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Part III: You Are Home

Katniss's POV

Tears run freely down my cheeks as I harshly dab at my knee, my jeans now torn completely open from the knee down to allow plenty of open space to work with. I am sitting with my feet on the counter and I lean forward, examining my knee closer as the tonic cleans away more and more of the dried blood. The cut itself is anything but clean, zigzagging and widening and thinning out, making it impossible to tell what exactly did the damage. My head was easy; clearly a rock. But this? It looks like it was sliced at and cut open all at once, while also being lightly scratched at with a dull needle. There are even places on it where I can clearly make out white bone, which isn't all that surprising, with it being my knee and all.

My hands begin to shake as I hold my gaze on the wound…

"You're going to be fine," I say as I examine Peeta's thigh, but know what I am saying is nothing but empty words. "It's not even that bad."

"Katniss," he tells me softly as he pulls my hand into his own, and laces our fingers together. "I can tell when you're lying," I pull my eyes from his leg and look over at him. It is almost automatic now as I crawl myself next to him and snuggle up against his chest. "Just stay with me," he whispers as I feel his lips graze over my hair. "Just please stay with me."

I lift my head away from his chest and look over at him. "Okay," I tell him softly as I run my free hand into his hair. "I'll stay," I say as he brings his lips to mine…

"Peeta," I whisper to myself, falling from the memory and back into reality. "Peeta," I say again as I open my eyes and look down to the floor beside me, hugging my left knee to my chest and leaning the side of my head into it. I can feel warm blood trickling from my knee down my shin, but at the moment I don't really care or pay it any attention.

"Well," comes Peeta's voice, and I pull myself away from my knee and begin dabbing at my knee once more. "I looked and I looked, but this gauze you asked about is nowhere to be found," he sighs as he marches into the kitchen.

"That's probably because it isn't there," I tell him softly as I pull my knee closer to myself.

"Oh, well that would probably explain it," he nods as he walks over to the kitchen table and pulls out a chair. "Where'd Gale go?" he asks, looking over at me.

"Home," I tell him as I look over at him for a moment, then focus back on my knee, dabbing roughly at the shredded skin. "Ouch!" I hiss as the cotton swab sends a sliver of hidden wood deeper into my flesh. I set the swab down and attempt to pick at the shard of wood with my fingernails, but end up only ripping at my loose flesh, causing stinging pain to spread throughout my leg. I call out and slap my face into my hand.

"Sometimes brute strength isn't what you need," Peeta says as he pulls himself up and walks towards me. "Sometimes what you need is a gentle touch," his eyes are locked with mine as he places his hand onto my bare calf. I watch as he picks up a pair of tweezers and leans his face in towards my knee.

He runs his hand over my cheek while setting the tweezers back down and tossing the wooden shard into the trash. He picks up the cotton swab and begins dabbing at the wound painlessly.

"I can't really afford to be gentle," I tell him as he continues his work on my knee.

"Maybe you just haven't felt safe enough to let down your guard," he suggests as he looks over at me. "You don't always have to be the one to protect people – sometimes you need to let them protect you."

"In the world we live in I'm not really willing to take that chance," I tell him as he gently dabs my knee with a sterile white cloth. Still, I feel no pain.

"In that cave you seemed to feel pretty safe to me," he says. "And we were surrounded by more danger in that arena than most people will face in a lifetime," he sets down the cloth and begins wrapping my knee in white gauze.

"Peeta," I say softly as I reach out my hand and take his. "I could use your gentle touch again," he looks down at my hand, and turns it over and kisses the back of it. Without speaking, he brings the cotton swab into my hand and cleans the cut. As he finishes, he throws the swab into the trash and slowly, gently wraps my hand in gauze, sealing it with a kiss and a gentle rub.

"There," he says softly as he runs his hand over my cheek, looking lovingly into my eyes. "Good as new."

"Peeta," I whisper as I catch his hand before it falls from my shoulder. He looks at me, his eyes trailing from my eyes to my lips, and back again. "My guard's down," I tell him, and he runs his hand back up to my cheek and cups it.

"I'll never give you a reason to put it back up," he tells me, leaning his head into mine.

After we kiss, he carries me up the stairs.

THE END