Hijacked ×2

Part 11

. . .

Peeta's P.O.V.

Katniss is laying on the tiled ground, limp and unconscious, with blood seeping from under her. I scurry to her side, looking in wonder as to how this happened. I check her pulse, hoping to hear a heartbeat answer my silent prayers that she lives. Her heart beats, but in an irregular fashion causing me concern. Who left her like this, exposed and unconcealed only for someone like me to find her?

Is this a warning? No matter, I have to stop the constant dropping of her blood. I feel like I'm wading in it as my knees become slick wet. I feel my forehead wrinkle as I look down at the puddle. This is horrible.

Katniss. Katniss is hurt. I love Katniss, she's not supposed to be hurt. Ever. I carefully pick her off the floor, one arm under her upper back, the other around her kneecaps. The bloodflow is springing from lots of places, like the person hurting her was in a hurry to cause damage. Anger swells up inside of me at the thought and I have to force myself to see reasoning so as not to seek vengeance on whoever wreaked havoc on Katniss' body. I mean, there's stab wounds everywhere.

But she always was a survivor. Sprinting through the hallways in search of something or someone that can help medically, I realize I'm running out of time and need to do something myself. I look down to see a very pale Katniss in my arms with her head on my chest. I lay her down on the floor gently, trying to improvise. I think of an idea that I should've thought of the moment I saw her bloodied self.

Make a tourniquet. I take my shirt off and fold it long style, then wringing it around her arm. Katniss winces herself awake. I finish off the tourniquet with a knot. Her gray eyes blink a few times as she tries to register her surroundings. She looks so cute when she's confused that I almost forget about her other wounds I need to tend to. There's one cut right under her collarbone, barely missing it. The collarbone is delicate.

I rip off my pant leg from the knee down, hoping I won't run out of clothes to bandage and cast her with. Just as I'm putting pressure of the fabric against her wound, I hear footsteps coming towards us. I look in the direction of where the sound waves meet my ear. Beetee and...Plutarch in a peacekeeper uniform? "Peeta, what's going on?" My blue eyes flash to greet her stormy gray ones.

Her eyebrows furrow as she looks from me to Beetee and Plutarch. "I found you bleeding on the floor, Katniss, it was horrible. It looks like someone stabbed you all over." She suddenly has a faraway look in her eyes. "I know. But it's okay." Her voice trembles, her hands shaking as well when she places them in mine. "Promise me you're going to be okay." Katniss whispers, smiling softly.

I don't have time to calculate the depth of her sweet words that sound so much like a goodbye, because Beetee is next to me along with Plutarch. At the very least, I'm able to take one of her hands and kiss the back of it gently, signifying a promise. "What's the problem? Why is Katniss bleeding?" Plutarch asks. My eyes are wide with the difficulty to obtain the fact our past Gamemaker is here. "Plutarch, what are you - "

"Plutarch is here to help us." Katniss interrupts me. I blink a few times, trying to make sense of the Gamemaker's sudden role change. Who is dressed in a peacekeeper uniform.

"I'll explain later." She rasps weakly. "Ok, well we need to stop the bleeding." I state firmly, examining her wounds. For some reason, she looks embarassed from my doing that.

"Agreed." Beetee says. "Follow me." Plutarch orders. I scoop up a Katniss that is bound to go unconscious again at any given moment. The next seconds, minutes, or maybe even hours blur past. Katniss is put on a hospital bed in one of the medical rooms. We patch her up, check her heart rate, and let her rest. For a while, all I think about is how she can get better, sneaking in her room when the doctors aren't around.

One night I don't.

I was running down the halls after hearing her screams, searching to find the room where she lay in her own nightmares. When I saw her from the doorway, shaking in the hospital bed with blankets anywhere but on her, I felt something. Something I never felt so much when I looked at Katniss. Anger. It was not towards her, but rather because of the state she was in. I mean, who did this to her? I walk over to her bedside, cloaking her shaking form with blankets.

I sit on the bed to tuck her in better, legs on each side. I wrap one blanket around her head and shoulders and up to her chin. She looks like she's in a cocoon. "Peeta?" She asks, lip trembling. When I watch her lip, she ends up biting it to stop the trembling. "Yeah?" I ask, looking up in her eyes and studying the murky gray depths. Her teeth release their hold on her bottom lip.

"What are you thinking?" She questions, pursing her lips afterward as if that's not exactly what she wanted to say. I don't consider my response before it comes forth, but I know my gaze on her suddenly intensifies. "I'm thinking about how, somebody hurt you - somebody stabbed you all over like you -like you didn't even matter. And you almost died, Katniss. Your life didn't even matter to some person, and here you are, probably woken by the sound of your own screams. Because of nightmares. Nightmares about so many things. And as if you didn't have enough reason to feel this way, you get a knife plunged right through you. Over and over and over." I throw every word at her from impulse of my own emotions, not realizing until the faraway look in her eyes that she's so distant to me now. And it's all my fault. I reminded her.

I reminded her of the horror she went through. She might as well be having another nightmare. "Katniss - "

"No." She interrupts. "Don't, Peeta."

I look at her with immediate remorse. What did I do? I drove her away from me by doing the complete opposite of what I do best. Comforting her. I hate whoever hurt her and made me too angry at them to know the right things to say. "I'm finding out who did this to you, Katniss." I think out loud with determination. "I'm giving them what they deserve."

My own words scare me for a minute and I turn to Katniss, guaging her reaction. The moonlight has cracked through the open blinds of a window nearby, illuminating half her face. With it, I'm able to get the whole effect of her scowl full force. "What about your promise, Peeta? For you to be all right. I can't have you venging some death of mine that didn't even happen if -" She stops mid sentence. "If what?" I press gently. She rolls her eyes, sucking in a breath.

"If in the end, I can't have you." She admits. The softness in her voice suggests sensitivity. She feels vulnerable as of this moment and is willing to show it. Katniss is opening up to me. I can't help but smile. I try to hide it, but... "What?"She accuses. Too late.

"I like this, you - opening up to me. And mostly you." I tell her, no longer hiding my happiness. She stares at me silently, and I start to get nervous. But she surprises me with,"I like you too, Peeta." She probably senses my excitement, because she then adds rather quickly,"Enough to want you alive which is why I want you to keep your promise to me." I realize how much she sounds like Haymitch and start laughing. "What?" She asks, clearly annoyed at my lack of seriousness. "I can practically see you morphing into Haymitch. 'Stay alive, Peeta.'" I say the last part like Haymitch.

Katniss tries to fight off a smirk. "I would hit you with a pillow, but I can't move tucked in all these freakin covers." We both laugh at her comment. I start letting her loose from the blankets. I start with the one that works like a hood, framing her beautiful face. My fingers curled around the blanket freeze for a second as I take her in. I let the sheet fall around her shoulders.

I glance at her exposed collarbone. Katniss lowers her chin, catching my eye. She smirks, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Sorry." I murmur, scratching my neck, eyes downcast and for once nowhere on Katniss when she is directly in front of me. I feel her cold fingers grab my chin. My blue meets her gray. "Hey."

Her voice drops to a low tone. "I trust you." Her hand drops from my chin and into her lap. "Touch me, Peeta." I can sense my pulse quicken. I tentatively reach out to stroke her cheek, my thumb brushing over her plump lips. I clutch one of her shoulders and run my fingers through the black, silky hair growing on the left side of her scalp.

Once my fingers comb through the ends of her long locks, my hand travels to grasp her hipbone. I feel the skin on her shoulder warm and tingle. Seeing that she is no longer cold and shivering, I uncloak her of blankets. I rub both of her hips in small circles with my thumbs as my palms feel her skin here heat up too. Katniss holds on to my shoulders.

I pick her up by the waist easily, putting her on top of me. Her hair cascades around us, creating a canopy.

I can barely see her face in the darkness of the night added to the shadow her hair makes as it frames around us."I can't really see you." I tell Katniss, laughing a little bit. "Well then, I guess you're going to have to guess what part of my face this is." She says before she crashes her lips down onto mine. I can't help but feel laughter bubbling at the back of my throat at her attempt at flirting. Even though it's freakin adorable, and I'm too distracted by the kiss she initiated. My lips find hers once more before she leans away from me, no longer resting on my chest. She sits straight up, exhaling through her nostrils and looking off into the distance.

"What's wrong?" I ask her. "It's too hot in here, and really dark..." She says thoughtfully. I look up at her, eyebrows signaling confusion and hand running through my hair out of nervous habit. "What do you mean?" I ask, dumbfounded. "I want to - " Instead of finishing, she sighs. With evergrowing paranoia, I ask once again,"What's wrong?" I notice her chin angle upward, as she no longer ducks her head.

I stroke her jawline, meeting her eyes. Our noses brush against each other before she ducks her head again. I prop her chin up with my fingers. "Katniss." She makes eye contact, then looking away as if she saw something terrifying. Her eyelashes flutter when her glances change direction. "I-Peeta-it's too hot in here for me to be-to be wearing this. And it's not like you can see anything, right?"

My perplexity is probably obvious at this point. "No. I can't see anything." I answer in a reassuring tone, as if I had confidence that I was aware of exactly what she's talking about."Okay," She says in hesitation. Then she's...taking her clothes off? "Whoa, Katniss. Slow down." I state firmly. She stops untying some belt attached to a robe, then looks up dazed with her hair in her face. "Huh?" She asks, eyebrows furrowed and nose wrinkled.

"Why don't you just-change into some lighter clothes in the bathroom?" I suggest gently. There's a pause where we don't move or speak, until I hear Katniss huff out laughter. "Peeta, I'm not stripping in front of you. You're the one who has called me pure in the past, don't be trying chastise me now. I swear, all that I'm taking off is this robe." At her words of truth, I turn some shade of red. How could I think Katniss, of all people, would ever find an excuse or opportunity to be provocative? I'm such an idiot. "Katniss, I am so sorry I even made that kind of assumption. I am so sorry." I apologize, berating myself mentally all the while. I feel the slight difference in elevation on the mattress for a second as Katniss adjusts her body to lay on her side after throwing off the robe. She's facing away from me leaving space between us on the bed, exposing the white and blue striped sheets to the moonlight.

I have hurt her in some way, I can sense it. "Katniss? I promise I still think you're pure." I attempt to draw her back to me with more reassurances and apologies, but there seems to be no end to her growing distance. I watch the back of her head while laying on my side, elbow propped up and chin resting in my palm. I wonder what thoughts are going through her mind. Hopefully, they are not negative thoughts about me. I bet they are. I can just imagine them.

Peeta must think I'm nothing but some slutty seam girl. Why would I throw myself at him anyway? For what, more burnt loaves of bread? Forget that crap.

"Peeta." Katniss says, turning to face me. She looks annoyed. "Even after you stopped talking, I felt your eyes boring into my back."

Oops. "Sorry." I tell her hurt and remorseful. "I just- don't want you to be mad at me." She scowls.

"Even though you clearly are." I observe, laughing wistfully. She sighs, agitated. "How could you think that? I mean, I barely even wanted to take that stupid robe off in front of you." Katniss points out while passionately throwing her arm up at how ridiculous it all is. It is then that I make a realization. "Katniss, what's the big deal with taking off a robe in front of me?" She starts to fidget nervously, twisting her hands in her hair. What in the world did I do to make her so uncomfortable?

I watch her struggle to explain. "I'm just..." She takes in a breath and exhales shortly after in an abrupt manner. "I don't look like other girls ,Peeta." she states, as if she were proclaiming an admittance to something she is not especially proud of. I look at her, for a long period of time. And I know it's probably driving her crazy, but I can't stop. Not when this vulnerable, shy side of Katniss is before me. This Katniss I've hardly even met.

But why did this Katniss choose to degrade her own appearance, as if it were something repelling? Ugly? Katniss is none of those things. She speaks of her beauty as if it were false, or to some degree, defining her. And defining her as something hideous. Except, beauty does not define Katniss. Katniss defines beauty.

Why does she deny herself of that truth? "So you not looking like other girls, do you think that's bad?" I ask, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She shrugs. Aloof Katniss is back. "I don't think it's bad, Katniss." I tell her, my words becoming smooth like honey. She meets my eyes with the kind of surprise twinkling in her gray depths like when someone wants to hear something, but crush their own hopes by expecting the worst in order to protect themselves from any disappointment. Because of this battle against her own hopeful expectations, she is somewhat in shock while still finding satisfaction from my words.

"I don't think it's bad at all." I repeat, further confirming it. I look at her curiously. "So why do you?" I question suddenly. One of her eyebrows raise as her eyeballs bulge slightly. "From the moment..." There's a pause as she weighs what words to pick for her sentence.

"From the moment I turned eleven," She probably was going to speak of her father's death but chose to say that instead. "...my family was in debt. We didn't have any food, any money,... I think I cooked some mint leaves on the stove once, but that wasn't enough. I poached later on, but we obviously still starved. And even now, I'm just too skinny." Automatically, I remember calling her malnourished and seeing how it upset her. She was embarrassed. I hadn't meant to make her feel that way, I just wanted her to eat something. "And I guess, all of that body fat girls need for curves and...stuff, I didn't ever get until much later because of food not always being there when I needed it. Unless I went hunting with Gale of course."

By the time she is done talking, I am desperate to get a word in. "That time I called you malnourished, I wasn't thinking." Katniss opens her mouth to argue, but I beat her to it. "I was just worried about you and...you looked hungry." She looks at me, her eyebrows raised and chin bowed low displaying lack of conviction in response to my statement. Impatience ripples through my blood. "What do I have to do to prove it to you?" I question her, my voice raised. Perplexity becomes ever present in her features. I realize there is an explanation behind my passionate outburst I must give and the room becomes cold and prickly, bringing goosebumps to my skin as the heat of embarrassment rises within me.

I study Katniss' form. Her olive toned skin and silver eyes with dark brown lashes framing them that flutter sleepily. The sharp contours of her face that help outline and highlight her features more than ever. Her red tinted lips that seem to pout because of their plumpness. The distinctive and pointed-ness to her jawline. Her collarbone juts out as she leans forward. I resist the urge to look down her tank top and meet her eyes instead.

"Peeta. You have been looking at me for a long time. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" My cheeks redden just a bit at her observation. But, before time can tell, I compose myself, the corners of my mouth raising slightly. "I can't help but look at you when-" I start to trail the pad of my index finger between her breasts and down her torso, finishing my sentence with, "every single part of you is amazing to look at." When I rest my palm on the area of her bellybutton, I notice the increasingly rapid rise and fall of her chest. Katniss' gray eyes glint with something I can't quite describe. Yet by the openness of her mouth, I can tell I have somewhat surprised her.

I smirk mischievously.

Katniss' P.O.V.

I can not believe he just touched me like that. Most caresses from Peeta are sweet, and laced with concern. What the hell was that? "What makes you think you can do that...and get away with it?" I ask him in bewilderment. His eyes turn steel, hardcore dark blue in determination. He starts to lean forward, yet tentatively, like he is somewhat questioning his motives despite himself. When he stops closing in the distance between us, his body isn't looming over me, but his arms rest on each side of me with our foreheads now touching. "Because, Katniss Everdeen," He kisses me slowly, then leaning away mid-kiss. "I can do this," He begins to burn his kisses into my skin with the heat of his lips, along my jaw, eventually whispering on my neck, "and you won't dare fight it."

Oh? Well, then. Peeta Mellark, you have announced your very own death. "What was that, Peeta? I won't dare fight?" I ask in mock innocence. He just smiles at me, on his side confidently playing witn a strand of my hair, twisting it about. "Well, then." I state climbing over him. His eyes skim over my form looming over his and I have to ignore the warm feeling tingling at the pit of my stomach in order to summon my aggression oncemore. His blue eyes twinkle up at me curiously. I lay my palms flat on his shoulders, then rubbing in circles. I then lower my body to sit in his lap. "Am I getting a massage?" Peeta asks in amazement. I smirk evily at the satisfaction that he fell for it. I throw my head back in sarcastic laughter, then meeting him back at eye level. "No." I admit.

I stop rubbing my knuckles into his shoulders, lay my palms flat, and push him on his back. I have him pinned down. He shuts his eyes at the slight impact of his head hitting the tough mattress, and then looks at me confusedly with surprise shining in his eyes. "You said I wouldn't dare fight, Peeta Mellark? I would like to challenge your word to a wrestling match." I announce the words, explaining my actions. He smiles, putting his dimples on display. "You're challenging captain of the wrestling team?" He asks, in vague incredulity. There is laughter in his bewildered eyes, but they are friendly and flirtatious, not cruel. I flit my eyes to the ceiling, pretending to recall a memory. "Um, weren't you in second place?" I ask, pretending at innocence. Peeta's lips purse in amusement. "Okay, that's it." Peeta snaps playfully,throwing me over his shoulder and keeping me in place as he climbs off the bed.

"Peeta!" I scold, kicking my legs. "We're taking this out on the floor." He says, helping me down. I don't really know how to wrestle, but I can improvise. Peeta looks at me expectantly. "You ready?" He asks. I brush my feet back one at a time, like a bull when it's angry. "Yep." I answer him. Peeta starts barreling towards me. I sidestep him and run around back behind him. At first, he looks confused, walking in a semi circle. I chuckle, jumping on his back. He stumbles, crying out as he falls to the ground with me still hanging onto him. He grunts out when his body hits the floor. I do too, but it's mixed with my rare giggling.

"I win!" I shout victoriously. Peeta begins straightening up as my fingers remain in a tight grip, clenching his shirt collar. He reaches around himself to pluck my small frame from his spine, reattaching me to his chest now as he cradles me. "What are you - " Before I can finish my oral expression of muddled thoughts, he starts walking to the bed. He's going to throw me! In my struggle to break out of his grasp, I end up kicking him in the face and punching him in the throat. Good thing he's so buff. I almost say sorry, but then he is setting me on the bed face down, yet much gentler than expected, and folding my hands together to turn them upward and behind my back. All the while, I am making the bed bounce in my fight to get away. "Peeta. I'm going to hurt you,now, Let. Me. Go!" I threateningly order.

"After I win this wrestling match, you will be freed." He assures me, attempting to fold my legs against my back by bending the joints backwards from where my knee meets my shin. It doesn't hurt. I know Peeta would never try to hurt me. But when he starts counting, "1, 2, 3.." down to when my surrender will be announced, I cry out, "Ow, Peeta!", pressuring him with deception in order that I be free, then enabling myself an opportunity to attack. He pauses, his hands frozen binding my wrists and feet. "Did-did I hurt you?" He inquires of me sadly like the answer I give will be the last thing he wants to hear. Guild ridden, I lie, "Just...a little bit. Will you let me go, please?" He loosens his grip on me completely, automatically. I flip around and swing my legs around his hips intending to knock him over.

He doesn't fall, but rather, remains upright, as I now appear to be straddling his waist with my palms resting on his chest. He wraps his arms around me protectively to keep me from slipping off his body, his hands on the small of my back. His eyebrows raised, he looks me over like he doesn't know how we ended up in this position. I can tell my eyes are bulging because they feel as if they'll tumble out of my sockets at any given moment. "I-I-" I fret, trying to explain curtly with diligence, but to no avail do I find success. In fact, on perfect timing, the nurse walks in, humming to herself before her eyes land on us and our close proximity. Her hand on the doorknob freezes as her face contorts into shock intermingled with fear. She closes the door, her humming turning into a nervous, quick paced song. I hear whistling outside my door down the hall as her heels click away.

I turn my attention back to Peeta tentatively as he looks to be driven to distraction by the nurse's little surprise visit. He gently lays me on the bed, his head still turned in direction to the door the busty, violet haired woman walked through. I watch him, the skin between my eyebrows creasing. "Why do you think she came to check on you at this hour?" Peeta asks with a paranoid rise of his voice. "I'm not sure." I admit, worry and suspicion becoming within me. Peeta looks at me in concern, his mind seeming to be set on something. He puts one of his hands over mine, kissing the top of my head sweetly. "Well, I'm going to find out." Peeta states,picking up blankets and sheets off the tile floor to wrap me up with. I unravel myself from the coverings irritably. Peeta's eyebrows furrow. "Do you think I'm going to just sit here? I want to see why she came in here, too!" Peeta puts his finger over my lips to quiet me."Lower your voice." He whispers.

"If you let me go with you." I snap back harshly. Peeta is becoming impatient, I can tell. "Katniss, you still have stab wounds all over you. Do you really think I'm going to let you come with me so you can reopen your wounds?" Fury swells up behind my eyelids, in my bones. "Well, what makes you think I need your permission?" I spat, tearing the covers from me and walking out on my way. Peeta reaches out to stop me,grabbing one of my hipbones that always jut out. I try to keep the tension boiling inside me from spilling out. Try not to focus on his hand on my hip.

"Katniss, don't - "

"Get off of me."

He releases me, though reluctantly, and I storm out of the room down the hall.

(Author's Note)- Sorry! My apologies, my apologies, I know I am very tardy in this update! But I worked so

hard on this chapter and made it extra long, so you can't be mad. Anyway, tell me what you think about the

chapter, and how you believe that violet haired, brown eyed, sneaky nurse came to be in the story.

Also, know that I will from now on give hints of what happens next or something to those who review.