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It all happened so fast.

She had been curled up in the back of the plane, watching Peeta sleep. Not sleep really. But she could pretend he was asleep.

The images she had seen...she couldn't get them out of her mind. She was glad that they had put her and Peeta into a seperate hoover craft. Away from Gale, and conversations she didn't want to have.

About how bad that place was.

About the fact that Peeta had been down there. And Johanna. And Annie. And who knew how many other people they hadn't been able to rescue. Cinna? Effie? Portia?

Being alone to watch Peeta in his unconscious state was about the only thing that saved her. Because when she woke up after the huge flash of light and deafening sound that exploded out of nowhere, the back end of the hovercraft was upside down, and some distance away from what remained of the front end.

Which was not much.

She sat up, body aching and head spinning. It took a moment to orient herself, and might have taken longer if her mind hadn't lighted on one thought.

Peeta.

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Shit.

"Please, Peeta, please just shut up or the people who shot us will find us."

He was bad enough getting silently through the woods. But with him screaming his head off? There was no chance.

Still. They could stay here. Testing her rope, she headed for the trees, pulling on him to come with her. Hoping to everything this works.

His screamed his throat raw as the moved into the cover of the trees, having to stop finally, feeling dizzy and sick. Why hadn't she come after him? A different kind of torture.

They were the only ones here. There was nothing but a brutal end for him. Peeta fell to his knees, not caring if she has to drag him, his whole body pulsing with a sharp pain.

"Let me go," he begged, hands tightened to fists.

Oh god, if he dug his heels in like the the whole way, they weren't going to get anywhere. Peeta had to weight 200 pounds or more (and she ignored the voice in her mind whispering not anymore) and she could not carry him through the woods. She just...couldn't.

And not even knowing what was wrong with him...she stared down at him, trying to thing around this.

Finally an idea occurred. A bad one, but the only one she had right now.

"Come with me, behave, and I'll be gentle."

"Just kill me if you're going to do it," He says, head down, thoughts still a whirlwind in his head. If she wasn't going to release him here, he wanted to die. He didn't want to go any further than this spot.

Frustrated, she let out a huff, glaring at him. This approach might not work out. Still, she needed to get them away from the fire, the smoke, the obviouse scar on the forest.

"I'm in charge Mellark. Move it." She snapped.

Shaking, he stood. She had all of the control here. Even if he wanted to keep screaming and resisting, he bet she had ways to make him do what she wanted even if he did.

He stared at the ground, waiting to be led to his death bed.

That was actually working?

Well, she wasn't going to complain. They needed to get miles from here by dusk tonight. And from the looks of things, they only had a few hours till then.

Still, she felt bad bossing him around. Especially when something was so clearly wrong with him. But there was no choice right now.

"Come on. Look for caves, rock out cropping, any place we can take shelter."

Oh shit.

"Stay here."

Stay here. We need to move. So many mixed signals coming from him. Peeta's head spun for a moment before he came back to reality, "If you let me go...I'm going to run."

He's not sure why he told her. Nothing made sense. He could have kept it to himself. Maybe she wasn't even planning that. He had just...reacted.

Son of a bitch.

Fine, then. She dragged him back to the wreckage, pulling out the bow and arrows she had been equip with for this mission, as well as a knife. Hesitating at the gun, she finally left it behind.

Not knowing what was going on with Peeta, she didn't want a gun near him.

"Now come on. We need to cover lots of territory."

Peeta follows her soundlessly now, staring at the ground and getting lost in his head. Everything involving Katniss in the past was a horrible memory filled with blood and hate.

He wanted her dead for the crimes and murders she committed. The switch flickered in his head. She needed to die. He couldn't be passive. Blue eyes dark, he looks up at her, planning his escape and her death.

This wood was so familiar and so not. The trees, the vegetation were similar. Even the lay of the land.

But how many hundred's of miles did the forest around 12 extend? How long was it similar enough to count as "like home"?

And how far could they go before finding anything? Were here and Peeta going to spend the rest of their lives living in the woods?

They could. She was pretty sure. If she could figure out what was wrong with him.

For now she just lead him away. Away from 13's possible rescuer, yes. But also away from the Capitol forces that shot them down.

He tried to walk faster. But his prosthetic held him back. He knew, if he could just catch up to her, he could accomplish what he'd decided to do.

His eyes stared daggers into her back, and yet he kept walking. His own mind made little sense to him lately. Do one thing, want another. He winced, hissing through his teeth and a pain stabbed through his head again and again.

The pace was too fast.

She did this too him. Pushed him to move faster than her. And with whatever was wrong with him...they needed a break.

There was a small brook running along in the bramble to their left, and when Katniss saw an opening in the bushes, low, she stopped, and ducked into it.

Just as she'd hoped there was a covered little clearing, just barely tall enough for her to stand straight, with rocks big enough that the brook bubbling between them left the smooth and dry.

"Let's take a break. Drink."

The pace was grueling, and he couldn't help but feel as if she had figured out what he had planned to do. His fists clenched behind his back, his rage and fear grew out of control.

He stayed still and silent-blood. his own. finnick's. beetee's. joanna's. she was covered in it, continuing to just look are her. Dark circles were under his eyes, and his fore head had a gash in it that he'd only just noticed.

The fatigue was catching up on him. He hadn't eaten in days and hadn't slept in just as many. Peeta stumbled forward as he got closer to Katniss, his eyes still on her. He had to do this, for everyone-she slit her throat. katniss slit rue's throat-that she had hurt.

Moving light on her feet, she leap to a rock across the stream from Peeta and crouched down, watching him.

Whatever was wrong with him, she still didn't like the way he was looking at her. If he was still in shock, or whatever it was...she wasn't going to take any more risks that she had to.

"How are you doing?"

"You should be dead," Peeta spat at her, not holding back the hate and resentment he held for her. Did he hold it for her--a kiss on a beach, passionate something unreal--or...?

The spike of pain is so intense this time, he falls to his knees, doubled over in pain. He doesn't understand anything. Terrible memories, sweet tender memories...they blur together. What's real and what's not. He can't tell the difference anymore.

Caught between wanting to pull back at the hatred he was spewing, and wanted to go forward at the pain he was in, to sooth him, she instead ended up slowly moving forward. Made sure her feet were secure, and that she could jump back if needed.

Trying not to think about this. About the hate seething off him.

"Peeta, what's wrong?"

He struggles hard against the rope. Stuck. Captured. Wild, hurting blue eyes turn on her again and he's up, stumbling for a moment before charging at her.

She was afraid of that.

And she was afraid of what was going to happen to Peeta's face when she leapt out of his path, down stream to another rock, and then another.

He charged until his prosthetic slipped on a rock in the brook. Landing on his side hard, he cried out, pain coming from all angles now. He curled up, wondering why she hadn't killed him yet, and losing himself more as he tried to figure it out.

Inside everything knotted up as she watched is curled up, half submerged.

There had to be something she could have down to save him that pain, but she had just saved her own hide. And that small little spark of serves him right wallowing in the back of her mind. Something was wrong with him. This wasn't some game she''d just won a round of.

"Are you ok?" She asked from her rock, still worried to move closer.

Peeta doesn't replied, still curled into a fetal position. This was it. She was going to offer him a kindness before she kills him like she had her family and their friends. Everything shimmered before his eyes the pain increasing intensity.

"K-Kill me..." he begged her, wanting that small mercy from her.

She swallowed heavily, before digging down into the first aid pack.

This might be a waste of something they'd need desperately later. But she needed his trust.

Even if he thought she was trying to kill him.

"Take this." She said, holding up a small white pill. A painkiller. But he didn't know that.

Peeta couldn't focus. Was the white pill in her hand poison? Would his pain be done forever? The memories that plagued him gone forever? His knuckles are white from his fists being clenched so hard. If only they were wrapped around her neck then this would really be over-

No. No. This would only stop if he were dead. That what all the signs were pointing to. He can't even get himself to sit up, the poison of the tracker jacker venom still running through his veins. Slowly, but surely his eyes were closing, mouth open, waiting for her pill and the sweet death that would follow.

Unsure, she finally moved closer and place the pill into his open mouth. Her fingertips linger on his lower lip, memories of so many kisses trying to push there way up. But she quickly pulled her fingers away before he could snap down on her fingertips.