As afternoon fades to evening, Peeta stirs on the floor of the cave. He prys his eyes open, stretches his stiff muscle and blinks, seeming very confused. He notices the syringe and I can visibly see him remember everything that happened. His eyes widening, he looks around for Katniss. And there she is. Out cold, lying in a pool of blood. Against the dark liquid, her face shines white.
A look of horror replaces that of bewilderment as Peeta searches her body for the source of the blood. When he notices the cut from Clove's knife, he gingerly rolls her over to face him and begins to dab at the wound with his shirt. Pressing the fabric firmly to her head, he looks around - a bit lost. Then, he notices the first aid kit that Katniss left beside him as she set out for the feast.
Peeta opens it as quickly as he can with one hand and takes out a roll of bandages. Cradling Katniss' head in his lap, he rinses the cut with plenty of water, then begins to wrap the sterile cotton tightly around her head. Afterwards, he lays her back down next to him and gently rubs her shoulder, the panic subsiding a little now that the wound is cleaned and covered. He takes a sip of water, which is a marked improvement from Katniss force-feeding it to him and I now notice that. his color is remarkably improved since the last time he was conscious. Whatever was in the medicine worked. He'll be okay for now.
The blood has begun to seep through Katniss' bandages a little and I know the bleeding hasn't stopped. She's lost a good deal of blood. Not enough to be fatal, but it could definitely weaken her for awhile. Luckily, Peeta's not going anywhere either. He sits next to her, occasionally changing the bandages, rubbing her shoulders soothingly He drinks lots of water and, to the relief of all of us watching, eats a good bit of the meat before he restrains himself.
As night falls, the sky shows Clove. Peeta watches wordlessly, maybe thinking about his partial ally who's now gone forever. As the temperature drops, he tucks the sleeping bag around Katniss. It must be cold in the cave because he huddles up against the wall, returning the favor as the night guard.
The rain doesn't stop through the night. Being asleep for so long under the syrup has done Peeta a favor because he doesn't doze off once. He stays beside Katniss, loyally watching over her just as she did for him. At one point, after checking on the wound and finding it still to be bleeding, he shakes his head and whispers, "Why? Why'd you do this, Katniss?"
My wife goes to bed around midnight along with the other boys, but I choose to stay in front of the screen for as long as the electricity will hold. And for once, the screen stays on the whole night. The first rays of light are slinking into the cave when Peeta leans down and his lips brush Katniss' cheek. My eyes are heavy, but I'm glad I stayed. Seeing Peeta be so careful and tender with this wounded girl brings back memories of his personality and it warms me.
It's late that morning when Katniss finally stirs and moans a little. Peeta's who's stroking her cheek, moves in closer at these hopeful signs of revival.
"Katniss," he murmurs. "Katniss, can you hear me?"
Her grey eyes flash open, scared and wide. They flick back and forth, as if she doesn't recognize where she is. Then, they focus on my son. "Peeta," she sighs, relief flooding her face.
"Hey," he says tenderly. "Good to see your eyes again."
"How long have I been out?"
"Not sure," Peeta brushes a bit of hair away from her neck. "I woke up yesterday and you were lying next to me in a very scary pool of blood." He checks the bandages. The blood stains have darkened slightly. "I think it's stopped finally, but I wouldn't sit up or anything."
She raises an arm to her hand and probes the bandages. The little color her face had drains as her hand falls limply at her side. Katniss closes her eyes and swallows hard.
Seeing this, Peeta reaches for a water bottle and lifts it to her lips, coaxing them around the mouth. After being out for so long, Katniss must be parched. She gulps down half the bottle before drawing a breath.
"You're better," she notes, staring up at my son.
"Much better. Whatever you shot into my arm did the trick. By this morning, almost all the swelling in my leg was gone."
She considers this for a moment, then asks another question. "Did you eat?"
He smiles a little. "I'm sorry to say I gobbled down three pieces of that groosling before I realize it might have to last awhile. Don't worry, I'm back on a strict diet."
"No, it's good." Katniss voices what I'm thinking. "You need to eat. I'll go hunting soon."
"Not too soon, alright?" Peeta brushes his hand against her cheek. "You just let me take care of you for a while."
All the talking seems to have worn Katniss out because she doesn't protest. She just nods and leans into Peeta's steady, reassuring hand. Throughout the day, he feeds her little bits of food and lots of water. The rain must be making the daytime temperature considerably cooler because Katniss starts to shiver a little - she is lying on a stone floor. But she's still too weak to get into the sleeping bag and even though it's draped over her body, her feet stick out the end. So Peeta rubs them for a while, trying to get the blood flowing. Then, he strips off his jacket and wraps them in it before pulling the bag up tight around her chin. I used to tuck him in the same way on cold winter nights here in Twelve.
Peeta explains to her regretfully that her boots and socks are still to damp to offer any warmth and with the rain, it's doubtful they'll be dry for a long time. Katniss, who's been quiet for most the afternoon, now tells him about the feast and then explains everything else that happened to her in the arena before the rules were changed. Peeta's shocked that Thresh let her go, but apparently Katniss isn't. She says it's a Seam thing.
"It's like the bread," she says. "How I never seem to get over owing you for that."
"The bread?" Peeta's just as confused as I am. I wasn't aware he'd ever given her anything. Even that strudel he baked so long ago never reached her hands. "What? From when we were kids. I think we can let that go. I mean, you just brought me back from the dead."
"But you didn't know me," Katniss insists. "We had never even spoken. Besides, it's the first gift that's always the hardest to pay back. I wouldn't have even been here to do it if you hadn't helped me then."
"When did that boy give her bread?" my wife asks, clearly as confused as I am. "I wasn't aware he did anything other than stare and stalk her."
I don't have an answer, so I stay quiet.
On the screen, Katniss frowns. "Why did you, anyway?"
Peeta sighs. "Why? You know why." But Katniss shakes her head, which must have hurt because she winces. "Haymitch said you would take a lot of convincing."
"Haymitch? What's he got to do with it?"
"Nothing," Peeta says and changes the subject. This whole exchange has been very confusing. What I do know is that, apparently, Peeta did work up the courage to do something for Katniss. He'd given her bread, and according to Katniss, it saved her life. But the whole thing about Haymitch… I shake my head to clear it and turn back to the screen. For a while, Katniss and Peeta's conversation takes up the entirely of the screen. It's either hugely popular in the Capitol or the rain has driven everyone into hiding and this is the most exciting thing happening.
Katniss and Peeta move on to discuss Cato and Thresh. Peeta hopes they kill each other, thereby leaving them with only the Five tribute left, but Katniss grows unhappy at that thought. She figures that Thresh would be their friend if the Games weren't happening. I wonder if him saving her life has forged a respect between them.
The cave is quiet and not even the Game's commentators say anything - a first for them. Tears are beginning to well up in those eyes and Katniss' lip begins to tremble.
Peeta notices that she's on the verge of crying and looks at her, worry etched into his face. "What is it? Are you in a lot of pain?"
Pulling the sleeping bag up, Katniss looks up at him with wet eyes. "I want to go home, Peeta," she says. It's like a little kitten mew - the kind that melts your heart and makes you inexplicably want to break down and cry.
Her words seem to have the same effect on Peeta. His shoulders slump a little, as if he's remembering where he is and why. "You will. I promise." Leaning over her, he gives her another kiss.
My wife gives a little grunt. "You will, he said. He has not intention of coming out alive if there's a choice."
"But there won't be," I tell her. "They can both come home if they're the last ones left."
"You don't believe that, do you? How thick can you get? The Capitol's putting on a show. My guess is that one of them will be killed by the Gamemakers now that they both seem to be recovering from their wounds. Tragedy, oh the tragedy. How their young love bloomed and perished so quickly."
Her words stop me cold. Of course. Sure, maybe similar thoughts have been lingering in the back of my mind, but hearing her say it out loud…
The words couldn't be truer. There's no way the Capitol will let things end Happily Ever After.