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Peeta

Right after Katniss breaks our dance and leaves me standing there, I stare ahead in a daze. I stay that way, with her voice looping in my head, for minutes. Or maybe hours. I don't know.

"Peety?"

I whip around so fast that Madge takes a reflective step back, and I release a shaky, disappointed breath. It's Madge who's here now. Madge who said my name—but not really my name, so I shouldn't have expected anyone else. She still uses the nickname she gave me in middle school. It's never bothered me before, but now I wish she'd just stop calling me Peety. It's gotten irritating.

But God, the sound of my actual name would also feel wrong coming from her. It should be coming from another pair of lips, from another intonation, one that's made of smoke and silver and the sea. A voice that came and went too quickly. So quick that I miss it already, and am scared that I'll never hear it again. It's the only voice that I want saying my name.

But she's gone. Back to Finnick. And I deserve it because I'm a fool.

My choice is standing just inside the thicket of trees, the moon outlining her blond hair and hourglass waist as if trying to remind me that I'm dating an angel, not an island wildflower. That's what Katniss is—a waterlily. She belongs to someone else like I do.

My choice is pristine in a white dress and pink sandals. She picks up her feet in order to avoid stepping in anything dirty as she approaches me, then pauses a few feet away, folding her hands in front of her in the practiced pose of a well-bred girl. There's us and the weak light and the uninspiring scent of her perfume all brewing together, clashing with the memory of a different girl whispering one word in my ear.

"What are you doing out here?" Madge asks, keeping her voice light, trusting me even while I detect the doubt in her words.

"Waiting for you," I murmur without thinking, because maybe I was waiting for her, maybe I need her right now to help me get over whatever spell Katniss's voice has cast on me.

A pretty frown gathers on Madge's face, revealing more doubt...but also hope. "Waiting for me?" she repeats with a nervous chuckle. "Why here? What for?"

Here's what could happen. I could rush to close the distance between us, then grab the material of her dress and kiss her. A surprised noise would squeak from her throat, of course, but she'd wind her arms around me anyway. We'd stumble backward until we hit a tree. My body would crush hers against the rough surface as I leaned in, taking her mouth, shutting out all the raging thoughts in my mind.

She would wiggle enough to extract her lips from mine, try to ask something that begins with "What," and I would cut her off, begging her to be quiet. She'd try to speak again, but then she'd gasp as my mouth latched onto her throat. It would be so easy to convince her that this is the right place. It's perfect here. I'd insisted that we needed to find a special spot to be with each other again. This could be it. Having sex with my girlfriend, who's been more than patient, would eradicate the last thing that happened here, the instant when Katniss spoke for the first time.

Once I've melted Madge, she would become equally enthusiastic. She'd caress the back of my neck while my hands thrust under her skirt, groping her thighs, hurriedly spreading them in order to get closer.

But at that moment, Madge would do something wrong. I know her. Eventually, my name would come out again, a feminine moan released into the air, impossible to snatch back. And I would stop everything.

Actually, even if she didn't say my name, I'd eventually stop myself no matter what. That's what would happen. I've done enough to Madge, and to Katniss, and to myself. I've been a selfish coward incapable of choosing when the decision should have been clear.

Instead of trying to fake it with Madge, I do the right thing and back away from her. "Madge...I'm sorry. I thought I could do this, but it's..."

It takes Madge a moment to register that I'm putting distance between us. She slumps against the nearest tree and glances at her shoes in misery. "I know," she mumbles, like she's been holding some knowledge hostage for a while.

A hot brick drops into my stomach. "What do you mean you know?"

She averts her gaze. "I thought we'd simply continue, as if we were never apart."

That's what I'd thought, too. That things would just go back to normal.

Madge plays with the strap of her dress. "We're so focused and dedicated, you and I. You strayed from home but only because of your father, so it felt like you were following a tradition coming to this place, not doing something spontaneous. And as long as you still liked art and talked nonstop and looked the same, I expected everything would be normal when I got here. I should have known I was wrong the minute I saw your shaggy hair."

I touch the ends of my curls. Katniss hadn't exactly tamed them with her scissors, only trimmed them. "I may look different, but that's not a bad thing."

"Oh Peety, stop it. That's not really the problem. I'm merely using subtext. You know I do that whenever I'm playing a verbal chess match."

That's true. She uses that tactic a lot in Student Council.

She goes on. "Your letters were still long, but I sensed a change from the tone of them, starting sometime around, oh, I suppose late November. I ignored it, but the second I met your host sister, I realized how different things things had become. I'm sure a sister is the last thing you consider her to be."

"Madge, what are you saying?"

"Have you seen her naked?"

Shit. "Not on purpose," I squeak. "She ambushed me."

This doesn't account for the night I saw through Katniss's wet dress, or how often I've memorized her wicked curves while swimming with her, or that those images crystallize in my head whenever I'm alone. Who am I kidding? I know exactly what I'm doing, and who I'm thinking about, while I'm in the shower. I've fantasized about her so many times that I've earned myself a one-way ticket to hell.

"Katniss told you?" I ask.

Madge waves that off. "Never mind. I figured she wasn't lying. I just wanted to see the look on your face." Based on the demure little half-sniffles, I can tell she's forcing herself not to cry. I've never heard her like this before, not even at the airport when we said goodbye. "I didn't want to believe it. I've only been here a few days, but that's all it took to realize. I already know where this is coming from."

"It's complica—"

"You're in love with Katniss."

"No!" I insist. "I wouldn't cheat on you. I haven't."

She spears me with her wobbly smile. "I know you haven't, but you've wanted to cheat. The way you look at her...it's obvious you love her. More than you ever loved me."

My feelings for Katniss are infinite, yet I can't think about what that means right now. This also about my feelings for Madge—the ones I don't have anymore. I care about her, but I don't feel passionately about her. Maybe I never did. That's why I'm breaking up with her. I haven't said it out loud, but she knows. So really, the last thing she needs is salt rubbed into the wound, some kind of acknowledgement that Katniss has taken her place.

I step forward. "I swear, it's not—"

She sighs. "Peety. You talk in your sleep."

My heart compresses, and I swallow the remainder of my protest. The way heat invades my cheeks, she may as well have caught me with my pants down and my fingers wrapped around my dick. "What did I say?" I blurt out. "Whatever I said was unconscious, Madge."

Sure enough, she erupts into tears. It's awful to see, and it's my fault, so I return to her and pull her into a hug. I plant a kiss on the top of her head, half of me freaking out and guilty about what she heard, the other half defensive about breaking a boyfriend commandment while I literally had no control over it.

"You said her name," Madge reveals. "You said 'Always.'"

"Oh, Madge," I start.

"Please be quiet."

Yeah. Shut up, Peeta.

It's a challenge to bite my tongue, an avalanche of words on the precipice of pouring out, but that comes with too many risks. Forget that I might slip and say something I don't mean—what if I slip and say something I do mean?

As if my sleep talk hasn't already done enough damage, I managed to keep my incriminating thoughts bottled up in my dreams for months, not spilling any secrets to Haymitch while sharing a room with him, nor to Katniss while sharing her bed. But with Madge, I do a bang-up job of giving myself away.

Then again, I remember 'Always.' Katniss had told me one night that I'd said it out loud while sleeping, and it makes sense since that's what I'm thinking every time I lay my eyes on her. I'm thinking 'Always' yet wishing I wasn't.

Madge's tears seep into the front of my shirt where I cradle her to my chest, trying hard to console her even though I'm the culprit here. Once I did want her because we fit well together, and it was safe to be with someone like me. A girl who understood ambition and pressure, who ran in the same circles as I did. A girl who had a sweet but tidy laugh. My mother approved of her, and she'd charmed my dad. Having Madge as a girlfriend hadn't been wholly romantic, but she made me smile. I'd wanted to make her happy.

I never expected to crush her heart. Anyone's heart, for that matter. Most likely we would have lasted if I'd stayed home, but what's the point in dwelling? I don't regret signing up for this year.

While Madge cries, I hold her tight, whispering that I'm sorry, that I didn't mean to hurt her. "What can I do?" I finish lamely.

Madge cranes her head. "Take me somewhere. Let's just walk until the sun rises, and then I want to catch a plane home."

I hate to separate myself from Katniss during the street fest, especially if there's a chance Cray might show up. On the other hand, the lively strums of the guitar coming from the square reassure me of a few truths. Katniss isn't alone. She has Finnick nearby and Haymitch working at the cantina. She has Jo and Tigris. Anyway, she would bristle at me for assuming she can't take care of herself.

I owe Madge this much. I take her hand and lead her from the trees, heading down the road until the protest music fades. We wander parallel to Panem's coastline, not speaking. This how we say goodbye.

kpkpkpkpkp

At sunrise, I bring Madge back to her hotel but tense when I see the mess: overturned tables and the remnants of broken instruments. It's like a war zone. The party is over, the square empty except for a few battered looking men drinking away their aches and pains at the cantina.

Madge asks what happened. I don't have an answer, only horrible visions of Katniss handcuffed again. And worse, in a dank cell manned by Officer Cray. And far worse, in an alleyway somewhere, with a split lip and covered in bruises. I rush to the cantina to find out what went on last night, but it turns out that Haymitch is no longer at work, so I approach the men passing around a bottle of rum on the sidewalk.

"Hey," I begin. "Where did everyone go?"

"Where I did you go?" a familiar voice accuses.

Jo emerges from the cantina with Tigris at her side. Jo snatches the rum from the group, ignoring their grunts, and takes a long swig while passing a critical eye over Madge.

I don't have time for this bullshit. "What's going on?"

"Nothing anymore," Jo says after wiping her mouth. "You're too late."

"Where's Katniss?"

"Like you care."

I flush and then knock the bottle from her hand, sending it crashing to the pavement in glass shards. Madge yelps. Jo is impressed.

"Answer me," I demand. "Now."

"She's all right," Tigris says. "Finnick got her out of here in time. He came back looking for you. I think he'd been searching all night."

She tells us what happened with Cray and the mob. I hear her correctly about Katniss being safe, but I won't be able to relax until I see it for myself.

Madge offers to stay another day, but I've wasted enough of her time. I take her to her room and force myself not to pace while she calls the airport for a morning flight and subsequently pays an exorbitant fee to change her ticket.

I catch her removing her necklace and gazing at it for a moment. With reluctance, she holds it out to me, the P charm trembling from its chain. I wait for the gesture to sting, but all I feel is relief. I almost tell her to keep it, because it's clear that she wants to. It's a memory, after all.

It would do no good, though. Madge would assume that I'm offering out of pity, which would insult her. So I accept the necklace and wedge it into my jeans pocket, then unclasp my own necklace and hand it to her. We don't say anything about it. Not that there is anything to say.

When the cab arrives to pick her up, she wavers. "You're edgy. I don't like leaving you this way."

So I lie. "I'm just being anal. If Tigris says everything's good, then I believe her. My host family is probably at home waiting for me."

"I'll miss you. I still love you."

I speak softly. "I know that."

"You won't be here forever. Maybe when you come home..."

I press my lips together, because we've tried waiting for each other already, and she can't change her tune at the last minute. And I don't want to think about going home, or about where home actually is anymore, because I'll just get more confused, and I need to get back to the cottage and see if my family's there, and find Katniss, and tell her that I...

"Okay, okay," Madge concedes, seeing the maelstrom going on in my head. "I just...I..."

I silence her with one last hug, and it seems to be what she finally needs to leave. After the cab drives off, I run home.

The second I get there, the door blows open, and Haymitch stomps out of the cottage wearing a black eye and a sour expression. He pokes me in the chest. "Boy, where the fuck have you been?!"

"You're okay," I sigh.

"Not as handsome as usual—" he gestures to the eye "—but yeah, I'm breathing. Now answer my question. I heard you were at the fest. You all right? You look it."

"I was with Madge. I didn't know about the mob."

"Jesus. If you plan on being out all night, tell me that first! I wasn't far. The cantina was right in the square! I've been going out of my mind. I was damn near ready to go on a jungle hunt for you. While you're here, it's my job to make sure you stay alive, got it?"

I hadn't thought about that, the responsibility that Haymitch accepted by taking care of someone else's kid. It never seemed to faze him before. But then there hadn't been a mob to deal with until last night. Evidently, he's also forgotten that I've been sleeping at Madge's hotel for days, so there was no reason to assume I had to check in with him. Yet he had every right to panic.

I can relate. "Where's Katniss?"

Haymitch waves tiredly at the question. "She's safe. Greasy Sae said that she saw Peacock Odair dragging Katniss away. The wild child's probably with him right now having rescue sex." He winces the instant it comes out of his mouth. "Erm, sorry. I didn't mean to say...you probably didn't need to hear that. I know you and Wild Child are close."

I nod miserably, then immediately shift gears and shake my head. "No. I ran into her friends. They said Finnick was looking for me until an hour ago. He promised Katniss that he'd make sure I was okay. Katniss wasn't with him. I mean, Jo and Tigris said that she was fine, but still."

"Well, I bet Finnick took her to his boat and forced her to stay put. Or she came back here, waited for you to return, and when you didn't, she and her stubborn nature went out again to prowl the island for you, probably thinking to cover more ground than her boyfriend can on his own."

"She would be looking for you as well," I insist.

"Me? Ha," he mutters, sober and sad. "I've done nothing to earn it. Anyway, she'll come back. Just wait."

That Haymitch isn't alarmed doesn't surprise me, considering Sae's recap of the events—and the fact that he's used to his niece's unpredictability. However, this doesn't sit right with me. My instincts had warned me not to let her walk away last night, but I had. The pinpricks of foreboding that I'd felt in the darkness have been returning since I saw the empty square.

Something's wrong. I know it is.

"I'm gonna go find her," I say.

Haymitch blocks my path. "Uh-uh. No way—"

"The mob is over."

"—am I letting you outta my sight."

"You can't stop me."

I will swing at him if I have to. He can take his seat in the Situation Chair later and decide how to punish me.

Haymitch throws up his hands. "Fine. Suit yourself. You'd better return in one piece, you hear? Violet volunteered to help the stitch up some of our neighbors, so no one's home. I should stay here and keep a black eye out for Katniss anyway. In case she gets back before you do."

I take off without responding, my feet carrying me to the one place Katniss will escape to if she's upset and needs to heal, my pulse escalating the closer I get to the beach. With the sun barely up, the coastline is deserted. I slow to a jog and then stop altogether, glancing east and then west. She's not here.

But her shoes are. They're lying discarded, close to the water line. Holding my breath, I scan the waves a half dozen times before I see a dark head bobbing from an immeasurable distance away, a dot cutting into the orange horizon. I take a reflexive step forward. It's her, I'm sure of it.

Cupping my hands over my mouth, I holler her name, but she doesn't turn around. It's like she's trying to reach the sunrise, getting further away, heading far west to where cliffs replace the beach. My heart seizes, and then everything happens so damned fast. She's out there gliding through the foamy surf, and then a hungry wave swallows her.

I vault across the sand, stumbling as I rip off my shoes. She comes back up just before another wave devours her.

"Katniss!" I scream. "Katniss!"

I fling myself into the water, dive beneath an oncoming wave, and pop up on the other side. Adrenaline speeds through my blood, propelling me forward the rest of the way, focusing on her as she struggles to stay afloat. My vision is a swirl of water and sky and her shape as it gets larger.

I'm almost there, I promise. Hang on.

She goes under. I gulp down seawater opening my mouth to shout her name, sputtering while the ocean fights to hold me back. I plunge after her, the salt piercing my eyes, but the water is crystal clear, helping me spot her. She's sinking fast toward a coral reef, her head bent forward, limbs and arms floating like marionette with its strings cut. My body shoots forward, torpedoing through my own bubbles, my hand grabbing onto hers and yanking until she's against my chest.

My legs kick us to the surface. Desperately, I suck up air and clasp Katniss to my side, my muscles burning and throat charred as I swim with one arm toward the nearest stretch of land. It's not as far as getting out here, and I realize why once we reach it. It's a secluded cove, separated from our beach by a line of cliffs.

I sink to my knees and then collapse with Katniss onto the sand. Crawling to her, I'm horrified by the pale color of her skin, and I swipe the wet strings of hair from her forehead. "Katniss?"

She's limp. She's not breathing. She's not breathing!

"Katniss!" I shriek, feeling for her pulse. Her heart has stopped. "Katniss, oh God, no! No-no-no, please."

I launch into the CPR steps we learned in Survival, alternating between rescue breaths and chest compressions. "Come on, Katniss," I beg, terrified the pressure of the heels of my hands will crush her. "Please breathe for me." My voice escalates to hysteria, because she needs to live. Because I can't lose her.

It's a cycle of torture, pumping her chest, breathing into her mouth, praying, hoping. "Please don't..." my voice splits into a sob. "Don't go, please."

There's only the surf and my labored pants and her silence. She looks so peaceful, the way she does whenever we sleep together. I want more of those nights. I want more of her. Only her.

"Stay with me," I plead.

Her body jolts. Then her mouth flies open like a fish, her nostrils flaring, and she's coughing up water and wheezing.

I gasp, my fingers shaking and cupping her cheeks. "Katniss, oh my God."

Her lashes flutter, the gray of her eyes blinking up at me in recognition. She raises her hand and gestures weakly, nonchalantly at the sea as though to say, Careful. There's a high tide today.

And I laugh through my tears.

P.S. for Everlark20: Thank you for your input on chapter four. I'm Puerto Rican myself. I don't speak Spanish, but my family helped with the translation. Since "guagua" is slang, I used "autobus" because it's proper Spanish and therefore more accessible to a wide audience. Hope this helps ;)

I'm at: andshewaits (d0t) tumblr (d0t) com.