He had failed.

Even if he couldn't control who stayed or went, Peeta couldn't help but feel as if he had failed. He had told Prim that she was safe, that he wouldn't let anything happen to her and now she was gone. How could be anything but a failure?

This type of loss, the disappearing in the middle of the night variety, wasn't new for him. He had lost plenty of people during his time here. But this was worse. He knew what was in store for Prim. He knew where she would go and what was waiting for her. There should have been something for him to do. Some way to make her stay.

Keeping moving helped. He had been avoiding spending any time longer than necessary in the boarding house, filling his days to the brim. That was what had brought him down the path towards Lucy's hut, having asked for directions to where she lived (or gleaned it from just being on the island for long enough -- he wasn't certain which was more true).

Tapping on the door, he waited for her to answer. He wasn't certain what he was going to do when she did (if she did) but he had a handful of ideas running through his head. Even if they failed he had a feeling that at the very least she would get where he was coming from.

He had failed, but he hadn't stopped moving yet. "Lucy?" he asked, clearing his throat. "It's me, Peeta. Have you got a minute?"

No matter how strange and somewhat awkward things got between himself and Katniss, Peeta still couldn't help but worry about her. She had been through a rough time and even though they've been here for over a year, their lives hadn't been made up of the sorts of things that could be so easily recovered from. Just because he had told her that he didn't want to hear about the terrible things that had happened to him, to the mess that he apparently become didn't mean that he didn't care about her. It was uncomfortable, but that wasn't likely to change.

With a sketch book under his arm and a couple of pencils tucked behind each of his ears, he took off in search of Katniss' hut. He wasn't certain where he would find her, but he hoped that she would stay in one place long enough for him to find her. He was glad that she didn't live all the way out in the middle of nowhere like she could, but it still took some time to get there.

Standing outside her hut, he took a deep breath wondering why he felt a twinge of nervousness. It was probably just a side-effect of the mess of their lives. Knocking on her door, he stepped back.

"Katniss? Are you home?"

Peeta had no taste for danger. He understood why people wanted to go down and explore that city under the ground. He just wasn’t one of them. He’d had more than his fair share of it already.

No. Other people here might be willing to risk their lives for the sake of curiosity and exploration, but he was fine with manning the fort at home. There wasn’t anything wrong with that. It wasn’t born out of cowardice or fear. It was just him recognising that it wasn’t for him. Maybe next time, but not now.

There was a fine layer of flour on his arms and hands, dusting his shirt and smudged on his cheeks. It was familiar. It was comfortable. It was just the right sort of thing he needed. His hands working the dough, he carefully rolled it out before twisting it into elaborate knots. He was so engrossed in his work that it wasn’t until he had finished with about five of them did he look up and realise that someone had entered the bakery. Smiling widely he stepped closer to the counter.

“Hi. What can I get for you?”

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.