After the initial shock of the reaping, the numbness of losing a child, and the agony of watching the opening days of the Games, you'd think that I'd felt all there is to feel. However, a new feeling drapes itself about the house, slinking into the corners, resting on our chests. I wouldn't call it depression, but it's something similar. An emptiness. Because we have to move on. Peeta's death is imminent. He hasn't moved from the muddy riverside and I doubt he ever will. I hate to say that we've written him off, but there doesn't seem to be a whole lot of hope. The family is steeling themselves for the worst. I know that there will be nothing like hearing the cannon that announces his final breath. Nothing can prepare me for watching his body lifted into the air, but it seems foolish to hope for a reprieve now.
Which is why it comes as such a shock when the trumpets blare and Claudius Templesmith congratulates the six remaining tributes.
"Six," I breathe. "Only six left."
"Soon to be five the way Peeta's headed," my wife says with a wave of her hand. I wonder if the dismissing of his life really hides her sorrow. It usually does.
Back in the arena, Claudius announces a rule change.
"What the hell does he mean by that?" my wife asks, mystified. "What rules are there to change?"
She has a point. The Games don't really have a rulebook per se. But Claudius says there is one. And he's changing it. Two tributes can win if they're from the same district.
"Two tributes…" I mutter. "From the same -" It dawns on me. Katniss. She's now my son's ally. For a moment, I'm elated. Surely the daughter of a healer could prolong Peeta's life, fix him up. He has someone in the arena who's not trying to kill him. But then I remember that Katniss hasn't really moved from her spot either. She's distraught at the loss of Rue, and seems to be having trouble doing the simplest of tasks - as if the motivation has drained out of her.
But she sat up when the trumpets sounded and now she frowns a little as Claudius finishes. Something ignites again in her eyes as she too realizes what this new rule change means. There's a pause and then... she calls out Peeta's name.
Even in the darkness, I can see the panic in her eyes as she covers her mouth with her hand. It was a dangerous move, to reveal her position. But then again, there aren't very many tributes left to hear her. The screen is split into two and I focus on the right side, where Katniss is processing everything before smiling up at the camera.
"Now look at that smile!" Caesar Flickerman gasps. "That's the smile of a desperate girl who has a chance to save her lover. No doubt she's thrilled. But Claudius, do you think she knows how injured he is? I mean, the boy hasn't moved in days. Oh, the agony for these star-crossed lovers. They never get a break, do they?" He sounds genuinely sorry for them, which I might believe if the Capitol wasn't the reason my son and the Everdeen girl were facing death in the first place.
"Why isn't she going to find him?" my wife asks, frustration edging into her voice. "It looks like she's settling down for sleep."
"Maybe she plans to look for him in the light," my son suggests. "I bet she'll set off in the morning."
"By morning, there might not be a Peeta to look for! The boy's barely alive as it is!"
"Perhaps," I say slowly. "She doesn't know how badly he's injured. I mean, she was under the venom the last time she saw him. Maybe she thinks she's got time."
"Well, she doesn't," my wife huffs.
I try to tune her out because she's voicing the very fears that have arisen in my own head. So, I turn my attention to the other side of the screen. It's the only other pair of district partners - the ones from Two. They're grinning at each other and Cato puts his arm around the dark haired girl. "See, what did I tell you?" he says in a surprisingly soft voice for such a brutal guy. "We'll finish this together."
I realize now that this rule change could only be the result of the Capitol citizens growing attachment to the star-crossed lovers of District Twelve. Peeta's been whispering her name throughout the past few days and while Katniss has been a little more preoccupied, she's left the audience with a few memorable moments. After all, the only other tributes benefiting from this are the Two tributes. It seems like a lot of fuss just for a few of the tributes to be affected. But, I have to admit, the other pair is a threat. The girl's got a nasty edge with those knives and the boy is… unyielding. But maybe, just maybe, Katniss and Peeta can find a way to win. To come home. That is, if my son doesn't let the wound and lack of food take him first.
But as it turns out, Peeta is still alive when the sun rises. Just as our older son predicted, Katniss sets off early - no doubt to search for him. There's no way for her to know where to look for him, but she seems determined nonetheless. I'm surprised when she makes a beeline for the stream. Lucky guess or did she know all along?
The terrain turns rocky and I know she's almost reached his hiding spot. I haven't seen his face, but I assume Peeta's keeping an eye out for her. But she seems to be less certain now, wavering. I'm worried she might turn around until she finds a bloodstain on the rocks. Peeta had dragged himself over them after being cut by Cato that night. Before he collapsed into the two-day long nightmare. He didn't do a very good job wiping it away, but I can hardly blame him.
She begins to call his name in a hushed, urgent whisper. She's very, very close now. If he weren't camouflage, she'd see him. And he must see her, right?
No, don't turn around, I think. Peeta, say something!
"You here to finish me off, sweetheart?"
It's as if he could hear my thoughts. I breathe a sigh of relief. I still can't see him, but it was most certainly his voice. Katniss has heard it, too. She stops, looks around and beings to edge back towards the mud.
"Peeta?" she calls. "Where are you?"
He doesn't answer, which worries me. Has he died? But no, a moment later his voice comes again.
"Well, don't step on me."
There's just the faintest bit of his old humor. And then his eyes are open and he's smiling, revealing himself for the first time in what feels like ages. She asks him to close his eyes again. I guess the camouflage is pretty impressive.
Katniss kneels beside him. "I guess all those hours decorating cakes paid off."
This little reminder of his past, of the talent that used to consume his day, brings another smile to my son's lips. "Yes, frosting. The final defense of the dying."
I'm drawn back into the living room as my son chuckles, elbowing his brother. "Didn't you say something like that?"
"Sounds better coming from his mouth."
But that little word - "dying" - and Katniss stops smiling. "You're not going to die."
"Says who?" without the humor, he can't mask how worn his voice is. How shallow his breathing has become.
Something like fear registers for a brief moment in Katniss's eyes, but she quickly covers it. "Says me. We're on the same team now, you know."
"So I heard. Nice of you to find what's left of me."
Katniss doesn't answer. She just carefully grabs her water bottle and gently lets him drink. "Did Cato cut you?"
"Left leg. Up high." The water does little to help the deteriorated state of his voice.
At once, it's clear that Katniss Everdeen is the daughter of her mother. She props Peeta up against a boulder and treats his minor wounds and burns. Her hands are deft, as if they've been watching someone do the same for years - which I know she has. She washes his clothes in the river and applies some of her burn cream from the parachute and the leaves that little Rue showed her.
It's then that she pauses, feeling his forehead. She paws through the first aid kit she's carrying and digs out tiny little pills. I recognize them as fever reducing medicine. We can get them here in Twelve, but they're quite pricey. I think we might have a small supply in the washroom cupboard.
But Peeta resists the pills, water and food.
"It's funny, I haven't been hungry in days," he says.
The tension that eased when Katniss came into the picture billows up again. Peeta must be very sick. I don't know what she'll do because the odds in the arena of getting over an illness are very low.
But she perseveres until he's eaten a few bits of dried fruit. Peeta wants to sleep, but she won't let him drift off until she's taken care of his leg.
It's the first time the cameras get a shot of his wound without his pants covering it. And it's awful. The cut oozes with pus and it's very deep. The skin around it is swollen and purple.
It's clear Katniss wasn't prepared for this. Her gag reflexes seem to be working, but maintains a steady disposition as she rinses it and tries to experiment with different remedies. After pus begins to run down his leg, she gives up trying to stay cool. She starts laughing and admits to being squeamish when it comes to wounds. But, after a few false starts, she has it wrapped up in bandages and Peeta propped up on her shoulder. She wants to climb a tree, but settles for a little cave.
Despite the bandages, little bit of food and drink, and clean clothes, Peeta seems to be getting worse. He shivers now, huddled on the floor of the cave. He calls out to her and she comes over, brushing the hair from his forehead. He's trying to tell her something about him not making it but she cuts him off. With a kiss. I swear the commentators nearly swoon.
In normal circumstances, this would a moment of triumph for my son. Kissing Katniss at last. But even though he's better off than he was a couple hours ago, he seems to still be sliding down that slippery slope to death.