Seize Me

Chapter 15

"How did this happen again?

When did the room start to spin out of focus and crash in the breezes?

I thought we'd figured it out, thought our hearts finally found,

One love that trumped every reason."

How Did This Happen-Amber Rubarth

"Katniss!" I hear Peeta yell, but I can't see him through the lights still flashing in my face. I'm instantly nauseous and my head is beginning to pound, and the rational part of my brain is just functional enough at this point to wonder if I'm about to have a seizure or something. That'd be my luck, to drop to the floor in a convulsing heap for the first time in front of cameras.

"Katniss!" the paparazzi begin to sound, picking up on my name from Peeta's call. "Katniss, are you Peeta Mellark's girlfriend?"

"Are you sleeping with him?"

"Is that a baby bump I see?"

"Was the test for you?"

Unthinkingly, my hand falls to my lower abdomen, over my womb, stupidly offended by the remark. Baby bump? Assholes.

The anger is enough to break through the haze of my panic and confusion, and I immediately surge toward my right, toward where I think Peeta is, determined to break as many noses and kick as many groins as I need to in order to push through the crowd. But just as I reach the first person, I'm shoved roughly backward by a new paparazzi member who's just joining the fray. He gives me a wicked grin as he brings the camera to his face, snapping a picture of my horrified expression.

"Harassing the paparazzi?" he coos at me. "Shall we take that as a confession?"

My mouth falls open and moves up and down wordlessly, leaving me to look like a stunned fish out of water. I'm just formulating a nasty retort that surely would have been front page news, when a member of hotel security comes elbowing his way through the crowd, his bulky frame cutting through the mess of photographers like a knife. He yells a mix of commands and profanities at the group, and something he says must register because the group scrams. As they disperse, I see two other security guards, who have also been shoving their way through the crowd. The hotel manager is hot behind them, his face red with fury.

"I want to know how the hell they got in," the man shouts, seizing the nearest security guard by a lapel. It's a comedic sight, as the hotel manager is about half the size of the rather large guard. "I want to know who's responsible, and I want that person in my office at 8 am sharp with their keys and badge ready to hand in. Got it?"

Wide-eyed, the security guard nods furiously as he turns on his heels and stalks toward the hotel entry doors, presumably to secure the doors against any stray paparazzi hoping to worm their way back in for some follow-up shots.

"There you two are," says a gruff voice. "Should have known to just follow the smell of paparazzi trash. The story's out five minutes and the shit descends."

I turn and find the voice belongs to Haymitch, striding toward us angrily with a worried looking Finnick and Annie in tow. I feel Peeta's hand slide into mine, and I shake it loose, glancing from side to side for any signs of extra paparazzi the security team has missed. This is precisely what I'd wanted to avoid, why I'd wanted to keep it all a secret. Now the story will be out tomorrow morning—tonight on the blogs—telling the whole world how a girl named Katniss is dating a rock star.

"What's going on, Haymitch?" Peeta asks, giving me a sidelong glance of worry as he does. "They've never been that bold before."

"Someone snapped a picture of Portia at the drugstore downtown, knew she was part of the team. Got a few good shots of her picking out and buying a pregnancy test."

Peeta raises an eyebrow at Haymitch, his expression one of disbelief. "I hardly see how Portia's affairs are any interest to the media."

"Wouldn't have been," Haymitch grumbles. "Except a story about a pregnant rock star groupie is much more interesting. Plus someone at the store got a video of Portia turning down stretch mark cream and prenatal vitamins designed for older women. Flat out said it was for a young lady, so she'd need vitamins for young mothers."

"Stupid," Finnick grumbles under his breath.

Haymitch's answering glare stops whatever else Finnick had wanted to say. "She'd no idea she was being filmed, and none of us knew people were paying such close attention to everyone. This god damned mish-mash tour of yours is making quite a name for you guys. Not many bands just hop in on other tours like you guys do. Snow throwing you into random shows is stirring up excitement and everyone is trying to figure out where you're playing next. They somehow knew Portia was part of the crew." Haymitch sighs, running a hand through his hair roughly in frustration. "It's making you all hot shots, and people pay close attention to hot shots. People have also noticed you've got a group of girls with you at every show, the same group of girls."

"And they've assumed the pregnancy test was for one of them," Peeta concludes, slumping back against the bar in defeat. "I'm sorry, Katniss," he says softly, his eyes apologetic as they meet mine.

"Yeah," Finnick says. "After the story about the pregnancy test, people recognized you and Katniss here, and someone posted a picture of you arguing on some gossip site. Paparazzi must have seen it and figured out where you guys were. There's a hell of a backlash too, what with you drinking, Katniss."

"Which is why it took us so damned long to find you guys," Haymitch says hotly. "Where's our happily expecting couple?"

"You know?" I asked softly, suddenly overwhelmed. I slump like Peeta, falling beside him to lean against the bar for support as well. He reaches for my hand again and, this time, I don't pull my hand away from his.

"Powers of deduction," Haymitch growls. "They upstairs?"

"I'd think so," I say glumly, kicking at a stray straw on the bar's floor. "I think they need some time, though."

"There's no more time," Haymitch snaps. "You two need to get to the hospital. I'll have those two meet us there."

"Hospital?" I ask, a sick sensation of dread sliding up my spine. My senses are suddenly on high alert, and I look to Finnick. He doesn't meet my gaze, but Annie's expression is open to me. Her eyes are sad and apologetic, a small frown pulling the corners of her lips down low.

And suddenly, I realize something is very wrong.

"Where is Prim?" I ask, daggers of ice piercing my heart. "Where's Rory?"

Haymitch hesitates, then says calmly. "There was an accident at the stadium. She's at the hospital now, but Rory's with her." He says the last bit quickly, as if I'm supposed to be reassured by the fact that my sister's immature boyfriend is at her side.

I cannot breathe. The deadly cold slithers up my spine, spreading through every limb until I'm choking on the fear. I stare at Finnick and Annie, whose eyes are strangely welling with tears, and I'm mentally screaming at them to counter what Haymitch has just said.

"Prim?" I gasp, her name a whisper through the squeeze in my throat, coming out as a wheeze between my lips

I know Peeta's hands are on mine, but I can't feel them. All I can feel is the cold of stinging, paralyzing fear. I turn toward him and see his eyes are concerned, staring at me as if he's worried I'll pass out.

"Hospital," I gasp to those wide blue eyes, which are all I can see any more through my horror. "Now."

Peeta and Haymitch talk calmly to the nurse at the nurses' station, while I pace in small circles, trying to control my panic. On the cab ride over, Haymitch had explained what had happened back at the stadium.

"No one really saw it," Haymitch had said, his voice low and soothing, a drastic comparison to his usual demeanor. "Only one who saw much of anything was Rory, and he was half-crazy screaming for help that we didn't get much out of him before they were in the ambulance and off to the hospital. But from what we could get, some girl got a little too pushy with Rory, was strung out on something. Kept offering him something and asking him to let her come back to their dressing room to share. Prim didn't take kindly to that and came over to tell her off. The girl went crazy and sprayed some kind of vapor in Prim's face, then took off. We're not sure what it was the girl got at her, but Prim was really struggling to breathe."

"Is she—?" I'd started, my voice coming out a croak. I could feel Peeta's hand in mine, squeezing mine roughly for reassurance. I'd cleared my throat and tried again. "Is she okay?"

"I'm not sure," Haymitch had said honestly, leaning back in his seat. "We'll find out when we get there."

Except that had been a lie. We've been here for half an hour, and no one's been able to tell us anything. Rory sits beside me, equally pale and horrified, rocking back and forth in his chair. After the ambulance had arrived, they'd carted Prim off to treatment while Rory was dragged to the waiting room to recount what had happened to Prim. They'd accosted me when I'd arrived, wanting Prim's insurance information and more history than Rory had been able to give. But for all the information I'd given them, they haven't given me anything in return. All I've been able to do is sit here in this chair with my elbows on my knees and my chin in my hands, staring blankly at the subtitled television in the waiting room.

"They weren't sure what it was," Rory says, "in the ambulance. They gave her something to try and stop the burning in her throat and calm her down, and then they gave her an oxygen mask. They said only the doctors were allowed to diagnose a condition; they just had to treat her long enough to get her to the hospital." His eyes are sunken in and red, the picture of terror as he stares bleakly down at the pristine waxed tile floors of the waiting room. "It was awful, Katniss. I really wasn't sure if she was going to make it. They talked about putting a tube down her throat to help her breathe and I almost freaked out, because that usually means someone is in big trouble. They debated for a second because they weren't sure how bad the irritation was and if it would just cause more problems, but then she started to breathe easier so they left it be."

My stomach rolls as I envision an EMT plunging a tube down her throat, maiming her for life. I can see my sister voiceless for the rest of her life due to complications, scarred because of the situation I'd allowed her to enter into. I have to fight down the rising tide of bile climbing its way up my throat as I envision my poor baby sister hooked up to a machine that's helping her breathe.

"Hey," Rory says softly, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you all that. Really, Katniss, she looked much better when they were wheeling her back. She was breathing better, and they were talking about the improvement in her condition to the doctors. It sounded like they just thought her body was responding to the irritant. They talked about running a drug test too, since we don't know what the girl threw at her. But everything is going to be okay. They didn't seem as worried as they had when they'd picked us up."

"Rory," I sigh, my head falling heavily into my waiting palms, the elbows on my knees taking the weight. "If anything happens to her, it will be all my fault."

"Nah," Rory says, a sudden lightness coming to his eyes. "You know Prim. She's a fighter. She lets you think she needs you because she knows you need to be needed. But she's not as helpless as we all like to think she is."

His words bring a distinct memory to mind from my childhood, rising from the cloud that settles like dust over old memories. The image that comes to me surprises me, a memory overshadowed by the life-altering events that had followed...

I can hear Prim shouting in the yard, yelling over the slightly deeper male voices of the other children her age. She's only eight at the time, a tiny little pixie with long flowing blonde hair and expressive blue eyes. She's been the focus of a lot of little boys' attention, something she'd less than enjoyed at her age, as the child's version of flirting usually involved teasing the other. I'm about to go out and kick some little boy ass when I hear the sound of another male voice, distinctly older than the rest. It's still not a man's voice. I can tell because it's soft and sweet, but it definitely belongs to someone older. Peeking out the window, I see a boy with curly blonde hair and a stocky frame joining the group of boys poking at my sister and pulling on her braids. I recognize him as being in one of my classes. I only remember him because his birthday had been the other day, and he'd proudly brought cookies. The teacher had given a speech about the cookies, but I'd been too absorbed in the flavors to notice anything else. They'd been the best cookies I'd ever eaten. The blonde boy from my class is yelling at the smaller boys, trying to pull them off Prim, whose braids are in a state of disarray. He's struggling to contain the three smaller children, pushing them away and demanding they leave the little girl alone. Seeing that he's struggling, I leave the window and race to the door.

But the sight that greets me when I cross the door frame is different than the one I'd seen from the window. The three smaller boys are all laying on the ground, clutching various body parts as if they're sore. Prim's tiny hands are balled up into fists, and she's glaring daggers down at the little boys.

"If you ever touch me again," she hisses in her high, clear voice, "I'll hit you again. Harder. I may be small, but you can't push me around."

I'm impressed at my sister's capability of handling these boys who, even at the same age, are so much bigger than her. I lean up against the door frame, unwilling to break whatever spell is making my sister such a warrior in her own name. The boys quickly scramble to their feet and dash off, only one daring to cast a wary glance back at my baby sister.

And then suddenly Prim turns to the older boy, gracing him with one of her small, beautiful smiles. "Thanks for the help," she says sweetly. "Those boys are real jerks."

I expect the boy to mutter something and walk away, or to be angry at her for showing him up. But instead he smiles back at her. "No problem," he says. "I just pulled them far enough away for you to get in a good punch, though. Man, you've got an arm."

"I've got an older sister," she says simply. Then, seeing the horrified look on the boy's face, she laughs her trilling laugh. "No, not like that, silly. She doesn't hit me. She teaches me. Dad showed her how to hit when she was my age when the boys started picking on her, too. She taught me. She's a good teacher."

"What's your sister's name?" he asks, his smile returning with the telling of her story.

"Katniss," Prim says. "Katniss Everdeen. And I'm Prim."

"Prim and Katniss," he says thoughtfully. "I know your sister, Prim. We're in school together."

"Oh," Prim says, thinking carefully. "My sister doesn't have a lot of friends."

I flush bright red in humiliation when she says that, despite the fact neither one of them still know I'm standing here listening. Really, Prim?

The boy laughs. "She's just very interested in whatever she's always thinking about." Then he leans over to pick up the small brown bag I hadn't seen him carrying earlier. He opens it up then and looks up and smiles sweetly at my sister. "Do you want a cheese bun?" he asks, pulling out a small roll and offering it to her.

"Oh, yes!" she says, seizing one in her small hands and taking a very unladylike bite out of the offered roll. Her eyes close softly while she enjoys the roll, not opening them until the bite is gone. Smiling up at him, she asks, "These are good, where did you get them?"

"I made them," the boy says proudly, his chest puffing up a little as he says it.

"Well they're good," Prim says then, polishing off the roll in three more bites. "I should probably get back inside, though. Katniss will be wondering where I am, and she'll be mad she missed beating the boys up for me. So, could you not tell her what happened when you see her at school tomorrow?"

The boy flushes a little as he diverts his eyes down to the brown paper bag he was closing up again. "She and I...we don't really talk. Ever."

"You should try. To talk to her, I mean," Prim says sweetly with a wide grin. "Mama always says Katniss doesn't spend enough time making friends her age."

And as I look back now, I realize the boy never did come talk to me. Because the next day our dad had died in the accident and I had become a shell of who I used to be for a long time, until the cheese buns broke me out of it.

And then it dawns on me. The boy in the yard with Prim...that had been Peeta. My eyes fly around the room until I find him leaning against the reception desk with Haymitch, talking softly with the young lady at the computer, probably checking on Prim's status. What would have happened if Dad hadn't died the next day? Would Peeta have come and talked to me? If he had, what would have turned out differently? I'm kicking myself for just now drawing the connection between the boy in the yard and the man in front of me. How is it possible I had forgotten something like this?

A sudden warmth crawls up and takes residence in my chest as I stare at the strong, handsome man who's been at my side for the last couple of months. He really is a fantastic person, and all things considered, I could do a lot worse than Peeta Mellark. Actually, I'm not really sure how I could do much better than him. Which is why this decision I've come to is going to be one of the hardest things I've ever done.

"Katniss Everdeen?" a soft, gentle female voice calls.

I hadn't even realized my right leg hand been bouncing erratically in anxiety until the sudden call of my name startles it into stillness. I stand immediately and my eyes find a nurse standing near the admission doors, holding a clipboard, smiling serenely at me.

"You can come back and see your sister, now," she says. Rory immediately jumps to his feet beside me and starts walking up to the nurse, but she puts out a hand and says apologetically, "I'm sorry, dear. Just immediate family for now. But you can see her after Miss Everdeen returns, if you'd like."

Nodding stiffly, Rory collapses back to the chair and crosses his arms glumly across his chest. His left knee starts to bounce almost automatically, and I wonder if he'd been doing that the same time I had, and how much of a ruckus we'd made in our shared silent worry.

"Hey," I hear Peeta say, and his hand is suddenly around my arm and squeezing it reassuringly. I turn and look into his stunning blue eyes, which are as soft and comforting as a pair of old jeans. "It'll be okay, Katniss. And we're all out here waiting for you when you're done, okay?"

I nod and, impulsively, reach out to grab his shoulders to pull him into a tight hug, which he returns in equal force. When he pushes me back softly to arms' length, he's wearing a soft smile full of all the support I know he's trying to send me telepathically. I smile back, trying to let him know I feel it.

"Thanks, Peeta." I say in a hoarse voice. "I won't take too long, so Rory can go see her soon."

We both turn to Rory, to whom Finnick is giving a quick, reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. Annie stands beside Finnick, her large green eyes still filled with the unshed tears she's been carrying around since they found us in the bar at the hotel. I find myself liking her more and more the longer I'm around her.

"Don't worry about Rory," Peeta says firmly. "Take as long as you need. She's your sister."

"Yes," I say slowly, watching his face. "But if it were me in there and you out here where Rory is..."

Peeta's eyes tighten and his features screw up into a grimace of pain. I'm suddenly both regretting my words and feeling warmed by his reaction. "Right," he says tersely. "Don't take too long, then."

And for the first time in what feels like years, a small bark of a laugh comes out through my lips as I turn to follow the nurse through the doors.

"She's still a little groggy," the nurse kindly explains as we walk the hallways. "But she should be able to hear you talk to her. We've instructed her not to talk, but she can nod and smile if she's awake enough."

We approach a room at the end of the hallway, and a woman in a doctor's coat is waiting in front of it. At first all I see of her is long stunning blonde hair pulled into a ponytail at the base of her skull. But as we get closer, she turns to smile at us and I'm completely knocked off-guard by her familiar grin.

Maysilee Donner, Madge's aunt.

Dr. Donner, I suppose.

I remember now Madge talking about her aunt Maysilee, who had been friends with my mother when they were younger. Maysilee apparently hung around the apothecary Mom's family had owned and learned a bit about the business. After graduating, she was inspired to go to medical school. Madge said she'd been offered a job at a hospital, but she hadn't said where. Apparently, she'd taken a job here. What are the odds?

"Katniss," she says kindly. "It's good to see you again, I wish it were under better circumstances. You and Prim have grown into such lovely young women."

"Thank you, Dr. Donner," I say stiffly, taking the hand she now extends to me and giving it a half-hearted shake. "I didn't know you were Prim's doctor."

"Small world," she says grimly. "I was surprised and bit upset to see your sister's name on the chart. But I think we're going to be okay."

A rush of wind rises from my chest as I exhale in relief. "Her boyfriend, Rory, didn't know much when we got here. I've been worrying."

"I'm sorry for that," Maysilee says softly. "We needed time to monitor and stabilize her before we could let you see her. We're running some blood work and urine tests to see if we can figure out what it was that Prim inhaled, but whatever it was caused some pretty bad chemical burns to her nose, throat and lungs. She's got some pulmonary edema, fluid in her lungs, from the reaction to the inhalant. That's what was giving her such a hard time with getting a good breath. Luckily we didn't need to put her on a ventilator, a nasal cannula with pure oxygen seems to be doing the trick. We've got an X-ray scheduled to examine the severity of the fluid build-up, but so far there's been no progression and her oxygen levels are stable. I'm hesitant to run tests any more invasive due to her tracheal irritation. We've got her on some pain medication to make breathing more comfortable and a mild sedative to keep her calm. She's been remarkably level-headed through all of this, but I wanted to give her something to relax. I'm hoping between the diamox and sedative, we can get this resolved fairly quickly."

"She's going to med school in the fall," I say distractedly, carefully processing all the information Dr. Donner has just given me. "This probably makes a lot more sense to her than it does to me."

Maysilee smiles. "That's exciting for her, being accepted so young. Did she say where she's going?"

"University of Iowa," I say softly. "She was offered a spot at John Hopkins, but she really wants to work in neurology for children in rural communities, and Iowa was the best fit."

Dr. Donner nods in understanding. "That's a great school. I've sent a patient or two there before for additional care. That will be a joy for her."

"She's ecstatic," I say with what feels like the first smile in days. "She loves kids."

"I'm not surprised." Maysilee's smile falls a bit, as if something is troubling her, then finally asks, "Katniss...what are your plans for the next few weeks?"

The questions surprises me. "We're supposed to finish up the tour with the boys, but after this..." I can't bring myself to say the words that will give voice to my devastating conclusion.

Maysilee frowns softly. "I'm afraid that won't be possible for Prim. With these injuries...well, I'm going to need her here for several more days until I'm comfortable with releasing her. But after that, she'll need bed rest back home and a gradual recovery. Finishing up a rock tour...it's not healthy for her, and I'm afraid any breathing agitation, even a brisk walk, could cause a relapse."

And there it is. Prim and I will not be finishing this tour.

I nod solemnly. "I'd already made the decision."

Maysilee nods in echo to me and places a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Perhaps you could meet them somewhere? Will they be playing in Panem again?"

I sigh and raise a hand to rub up my nose and over a brow angrily, the weight of this decision heavy on my shoulders. I'm not sure how I'll explain it to Peeta to make him understand. And Rory...Rory will try to stay, to be here with Prim. But he'll need to keep going with the rest of the band; they've given up so much and so much rides on their success...and if I'm being honest with myself, I really don't want to share Prim with anyone after this whole terrifying incident. I just want to keep her home—with me, and safe.

"I'm not sure," I say softly. "They don't really have a scheduled tour. They've just been hopping on to random tours as we go; their label president tells them which city to head to next the day of the show...it's hard to say."

"I'm sure you'll be able to meet up with them soon," she says with a bright, forced smile. Then she adds, "Are you ready to see your sister?"

My stomach flops as I envision Prim laying on a hospital bed, covered with tubes. "Is it...bad?"

Maysilee shakes her head. "I'm sure it's not half as bad as you're thinking. She's got some monitors on her chest so we can keep an eye on her heart, and she has an oxygen tube over her nose giving her some extra air. Nothing crazy."

I take a breath to steady myself then nod my consent to Maysilee. She gives me a reassuring smile and pushes me toward the door to my sister's room.

My stomach is a little woozy and my face is surely a tinge of green as I enter the hospital waiting room. I've just passed Rory in the hallway and given him the okay to go visit Prim. I think he was surprised to see me so soon, but I hadn't been able to stay in Prim's room long. Even though Maysilee had been right and Prim hadn't been hooked up to a wide variety of machines, the sight of her still nearly brought me to my knees. She'd looked so frail, laying there on the large hospital bed. It's amazing how, even at 21 years of age, she still looks like the small, defenseless child I protected when we were younger.

Peeta's the first one to my side, squeezing my fingers reassuringly as soon as he catches them in his grip. The feel of his skin on mine is immediately therapeutic, warming areas I didn't even realized had gone cold. The heat rises up my arm and to my chest. I raise my eyes to his and I'm nearly melting like a schoolgirl at the concern I see in them. Without a thought for the emotional hole I'm digging us into while knowing I'll be leaving him today, I fall into his arms, desperate to feel them around me. He easily obliges, pulling my chest tight to his as he holds me in his embrace. The feel of his heart beating against mine centers me, bringing the swirling vortex of emotions around me to a sudden halt. I am calm, suddenly. Not serene, not peaceful or relaxed. But I am able to obtain a state of calmness I've been lacking all night.

"Katniss," a small, meek voice says softly. I look up from Peeta's chest and see Annie staring at me with her wide, green eyes. "Is Prim okay?"

The genuine concern in her eyes is altogether sweet and disarming. "Yeah," I say softly. "She's going to be okay, they say."

"Good," she says, a broad smile breaking for the first time over her delicate face. "I'm glad."

"Me too," I say, my voice catching a little in my throat. Peeta must hear it because he tightens his grip reassuringly around me.

"Thank god," Gale says from behind me. "I was worried about Rory, you know. You I can handle, Katniss. It's just sisterly concern. But Rory...I wasn't sure how to deal with an overly anxious brother."

I smile and pull back from Peeta to turn to face my friend. Peeta releases me for the most part but keeps me tucked up against his right side, his arm around my shoulder. I can't help up press up against the warmth of his body, fearful that if I pull away the panic and horror will follow.

"Where's Madge?" I ask, peering around the room for her.

"Back at the hotel still," he says with a small smile, his joy over the pregnancy still obvious on his face despite the sobering events of this evening. "She's staying with Johanna. Jo had a little bit of a...breakdown at the concert. But she wanted me to tell you she's thinking of you and she'll see you soon."

"Well, it sounds like it will all be okay," Peeta says jovially. "We'll get her on the mend and get back on the road soon, then. Haymitch says Snow is already riding his ass about the delay. He's got a show booked for us in Tucson and wants us heading out by tonight." Peeta glances down at me with a smile. "You and Prim can come catch up later, right?"

A weight drops suddenly into my chest, my heart throbbing as I look up at his expectant eyes. I want to lie to him for a little while longer, let him—and myself—believe separation isn't about to happen. But I can't do it. The weight will stick in my chest so long I think it will tear me up worse than if I just say it and get it over with quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid.

"Actually," I say with a croak in my voice, "Prim and I won't be able to come with you. The doctor wants her at home, resting. She's got some fluids in her lungs. They'll put her on medication to get rid of it, but she'll need to be on bed rest for a while."

"How long?" Finnick asks, his eyebrows knitting together as he does some math of his own.

I shrug. "A few weeks? It will depend on her progress."

Peeta's arm around me goes stiff and his grip on my arm tightens. I can't bring myself to look up and meet his eyes. I can't.

Finnick frowns. "The tour will be over by then."

My heart falls in my chest as I hear Peeta let out a huff of air. I look up at him and see his eyes are tight with frustration and anger. "I'm sorry," I say. "But maybe we can catch up with you guys after the tour?"

"Rory won't like it," Gale says sourly. "He's going to be miserable to have around the next few weeks."

"Yeah well," Peeta says harshly, "I'm not sure I'm going to be the best company either."

I glance up at him and see he's frowning at the far wall, a contemplative look on his face. I nudge him with my shoulder and he looks down at me, a pleading look in his eyes.

"Hey," I say softly, surprised at his upset expression. "It's only a few weeks. I'm sure we can find a way to see each other afterward. Maybe Prim and I can come visit you guys. And this way you can focus on your fans and not spend your time chasing after me."

Peeta pulls me to his chest again in an embrace and brings his lips to my ears to whisper to me. "I'd rather be chasing you, Katniss, than doing anything else in the world."

I sigh at his words in both exasperation and elation, pushing back against his chest so I can look up at him. "You can't chase me forever, Peeta. I need to be with Prim and it would be a good opportunity to...think things over."

"I thought you agreed not to overthink things," he says, a smirk playing across his face.

"No," I snap at him. "I told you I wasn't ready, and you made out with me to shut me up."

Peeta lets out a sudden, loud laugh at my words. "I'll miss being able to do that." He says it with a hot stare that nearly makes me whimper. The look he gives me raises his eyebrow, causing the stud in it to glitter in the halogen lights of the waiting room. The look is smoldering and I feel my knees go a little weak. "But seriously," he says. "I'm not giving up on you, Katniss. You can run, but you can't hide."

And after everything that's happened, that's the most terrifying thing anyone has ever said to me.

.x.x.x.

Hello my darlings! I don't even want to think about how many years this fic has been on hiatus. Let's not talk about it, okay?

Endless warm, heartfelt thank yous to everyone who's kept an eye on this fic over the years and shared with me their love for it and desire for it to be updated. I found myself eager to write again, and I have a Harry Potter Dramione fic I plan to post that has a fic line I'm in love with. And I also have another Hunger Games AU story I want to post eventually too. But I felt like it would be a great disservice to this fic to pour my energy into the stories without finishing this one.

I believe this fic has maybe three chapters left to wrap it up, so we'll hit the end soon. I can't believe so many of you have been watching this story for so long. Thank you for your love and dedication!