16 "Peeta, please take another sip." I beg, he shakes his head stubbornly. I lean in and kiss him, then offer him the broth again. He takes a dainty sip and I have to give him another kiss so he'll eat more.

This has been going on forever. Getting Peeta to eat this soup has taken an exhausting hour of begging, kissing, coaxing, kissing, threatening, and more kissing. Peeta, after who knows how many kisses, has now finished is soup and is drifting of to sleep while I gorge on my the last of my rabbit, a bird I'd caught in a snare that Rue had called a 'groosling,' and then watch the daily report in the sky. There are no casualties and I'm pretty sure the Gamemakers will stretch out this star-crossed lovers deal for as long as they can because they've never had anything like this happen before.

I spend the night sitting next to Peeta in the cold, I realize now that I have to be the one who grits there teeth and doesn't start a fire, this brings me back to the beginning of the Games and how Peeta was with the Careers. I've neglected to ask him, still, why he did that. Hours later I wake up to a rosy colored sky, I look at Peeta and see his fever has broken, I sigh with relief. I leave the cave, sliding past the boulder in front of the cave, to look for the berries Rue showed me. I find one about two hundred yards from the cave and strip it bare. I then follow my secret markers- -slashes that I'd cut in the trees- -to find my way back. This way, I can check the bush all the time for new berries. I mash the berries up, ad cold water, and put them in Peeta's broth bowl.

I then enter the cave to give Peeta the food, when I find him struggling to stand. He's up against the wall and is trying to push himself to his feet. "What the hell are you doing?" I shout. What the hell does he think he's doing? He can't stand on that leg now, it'd kill him with pain! I kneel next to him, putting the bowl of berries next to me, and help Peeta back down into the sleeping bag.

"I woke up and you were gone," he says, "I was worried about you."

"Why would I leave you?" I ask.

"I thought Clove and Cato might've found you. They like to hunt at night," he says, still serious.

"Clove? Who's that?" I question.

"The girl from District 2, she's still alive right?" asks Peeta.

"Yeah, just Thresh, Foxface, and them." I say, "Foxface is what I call the girl from five… How are you feeling?"

"Better." he says, "This is an enormous improvement from the mud. Clean clothes, medicine, a sleeping bag… you."

I reach out my hand to stroke his cheek, going along with the romance-y thing, when he catches my hand and presses it against his lips. I wonder where Peeta learned this, or if he just comes up with it. Because, truthfully, his mother is quite a witch.

"No more kisses 'til you eat." I say, propping him up against the wall as he pouts. I smirk at the sight and 'give in' to one kiss before he eats, "now there will be no more kisses."

I speed him tiny spoonfuls of the mushy berries and get worried when he refuses the freshly cooked groosling. He says, "Now can I have a kiss?" I kiss his cheek.

He then says, "You didn't sleep."

"How else could I watch you?" I ask. He shakes his head.

"Tulip, you can't sleep forever," he says, "sleep now. I'll keep watch and wake you if anything happens."

"Alright, fine." I say, hating that I have to leave him basically fending for himself, "Only for a few hours, okay? Then, you wake me- -and not like how you woke me up during the training scores!"

He laughs, "Miss by one score, one time, and you've got a reputation." He says, I can't help but smirk as I lay the sleeping bag down. I keep my bow next to me and look at Peeta's sideways image as my eyes flutter.

"Go to sleep." He orders softly, brushing my strands of my hair to the side. And, for the first time, my happiness isn't a staged reaction. I don't want Peeta to stop playing with my hair. And I watch him as the world around me drifts to darkness as I slip into unconsciousness. Sitting next to me, leaning against the wall, his bad leg stretched out before him, his eyes watching through the open crack in the boulder door, him stroking my hair. And before I know it, I'm asleep.

I open my eyes and Peeta's still next to me, same position as before, and look around the sky is rosy again. But, I know I've been sleeping for hours if not more.

"Looks like your reputation is accurate." I say as I sit up and stretch. "Nothing's been going on here," he says, "Besides, I like watching you sleep. You never glare at me when I say something funny."

"It's not always that funny." I say, forcing myself to glare at him. He smiles and my glare breaks. I look at him and see his lips are dry, and press my lips against his forehead to test his fever. But I have to pull away swiftly because it's like kissing a hot coal.

"Peeta, did you drink any water while I've been asleep?" I ask.

"Yes, of course." He says, I pick up the water bottles and weigh them in my hands.

"Feel pretty full to me." I say with a raised eyebrow. I give him fever pills and make him drink two quarts of water. I then tend to his minor wounds, burns, and stings. They are doing much better, unlike his leg which I rewrap in bandages while my heart drops. It's worse, so much worse, it's swelling and the tight, shiny skin is inflamed. My heart stops for several seconds, red streaks are starting to crawl up his leg…

Blood poisoning.

It'll kill him if it goes unchecked and the only way to get it better is if Haymitch can get everyone single one of our sponsors to donate for it, but even then, would it be enough? The Games make all the prices shoot up, what a cracker costs on day twelve is what it costs for a four course meal on day one, and the kind of medicine Peeta needs would be over the roof!

My heart begins to beat again.

"Well… umm… there's swelling but, uh, the pus is gone…" I say in a shaky, upset voice. "Your leg is looking better, actually."

"I know what blood poisoning is, Tulip," says Peeta.

` "You'll get cured in the Capitol after we win." I say, shaky confidence in my voice.

"Yes, that's a good plan." he says, but I feel that it's just for my benefit.

"You… you have to eat, I'll make you soup… you need your strength."

"Don't light a fire," he says, "It's not worth it."

"Yeah, well, if it means you live I don't care!" I snap, upset by the fact that he might die and that is just unexceptable! I don't want him to, so I won't let him. One tear leaks down my cheek and Peeta wipes it away with his thumb.

I storm off to make the damn soup. It's so hot the I don't need a fire, so I just sat the pot on a rock and after purifying the water, I place several egg-sized hot stones in it. I mince groosling until its almost mush, ad some of Rue's roots, and wait. I constantly change the rocks for hotter ones on and off as I set up snares.

When I started throwing the rocks in, each one would plop in with anger and splash the water around, which would make me all the testier for I constantly had to refill it. Eventually, though, the rocks would glide in as I my temper cooled rather than being flopped in.

As the last bits of the homemade broth were heating with freshly changed rocks, I went to set up a few snares and traps so that I wouldn't have to hunt and be away from Peeta too long, I don't like the idea of being out hunting while he's sitting there, sick.

I take the broth in my hands and head back into the cave home, and Peeta looks up at me. He looks no better.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, looking at his leg. He kisses my cheek- -which makes me jump for a second- -and then he answers.

"Tired." He says as I make him relax back down into the sleeping bag. I then take the homemade broth and then bring it to Peeta.

"I hope you're hungry, too." I say, "then you can sleep, okay?"

He nods, and I help him take slow sips of the soup, he continuously tell she how great it is, and I continuously tell him he's a liar. I'm actually a great cook, or as good as I can be while in District 12, and I know this would definitely not be one of my best dishes.

As Peeta finishes the food, I tuck the sleeping bag up to his chin and sit-lay next to him. I watch him at first as he drifts in and out of sleep until he ask about a story for me to tell him.

"A story?" I ask, "About what?"

"Something… something that made you happy." He says, "Your happiest moment."

I have to think for a long moment. Knowing that I wouldn't have to go through the rest of the Games on my on was defiantly one. Knowing my stylist wasn't a kook was another. The day Peeta saved me was undoubtably one of the best.

I wonder if the audience would like that one? And it's perfectly appropriate for Capitol ears, no illegal entities in it.

"Did I ever tell you of the time I was saved by the baker's son?" I say, his head jerks up to look at me.

"I've heard it around." He says, hidden meaning of question in his voice.

"But, you've never heard it told by me." I answer. "Would you like to?"

He nods, anticipation in his every move and every word.

"Well, I was around nine. My father'd just died in a mining accident, and my mother got sick. We were getting really hungry, close to starving." I say, under exaggerating. "We went looking for food somewhere, in a garbage, on the ground, anything. Then, as we passed the bakery, there was this boy…"

Peeta's face lit up a little, with question and intrigue, as I continued my story.

"This boy, he was around my age, in my class too. His father was a baker, and he was supposed to take these burn- -" I thought about the consequences that this could cause Peeta, should we make it home, by his mother. "- -these pieces of bread out and he, instead, gave them to me, my brother, and sister. I'm grateful to him, because he saved my life."

"And you're saving his." Peeta says, we smile, and I know that the audience has made the connection. Peeta's the bread boy.

"Trying to, anyway." I say, and then I'm answered.

With trumpets.

They sound and make me jump in place. I scramble out of the cave and make it just it time to hear, to my great pleasure, Claudius Templesmith inviting us to a feast. I'm not all that hungry, I can find plenty of food, and Peeta is fine as long as he's with me. I wave my hand dismissively and turn to leave for the cave when his direct addressing makes me whip around.

"Now hold on," his voice booms around, "Some of you may have already declined my invitation, but this is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something… desperately."

Go on, Claudius.

"Each of you will find that very something in a backpack, marked with your district number, at the Cornucopia at dawn. Think hard about refusing to show up, for, if you do, this could very well be your last chance." Claudius's last echoes around the arena until they fade.

Peeta's leg. I can fix Peeta's leg! I rush back into the cave happily and see Peeta's worried face and that he's struggling- -once again- -to get up.

"No." He says immediately, making me frown, "You're not going. You're not rising your life for me."

I get an idea. An evil plan, of sorts.

"Who told you that I was going?" I ask, jokingly pretending to look around for someone.

"So… you're not going to go?" he asks as I walk closer to him and ease him back into bed.

"No way, Peeta. I'm not going. You think I'm that stupid?" I say, when in reality I'm talking about letting Peeta know, "We'll wait until it's over and then I'll go, when there is no risk and when you think it's safe."

The last part caught me. Plan failed.

"You're a really bad liar, Tulip." Oh, really, Peeta? I think, then how've I been fooling all of Panem into thinking I'm in love with you? He then mimics me, "Your leg is looking better. No way, Peeta. I'm not going." He shakes his head, "Never play cards, you pokerface'll be as obvious as showing each person your cards individually."

"I'm going." I say, with dark seriousness. This is harshest thing I've ever said to Peeta. "And you're not stopping me, so just deal with it."

"I can follow you." he says.

"Not on that leg, you can't," I scoff.

"I can at least partway. I may not make it to the Cornucopia, but if I'm yelling your name, I bet someone'll find me. An then I'll be dead for sure," he threatens, "I'll drag myself if I have to. Your not going unless I am too."

He's stubborn and strong, and he will do it. I can't let him do it, he'd either get killed by someone, something, or just the effort. I can't let him die like that, defenseless and out of spite. No way. I said I won't let him die, and he won't.

"What the hell else do you expect me to do, huh?" I snap, "I refuse to stay here and let you die! I won't have it!"

"If you promise you won't go, I'll promise not to die." he says.

"How can you promise that?" I say, slumping down to the floor and crossing my legs.

"Because I'm promising it to you." He says, and I can hear the audience aww and sigh with relief for their favorite couple's first fight is over.

For now. It's just a bit of a stalemate, either way there will be no agreement reached. I'll just pretend, hopefully well, that I don't want to go.

"Fine." I say, "But you do exactly what I say, drink your water, eat, wake me when I say, with no kissing bribes."

"Aww, but I like those." He jokes, in a better mood for he 'won' our argument, "Fine, agreed."

I give him another dose of fever medicine. His forehead is burning, so much so that I could've cooked the soup on his forehead. I know one thing for sure, that no matter what Peeta says, or what I say to Peeta, I'm going to go to the Cornucopia. One way or another. That's when I heard it.

Tink, tink, tink, tink..