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He had a bad feeling about this.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Beetee’s plan. He had studied the tapes, understood Beetee’s skill and strategy. Whatever the older man was planning would work. It would get the attention of the Game Makers, of the Capitol itself, for better or worse.

He was going to side with the latter. Peeta knew better than to be believe that this was going to end well for all of them. That wasn’t the nature of the Hunger Games. The odds were never really in anyone’s favor. Even the winners were ruined, turned into losers in their way having survived Hell and then some.

The moment Katniss and Johnna set off down the hillside, his stomach had plunged. He wanted to go with them, to protect Katniss and have her back, but there had been no way. His leg slowed him down, the abuse it had suffered causing it to spasm slightly and without warning. So he had watched and waiting while Beetee set the trap. It hadn’t taken longer before Finnick had jumped him, knocking him out, blackness overpowering him before he could fight back.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before the world swam back into view. There was a gash just above the crook of his elbow, a steady trickle of blood coming from it. His head ached and his heart was pounding in his chest.

Katniss.

He had to find her. He had promised. Staggering to his feet, he pulled moss off of a tree, making a mock bandage to cover his wound before he set off. It had to be close to the time. He no longer cared about being betrayed, jumped when his back was turned. All that mattered was that he get her out of there alive.

“Katniss!” he shouted, moving carefully through the trees listening for any sign that she might still be alive. “Katniss!”

He heard his name being shouted, the word coming from too far off. She was still alive. Picking up speed he moved through the trees, he headed right for the lightning tree hoping that she would be somewhere near there.

“Katniss!” his voice was growing hoarse, but he had to get there. Stumbling slightly he focused on staying conscious as he stumbled toward the tree. He was nearly there when he saw the lightning strike, white hot electricity following an invisible path up towards the ceiling. The dome explode in a blast of bright blue light, the ground shaking as everything began to explode at once. He caught sight of Katniss through the trees just before clumps of earth and plants erupted skyward. The sky was on fire, just as beautiful as it was terrifying.

Opening his mouth, Peeta screamed her name one last time before a bomb went off just to his right, throwing him to the ground and hurtling into darkness.

There were birds chirping over head. The noise of them sounded far away, getting louder with every passing minute. The screeches and calls, some recognizable but others completely foreign filled his ears. The fluttering of wings and the smell of flowers seeped into his nose, the lack of explosions jarring him awake. Eyes opening he stared right above his head, watching brightly colored birds flit over head framed by branches and a bright blue sky.

He had a bad feeling about this.

Moving slightly, he groaned as he slowly sat up. He was in a room, a wooden cage of some sort elevated slightly off the ground. Leaning against one of the benches, he stared around him. Where was he? What sort of new trick was this?

“Katniss,” he called, voice cracking from the strain.

Holding his hand to his forearm, he felt the tension cling to him even as he leaned against the bench. He was in big trouble. That was for certain.

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Meredith did her best to be available most of the time, to be somewhere the others could find her if she was needed, knowing how precarious everything was right now. Her dog was over-enthusiastic, her boyfriend was moody and her ribs hadn't yet wholly forgiven her for her mistake out in the hurricane, and she tried to mitigate all of this by being around, by being patient and caring and all of these things that really were just guilt.

The rest of the time, she made a point of going further than she should to places they wouldn't look for her.

Her peace, shaky as it already was this afternoon, was disturbed by the sound of a boy's voice coming from nearby. She didn't recognize what he said, the word or name or other language maybe, but she was familiar with that kind of tone and, unthinking, she swerved from the path in search of it. "Hello?" she called out, making her way toward the aviary. "Is someone there?"

Leaning his head back, Peeta's eyes fluttered close as he rested his head. It was pounding, thumping along in tempo with his heart that was still going a thousand miles an hour. Everything hurt. Everything ached in a way that he couldn't specify what.

Then he heard it.

The voice, unfamiliar and shouting. Eyes snapping open again, his pain-dulled reflexes telling him to move, now. Moving slightly, he winced against his will.

"Hello?" he called, still trying to place who might be shouting. It was too late to pretend that he hadn't been heard. "Over here."

Meredith followed the sound off the path, picking up speed as she spotted him, seated on the aviary floor. As she drew closer, it was evident he was injured and she stepped quickly into the cage to kneel down beside him. Who he was didn't matter just now. Whatever his story, she just hoped it hadn't happened here.

"It's okay," she said, "I'm a doctor. I can help." She only had basics in the bag she carried with her, though: bandages, aspirin, quick fixes for small problems. He needed a little more than that, but she set to looking him over to do what she could until she knew if he could be moved. "What happened?"

Tension still ran through his body. He refused to take his eyes off of her, watching her, waiting for her to do something that he would have to fight off. Peeta used to not be this person, he used to trust people with a greater ease. Now he didn't know what kind of person he was, except that one who wanted to believe the best but knew better.

"How do you not know?" Forehead wrinkling, the confusion sending another loop of pain through him as he stared. Pressing down on his elbow, he lifted up the clump of moss that had become stuck there by his drying blood. Definitely not good. "It was on television. Or it was right before Katniss blew it up. God, the Game Makers must be furious."

If this was any indication, things weren't going to end well for them.

"We don't really get much television here," Meredith said wryly, getting a good look at the gash, mouth pursing in a frown. It was a bad one, but he seemed to have at least staunched the worst of the blood flow from the wound. There was still the issue of her not having her supplies, though. While this business about explosions and the Game Makers sounded strange, she was more concerned by his condition.

"That was a good idea," she continued, "with the moss. I don't really have my supplies with me, but if you lean on me and I support you, do you think you could manage to walk a little ways with me? There's a clinic where I can treat you better."

That wasn't a comforting statement. Back home personal televisions had been an exception reserved for the wealthy, but when it came to the games everyone could watch. They were made to watch, battered sets displayed in houses, giant screens in the squares. There was a statement to be made and for the second year running Peeta was part of the point.

"There wasn't much of a choice. Besides, we'd used it before. I just didn't think that..." he trailed off realising that he had thought that something like this might happen. His goal was still to get Katniss out alive and if he could get everyone else that would be fine. But they were secondary, always after.

Pushing himself up so that he was sitting on the bench, he bent his legs first the prosthetic and then the other one. "Katniss. I have to find her. I am not going anywhere until I find her. They'll kill her, you know that."

That was what he'd been saying, Meredith realized: Katniss, a girl he knew, someone in danger. It made something twist in her stomach, thinking of how there was no way he could help her now. The name itself was familiar, but in a distant way, and she paid that no mind.

Right now, he was her first priority, and she eased up onto the bench beside him. This wasn't easy news to break in any circumstances, but this was more difficult than usual for her. "I'm sorry," she said, as gentle as she could. "Wherever you were a few minutes ago, you aren't there anymore. And we need to take care of you now. If your friend is here, too, then she's safe. This is a safe place. No one is going to hurt you here."

His breathing was more laboured than it normally would be, pain hitting his side and shooting all around him. He didn't know how long he had been out of it, but being knocked out like that had done a number on him.

Squinting slightly, Peeta ducked his head, hand firmly clamped on his arm. "No, it's alright," he said still more confused than he wanted to be. There was a reason. Something had happened he didn't know what. "This isn't District 13 is it? That's just a story, there's no way that we could have gotten there so fast."

More importantly what was there to go to? Nothing as far as the propos showed. "How safe?"

"So safe," Meredith said, "that I don't actually know what you're talking about." The sooner she got this through his head, the sooner she could get him the help he needed, but there was no reason not to be gentle in such a delicate situation. Turning up here was difficult on an ordinary day. Turning up here when people were after you, as it seemed to her they must have been after this boy, when someone you loved was in danger — it was horrible. Her heart went out to him. "I'm sorry. There is no District 13 here. There aren't any... any Game Makers. Where you were before, it's... it's not here. This is an island called Tabula Rasa. And sometimes, people just... show up here. I can't explain it, I don't understand it either, but you are here now. Whoever was going to hurt you back there, they can't get you here."

He must have hit his head harder than he had thought. It was possible. Anything was possible given the amount of time that was blank in his memory. Still he didn't trust it. The words coming out of this woman's mouth seemed reasonable and it was nothing like what had happened to him after the last Games.

Maybe she was right. Maybe he wasn't anywhere within the reach of the Capitol anymore. But how and why, now those were answers he didn't have. Peeta coughed, looking down at his arm and then back at her pain on his face. "That doesn't make sense, but..." But he couldn't stay like this. Fighting right now would be pointless. "I'll go with you. Where do we go?"

Meredith let out a sigh of relief, rising to her feet and holding out an arm to him. "There's a clinic," she said, "in the main building. It's a walk, but it's not that far." She would have taken him to an outpost if one had been closer but his immediate treatment was her first concern. "I can tell you about the place while we walk, alright? My name is Meredith." She wasn't sure he trusted her even slightly, but as long as he was still willing to follow, that didn't really matter in the end.

Grabbing onto her arm he felt a flash of embarassment at having to use it to stand up. It faded quickly, the knowledge that he was in no shape or state of mind to wander around on his own taking over. His breathing a little labored, largely due to what he had just come from.

The first step to figuring what was happening was to get better. Peeta wasn't foolish enough to doubt that. "Peeta," he offered up a grim smile. "It would've been better to meet in otherways. What did you mean that you can't explain it?"

Leading the way carefully, Meredith watched him from the corner of her eye, trying to make sure she didn't go too quickly for him. If she saw any sign he couldn't handle this, she'd have to do her best to make do wherever they stood.

"There has to be some explanation," she said, "but whatever it is, I don't know it. You... just arrived here without knowing how or why, right? Closed your eyes a moment or turned a corner or woke up somewhere new. That's how it happens for everyone. We don't know why. We just know we're here now."

He was still unsteady on his feet. The world kept threatening to slide out of focus but it was still too soon to let himself relax. Maybe later but for now it was better this way.

"There was an explosion. Katniss...I was knocked out and then I was here. It isn't what I was expecting."

More trouble. That had been what he was expecting.

"Sometimes that's not a bad thing," Meredith said. The name Katniss still sounded familiar in a way she couldn't place, but she didn't want to give him false hope when she wasn't sure why she recognized it. "Can you remember what happened at all? You hit your head?" She was starting to worry about some of the signs he was exhibiting, concerned she couldn't get him safely to the clinic and care for him fast enough.

He didn't understand how this could be anything but a bad thing. These months have been hard on him, what his faith and strength in the good of the world being stripped away. Peeta still was willing to look for it though. No matter how hard it would be to see.

"Yeah. The ground, the trees, it just erupted. I must have been hit by something, blacked out and now I am here." Unconsciously his hand went to his temple, looking for any sign of blood. There wasn't any, not there at least.

Meredith wanted badly to be back at the clinic already, wishing for about the ninety-seventh time that they had a CT scanner. They made do, but one of these days, it wouldn't be enough. "How's your vision?" she asked. At least his memory and speech seemed to be just fine, but he'd been unconscious and she couldn't be sure for how long. There were too many unknown factors. "Can you see clearly? No spots or blurring?" Even as she asked, she continued walking as quickly as she dared, not wanting to rush him overmuch.

He took a moment to think about that. It shouldn't be something he should have to think about. The games made him stop and think, to wonder about what normal was.

"Alright. The light hurts a little, but the glare has gone." Peeta wasn't going to think about what that meant. Falling apart wasn't an option. Not until he knew Katniss was safe. Then he could die in peace.

Meredith nodded. "Alright," she said, "that's normal, that's okay. We'll get you looked at, cleaned up and you can rest, and that should go away. So what was this, some kind of... endurance competition?" If she were lucky, it wouldn't be anything that couldn't be fixed with time, food and rest. He needed plenty of them all, though, she could see that already. "Or a battle?" It was difficult to tell. By the way he spoke, it sounded like someone was out to kill them, but he was so young.

"I was a Tribute." It didn't occur to him until a moment later that if she hadn't heard of the Hunger Games than she wouldn't have any idea what he was talking about. The idea that someone couldn't know what had been happening every year for three quarters of a century boggled him. It didn't make sense, unless she was being honest and he was even further from home than he believed.

"In the Hunger Games. Each district," he paused, catching his breath before continue. "Sends to tributes to fight to the death while everyone watches."

Meredith's breath caught in her throat and she nodded slowly upwards, though she didn't entirely comprehend. At least, she understood without wholly understanding, unable to process the notion of this boy sent into something like that. He was only a child still. "So a little of both," she said. "That's awful." He wasn't nearly as badly off as he could have been, though, at least as far as the physical went and she was grateful for that. They would get him taken care of and keep him safely here.

"Yeah, both," he agreed. It was a battle, having allies only to lose them. They had fought each other and then fought with each other. That was almost worse that any other torture that was thrown at them. There had been no time to rest, no time to catch his breath.

But that was gone now and here he was. In a place that didn't fit with anything he had really known. It sort of reminded him of the Arena, but the sky was wrong. It was blue. Achingly he shrugged. "It was life."

"That's not life," Meredith said. Hers had always felt like an uphill battle against the lot she'd been given and there were times she thought she had it harder than most, but that was nothing compared to a place where children fighting was simply life. "Not here, it isn't. Not where I'm from. Nothing like that is going to happen here, Peeta."

It was the only life he had ever known. His family might not have suffered as much as those in the Seam, but his mother had been quietly terrifying, prone to tempers and rages. He had been surviving for so long he only half-remembered how to live.

Turning his head, Peeta looked at her trying to tell if she was lying. "That doesn't seem real."

Meredith felt her heart break a little at that, the notion that safety was hard to believe. Alright, so she'd been there, but it was totally different in her case, always an emotional safety, not something so basic as whether or not she'd make it through the day. "Maybe not yet," she said, trying to hide it, "but it will. Someday. The people here are... very nice and they'll try to help you, whatever you need. That up there is the Compound — do you see it? There's clothes, meals, books, the clinic, places to stay. Everything really."

Squinting, Peeta looked in the direction that she had indicated. It was like a game, thinking of nice things to distract himself from the throbbing of his head and limbs.

"Everything? How does it have everything?" There had always been something to want. Everything brought to mind the Capitol and that excess, but it didn't look like the Capitol. Not at all. "Is it underground?"

"Part of it," Meredith said. "Most of it, actually. It's all pretty basic, but we have washers and dryers and a kitchen and a clinic, showers, running water — everything we need to make sure we're clothed and fed and in good health." All she wanted was to reassure him, though it would probably be a while before he believed in the safety of the place. She didn't, not really, not when her loved ones could be taken from her at any moment and strange things could happen any day, but it was better than what he'd come from, maybe better than where she'd been.

"That actually sounds pretty nice."

Running water had been a luxury that not everyone at home had been able to afford. It hadn't been an issue for Peeta, even less of once since moving into his house in Victor's Village. He knew better than to take even the most simple of luxuries for granted.

"It is," Meredith agreed. Her life had gone to hell in a handbasket of late, but for once, she couldn't blame the island for that, just the people on it. At least that was familiar, everything turning to shit because of the people around her instead of magical circumstance. It wasn't any easier to bear, though. "There's no real economy, so there's no money, so don't worry about a job or anything. You just take it easy until you're healed up." He was going to need some recovery time, that much she was sure of.

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