair Peeta just vacated, and Clement pulls his wife away from me slightly. At first I'm confused, my mind still in an emotional fog. But then I see Peeta making his way to me across the small room, and before he can say anything, I just wrap him into the strongest hug I can offer.

This is where I belong, for better or worse. I'm a damn fool for taking this long to realize it.