Broken (Peeta Mellark Fanfiction)

Chapter 8 - Protection

We make it to the tube, the entrance to the underground. There's a ladder that leads us down there, we all gather at the foot of it. We can see the darkness filled with so little light, and smell the rank, mildewy scent from the air in these passages. Pollux-the Avox-seems very uneasy, he clutches the wrist of his brother Castor.

"My brother worked down here after he became an Avox, took five years before we were able to buy his way up to ground level. Didn't see the sun once."

This place faintly reminds me of my prison back in the Capitol. The darkness, the terrible smells, and no sunlight. I was only there for a month though, Pollux was here for five years. I can't imagine having to go back. After being here for so long, he must know this place pretty well, at least we don't have to worry about getting lost or what to watch out for.

He doesn't seem to know of how valuable he is to the squad, he's just standing there, trembling beside his brother. Everyone else seems stunned, they can't seem to wrap their heads around the idea of no sunlight for five years, this isn't helping.

I turn to Pollux, "Well, then you just became out most valuable asset."

Castor lets out a snicker and Pollux manages a smile. Then I have some sort of a warm feeling I quickly recognize to be relief and joy. The feeling I get when making someone else happy. Its been a long time.

We make our way through the tunnel, like I said, we are really lucky to have Pollux. He tells us (or uses sign language to Castor who tells us) about the whole underground system. It's used to deliver goods throughout the city, it's called the Transfer. He knows about the traps, the pods, the shift changes, the cameras, the water movement, and the way through this maze of contraptions.

We trudge through the tunnels for six straight hours, I hunch over between my guards, Gale and Jackson. I can only stare at the ground, trying not to get too upset over the fact that they forced me to come with them. Now is the time I start to wonder who the leader of this squad is now that Boggs is dead. Jackson was titled second-in-command, but Katniss has the Holo, and she's the one leading the group with Pollux. She orders us to rest for a little bit, no one objects. We stop in a small, warm room with humming machines.

They set up guard shifts again, and Pollux insists that he stay up the entire time, he can't sleep down here. I know the feeling, you can't sleep with so much fear unless exhaustion is too powerful. I try to sleep, but I just lay on the ground with my eyes closed for who knows how long. Exhaustion might of caught up with me, but it feels as if I never fell asleep.

After what I assume is a couple of hours. I just lay sideways with my eyes open, trying not to think too much, because nothing good ever comes when I get tangled in a huge mess of confusion. I can hear rummaging right behind me, I can feel the movement of someone sitting up almost right above me.

I quickly glance above me, Katniss is sitting is sitting behind me, it's her shift. She has a can of potato and bean stew, she gazes at me for a moment.

"Have you eaten?" She asks.

I shake my head, and as I sit up she hands me an open can of chicken and rice soup. I take it, and chug it back hungrily, not realizing how much hunger and fatigue has taken over my body. As I pause to swallow the soup, Katniss continues to stare at me, I can see only a little bit from the fluorescent light above us.

"Peeta, when you asked about what happened to Darius and Lavinia, and Boggs told you it was real, you said you thought so. Because there was nothing was shiny about it. What did you mean?"

I think back at my recent discovery about my real and fake memories.

"Oh. I don't know exactly how to explain it." I tell her. I think back all the way to the painful beginning, the sessions, the lab table, then the rescue with nothing else but extremely enhanced anger and one fake motivation. Then throughout the remembrances of each memory, everything can somehow connect more and more, and the strange things like attacking trees or a blurry and flashy vision of long sharp teeth and demon eyes on someone who looks a lot like Katniss are obvious to be fake. I try to explain it to her in a simple way,

"In the beginning, everything was just complete confusion. Now I can sort certain things out. I think there's a pattern emerging. The memories they altered with the tracker jacker venom have this strange quality about them. Like they're too intense or the images aren't stable. You remember what it was like when you were stung?"

"Trees shattered. There were that colorful butterflies. I fell into a pit of orange bubbles... shiny orange bubbles."

"Right. But nothing about Darius or Lavinia was like that. I don't think they'd given me any venom yet." I say.

"Well that's good?" She asks. "If you can separate the two, then you can figure out what's true."

If only it was as simple as it sounds.

"Yes. And if I could grow wings, I could fly." I say "Only people can't grow wings. Real or not real?"

"Real, but people don't need wings to survive." She replies.

"Mockingjays do." I add, finishing the soup and handing it back to her. I think I see almost a bit of a smirk on her lips as she looks away. Then she looks back a me and it disappears.

"There's still time. You should sleep." She says.

I must look awful, with giant bags under my eyes with dirt and dust gathering on my skin. I lie back down, and just as I'm about to close my eyes, Katniss' hand stretches out and gently smoothes back my untidy hair. I freeze, and for a second my heart beats loudly in my chest at the presence of her touch, but she finishes and pulls back her hand away from my face.

I have that thought again, about how I think she still cares about me, this time, I don't push away the thought.

"You're still trying to protect me. Real or not real." I whisper.

"Real," she answers. "Because that's what you and I do. Protect each other."

It was real. She felt it too, the whole time. I knew it. I shut my eyes while having flashbacks of the Games, and how much devotion we had for one another, until finally exhaustion takes over, and I fall asleep.

My slumber is short-lived, I have an odd dream that doesn't really feel like a dream. There is no images, only darkness, but there is an achingly familiar chorus of hissing that slithers into my ears, saying one name, chanting it over and over.

Katniss.