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.