When A Voice Becomes A Deadly Weapon, It Must Be Silenced

He gasps so hard he almost chokes as he wakes. He inhales again sharply, and gags and coughs, and breathes again. Tears squeeze out the corners of his clasped eyelids as old and new images burn behind his eyes. Right away, he is aware that he can't move-some kind of straps are keeping him in place on a hard metal table-and it's hot-too hot-in the room. When he opens his eyes, he has to quickly shut them again. A searing white light shines directly above him and he has to blink several times before his eyes begin to adjust. Something is wrong. His heart is still racing from the terror of his nightmares. His body throbs painfully as his pulse pounds the blood in his veins. His head feels the worst of it. Had someone hit him? He can't remember. His eyes flicker open again to see a shadow has fallen over his face. He hadn't heard anyone come in.

"Peeta?"

Did he imagine it? It sounded like a song. Was it real? He can't tell, but his eyes come into focus on the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. His heart soars with joy, but then is immediately clenched in dread.

"Katniss! What-" Her hand shoots to clamp over his mouth and cease his ragged voice. Her very touch sends a slight shiver all throughout his body. Her gray eyes are wide with the fear he's so often seen in them. She holds a finger to her perfect lips and gives her head a little shake. He nods, indicating his understanding. Her hand slowly travels up to his forehead and her fingers comb out the sweaty curls that had stuck to his face. He steadily drinks in her appearance, his eyes probing hers for some sense of meaning. She is pale and wears a Capitol uniform he knows all too well. A smear of blood stands out starkly on her chin, as if she'd been splattered and wiped it away in a hurry. Her black hair is woven to the side in her iconic braid. She must have broken in to rescue him. She shouldn't have done that. What is her plan? He wants to tell her to leave, to run while she still can, when the wall opens up to reveal a doorway.

He watches her scamper through the opening, never looking back. Fear encapsulates him, further sickens him. She's going to be captured. He starts fighting to break free from the bonds that hold him. For he doesn't know how long, he struggles against the straps, but still they hold. What little strength he had wanes. The straps on his arms and legs cut into him.

Suddenly an alarm sounds, intense and echoing. It is so loud, he can barely think to concentrate on anything else, when the wall opens back up and Katniss rushes through it. The knife in her hand is dripping blood from a fresh kill when she uses it to slash through the straps that bind him. With care, she lifts his upper body and gets him into a sitting position. When he slides off the table to stand, his knees buckle beneath his weight. His stiff body hasn't moved much in days, so the effort it requires for him to take on running is great. He is slow, but going. She's quicker, but holding tightly to his hand hinders her.

Without warning, she turns sharply to the right and leads him down another hallway. It is long, and features no outlet; they continue to run. Toward the center, Katniss stops and presses her ear to the wall. Panting, he watches her tap the wall in various places until it opens and she shoves him inside. He collapses to the floor of the nearly pitch black closet. After tentatively feeling about his general location in the smallish space, she wraps her arms around his neck and burrows her face into his chest. He holds her in silence, ready to protect her if anyone should burst in upon them.

Now icy, clammy cold with trepidation, he senses her tears soaking his shirt, and strokes her back. He kisses the top of her head, her cheek, her lips. Her grip on him tightens and his tongue slips past her lips to find nothing but the overwhelming taste of blood. He pulls away.

"No," he whispers. He can almost make her out in the dark. "Oh no," he says and kisses her lips again before embracing her. The horror of what's been done to her burns inside of him.

"Katniss, I'm going to get you out of here. No one's going to hurt you again. I promise. No matter what it takes." His voice, still a bit hoarse, did not lack its usual gentle timbre. He can feel it's soothing her, so he tells her how he loves her, how he'll give anything to save her.

As the hours pass, his strength returns somewhat, along with a sensation of anger he never before possessed. The wall clicks and Katniss bolts to her feet. He rises just as the wall opens to reveal a woman, frozen in surprise as she was reaching for the mop. Katniss knocks her out with one hit of the knife's handle and sprints down the hallway, back the way they had come.

Within minutes, soldiers converge upon them. There are so many that they are easily pulled apart. He struggles to get back to her, hitting and kicking anything and everything, but his hands are roughly wrenched behind his back. He faintly registers the clattering of the knife as it lands on the floor. A needle sticks him from behind and he loses feeling, but not consciousness. His body slackens as they hit her and someone holds his head up to witness it.

They beat her long after her guttural screams have ceased and she's stopped moving. Her blood speckles the walls, the floor, the soldiers, Peeta. He knows he'll never forget the taste of her blood in his mouth.

One of them says how she definitely won't be taking out half of the security system again. Their collective laughter echoes down the hall. Another pokes him.

"What's the matter, Lover Boy? Didn't you enjoy the company of our newest addition? You should know that they never last long."

Peeta wakes, paralyzed with fear and despair. The straps on the table are digging into his wrists. Sticky blood slowly wells in the shallow gashes. Soaked in sweat and his throat raw, he hears Johanna Mason's high-pitched shrieking and wonders when his had stopped. It wasn't real. It can't be real. What new terrors await his next turn?