"Maybe you should sleep." It takes Peeta a while to realise he's the one being spoken to.
He looks round, right into the pale blue eyes of Silver. Sitting next to her after hearing so many stories from Emerald makes it feel like she's barely real. Though she felt real enough when she was sleeping soundly on his shoulder.
She's exactly as Emerald described; Small, slim, with large eyes and long, shining hair. Metallic silver. It glistens with every twitch of her body, making it unbearably distracting.
"Peeta?" She puts a slim hand on his forearm. The veins shine through her pale skin. "You don't want to sleep?" Silver even talks softly. No wonder Emerald was so ferociously protective.
"No." He replies stiffly. "I don't want to miss anything."
He hasn't moved. Not for hours. Days could have passed for all he knows. He's been frozen in place ever since he was shoved onto this couch, staring at the blank white door opposite. That's where they took her.
"There won't be anything for hours," Silver assures him, "You don't want to shower or anything?"
He must be a sight if she's said it so gently. He's not surprised. Emerald was bleeding so much on the roof that it stained him almost from head to toe. He had her in his arms for so long she started looking a little blue. That's when he really started to panic. Not long after that the doctor's arrived to rush her away, and he followed, and he's been sat on this couch ever since they took her to surgery. He doesn't even know if she's alive or dead behind that door. The thought makes the breath catch in his throat.
"Peeta?"
He looks round at her. "No, Silver. I'm fine."
She nods, sighs. Rubs a hand over her eyes. She looks tired. He hopes she goes back to sleeping, he's not in the mood for conversation.
People have been filing in and out at regular intervals. Marie and Thatcher rushed in just behind Silver, but Peeta couldn't tell them anything about Emerald's condition. They hadn't been able to stay long; There was a lot going on with the Avox faction, and they had to get there right away to help settle it.
Marie had hugged Peeta close before leaving though, thanking him over and over for saving her daughter. He'd barely been able to reply.
After that, Birch and Astrid had stopped by. Haymitch, Johanna. Even Plutarch had sent along his best wishes. The lot of them had passed on news of what was going on out there; 13 were fighting hard for control, warring among themselves for Coin's role and also warring against the rest of the Districts for power over everyone else.
Plutarch, Haymitch reported, was in the thick of things, trying to steer the helm of the ship as best he could, but Peeta wasn't sure what good that would do when the ship was intent on smashing itself against the rocks.
Peeta honestly wished he could have cared more about the situation, but he could barely draw his eyes away from the white door long enough to even listen to the reports.
Silver did most of the talking.
"Thank you." She murmurs now. That's not what he expected. It startles him enough that he looks sideways at her.
"For what?" He frowns.
"For everything." She shrugs her slender shoulders. Retaining her poised posture even with the movement. "For the arena. For going after her. For caring. For fighting with her and for her. It's been a long time since anyone had the nerve to do anything like that for her. She appreciates it."
Peeta finds himself smiling just a little, "Doesn't seem that way."
"No." Silver chuckles, "I guess not. She's a hard-ass, that one. She'd rather cut off a limb than admit to being wrong, and even then getting her to apologise is like pulling teeth." Peeta's smile widens despite himself. "But once that woman cares..." Silver shakes her head and huffs an amused laugh, "You won't ever get her off your back."
"I dunno, the outside is different to the arena." He doesn't want to talk, but Silver has a face that seems to coax the words out of you. "I know things happened... In there. But that might have changed. It's a different environment. She hated me at first, whose to say she won't go back to that?"
She lets out a snort that isn't very gentle at all. "Please. I've never seen her look at anyone the way she looks at you. I know she tried to punch you in the face for coming after her," She winces, "But like... She did then fight a bear for you. Emerald kinda goes overboard when she's trying to make up for something."
He tries to laugh, but the sound gets tangled in his throat and dies quickly. He's too panicked to laugh. Too tired. Too distracted by that stupid fucking door.
Though, the thought of Emerald looking at him differently to everyone else... For it to be noticed by her best friend... It makes his stomach twist uncomfortably.
"Emerald may be reckless, and wild, and too brave for her own good, but she certainly isn't stupid, Peeta." Silver touches his wrist very delicately with her middle and forefinger. "That's how I knew something was different. Throwing herself into action against a bear, for Panem's sake? She knew the chance of surviving was minimal, and she did it anyway. She didn't take a calculated risk, she didn't think about it, didn't plan, didn't analyse. She saw you bleeding on the floor and she didn't even hesitate."
"Why are you telling me this?" Peeta's eyes are squeezed tight. His hands are shaking they're clenched together so hard. Because this will hurt. This will hurt so much more if they come out of that room and tell him that she didn't make it.
"Because when she wakes up, and she will." It's the first time he's detected any kind of force behind her words. "She won't ask you to stay. She won't fall into you and proclaim her love and beg for your everlasting loyalty. I'm telling you this so that you don't walk away because she doesn't want you. She does, but she's lost so much and been hurt so often that she won't dare make her feelings known."
"So what do you propose I do?" He asks through gritted teeth and shoves his blood-soaked hands through his messy hair.
"I propose that you stay. You convince her. You gain her trust. But only if you're sure. Because once she loves you she'll love you forever. She's all or nothing. No one will ever love you as fiercely as her, no one will ever fight for you harder. So you be careful, Peeta Mellark, because despite all that she's suffered and all that she's survived, I don't think she'd live through the loss of you."
"That somehow sounds like a threat."
"Oh, it is." She gives him a smile that makes his skin crawl. "I won't lose her again. If you take her from me, I'm going to have to take the life from your body."
He squints at her. "That's fair enough. You don't seem all that keen on me actually staying, so why tell me to?"
Silver sighs and looks ahead at the white door. "You're a good man. She deserves someone... Good. Kind. She needs it. You're not my type, but I suppose you'll do for her."
Despite himself, he lets out a small laugh. "Not your type?"
"I prefer women." She informs him with a slightly awkward cough.
"That seems sensible." He muses, and nudges her lightly with his elbow. "Men are idiots."
Silver grins, her pale eyes warming just slightly. "Obviously." She agrees.
***
Silver left a little while ago. She had to, she told him she needed a shower, and food, and needed to keep her family updated. She promised to be as quick as she could, and also to bring back new clothes and some food. He said he didn't need it. She assured him with a scathing glance at his ruined clothing that he did.
She could have been gone for a week, for all Peeta knows. The hours are starting to blur together, and that stupid door opposite seems to be mocking him now. He's fighting sleep. He doesn't know how long it's been. He's definitely feeling stiff and uncomfortable.
He's just contemplating moving when the door clicks open. Not the important door. The other one, the one that people keep coming and going through. He doesn't bother to look over. It's just Silver, he supposes.
"Peeta?" That's a new voice.
He glances over. The person stood there causes his eyebrows to flick upwards. It's Katniss.
"Can I speak to you for a moment?"
He looks away. "I'd rather not leave."
Her voice is closer when she answers. "You don't even know that they'll let you in once they're done with the surgery. You're more use to everyone else than sitting here like a moron."
"I'm not leaving." He tells her again, more firmly.
"They might be putting her in jail as soon as they save her life." Katniss snaps, and this gets his attention. "They won't let you in to see her if that's the case."
"What the hell do you mean, they might arrest her?" He demands.
"She killed the President of Panem, Peeta." She throws her hands up, like he's the one being ridiculous. "Point blank. On national television. In front of one of the biggest crowds to ever gather in the Capitol. Every single word on that roof was recorded and broadcast. Even the ones not said into the microphones. If she'd left Coin alive to face justice, she'd be a national hero. But she didn't, she shot her in the head, and she did it because Coin called her weak."
"It wasn't just because of that!" Peeta explodes, and he's on his feet. The motion makes his bones ache, but rage is coursing through him like lightning. "That was just one of the reasons."
"It was the last reason." Katniss glares at him. "The final reason. The deciding factor. We don't even know if all those accusations Emerald threw at her were right."
"We know Coin is a monster!"
"But the people don't!" She shouts suddenly, eyes flaring wide with anger. "The people think she swept in and funded the Rebellion, gave us weapons, gave us support! Everyone was happy to let her step in as President! Yes, we know that she killed half her own District on order of Snow. We know that she made her own son into an Avox. We know that she threw her own people to the dogs! They don't! All they've seen is the Capitol's Darling, a damn ex-assassin, shoot our new President in the fucking face!"
"They'll see." Peeta shrugs, though his voice is shaking with uncertainty. "They'll investigate everything Emerald accused her of and they'll see that she was right!"
"You think they'll wait for that? Really? It could take years to dig into all the classified information! Years that Casteel could spend in a jail cell while she waits to be proven innocent!"
"It won't happen." Peeta shakes his head, "That won't be the case. People will see."
"How long will that take, Peeta?" She demands, "How long are you willing to wait for her?"
"A lifetime." Is his answer.
They pause. Look at each other. Something shifts in the air. It becomes heavier, hotter, tighter somehow. Katniss looks like she's struggling to breathe. Peeta is struggling to look into her eyes.
"After everything?" It's a whisper.
Peeta can't reply. His stomach is tied up in knots, and there's a pressure in his chest, pushing back against the heaving of his lungs. His chest feels too tight. It's making everything a little blurry around the edges.
"Are you going to answer?" She asks, and her voice cracks.
"I don't know what you want me to say." It's a mutter.
"How about an apology?!" Katniss explodes, and her face is flushed red, her eyes watering dangerously. She's shaking all over. "After everything we've been through! After everything that's happened, and all we've done for each other, you're going to walk away with another woman?"
"We've changed, Katniss!" He pleads, "We're different now. The Rebellion, the Games, it changed us. We're not the same kids that went into the first Games. I loved you then, I did, with all my heart I loved you, but I'm different now."
"You've outgrown me." She accuses, drawing back to scowl at him.
"That's not what I'm saying! I'm saying that... That I need something different now. I'm saying that all of those horrific things that happened broke me, Katniss, and she... She saved me."
"I've saved you!" Katniss screams at him, shoving him hard in the chest. He stumbles but stays upright, catching himself on the couch.
"I know that."
She comes at him again, her dark, braided hair swinging wildly as she shoves at him, tries to slap him, he fends her off as best he can as she sobs.
"I saved you over and over again, Peeta! I sacrificed for you, and got hurt for you, and I did it because I cared for you!"
"I know! And I'll always be grateful, and I'll always love you, but I just-!"
"Love her more!" She yells, and he doesn't reply. Doesn't have to. "After everything, it was supposed to be us. When everything had settled down, and all the violence stopped, we were supposed to go home together. That's how it was supposed to end, Peeta. It was supposed to be you and me."
"People told us that," he agrees, imploring desperately as she storms a path in front of him. "But don't we deserve more? Don't we deserve to end up with people we love, that we've chosen? Rather than end up with each other just because there was no one else around to choose from?"
"What are you saying?" She demands.
"I fought for you because I loved you. Even during the mission to get to the Capitol, I looked at you and there wasn't anything of what I'd felt before. When the fighting was over, and we spent those weeks waiting for the Capitol Games to happen, I kept waiting for the feelings to come back after the last effects of the hijacking had worn away. I waited, and I was sure they'd return, but it just didn't happen."
"So why did you act like we might have still had a chance?!" She yells, whirling on him violently.
"Because I felt obligated!" He shouts back, finally too frustrated to remain calm. "I'd been fighting for you for so long, and you were hurting so much, and I'd promised to love you. I felt obligated to stay, because just like you, I thought we had to stay together, because that's what everyone assumed was going to happen anyway!"
"You piece of shit!" She snarls, and gives him a final shove before she spins on her heel and starts to storm away.
"Did you ever even want me?" He calls, frustrated. She pauses. "Really? Was there ever a single moment where you looked at me and thought that you could spend your life with me? Not even that, was there ever a moment where you wanted to sleep with me? Kiss me? Was there ever anything other than protecting me because you felt you had to?"
"I do care about you." She gets out through gritted teeth, but she still hasn't turned round to look at him.
"But you don't love me, do you?" He presses, "We were thrown together under horrific, horrible circumstances that children should never have to be in. As if that's a foundation for a healthy relationship. It formed a bond, yes, and that will always be there. But there is no one forcing us together anymore, Katniss. No one to tell us who we have to spend our lives with. Now that that pressure has been removed, can you honestly tell me you want to be with me?"
She finally turns to look at him. Tears shine in her eyes, but they don't fall. She blinks, and her lips part to say something. It take a moment for the words to come out.
"No." She murmurs, and frowns like she's surprised of her own answer. She shakes her head. "I guess I just... Always assumed it would be the two of us, in the end."
"So did I." He says, and gives her a wane smile.
Katniss nods like she's realised something. Maybe she has. Maybe she's finally figured out that she's not under anyone's control anymore. Maybe, finally she realises that she's free.
"Will you come back to 12?"
Peeta realises that if he says no, this will be goodbye.
"I don't know." He says instead. "I've got to stay for a while."
She nods, understanding. There's a faraway look in her eyes now, an uncertainty that wasn't there before. She seems to stand a little taller though.
"Good luck with Casteel." She nods to the white door. "I don't doubt that she'll be fine. She's tough. Stubborn though, might be a long fight ahead of you."
Peeta huffs a small laugh. He knows. She smiles a little. Nods again, then she turns to leave.
They don't bother saying goodbye. It wouldn't be for long anyway.
Peeta watches her go, and there is nothing but hope in his chest for her. Hope that she finds peace, hope that she can heal, hope that one day she'll find happiness that will make all this suffering worth it.
He sighs and takes his seat again, his chest just a little bit lighter.
****
I wake all at once. A shudder that courses through my entire body and leaves my eyes flung open. The first breath I take is so deep and so desperate it makes my chest ache and stings my throat.
My vision is blurry for a second, a panicked second where I think that I'll never be able to see again, but then I blink a few times and the film of sleep disappears, and I can look around the room I'm laying in.
I'm lying prone on a double bed. There's no sheets covering me, and I only have one pillow beneath my head. The room itself is bare. Nothing hanging on the walls. No shelves, no bedside table, no chest of drawers. No pictures on the walls. Not even a window.
There are two doors. Both are closed.
No one else in the room, either.
Frowning, I try to shift. Find that doesn't much hurt. With a slight wince, I sit up.
No mirrors in here, so I shift aside the simple vest I'm wearing to inspect the exit wound I know was there.
The scar isn't as bad as I thought it would be. Kind of like a star, the round hole where the bullet came through in the center, and then small slashes of lines branching off from it where the bullet tore my skin open. It's a vivid, angry purple, but I know over the next couple of years it will fade to silver.
I want to see the entry wound, but a quick glance round reveals absolutely no mirrors. It won't be as bad as the exit wound anyway, just a small round hole I guess, one to mirror the other on my opposite shoulder, all those months ago during the Final Battle.
I couldn't see it from laying down, but now that I'm sitting I can see a tray set at the foot of one of the doors. My legs are wobbly when I put my weight on them, but I get to the tray eventually.
The door is locked, the handle doesn't move at all when I try to rattle it.
Shrugging, I slide to the floor and pick through what's been given to me. Plastic tray, plastic cup full of water only, plastic dish with a few tablets in it, and a plastic plate of sausages and eggs. No cutlery.
I can't help it, I laugh a little. Glance round for the camera I know must be watching me. I find it, tiny, up in one of the corners of the room.
"Testing to see if I'm mentally sound, huh?" I ask it, narrowing my eyes. My voice is a little croaky. "I must say, I'm a little offended."
The camera doesn't reply, so I roll my eyes and consume what's on the tray. I think about tossing the tablets away, but they're probably antibiotics or something equally as important, so I consume those too.
I can't eat everything on the plate, must be because of the weight I lost in the arena. As long as I keep eating though, my body should fill out again.
As soon as I'm done, I test the other door. It reveals what I thought it would; A small bathroom. Just a sink, a toilet, an open shower. No glass for me. I'm happy to find there isn't a camera in here.
My inspection complete, I return to my empty bedroom. Glance round. There's absolutely nothing to do.
So I shrug and return to the bed, and after a while, sleep takes me.
Days pass this way. Or... It feels like days. I sleep for a few hours, wake up and there's a meal waiting for me. I shower. I exercise when I can be bothered, just to make sure my body is working properly. It is.
They fixed me just fine, it seems, though my shoulder still smarts when I try to do some push ups. I think it'll be a long time before that stops hurting, it might twinge a bit for the rest of my life. That bullet must have done some serious damage.
I'm surprised they didn't get rid of the scars; Nobody keeps scars anymore. Maybe they think it'll be a punishment for me. I don't care, I don't mind much anyway.
They didn't get rid of my scars from the arena, either. I've got slashes on the back of my calf from those foxes. A jagged line above my knee from my wolf friend. A vicious, angry bite mark from the bear. And a long, thin line on my ribs where Coal stabbed me. There are numerous other scrapes and gouges, not as serious but still able to leave a mark.
This body has been through hell, I should really take better care of it. I decide to look after it more when I get out of the room. If I ever get out of the room.
It's hard to decide whether this is my prison. Have they decided what I did to Coin was unprovoked murder, and this is my punishment? Will years pass in this room without me noticing? Will everyone on the outside carry on without me? Do they even know I'm in here? Were they told that I died while they were trying to operate on me, and this is where I'll grow old and die?
The questions plague me, but I don't let the camera see that I'm terrified. If they think I'm falling apart, they might not let me out.
So I continue with the pattern. Get up, exercise, eat what they've left, shower, then I'll put on the new clothes they leave - nothing more than a new vest top and loose shorts - and then I sit staring at the walls. The ceiling. The door. I wish they'd give me something. Anything. I'd be grateful for a ball.
I try to play games. Mutter made up stories to myself. Nothing lasts for very long though. Usually, I just end up drifting back to sleep.
Days are probably passing. Weeks. I'm not entirely sure.
It's long enough for my body to feel a little fuller. My hips fill out. My ribs aren't so sharp. My thighs are looking more shapely. The meals are regular, and I push myself pretty hard when I work out, so I'm not surprised. Though I'm glad my body seems to be working normally.
I now look more like I did when I was working for the Resistance. When I was being fed properly and doing all that training, all those missions. It kept me strong. If you were weak, you weren't good enough to be part of the team, so you made sure to keep yourself in shape.
Of course, I hid my toned body under stylish clothes while out in public and kept myself looking small. People would have grown suspicious if I suddenly looked like I could fight. They'd have asked who it was I was intending on fighting.
After I was captured, I lost all of that muscle, that bulk, that strength. After that, I was skeletal. The arena didn't help either, of course. But a couple of weeks here with regular, proper food and good exercise is doing me a world of good.
It's nice to poke a leg and feel the hard layer beneath. That meant surviving, back with the Resistance. Meant outrunning the Peacekeepers and preventing being caught under their boots.
"Look," I tell the camera one afternoon, (Night? Morning? Who knows?) "If I wasn't crazy before, being isolated like this is going to make me crazy. You're not helping the situation. I've been good, I haven't thrown any tantrums, haven't shoved my food away or flushed all those pills. At the very least, I deserve to know what's going on, all right?"
The camera doesn't answer. I didn't expect it to. I wait some more.
****
Something shocks me out of sleep and I'm up from the mattress in an instant, already in a fighting stance, imagining bears and wolves and pale creatures with sharp claws.
But I'm still in the empty room, and I rub my eyes and glance around. The nightmares are pretty bad, but they usually don't wake me up so violently.
I'm about to shrug and climb back onto the mattress, a little annoyed with being awoken so suddenly, when I realise it wasn't a nightmare at all.
It was the door.
I bolt out of bed and race to it. Stand in front, hands on the wood, hoping with everything in me that someone is on the other side.
I don't shout. I don't want to scare them away. I don't want them to think I'm going to attack.
"Miss Casteel!" A voice on the other side echoes, "Please stand back!"
They don't sound all that friendly.
I hop back, heart racing, not just because that's the first voice I've heard since I woke up but because it sounds like there's more than one, and I have half a mind to bet they're soldiers, and if soldiers are coming for me then I must be in a lot of trouble.
Backing up, I brace myself. Brace myself for a fight, for a verdict, for a decision to tell me that I'm being executed for what I've done to Coin.
The door is wrenched open and light floods in, blinding me momentarily.
I blink the brightness away, only to find a column of guards peering in, all of them with guns aimed at me. I don't move. If I even twitch, they might be able to report that I attacked them and they killed me for just reasons.
"Put those weapons down." I know the voice.
"Sir, we were briefed. She might be dangerous-"
"Stand aside, you idiots." Plutarch Heavensbee marches down the gap that the two lines of guards make on either side of the door, and they part to accommodate Plutarch's rounder size.
As soon as he's cleared of the guards, he yanks the door shut.
"Emerald." He smiles at me.
I punch him right in the jaw.
******
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