After the war (A Mocking jay sequel)

Peeta gets treatment 2.0

Peeta POV:

The steady beeping of the heart monitor is the first thing I notice when I wake up. For a moment, I don't know where I am. The room is dim, the soft hum of the ventilation system filling the silence. Then I remember; the Capitol hospital. The treatment. The reason I'm here.

I shift slightly, my muscles stiff from lying in bed for too long. A dull ache pulses in my temples, remnants of whatever medication they've been using to stabilize me. It's supposed to help with the flashbacks, make them less intense. So far, it's hard to tell if it's working.

The door creaks open.

"Morning, Mr. Mellark." Dr. Anne steps inside, clipboard in hand. Her voice is always calm, even when I feel anything but.

"Morning," I say, rubbing my eyes.

"How are you feeling today?"

I hesitate. Last night was bad—one of the worst episodes I've had in months. The nightmares had gripped me so tightly that even after waking, I couldn't tell what was real. The scent of blood, the sound of screams, the sharp sting of tracker-jacker venom—it all lingered, long after the dream had ended.

"Better," I lie.

Dr. Anne tilts her head slightly, as if she doesn't quite believe me. "We made a small adjustment to your medication after last night's episode. It should help stabilize your memories, make the intrusive thoughts less overwhelming."

I nod, gripping the blanket. "And if it doesn't?"

She offers a reassuring smile. "Then we adjust again. But we are seeing progress, Peeta. I promise you that."

I want to believe her.

Before I can respond, my phone buzzes on the nightstand. Katniss.

I reach for it immediately.

Katniss: How are you feeling? Any improvement?
Me: A little. Dr. Anne says they adjusted my medication.
Katniss: That's good. Rye and I are at the hotel. He keeps asking when he can see you.
Me: Soon. I love you.
Katniss: I love you too.

I close my eyes, picturing them. Katniss with her storm-gray eyes, always searching, always alert. Rye with his messy blonde hair and endless curiosity. They're my anchor, the reason I'm here in the first place.

I just hope I'm strong enough to make it back to them.

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Katniss POV:

I stare at the phone long after Peeta stops responding, my fingers tightening around it.

He's getting better. That's what I tell myself. That's what I have to believe.

But last night, when the call came from the hospital telling me about his episode, I felt the familiar panic creeping in.

I close my eyes, remembering.

Peeta's voice, shaking through the phone. "I—I thought I was back there, Katniss. I could feel the blood on my hands."

"It wasn't real," I had whispered, even though I knew that, to him, it was.

This isn't the first time I've had to pull him back from the edge. But the episodes are getting worse. That's why we're here, why we agreed to this experimental treatment in the Capitol.

Rye stirs beside me on the hotel bed, rubbing his eyes. "Mama?"

I tuck his hair behind his ear. "Yeah, baby?"