InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "yes, dear."

Peeta Mellark is out of Panem. Real or not real? (peetanotpita) wrote in wariscoming,
@ 2012-04-26 23:21:00

Entry tags:

katniss everdeen, peeta mellark

WHO: Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark
WHAT: Peeta getting Katniss back to the complex
WHERE: Walmart, then Katniss's apartment
WHEN: Right after this
RATING: PG probs?
STATUS: In progress

There was no way in hell Peeta was letting the people in this place get to Katniss. Even if something deep down was telling him that this Kansas was okay and that they were safe here, there was still a reflexive, uncomfortable response to the whole thing. He didn't dare trust them, especially not with Katniss. Most especially if she wasn't well. If anything happened to her, he would never be able to live with himself. Katniss had become his everything; the very thought was unbearable. So, in short, that meant he had to get to Katniss before anyone else did.

It took Peeta a little longer than he would have liked to get to the Walmart as he'd had to stop for directions on more than one occassion. There were so many streets; getting lost was nearly inevitable, really, without help. But, he managed. The elderly man greeting everyone at the door pointed him in the direction of a section of the store labeled Customer Service when Peeta explained that he was here to pick up a friend, so without hesitation, that was where Peeta went.

Katniss looked terrible. She was paler than she should be and she looked exhausted. ...that was being generous, really. But when he entered, at the ready to fight if he needed to; already formulating a calm, verbal response to the situation, he was confused to find that Katniss was sitting, untouched and unguarded, in a chair against the wall. A petite blonde was offering her a glass of water and Katniss remained mostly non-responsive to that. It didn't look like they were holding her at all.

"Hey, Jennifer," he said softly, approaching her and kneeling down in front of her chair. He knit his brow but mostly ignored the excited squeal of the blonde girl. Peeta locked his eyes on Katniss's arching his eyebrows in a quick, brief movement that urged her to answer to the name to keep her actual identity safe. "You okay?"

"Omigod, Josh Hutcherson..." he heard the blonde behind him gasping.

Peeta shared a look of incredulity with Katniss at that and got back to his feet, holding a hand out to her to help her up as well. "Come on, let's go."

He turned his head to look at the water girl and gave her a small, grateful smile. "Thank you for your help. We'll just be going now," he said simply. The tone of his voice was neutral, but the words were challenging the girl to try to stop them. He hoped that she wouldn't.

(Post a new comment)

1/2

tindernest
2012-04-28 03:18 am UTC (link)

For all that she’d been raised on almost nothing as far as nourishment went, Katniss had rarely been ill growing up. She’d had the usual childhood ailments, sore throats that lingered and scratched in the winter, a nose that ran till the skin was chapped, or a minor fever in the summer, but it had all been manageable. Her mother had handed her a cup of something hot with herbs mixed in whose names she could never quite remember (head too full of the names of plants they could eat) and she’d been off to the woods to meet Gale. When she felt one of those minor ailments coming on the idea of staying home to rest never even occurred to her. Maybe if she’d been a merchant’s daughter sickness would have been a time to huddle under a quilt, to rest and laze, but that thought was as useless and inapplicable to her own life as the idea of food just appearing on the table with no need to hunt for it. To Katniss, sickness was an indulgence, and she wasn’t accustomed to indulging herself.

That was why, though she’d felt flushed and bone-weary when she woke up from her nightmares of the arena, Peeta lying on the ground with no heartbeat, and Plutarch Heavensbee closing her eyes with his fingers, she’d headed out to obtain food for her apartment without a second thought. That her mother was no longer here with her herbs and her long, cool fingers that could tell a fever from a sweating sickness with a brush of flesh against flesh did not trouble her, because to Katniss these things had always been incidental. Her mother, after she had determined she could no longer be trusted as a provider, had never been allowed to be anything other than incidental. It was Katniss’s job to get food, sick or not, and so that’s what she had gone to do.

Lawrence was the largest city, the only city really, that she’d ever been free to walk through by herself, and the maze of the streets almost made her glad of the exhaustion that numbed her to the possibility of anxiety or timidity. I wonder if this is how Haymitch feels when he’s drunk, she’d thought, as she forced her increasingly heavy limbs to carry her down a road for what felt like hours before she realized she was going in the wrong direction entirely. She was aware that she was in pain, that she was confused and lost, but everything about her body and surroundings had faded to a sort of background noise that didn’t stop her from trudging on until she’d reached her destination.

The store, “Wal Mart” it had proclaimed itself in bright yellow lettering taller than her, had been enough to snap her out of it for a moment. It was as if someone had taken several of the hob and smashed them together. She’d wandered dazedly down aisle after aisle of food, vegetables fresh and somehow still glistening with dew even in bins, and fruit larger than anything she’d ever seen growing wild. The meat was stored in freezers and already skinned and chopped into steaks or ground so that it would be easy to use in a recipe. There was a bakery with a sheer variety of breads, cookies, and cakes that put even District 12’s baker to shame (though next to Peeta’s cakes the frosted designs on the ones she’d peered at through the glass had looked juvenile, silly little flowers on white frosting, simple and almost garish), and that didn’t even begin to touch on the other products, the furniture and books and the electronics she couldn’t even begin to understand. When she’d seen an entire aisle for different kinds of hairbrushes she’d been sure she was sicker than she’d thought and that she’d begun hallucinating.

Ironically, that was when she’d felt her legs buckle underneath her and give out.

(Reply to this)

2/2

tindernest
2012-04-28 03:19 am UTC (link)

By the time Peeta arrived, about an hour and a half after she’d fallen (not collapsed, as she’d insisted to anyone who would listen), she’d been guided into an office chair by a small blonde woman with a rather prominent nose and small, anxious eyes whose nametag identified her as “Assistant Manager- Ainsley!” Assitant Manager- Ainsley! Was in the middle of another attempt to convince “Miss. Lawrence” that she should really have a glass of water, interjecting apologies for insisting that she didn’t try to leave alone in her condition, when Peeta walked in and she broke off with a gasp. Katniss, for her part, took a moment to compose herself before she raised her head from where she’d let it slump almost down to her chest. Peeta knew her better now than the boy who had been convinced in the first Hunger Games by her declarations of love in the arena, and no matter how much she knew he still cared for her, he wasn’t likely to let her fool him with any kind of act again.

Not that I’m trying to fool him, she thought, raising a hand to brush a few strands of hair away from her face and frowning and as she missed the strands she’d been aiming for, her fingers brushing her cheek instead. She tried to subtly turn the gesture into a scratch at an imaginary itch. I’m not sick, she reminded herself, but she felt something like dread tighten the muscles in her lower abdomen, and when Peeta knelt down in front of her, expression concerned yet reassuringly composed, she forgot her stubborn insistence on hiding her inexplicable weakness for a moment and felt only relief. She nodded in response to his concerned question, not even bothering to try wrangling their inexplicable new names on a tongue that already felt dry and swollen, useless as a lead block. When he held out his hand she shook her head slightly and gritted her teeth, forcing herself to her feet on her own steam in what she hoped was a fairly fluid movement. I don’t need help because I’m not sick. Not here and definitely not now. I can’t be.

As Peeta moved towards the exit, Ainsley nodded almost frantically, seemingly eager to agree with everything “Josh” said. She babbled reassurances about not telling anyone and paparazzi and mentioned getting “Jennifer” more water all in an excited jumble of words. My prep team, Katniss realized suddenly, stifling a smile by compressing her lips, that’s who she reminds me of. Still, she wanted to leave as soon as possible, to get back out into the fresh air where she was sure that some of the soreness in her limbs and the fog in her head would dissipate.

“It’s just too hot in here,” she muttered abruptly, cutting Ainsley off, and lurched towards the door, ignoring the anxious girl’s admonitions about being careful. It was true, in the time she’d been sitting in the chair she’d felt her skin getting hotter, and had been determinedly blaming it on the heating inside the building. “I just need to get some air,” she added, coming up with a bit of a stumble against the doorframe and pausing, ostensibly to wait for Peeta join her, while she reached behind her to subtly steady herself.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

peetanotpita
2012-04-29 11:57 pm UTC (link)

It took a bit of an effort for Peeta not to frown at Katniss with disapproval when she insisted on getting up without his help. He could see, clear as day, that she was unwell. The fact that there were others displaying illness as well made Peeta wonder if she'd contracted some kind of disease that neither of them would know anything about, or whether she was just residually exhausted and malnourished from the arena.

The effort Katniss had put forth had been wasted on he and the overly excited blonde girl who'd been attempting to help her; the girl had suggested again that she get "Jennifer" more water and Peeta knew Katniss well enough to know that her attempt hadn't been as graceful as she'd probably hoped. Adding all of that in with the fact that, as obnoxious as the Wal-Mart girl was being, she was one girl and there was no "they" about it. The girl was neither threatening nor insisting to keep Katniss there. Katniss had somehow grossly misunderstood the situation in which she'd found herself and that was not like her at all.

Peeta found himself distracted by the blonde as Katniss moved away from him. "It's all right, she's just—" he started quietly when Katniss cut them both off. He gave the girl a small slightly impish grin. "Thank you again, really," he replied as he turned from her.

Making his way toward Katniss, he noticed the way that she ended up against the door frame, attempting to make herself look casual and collected when Peeta, at least, could tell that she wasn't. He came up behind her and slid an arm around her waist, leaning his head close to hers. "Just let me help you, Katniss," he whispered, looking over at her with eyes that spoke volumes of his level of understanding of the situation. "Besides, if we're still being watched; still somewhere in Panem, they'll love it," he added softly.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

tindernest
2012-04-30 02:28 am UTC (link)

Katniss stiffened slightly as Peeta wrapped his arm around her, not because she was uncomfortable with the gesture, but because it was too comfortable. It would be so easy to lean on Peeta, to let him half-carry her out of the store, to close her eyes and just let him take care of things, just for a little while. She knew, however, that if she gave in to that, then she was admitting that she was sick, not just to Peeta, but to herself. If she gave in now, then she would never get her feet under her again, would have to face the reality of the situation – that she was on her way to being helpless in a place where she couldn’t afford that.

>> "Just let me help you, Katniss…Besides, if we're still being watched; still somewhere in Panem, they'll love it,"

A noise somewhere between a growl and a groan, distressingly like the sounds she’d heard from patients fighting the healing techniques her mother doled out on their kitchen table, worked its way out of her throat as Katniss turned to look at Peeta. In the moment, as she struggled to keep her head above water in what felt like a sea of weakness, the understanding in his eyes, the reassurance, was just another snare wrapped around her ankles, ready to pull her under. I can’t, she tried to convey with the desperation in her eyes, the caged-animal fear borne out of an instinct to conceal weakness, to curl in around a hurt and retreat somewhere dark and lonely and safe. She carefully arranged herself so that her hip was balanced against Peeta’s and her head rested lightly on his shoulder, but all of her muscles were still tense and quivering. The new position made it so that it would look to anyone who was watching as if she were letting Peeta support her, while in reality she was working twice as hard to support her own weight with her limbs contorted into less natural positions.

In the background Ainsley was returning Peeta’s smile, evidently reassured by his charm and obvious concern for his “co-star” and ushering them to the door, babbling out numbers of cabs they could call and hospitals and urgent care clinics “Josh” could take her to. Whether or not Peeta got anything out of it Katniss couldn’t guess, but to her the words ran together like the hum of bees and-

…Tracker Jackers. She could hear them buzzing and see them, golden glints, just out of focus in the tops of the trees. The trees? No, we’re…the light, they’re hovering around the light, Katniss frowned up at the fluorescent bulb, taking a few small, careful steps away from it, towards the door, weakly tugging Peeta along with her. Ainsley had turned back to her desk, she must have already told them they could go. Now she just had to get Peeta out of the room without waking the hive and bringing it down on them, which meant not calling out any warnings. It wasn’t right to leave Ainsley there, she might have been annoying but she didn’t deserve the kind of death Glimmer had faced, face bloated and twisted, skin peeling away under Katniss’ fingers as she’d reached for the bow. Some of it had gotten caught under her fingernails. It’s still there, she realized, I never got it off. Why didn’t I get it off?

She moved to pull away from Peeta, to go to the lake and wash off her hands, when she realized suddenly that they had left the office, that they were almost to the door that led back to the street, and she hadn’t even noticed them walking. So there wasn’t a lake, we’re not…

(Reply to this) (Parent)

tindernest
2012-04-30 02:29 am UTC (link)

Her legs buckled, but she managed to catch herself with the help of Peeta’s arm around her waist. Just as she’d thought, once she’d leaned in to him she couldn’t make herself pull away again, and she let her head sink down onto his shoulder, only making the weakest effort to continue walking next to him. Peeta had always had a steadying quality to him. She remembered his hand keeping her grounded during the first tribute parade, his arms around her as she woke from nightmares, being pulled into his lap after the jabber jays had screamed with Prim’s voice during the second Quarter Quell. I just need a minute, she told herself, just to rest like this for a minute.

“We’re not in the arena,” she whispered against his shoulder, reassuring herself.

When she moved to speak, however, she pulled at the collar of his shirt, and for a moment her cheek was resting against his skin rather than the fabric of his shirt. “You’re cold,” she murmured, concerned and confused and altogether failing to consider that perhaps it was her skin that was fluctuating in temperature, flushing with heat as her fever climbed.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

peetanotpita
2012-04-30 03:15 am UTC (link)

Another considerable effort was put forth on Peeta's behalf not to roll his eyes at the way Katniss refused his help in such a way that he was almost certain she was probably better off if he'd just left her alone entirely.

Still, ever the on-screen personality of the two, Peeta ignored the urge and tightened his hold on her ever so slightly to try to ease her effort. He allowed himself, however, to knit his brow with concern at the look in her eyes. "Yes you can," he whispered knowing full well that she wouldn't let herself be coddled.

The blonde girl was rattling off phone numbers of things Peeta didn't understand. Rather than let on, he gave her a warm smile and shook his head just slightly. "Thank you," he reiterated, "she's fine. Just tired," he added. "We appreciate your concern, but I'll take it from here."

"Are you sure she doesn't need an ambulance? We could be discreet; avoid any media buzz," the girl offered.

Peeta shook his head again, moving with Katniss beside him slowly further away from the girl. Katniss seemed to be leading the way, whether she realized it or not, but in an effort to continue to be endearing, Peeta gave his last statement of gratitude. "It's all right. Thank you again." At that, Peeta excused them both and took back the lead, guiding Katniss back into the store and out toward the front doors to go back outside. He paused only when Katniss started to pull away, examining her expression. "Katniss...?" he asked quietly in a voice meant just for her.

He felt her knees give and he tightened his hold on her again to steady her. Finally, she seemed to acquiesce. ...or perhaps she'd given up. Peeta could feel her give in and lean her weight on him. She felt a little heavier as Peeta started moving again, as though she were barely helping him at all. A flash of alarm registered on his face when he thought he heard her say something about the arena.

"I'm not...you've got a fever," he told her softly, frowning. As soon as he'd gotten her outside and was satisfied that no one was paying attention to the two of them, all too absorbed in their own agendas, Peeta bent slightly and lifted Katniss off her feet and into his arms. "It's gotten to you," he sighed, worried. "The sickness. Everyone is getting sick, I saw it on the thing..." What he didn't mention at that point, however, was that he doubted the healers here would know how to help her the way she'd be taken care of back home, if she were with Prim and her mother. If she were in the arena and sponsors were sending medicine to the star-crossed lovers to keep his Girl on Fire and their unborn child alive. "It's not a long walk. Rest. We'll be back there soon."

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

tindernest
2012-04-30 04:10 am UTC (link)

Katniss tried to protest as Peeta picked her up like she weighed less than one of the sacks of flour he tossed up into piles outside his father’s shop, but she found that she couldn’t quite make herself do anything more than move her arms to wrap loosely around his neck. It was all washing over her now, the aches and chills that she hadn’t let herself feel while she’d been determinedly focusing on making it to the door under her own power, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the pain that crackled in her joints and set the nerves beneath her skin on fire.

She could hear Peeta speaking, but his voice had faded into a mostly-pleasant hum, mingling with the reverberations of his vocal chords that she could feel as she tucked her head so that it rested against his chest. Hums and heartbeats, she thought as she recognized the familiar cadence, a little faster than usual but still steady, from the nights when she’d woken up with her ear pressed against his chest to hear it. “We got you out too,” she muttered, not knowing what it was she was reassuring him about right now, but knowing that it was important that she’d done it, that she and Peeta and Haymitch were going home. “We’ll all go home, I won’t, they have to know I won’t and they won’t hold it against you even…” the words had twisted around on her tongue again, this wasn’t what she’d meant to be talking about at all, and she frowned, pressed her forehead hard against Peeta’s chest and tried to use the steady rhythm of his heartbeat to ground her thoughts, to anchor her, because something was wrong.

“I think I’m sick,” she whispered, unaware that Peeta had floated that particular, and rather obvious, hypothesis only a moment ago. “But don’t worry,” she added as she pulled her head back so that she could smile up at him, the rapidly climbing fever making the expression vacant and bright and far more conventionally dazzling than Katniss’s real smiles ever managed to be. For a moment everything slid around her again, past and present contracting and expanding like an accordion so that she was unsure how long they’d been walking, how far they still were from the complex, if they’d even left Wal Mart. Complex? No, no it’s too hot, I’m confused, but I have to… “Don’t worry,” she repeated, then lowered her voice, “we can just say it’s morning sickness.” She gave him another smile, reassured and trusting that he would be too. Haymitch would convince the citizens in the Capitol that a sponsor for her was a sponsor for Peeta. The crowd would be won over even further by Peeta’s devotion, carrying her like this, and they would send medicine. It might be the wrong kind, but it would have to help. She needed to die, of course, so that he would emerge as the victor, but before that she needed to be able to ensure he had as few enemies to take out as possible. They would reach the complex again and she would find a way to protect him from the new hurdle this sickness had thrown their way.

For a moment her mind snagged and hung on the incongruity of the idea of sponsors sending gifts to them at the complex, in this place, but the sickness quickly smoothed the misgivings away. “You won’t lose any sponsors. I won’t look weak.”

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

peetanotpita
2012-04-30 04:39 am UTC (link)

Peeta tried very hard, to his credit, not to let the confusion register on his facial expression. If they were still in the Capitol, they were being watched to be sure and the last thing he wanted was for audiences to think that he and Katniss weren't on the same page. He frowned a little at the idea of her thinking that she was going to die. There was no way that was happening. He and Haymitch had already worked it out; Peeta would stay with Katniss as long as he safely could, and then he would die. She would return to District 12.

"We don't have to talk about that right now, Katniss, okay?" he asked, tilting his chin down to press his lips against the top of her head as he felt her attempt to bury her face in his chest. He could see, when he lifted his head again, that the complex was a few blocks away. It was within sight range. The sooner he got her back there, the better.

Finally, she admitted it aloud to all of the prying eyes, to him, and most importantly, to herself, that she was sick. Peeta felt a weight lift off his shoulders at that. At least she'd finally come to the conclusion on her own, since it seemed as though she hadn't heard a word he'd said. When Peeta felt Katniss lift her head, he looked down at her and found himself thinking, as she smiled back that her eyes looked so empty that the expression didn't suit her at all. Katniss was beautiful, but even Peeta could see that the pieces of her face just then didn't fit at all. "We could," he agreed, finding himself smiling in spite of himself at the reminder of the secret they shared. The fact that it wasn't real. At that, the smile faded again. "No one would believe it, not with everything else; everyone else sick, too," he told her quietly.

But, the last thing she said made Peeta falter in his step, coming to a stop without realizing right away that he'd done so. Forcing his foot falls forward again, Peeta looked down at her, horrified. "Katniss...I don't care about the sponsors," he told her in a low voice. "I care about you. They think you're pregnant and sick, to boot. They'll expect you to look weak. They'll expect me to take care of you, like you took care of me in the first Games. They'll eat it up," he whispered. "So stop it."

His eyes moved forward again as he carefully crossed the street, ignoring the blaring horns as a few cars had to screech to a halt to avoid him. Peeta paid them no attention, knowing full well that they knew who he was and that the Capitol, at large, loved him. They wouldn't let him die like that. What was the entertainment to be had, there? "Look," he said in a quiet, soothing tone, tilting his chin up. "Nearly there. We'll get you to bed. I'll hold you until you fall asleep; I'll keep you safe," he promised. "You just need to rest, that's all. The sponsors will send us what we need to make you well again after you rest."

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

tindernest
2012-05-01 01:38 am UTC (link)

[[I g-modded/assumed Peeta would complete the walk back to the complex and climb into bed with her. I tried to stay up to ask if this was okay with you but I am sick and tired so I figured I'd put this up before I went to sleep. If this is not okay with you just let me know and I'll take it down asap and rework it!]

Katniss sighed in resignation when Peeta expressed his horror at the idea of assessing her condition based at least partially on the impression it would make with sponsors. You have to keep thinking about these things even when it feels wrong, she wanted to tell him, and you have to stop assuming that pity will ever motivate anyone from the Capitol to do anything. The second we stop being entertaining we’re dead, and there’s only so long me being sick will entertain them. They want blood. She opened her mouth to try to tell him all of that, to point out that he would be a lot easier to keep alive if he didn’t insist on being so good all the time, but then he was talking about sleep, and it sounded so achingly wonderful that she had to fight to keep her eyes open for even a moment longer.

Though she didn’t notice the transition from waking to dream, she lost her struggle to stay conscious, and as Peeta reached the other side of the road her breathing evened out aside from a dull rasping in her chest.

The buck wandered into the road, weaving around the cars that had stopped for Peeta. It was young, barely a yearling, like the buck she and Gale had shot and sold to earn Prim her nanny goat. Katniss watched it lower its head to nibble at some grass that grew around one of the decorative trees randomly interspersed into the concrete of the sidewalk. Just that one buck would fetch such a price, she and Gale would have to be careful not to bring it in to the Hob or they’d be set on like they were deer themselves. Darius could be counted on to keep order if they notified him ahead of time, promised him a piece of the meat, a flank maybe…

She blinked, just once, and the deer was gone, just the flash of its tail visible as it disappeared around a corner, into the stand of trees that signaled the dip of the arena towards the lake.

“Rue,” she whispered, turned her face away from Peeta’s chest in her sleep, “just stay here. We can light the fires later, I won’t get another chance at a deer.”

Rue was gone too though, after the deer, running so fast that Katniss’s eyes could hardly follow her, much less her legs. She called after her small ally, but the girl had gone too far too fast, tempted by the promise of all that meat, even if she didn’t have a hope of bringing it down.

…Prim looked up nervously from where she sat, cross-legged, on the floor of their house in the Victor’s Village, twisting stems of grass around her fingers. “It’s getting dark now Katniss,” she whispered, “we can’t be in the woods in the dark.” Katniss reached down to her, tucking a few strands of blonde hair back behind her ear, and smiled at her reassuringly,

“I’ll get her, I’ll bring her home Prim, don’t worry,” she whispered as they entered the complex and Peeta carried her into the elevator.

but Prim was gesturing towards something over her shoulder and Katniss whirled around to see that the buck was back. She held up a hand in a silent signal to Gale who stood just behind her, a cautionary gesture, wait and see, wait and see what it does. The buck sniffed the air delicately and minced forward into better light and Katniss frowned. Something was wrong with its eyes, instead of the warm brown that she’d been expecting they were glinting in the light, a shining color rather than a muted one…green?

She recognized Glimmer’s eyes a moment before the mutt sprang forwards towards them, shedding the deerskin like a costume and baring snarling canine fangs. Katniss reached behind her for Gale but he was gone, disappeared or fallen, and she couldn’t leave without with that thing closing the distance so rapidly, salivating and snarling…

(Reply to this) (Parent)

tindernest
2012-05-01 01:39 am UTC (link)

Katniss’s eyes snapped open and swept the length of her apartment, but her mind, unable to leave the fever-dream, perceived only woods and a snarling mutt and absence of her best friend and hunting partner. “Gale?” she rasped out, confused at the way her throat seemed swollen against the words. She gave in to a brief hacking cough to clear her lungs, then sucked in a breath and tried to get up, only to find herself held back. In her delirium she didn’t recognize the pressure as Peeta’s arms around her, only as an impediment, and she panicked, thrashing weakly against him. “Gale!” she called out again, voice frantic, “Gale!”

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

peetanotpita
2012-05-03 04:26 pm UTC (link)

When Katniss's weight started to feel dead in his arms, Peeta relaxed a little. She acquiesced; had fallen asleep. Good. She looked like she needed it and badly at that. It was when he was when she started talking in her sleep that Peeta started to worry about. Brow knit with concern, he kept his head held high and made his way back into the complex, not wanting to show that both of them were weak if the rest of Panem really was watching.

He'd attempted to convince Katniss otherwise, but eventually even Peeta had to admit, he wasn't so sure they weren't still in Panem, maybe unwittingly on the run and they really ought not be using the communication system the people here had set up and welcomed them into. Were those people rebels by not telling the President that he and Katniss were both alive and out of the arena? He didn't have a lot of time to think about it before his focus was pulled again. He kept hearing the names Rue and Prim. Peeta's heart broke a little for Katniss. She'd never feel for him the way she felt for Gale, probably, but the hold Rue and Prim had on her heart had a different, more powerful tug to it that was different, too, from the way Peeta felt about her. It was a feeling he neither understood nor could truly empathize with, but he knew whatever it was that Katniss was seeing in her sleep, it was upsetting her.

The elevator doors opened on their floor and Peeta wasted no time getting to and inside of Katniss's apartment, kicking the door shut with his bad leg barely flinching at the slam behind him as he made his way toward Katniss's bedroom. He hadn't even cleared the living room when he heard the last thing he wanted to hear coming from her lips. It was, of course, the name he'd been expecting to hear the whole time she'd been mumbling to herself, but it didn't make it sound any less like fingernails on a chalkboard to him. Ignoring it as best he could, Peeta rounded a corner and deposited Katniss onto her bed, crawling in after her and guiding her into his arms the way he always did when she was having a nightmare. He held her close and tucked her head beneath his chin only for a second before she started thrashing against him. It felt as though she was putting in little to no effort which meant that she was either still asleep with her eyes open or she really was ill. Peeta was betting on the latter.

The sting of Katniss's desperation for Gale cut Peeta more deeply than he would've liked to admit. He forced himself to remember that, as far as the rest of Panem knew, Gale was just Katniss's cousin. Anything to keep his face from registering the hurt that she was frantic for Gale but not for Peeta himself. "Katniss," he said softly, sympathetically. "Gale's not here. It's okay, he's home. We're not in District 12," he reminded her, stroking her hair and looking with concern at her face, trying to catch her attention as his arms tightened around her. "He's not here. It's just me," he added sounding almost as defeated as he felt.

(Reply to this) (Parent)