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Chapter 1 - Haymitch

            I sit on the bench at the train station.  The brisk morning air and sunshine causes me to squint as I try to minimize the pain that has begun pulsating throughout my head.  I’d much rather be back at home slipping into the sweet darkness of unconsciousness, but Effie had called, and in her obnoxious Capitol accent, had made me promise to be there to pick him up from the train station.  After extensive testing they’d finally cleared him to leave the Capitol and he was coming home. I frown and pull my coat tighter around my neck. 

            I still remember finding them in the square among the screams and moans of the dying.  After the second blast, District Thirteen’s soldiers had rushed the president’s mansion, kicked in the doors.  They’d met little resistance from anyone.  They found President Snow staring down at the carnage below his eyes following the bright human torches as the fires consumed their lives.  He surrendered himself calmly and with little emotion.  I remember the small smile and the glint of triumph in Coin’s pale eyes as the transmission came through. 

            Medics rushed into the square and began carting off survivors.  I stood around stupidly feeling useless until a commotion started up by the flag pole to my left.  And then there they were, in the snow, unconscious and burned, but still alive. My two victors.

            I was never meant to take care of people, but it became clear in the following days that I was going to have to.  Mrs. Everdeen, working frantically to save lives with the other district 13 medics was found and taken to Katniss.  Her relief at finding one daughter alive was short lived when she found out that the other had perished.  She sank to her knees and wailed until someone came and took her away.  I saw her in and out of Katniss’s room as Katniss recovered, but it was clear from the deadness in her eyes that she wasn't going to be there for Katniss when she woke up.  Shortly after Katniss revived, she threw herself into her work the way I throw myself into a bottle. 

            Peeta was easier, but he’s always been easier.  When he woke up in the burn unit, he asked about Katniss.  Asked if he could see her, but he couldn't.  The doctors came soon after that and I hardly saw him until the day of Snow’s execution.  During Katniss’s trial, when he had breaks from therapy, I would keep him updated with whatever tidbit of knowledge I could glean from Plutarch and we would sit there in silence until a nurse would come gather him for something or other.  When I heard she was singing, I told Peeta that I thought that she would be alright.  He just nodded and stared out the window.  I pretended not to see the tears rolling down his cheeks.

            Before Katniss and I left for District 12, I sought him out and asked to talk to him privately.  It’s hard to explain to Peeta, but I try anyways.  I tell him; much in the same way I told Katniss in 13, that she will never be the same again.  I tell him that he has a chance to start over and to find happiness.  In another district, in the Capitol even.  I try to keep the edge out of my voice as I remind him how Katniss completely abandoned him to deal with his tortured mind on his own.  That he doesn't owe her anything, that there’s no guarantee that she will ever reciprocate the feelings that Snow failed to destroy within him.  But he sits there calmly until I’m done and informs me evenly that he’ll be back as soon as Dr. Aurelius feels he is ready to go. 

It’s the difference between me and him.  The surety of self, the willingness to risk despite the chance of failure, the ability to forgive, to see past the flaws of people like Katniss and I, who only end up hurting others as we selfishly try to protect ourselves, and still love them.  I make a sound of disgust and leave to go gather up Katniss so we can return to the graveyard that is District 12.  It only takes a couple of exchanges with Katniss before I decide that I don’t owe either of them anything.  They’re alive.  I did my job.  By the time we land I have a bag full of liquor. 

That was two weeks ago, and things haven’t really changed much.  I drink myself into oblivion; Katniss sits and stares at the fire and life moves on past us.  But Peeta’s making good on his promise to return and I have a sinking feeling that I won’t be able to enjoy this charade for much longer. In fact, it’s not much long after this thought that the train pulls up and Peeta steps off onto the platform.

Despite my dark thoughts, it’s still good to see him.  He looks better.  Still thin, but he’s standing straighter and his blue eyes have a clarity in them that I haven’t seen in a long time.  He’s dressed in simple grey pants and a button down white shirt.  He looks almost normal except for the fading scar that climbs up the side of his neck and reaches over his eye. I stand and catch his gaze and that easy smile of his breaks across his face.  I clasp his shoulder in greeting and we stand there awkwardly for a bit before I offer to take his bag.  He declines, probably noticing that I’m not very steady on my feet, and we begin walking towards the Victor’s Village.

He strikes up a conversation in that easy way of his, but it dies quickly when he sees the ruins of his old home.  The town is a mixture of black and white like one of his charcoal drawings.  There are a few wagons being drawn by horses and manned by men wearing masks to protect against the ash as they dig through the collapsed houses in search of human remains.  I turn to see the tightness in Peeta’s eyes as he takes in the destruction for the first time. Forgetting that he has only heard of the fire-bombing of twelve, but has not actually seen it.  He swallows and presses his lips together and then we continue towards home.  We say no words until we reach the trail to the victor’s village.  It’s there that he asks quietly as we continue walking, “How is Katniss?”

“She’s getting on.” I lie. “Sae makes sure she’s eating.”  I add lamely.  He nods but I can feel the disappointment and sadness emanating from him. 

“Do you think she will want to see me?”  He asks.  I tell him I don’t know, because I don’t and because I've long since stopped trying to understand what that girl wants.  What I want, however, is to feel the aching burn of liquor down my throat and the fuzzy numbness in my head so that I don’t have to think about Katniss or Peeta or myself for that matter.  I drop Peeta off at his house and find an excuse to leave.  He doesn't make it hard.  He knows me well enough, is kind enough to let me cower back into my weakness.  And I do.  Tilting back the bottle, feeling the fire caress my throat and settle into my belly.  Again and again until the room spins and I’m crawling up the stairs and into the bedroom where I sprawl on the bed and finally find release.

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            I watch as Haymitch disappears back into his house then feel my eyes slide over to hers, but there are no signs of life, no hints of movement.  I make an inward sigh as I turn my eyes back to my own lonely home and enter.  The house is cold and dark and I can feel the empty spaces around me.

 I knew this would be hard.  Dr. Aurelius and I talked extensively about it.  A requirement before he would even consider letting me come here.  We talked about why I wanted to come back, what I thought would happen, what I wanted to happen, what I was afraid would happen.  We discussed the possibilities of the hijacking returning and the possibility that I could be putting Katniss in danger. 

I felt a twinge of guilt there, knowing that it could be considered selfish, and even dangerous, of me to impose myself on her again after what happened, but then my mind would jump back to that small room in the Capitol sewers with the mechanical devices whirring as we tried to sleep.  I would feel the tentative touch of her fingers again on my face as she brushed the hair from my forehead and continued to stroke my head until I fell asleep and then the guilt would be gone and I knew that I had to go back.  I had to be there for her.  Because that’s what we do, we protect each other.

And I did.  I did everything I could to protect her after that even though there were moments where I felt myself slipping into that dark place.  That place of panic and confusion where I turn into someone I fear. Someone I hate.  I followed her and Gale through the Capitol streets dodging the horrific pods that killed citizens and soldiers alike.  I lost them when the street opened up, but spotted her again perched on the flag pole in the city center.  Then the bombs went off and I narrowly avoided being trampled to death by the fleeing citizens.  By the time I saw her again she was running towards the barricade where some medics had rushed in, and I was running towards her and then… I realize I’m shaking, gripping tightly to the banister of the staircase, my breath coming out in short pants and I know that I need to do something before the flashbacks come in earnest. 

I set my bag on the stair and walk over to the fireplace while taking calming breaths through my nose and breathing them out through my mouth.  I busy myself with starting a fire, grateful for the wood and matches left over from before the Quarter Quell.  Once the fire is set, I pick up my bag and head upstairs and add the contents of my bag to all of the stuff I left behind.

            With that done, I’m beginning to feel anxious again.  All I really want to do is go over to her house to see if she is okay, but Dr. Aurelius and I agreed that something like that might overwhelm her or, worse, me.  I try to remember what I did when I felt like this before, after those first hunger games.  That time when I realized that her feelings for me were not what I thought.  When I had nothing to do but be stuck with myself.  I instinctively look at the kitchen.  It’s clean… and empty I realize as I look through the cupboards and open the fridge to find some ingredients.  Of course, it would be empty.  I wasn't planning on coming back. 

            I wander into the guest room that I turned into a studio, and look at some of my old paintings.  I find one of Katniss and immediately feel a rush of emotions ranging from fear to elation.  It’s too much, and I step out of the room and shut the door in front of me.  I walk around aimlessly, avoiding what I know I have to do, before I build up my courage and step out the front door of my house and head towards the ruins of my old district.

            I plod my way back into town, suddenly becoming aware that I am not sure where supplies are even bought in District 12 now that it has been destroyed, but it’s too late to turn back now.  As I walk into the charred wasteland I see a semi-familiar face behind a paper mask sitting on a wagon being pulled by a horse.  When our eyes meet his light up with recognition and he removes the face mask.

            “Hello Peeta!”  He says smiling.  “When did you get back into town?”  Without the mask I’m able to identify him as Thom, Gale’s co-worker in the mines.  The one who helped carry Gale to Mrs. Everdeen after the whipping.

            “Hi Thom.”  I reply.  “I just got here today.  I’m looking to get some supplies.” 

Thom brightens a bit at this.  “We haven’t had proper bakery bread here for a while.  Hop on up, I’ll take you down to the supply shop.  Delly should be able to fix you up.

            “Delly?” I ask surprised and pleased at the same time.  “I didn't know she came back.” I say. 

            “Yeah, a bunch of us from District 12 came back to rebuild.  We could have stayed at District 13, but it just wasn't home.”  He says as I clamber up to the seat next to him.  He flips the rein on the horse and the wagon begins to move slowly through the wreckage.

            “How long have you guys been working on this.” I ask. 

            “It’s been about a week.  We needed to wait for the ice to thaw a bit.  The capitol is going to be sending machines later this spring so we can clear the buildings. We’re supposed to get building supplies as well.  They've developed some committee back in the Capitol to help rebuild District 12.  Some investors want to start up a medicine factory and are funding the whole thing.  It’s a little strange accepting help from the Capitol being as they’re the ones that caused this, but we need all the help we can get.”  I nod in agreement remembering the change in the capitol after President Snow fell. 

After the Capitol citizens experienced the ruthlessness of their own government during the battle for the city and the bombing of their children they became a lot more empathetic towards the plight of the districts.  “Right now we’re just rounding up the dead and giving them as proper of a burial as we can out in the meadow.”

“That will be good.” I say and feel that it is inadequate and it is, but there’s nothing else much to say and we ride along quietly. 

“Have you cleared out the old bakery yet?” I ask.  I’m looking down when I say this, feeling the dread and pain build up in me.

“Not yet.” Thom replies and I hear the softness in his voice. 

“I’d like to clear it out if you don’t mind.” 

“Of course,” Thom replies.  The wagon slows and I realize we are close to the train station again.  Next to it is a small stand with shelves filled with sacks of flour and beans, baskets of eggs, and other supplies behind the counter.  Standing behind the bar talking to a tall man is Delly Cartwright.  She looks that same as she did back in 13.  The long blond hair of the merchant class, round cheeks always lifted in a smile.  I feel a smile of my own form on my face and a pang of gratefulness in my heart as I see my old friend and remember everything she did for me in 13 when I was at my worst.  She must feel my gaze on her because she looks up and her face brightens.

“Peeta!”  She exclaims and a laugh bubbles out of her as she moves from behind the table to come greet me. My eyes widen in surprise.  Delly is pregnant.  As soon as I hit the ground she has her arms wrapped around me in a hug.  I wrap my arms around her back and feel the firmness of her belly against mine.

“Delly! You’re pregnant!” I say and we both laugh together.  The tall man from before comes over and puts his arm around her eyeing Thom and I warily.  I vaguely remember him from 13. 

“James, this is Peeta and Thom.”  She says introducing us.  “Peeta and I were childhood friends and well you know the rest.” She adds.  I cringe inwardly.  Yes, everyone from 13 knows I returned from the Capitol a monster, but the look James gives me is appraising and he sticks his hand out and we shake.  “I convinced James to come out here with me and help rebuild.” Delly explains.  The look and smile she gives him is full of love and hope and I can’t help but feel happy for her and James.  “Are you going to stay Peeta?”  She asks. 

“I am.” I say and Delly smiles warmly. 

“Have you seen Katniss yet?”  She asks and I immediately realize that everyone here knows exactly why I have come back to District 12 and it wasn't to help rebuild.  But I’m surprised by the desire I am feeling to help.  A desire to rebuild my home, to see friends and their families as I live my life day in and out. But I’d be lying to myself, if I didn't admit that I want Katniss to be a central part of that life. To have her as a friend, to dare for her love.  I find myself grimacing.

“I haven’t yet.  I just saw Haymitch.  Have… have you guys seen her?”  I ask.  Delly just shakes her head.

“We've been terribly worried about her, but Sae just tells us to leave her be.”  Delly says.  Everyone is quiet until Thom says, “Well Greasy Sae probably knows best.  Delly, Peeta told me he needs supplies to make bread.”

“Oh!” Delly exclaims.  “That would be lovely. I must admit, I’m not a very good baker.  Some homemade Mellark bread is just what this place needs.”   She says as she hurries behind the counter and begins gathering up flour, eggs and milk, sugar and salt.  She fills a basket and hands it over to me and I provide her with the money.

“Why don’t you stay for Lunch?”  Delly asks and I gratefully accept. Delly looks questioningly at Thom and he accepts as well.  It feels a bit like old times, if you can ignore all the ash and death surrounding us.  We sit on the counter eating cold ham sandwiches while Delly and Thom talk about what happened in 13 during the invasion of the Capitol and how they made it back to District 12.  I listen avidly, finding it interesting to listen to other people’s stories after I've been so wrapped up in my own.  I talk sparingly about my time in the Capitol, just enough to satisfy their curiosity.  After a couple of hours the sun is beginning to set and it is time to depart. Delly makes me promise to come visit often and gives me a parting hug.

I wave good bye to James and Delly as Thom and I climb back onto the wagon.  When Thom drops me off at the trail to the victor’s village he reaches down with his hand extended and I take it and we shake hands.  “Welcome back Peeta.”  He says kindly and then is on his way.  I’m halfway up the trail when I see two figures ahead of me.  My heart leaps a bit, because they’re too small to be Haymitch, but as I get closer I recognize Greasy Sae and her young granddaughter.  She smiles when she recognizes me. 

“Good evening, Peeta.” She says looking me over. Her granddaughter smiles shyly.

“Good evening, Sae.  How is everything today?”  I ask hoping to glean some information from her. 

“Same as usual.” She replies and I can tell from the look in her eyes that she knows what I’m trying to do.  I decide to give up the pretense.

“How is Katniss?”  I ask.  Sae shrugs.  “She’s lost. Girl doesn't cope well when she loses the ones she truly loves. A lot like her mother that one, but she ate more of her dinner than usual.”  I can’t think of anything to say to that.  Sae puts her hand on my arm comfortingly.  “I’m glad you’re back though.”  I smile and she moves on past me.  Her granddaughter waves and I’m left with my thoughts as I walk back to my house.

The ones she truly loves.  Of course she means Prim.  I was unaware that Prim had been involved in the explosion until after I woke from the burn unit. After hearing that, I knew everything would be different.  That the damage would be irreparable.  Katniss loved Prim like I loved Katniss. I remember seeing Katniss for the first time in that awful meeting with Coin.  She seemed so like herself, a little vacant, I’ll admit, but better than I had expected.  It wasn't until until she voted yes for Coin’s new hunger games that I began to realize how deep the damage had gone.  For Prim, she had said, but it wasn't for Prim really. Katniss had to know that Prim would never want anything of the sort.  That was when I knew much she’d given up on herself, on humanity, on everything.

I suddenly know what I need to do, but I realize it’s getting late, so I return home and am relieved that it feels less lonely.  The fire has warmed the house with heat and a comforting yellow glow.  I make some tea, stock my kitchen with the ingredients from Delly and then sit down in front of the fire sipping quietly.  I think about what I want to do, and whether or not it will be too intrusive, but in the end I decide I don’t care.  I want to do this for Prim as much as I want to do it for Katniss.  I know Prim would not want Katniss to be this way. 

I awake early the next morning and dress, grab a shovel and a wheelbarrow from the groundskeeper’s shed and head off to the forest.  It doesn't take long to find them.  Evening Primrose.  I remember how they look from the work we did on Katniss’s father’s plant book and I soon have five scraggly bushes.  I head back and begin to dig under one of the windows of her house.    I’m surprised at how quickly I become winded, but I continue to dig, turning the soil, trying to create a place where these bushes and my own hope for Katniss can grow.  I don’t even know she’s there until I hear her voice.

“You’re back.”  She says and I look up to see her for the first time in months.  She looks terrible.  Her hair is matted and flakes of skin flutter on her skin like butterflies in the morning breeze.  But her face and her eyes still captivate me, even more because of how they are widened in surprise with that rare glimpse of fear and vulnerability, not fear and loathing like I was afraid of.

“Dr. Aurelius wouldn't let me leave the Capitol until yesterday.” I say and then decide to add, “By the way, he said to tell you he can’t keep pretending he’s treating you forever.  You have to pick up the phone.”  She doesn't say anything for a while and I’m starting to feel a concerned frown start to pull at my lips.  She tries to push her hair out of her eyes, but nothing really happens because it’s too matted.  Her eyes narrow.

“What are you doing?”

“I went to the woods this morning and dug these up.  For her,” I say, knowing that she will know who I mean.  “I thought we could plant them along the side of the house.”  Her eyes dart to the plants, her face contorts with anger for a brief moment before it clears and then she nods and runs back into the house.  I hear the lock click behind her, the patter of her feet as she runs up the stairs.  A loud thump makes me cringe, but I hear her get back up, then more running down the stairs.  Glass shatters.  I’m feeling a bit concerned until I hear the shower running.  I am just wrapping up when I see Sae and her granddaughter walking up the front porch stairs.  Sae is looking inquisitively at the freshly turned soil and evening primrose bushes.  I wave at them in greeting and they wave back before Sae pulls out a key and unlocks the front door.  They disappear inside and I return my tools to the wheel barrow with my heart hammering in my chest.

Tired and shaking,  I allow myself to assess the situation as I unclasp my prosthetic leg and maneuver myself into the shower.  She didn't seem upset that I was back, but she didn't exactly seem happy either.  More importantly, the sight of her, while eliciting the normal irrational fears, did not explode into the panic attack Dr. Aurelius and I feared might happen.  I decide to leave it at that for now and make my way down to the kitchen, pull out the ingredient and lose myself in baking trying to calm the fluttering feeling of hope that bats around in my chest.

When the breads done, I mean to take it down to Thom and Delly, but I find that I have become tired and the idea of leaving the house becomes monumental.  I cover the fresh loaves with cloth and climb my way up to my room.  I crack the window slightly and lie down finding myself lulled to sleep by the whistling of the mockingjays outside.

The sharp rap of a knock on the front door wakes me with a start and for a moment I have a hard time remembering where I am.  The knock comes again more insistent and I swiftly reattach my prosthetic leg and head down stairs.  I open the door to see Greasy Sae and immediately ask if everything is okay.

“Everything’s fine, I just need your help carrying her up to bed.”  She says motioning me to follow.  I look at her quizzically as I grab my jacket and follow her across the green to Katniss’s house.   We enter her house and there she is lying on the floor curled up and beautiful.  Pacing around her is Buttercup, Prim’s old cat. 

“Looks like she brought home a friend from hunting today.” Sae says with amusement, but I only feel concern. 

“Should we wake her up?  Get her something to eat.”  I ask unsure.  Sae shakes her head.

“Get her up to bed.  She needs to rest, we’ll get some breakfast for her in the morning.   "Go on." she says when I hesitate, “I’m going to pick up the room a bit."  I kneel down and gently slide my hand underneath her knees and around my shoulders.  Even in my weakened state she’s still easy to carry.  Her eyes are red and her nose has been running.  Every once in a while she’ll breath in a ragged breath.  She must have been crying very hard.  I head upstairs and tuck her into her bed allowing myself to tenderly brush some of the hair off her face as I examine how I'm feeling.  Pleased and apprehensive when there's hardly any fear at all, but then she's always been less scary when she's sleeping I think as my mind runs through memories of her sleeping in my arms during the Victory Tour.  I sense movement by the bed and look to see Buttercup attempting to jump up onto the bed, but failing due to some injuries that I hadn't noticed before.  He squeaks in pain when I pick him up and gently place him on the bed.  He settles next to her and looks at me with his yellow eyes as if asking me why I’m still here.  The urge to stay pangs in my chest, but I know I can’t, so I quietly leave and shut the door behind me.

Downstairs Greasy Sae is waiting for me. 

“She’ll be alright.” She says reading my face.  “Come back tomorrow around 8 am and bring some bread, I imagine she’ll be hungry.”   I send Greasy Sae back to the town with the loaves I baked earlier and then return to fire which has died down considerably.  I put on some more wood and try to imagine what tomorrow will be like as I settle into the chair next to to the fireplace. 

            Katniss and I didn't exactly leave on the best of terms, I think as I run my hands over the fading white scars her teeth had left behind.  She had been mad the last time I saw her.  Shrieking and spitting like some feral beast.  Calling for Gale and shrieking some more when he didn't answer her plea.  She was off limits after that.  Hidden away in the training center.  Not even Haymitch had access to her.  District 13 was furious. The other districts baffled, but unwilling to crucify the symbol that had carried them to where they were to day.  The Capitol residence mute as they realized how close they’d come to experiencing their own Hunger Games first hand under Coin's rule.  Plutarch seemed amused, quickly aligning himself with a rebel leader named Paylor from district 8 who just happened to be elected President in the emergency elections that followed Coin's death. 

            Then there was the trial.  Public and odious from the start and obviously of Plutarch’s design.  But even as I recoiled from the idea of Katniss’s life being so publicly bartered about in front of everyone, I could also see it was designed to save her, and when I could, I would watch raptly as witness after witness came forward to testify on her character.  Plutarch, Effie, Katniss’s prep team, Haymitch, and even Gale testified on her behalf as well as many others I didn't know. Freshly elected President Paylor recounted Katniss’s actions in District 8 and expressed a desire to see her released to go back home.  With an escort and and order not to leave District 12 without permission of course.  Even some of the higher ups in district 13 had to admit that without her distracting Snow, they would not have been able to advance on the Capitol as swiftly as they had and thousands of more lives would have been lost if not for her actions.

            I waited to be asked to testify as well, but I never was.  The only time I came up was when the prosecution tried to use me as evidence against Katniss’s character.  Surely, a young man as honest and good as Peeta Mellark knew that Katniss was a menace to the rebellion or else why would he have tried to kill her?  But the blow was so low and too many people knew about the torture and hijacking that the man was almost hissed out of the building.  I’m almost positive Plutarch had a hand in it.

Still, I remember the fear and panic from that day.  Was I trying to kill Katniss for noble reasons?  Did I fail?  If she was exonerated, would I ever be safe?  The fallout from that viewing resulted in my loss of T.V. privileges for the rest of my stay in the Capitol, as all the work Dr. Aurelius and I had done dissolved into me screaming in the corner as I questioned every aspect of my life.  My only consolation from that incident is that my recovery was almost instant once I’d snapped out my episode.  Something Dr. Aurelius tried to tell me over and over again as I sobbed in his office convinced that I would never be able to be near Katniss again because I was ruined and could he please just let me die. 

But he wouldn't, and it was largely his clinical evaluation of Katniss’s mental state that finally resulted in her exoneration.  I never saw his testimony, but I know he talked at length about the horrors Katniss had been put through, about the torture inflicted upon me, Annie and Johanna.  I heard he talked in extra detail about the fear conditioning with the Tracker Jacker poison they used on me, and how all of these thing could, and had, effectively destroyed the minds of Katniss and me and many others.  He argued that to do anything else, but try to let us heal, if we could, would be to continue in the inhumane practices of the previous regimen.  And no one wanted that.  The release of the pods on the fleeing refugees, the bombings of innocent children and medics on in the city square were too fresh in anyone’s minds for them to possibly want to return to that.

And so Katniss was released, and I begged and pleaded with Dr. Aurelius to let me go with her, but he wouldn't until he was satisfied I wouldn't hurt her or myself.  Until he was sure, I wouldn't lose myself again when confronted with her.  He also tried to suggest I move on from her, move to another district or stay in the Capitol, but it became clear that I could not do that. 

And so he continued to do his best to help me.  We had already made progress in the months before.  We had watched every piece of Hunger Games footage with Katniss and I together that he could find.  He even pulled up some conversations that were recorded from our houses in the Victor’s village and the training center roof. Then we would talk and discuss about everything that came into my head.  He’d sometimes bring in Johanna and we’d watch together and when I’d get confused about something she’d say, “That’s not how it happened, brainless, could you be any more stupid?”  Then she would explain over and over again and we would watch again and again, until I began to recognize the slight difference between the real and the not real.  The more I watched, the easier it became until I could almost detach myself from the false memories and dissect them as clinically as Dr. Aurelius, and while the irrational fear was still there, there were also feelings that I used to associate with Katniss.  Feelings like admiration, and frustration, desperation and lust, flashes of jealousy, stabs of pain, and permeating everything else a lightness and warm feeling that I can only think is love.

Johanna turned out to be my biggest defender from myself.  During our time in the hospital we would share lunches or do activities together.  We’d spent months in the Capitol listening to each other crying, screaming, and swearing.  Anguished cries and pitiful whimpers, undignified sobbing, retching,  shameful begging and pleading we’d heard it all.  There was nothing left to hide between Johanna and me.  And she almost seemed eager to tell me what an awful person Katniss was and how stupid I was to be pining over her, but I quickly realized that these were just decoys to protect herself from her true feelings of jealously and loneliness.  That behind that scathing mouth and haughty eyes was someone who was completely and utterly alone. My suspicions were confirmed, when during a group therapy session, she finally broke down and muttered miserably how she just wished someone loved her as much as I loved Katniss or as much as Finnick had loved Annie.  Then she stood up and kicked her chair before storming out of the room.

On the day that I left, she gave me a forceful shove and with anger in her eyes said, “Now you’re leaving me too.”  before stalking off.  The memory makes me feel uncomfortable.  Reminds me of how much my life is in shambles, how tenuous things with Katniss and I really are. Fear and dread begin to fill my body and I realize that I will probably not sleep tonight or that if I do it will be plagued by the horrors trapped in my mind.  And so I do what I've always done.  I shakily walk to the kitchen, and begin to make bread.

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I wake quietly to find myself in my bed and out of the darkness.  I can’t remember the dream. All I have is a vague sense of gently being lifted up, of floating, but anything other than that dissipates like smoke in my mind.  My room is lit with moonbeam rays, and the effect is so beautiful and comforting that I begin to wonder if I am somehow still within a dream.  I’ve had dreams like this before.  The ones that start out comforting and then mercilessly plummet into terror. I begin to feel my muscles tense in anticipation for the muttations to attack. I wait for snake like eyes and bleeding mouths, shiny silver parachutes, and the fires that consume everything.  But nothing happens and my attention is drawn to a warm pressure against my leg.  Buttercup stares at me with his yellow eyes and I relax.  I am not alone.  I pull the covers up around my shoulders and sink into the soft pillows as the words of a song flit through my mind…

Deep in the meadow, hidden far away,
a cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray,
forget your woes and let your troubles lay
and when again it’s morning, they’ll wash away…

It is early morning when I awake again with the dulcet timbre of a young girl’s singing voice receding into the background of my mind.  Prim or Rue I can’t tell, but I hold onto the sound until it vanishes completely into the morass of my mind.  I mimic the stillness of the morning and lay in my warm bed, not daring to move, trying hard to hold onto that ephemeral moment of peace, but it is gone too soon and I can feel the heavy weight within my chest begin to return.  I stare at the wall blankly wondering if it will be worth the effort to get out of the bed.  It’s only the jilted movement of Buttercup limping over to me that rouses me from the depths. 

Gently I scoop him up and carry him to the bathroom.  He stoically sits as I mend his cuts, bit by bit, with hands that are not made to heal, but to destroy and to kill.  Still, I do the best that I can.  When I go to remove the thorn from his back paw he makes a sound so pitiful that I am so strongly reminded of Prim that I feel myself begin to shake.  I quickly remove the thorn as tears rush down my cheeks.  Buttercup continues his plaintive cries and I gather him in my arms and hold him as tightly as I dare without hurting his wounds. Together we cry until my sobs become sniffles and Buttercup begins to squirm.  I let him go feeling empty, but lighter.

I stand up and splash some water of my face.  Look into the mirror to see haggard, red and splotchy eyes and wild hair fighting to escape its braided confines.  Everything feels sharp and bright, like I’ve been living in a world of shadows and have for the first time stepped out into the realness of the world.   I take a deep breath and comb through my hair before I hastily plait it back into place.  The motions remind me of my mother doing my hair on reaping day two years ago.  “You look beautiful!”  Prim had exclaimed.  “And nothing like myself.” I answer back to the memory and my reflection.  I stare a bit longer into the mirror until I hear Buttercup padding around in the living room.  I walk to the small table by the couch and find the pile of letters.  I shove aside the ones on top until I see the letter from mom.  I rip open the envelope and read the letter.

Dear Katniss,

            I hope you can forgive me for not being there for you, but I cannot face going back.  Please call me as soon as you make it home. 

Love,

Mom

I’m surprised at how short it is, but I realize that there are probably things that need to be said that should not be communicated in letters.  I see the phone number at the bottom of the paper and find myself sitting in the study staring at the dial.  Slowly, as though my hand were made of lead I press the buttons, listen as the phone rings, once, twice, three times…

“Hello?” Her voice stirs memories and feelings into a cacophony of emotions and I’m only able to choke out, “Mom?” before the crying comes in earnest again.

“Katniss, Oh Katniss,” I hear through my sobs followed by soothing comforting noises which almost imperceptibly turn into crying.

“Katniss, it’s ok.  Shhh… it’s okay.”  She comforts in the way that only mothers can and fresh sobs break through as I reply, “I couldn’t save her, Mom.  I’m so sorry…  I did everything I could.  I tried so hard.  It’s my fault.  It’s my fault that she’s dead.”  My crying begins to edge into hysteria, but I’m brought back from the brink by the surprisingly harsh sound of my mother’s voice.

“Katniss, that’s enough. You know that is not true and I’m not going to let you think for a second that it is.”  She waits for me to say something back but all I can get out are short sobs and those awful hiccups.  I finally calm down enough to say, “I miss her so much…”

“I know, Katniss, I know...”

“Is this what it was like when Dad died?”  I ask and there’s quiet on the other line.  I barely hear her answer. “Yes.  Katniss, I’m so sorry.”  There’s nothing much to say after that.  Nothing really needs to be said now that I know what it’s like.  Now that we mutually understand how similar we are really are. 

“How is the hospital coming in District 4?”  I say after a while.

“It’s going very well.  I’m happy here.”  She says.  I can’t think of anything to say and silence hangs in the air between us.  Unspoken accusations that I can’t bring myself to say because I understand why she’s not here even though it hurts.  She seems to sense my thoughts.

“Katniss, you don’t have to stay there in District 12.  I’ve been reaching out to President Paylor and Dr. Aurelius about renegotiating your confinement there.  They said they would consider it.  You could come live here with me…”

“Peeta came back” I interrupt because for some reason I can’t listen to what she’s saying anymore.  An exasperated sigh escapes her mouth

“Of course he did, Katniss.”  I give a halfhearted attempt to sort through the emotions her words elicit before giving up and saying, “He planted primrose… under the living room window… for her” I say.

“She would have liked that”

“And Buttercup came back.”  This brings a laugh of disbelief from my mother.

“All the way from 13?  I can’t believe he survived.”  She says in awe.

“He came back looking for her…” I say but I don’t add the obvious.

“Maybe” my mom agrees.  “Or maybe this is Prim’s way of telling you that she’s okay.  Now that she’s with your father.” Her words are soft and gentle, but my immediate reaction is distaste.  I’ve never been one to believe in the afterlife.  Dead is dead.  There is no Prim watching over me.  Prim is gone.  I killed her.   How many times have I been forced to acknowledge that?  I suddenly want to be off the phone.

“I have to go.” I say shortly and I can hear the disappointment in my Mother’s voice when she replies, “Ok, Katniss.  Will you call again soon?”

“Yeah.” I say noncommittally.

“Ok.  Think about what I said, about coming to District 4.”   

“Ok.

“Katniss… I love you.”  Hot tears sting my eyes and my shoulders sag a bit.  I’m too tired to hold onto the anger I’m feeling.

“I love you too mom. Good bye.”

“Goodbye…”  Her voice fades away as I take the phone away from my ear and place it onto the receiver and sever the connection.  I can’t seem to shake the irritation over what she said as I sit and stare moodily into the living room.  I used to think that my father was watching over me when I was younger, but after watching Prim almost starve to death, I knew that no one was watching over me.  My father was gone, and now Prim is too…  Why pretend like they’re not. 

The sound of the lock turning breaks me from my brooding and I smell the bread before I hear his voice.  I freeze like the deer that I hunt in the forest would when an unfamiliar noise was heard.  Peeta… I haven’t allowed myself to think about him since I saw him yesterday planting those bushes.  My heart pounds with a myriad of emotions and my brain races.  Why is he here?  But I know why he’s here.  Don’t I?  I can hear him and Sae clunking around in the kitchen.  Sae’s granddaughter is humming tunelessly.  I don’t have time to think much more before Greasy Sae is standing in the doorway holding Buttercup.

“Not like you to bring back live game, but I suppose he could make a good stew.”  She cackles as Buttercup twists in her arms and hisses.  She lets him go and he comes over to me for protection.  I pick him up and stroke his rough fur to comfort him.  He purrs deeply and I can feel it vibrating against my chest.  How many times did he run to Prim for comfort after I threatened his life? The irony is bittersweet.

Greasy Sae must be thinking something similar because she’s smiling when she says “Breakfast will be done soon.” before disappearing back into the kitchen.  I decide to follow her. Holding Buttercup closely to my chest like a talisman. 

As I enter the kitchen, I see him standing at the counter, slicing the loaf of bread he brought over for breakfast.  The boy with the bread I think as I swiftly look him over before he notices I am there.  He’s wearing a simple white buttoned up shirt that hangs loosely on him.  He still looks thin, although his shoulders are beginning to broaden again.  My eyes are just trailing along the burn scar that climbs up the side of his neck, alongside his ear and then over his eye when he looks up from cutting the bread and pins me with his blue eyes. 

I feel my heart skip a beat and instinctively squeeze Buttercup closer to my chest.  His eyes also show surprise and a hint of fear before they soften and I hear him say, “Hello Katniss” in that gentle way of his.

“Hi.”  I respond back and we just look at each other until Sae turns around and tells him to hurry up with the toast. While he’s distracted, I find my way to the table next to Sae’s granddaughter and watch him closely until Buttercup squirms out of my arms and jumps onto the table.  Sae’s granddaughter laughs and claps her hands excitedly before reaching out towards Buttercup who sniffs disdainfully before hopping off of the table and disappearing into the living room.

“Now Sally, don’t go getting attached to dinner.”  Sae teases as she walks over and places two plates of eggs and toast in front of us.  Peeta sets down plates for him and Sae before returning to the kitchen to get some tea.  He places a steaming cup in front of me and I look at the burn scars on his large hands.  Those beautiful hands that caused flowers to blossom in my father’s plant book, that provided such warm and steady comfort on the train ride during the victory tour.  Those strong hands that curled around my throat like iron…

I realize I’m not breathing and cough to cover my gasp.  Why is he here? This is a mistake. Nothing good can come of this. Shouldn’t he be chained up to a stair support or something? 

“Eat up Girl, it’s going to get cold.”  Greasy Sae admonishes waving her fork at me.  Peeta’s looking at me with concern in his eyes, but I don’t hold his gaze.  Instead I’m distracted by Buttercup twisting around my legs.  He jumps back up onto the table and Sally laughs again while Greasy Sae just tsks.  I, however, smile and break off a piece of bacon which he enthusiastically eats.  Grateful for the distraction, I spend the rest of breakfast breaking off pieces of bacon and feeding it to buttercup until Sae takes my plate of untouched eggs and toast and begins to wash the dishes.  Peeta offers to help but she shoos him away and we’re once again facing off at the table.

            I can sense his discomfort, but I make no move to say anything even though there are feelings inside of me that are stretching at the seams.  Finally he says, “I was wondering if we could talk in the living room?”  I look at him.  Look at his face and those blue eyes and I feel my guard wavering, so I just nod and then follow him into the living room.  We sit on the couch facing one another.  I wait for him to speak.

            “Katniss I…” He begins and stops and swallows hard.  “It’s so good to see you again.”  He finally says.  I feel a smile tug at my lips and my hand goes up to caress his face, to trace the scar across his forehead and down beside his ear until my hand is cupping his cheek.  He puts his hand over mine and then takes it and presses it against his lips.  We lower our hands back to the couch, but neither one of us lets go.   I begin to feel a small twinge of happiness that I thought I would never feel again.  I’m vaguely aware of him saying things to me.  Apologizing for things he has no business apologizing for considering what he went through. And I know I should stop him, but the feeling of happiness is overflowing into every part of my being, beating so strongly that it’s impossible to process anything else.

That is, until I see the scars on his hand.  Small white scars.  Scars I gave him as he stole from me my final escape from this world.  Scars he has no business having. 

Everything stops.  The happiness, the hope, the smile, even Peeta talking, and then the anger bursts through me bright and hot.  It burns like acid flowing through my veins.  My eyes narrow onto the scars and his eyes follow mine.

When we look at each other I expect him to apologize.  I expect to see fear and remorse.  I want him to beg me for forgiveness so that I can deny him and crush him for what he took from me.  But instead I see a steely determination in his eyes.   His mouth hardens and he says, “I’m not going to apologize for that.”

I fling his hand away from me.  “You had no right!”  I yell at him and shove him.  He seems a bit surprised by that, but he barely moves.  This angers me in ways I can’t even begin to describe.   I feel like screaming.  I feel the rage transforming me into something violent. Something that cannot be contained.  I feel his hands wrap around my arms to steady me and shove him away again shrieking, “Don’t touch me!”  I’m sitting on the couch bent over at the waist. My hands holding onto my head, fingers digging into my hair as I try to figure out how to stop myself from breaking.  To stop myself from transforming into the fire mutt we both know that I am.

“Better to not give into it.” Finnick’s voice jumps into my head.  “It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.”  Ten times as long.  Ten times.  I count to ten, breathing deeply for each second until the shaking stops and my hands move from my head to cover my face as the tears come again.  I wish Finnick were here.  He would understand.  But he’s gone too…

“Katniss…”  I hear Peeta say and look up to see Haymitch and Greasy Sae watching quietly by the front door and I know it is too much.  I wipe my eyes and will myself to feel nothing, surprised at how easy it is.  I slowly put myself back together again and shakily walk away.  Up the stairs and into my bed where I will stay until I figure out my next move and wait until they are gone.            

Chapter Text

The silence is so thick you could cut through it with a knife.  My eyes are trained on Peeta’s blond head waiting for his next move.  Greasy Sae quietly excuses herself from the house to go check on Sally.  She sent the little one out to play once tensions started rising.  They’ll be heading back into town, so I don’t worry about her coming back.  I just sit and wait.

I can see the tension in Peeta’s shoulders and know that he’s trying to come to terms with what just happened before he acts.  Because this is Peeta, not Katniss.  Peeta has always been deliberate about his actions.  Every decision and action that boy has ever made has been premeditated to fulfill some higher purpose or noble ideal.

I knew this about him on the first day on the tribute train when he knocked my drink out of my hand for laughing off Katniss and his attempts for advice.  It was a deliberate, maybe even a calculated, act.  He knew I was writing them off, consigning them to death and finding amusement in it. He had probably predicted I would act that way and had already decided what he would do about it.   Then again he had already decided on a lot of things.

Katniss on the other hand reacted to almost everything.  Her emotions most of all.  If anything had the audacity to make her feel an uncomfortable emotion she reacted without thinking and often with violence; shooting the arrow at the gamemakers, shoving Peeta into the urn after the interviews, and the most consequential one, holding out those berries to save Peeta’s life after being jerked around by the Capitol. None of those actions were thought through even if they had understandable and even noble motivations.

Peeta finally stands up slowly then walks right past me and out the door. I look darkly up at the ceiling towards the second floor.  I’ll deal with her later, I think, as I follow after him. We walk silently to his house.  His lips are pressed tightly together and he looks determinedly ahead.  If he’s waiting for me to say something, I don’t oblige.  Nothing I say is going to make him feel any better.  I think he realizes this, because he finally breaks the silence and says, “Isn’t this where you tell me you told me so?”  

I shrug, because I did tell him so, but I’m not about to rub it in his face.  My nonchalance just seems to irritate him more.  When we get to his house and are standing at his front door I ask him, “So, what are you going to do now?”

Some of the anger seems to seep out of him and he shakes his head despondently.  “I don’t know.  I didn’t know it was this bad.  I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to help her if she blames me for saving her life.”  He says.  

I lean back and rub at a sore spot on my neck.  “Give her some time.  She’s been here for about two weeks and hasn’t tried to end her life.  If she was really that upset about you saving her she would have done something by now. Nothing’s stopping her.”  Even as I say the words, I can feel Peeta bristle.

“Nothing’s stopping her?  Isn’t that why you volunteered to come back here with her?  You were supposed to make sure she was safe!  You were supposed to be helping her!” he snaps at me.  I try to think of something to say, but there’s really no excuse.  None that Peeta would accept anyways.  I was fairly certain that Katniss wasn’t going to do anything drastic when we got back, and with Sae checking on her twice a day I figured I’d done my part.  But the truth of the matter was that Katniss could have easily offed herself and Sae and I would have been none the wiser until we walked in on her corpse.

            I know Peeta wants me to feel bad about it, but I don’t.  If Katniss had decided she didn’t want to live anymore, I wasn’t going to be the one to take that decision from her.  After all she’d been through she’d earned the right to choose.  I don’t say this to him though.  When presented with the same situation he’d done the exact opposite.   He’d made that decision for her and now they both had to live with it.  For better or for worse.

He’s looking at me with those piercing blue eyes that demand an answer but I don’t give him one. I just set my mouth in a hard stubborn line until he practically sneers, “Go have drink, Haymitch.” before entering his house and slamming the door in my face.

His suggestion is an excellent one and I act on it with pleasure, but I make sure not to go too overboard, because while I care little for Peeta’s self righteousness on the issue of Katniss’s life and my choice to hide in a bottle, I do care about him and Katniss.  And the last thing I want to see is for them to end up estranged and alone.  So when Sae comes over after dinner and reports that Katniss hasn’t eaten or even moved from her bed, I know what I’m going to have to do.  And I know it’s going to be hell because if there’s one person that can bring out the worst in me its Katniss Everdeen.  

I wake up late in the morning to the knocking on the door.  The pounding in my head let’s me know that I haven’t completely slept off my hangover, but its mild enough.  I look at the half empty bottle on my nightstand and grab it before heading downstairs.  I’ll probably need it.  I open the door to see Sae who briefly reports to me how Katniss is doing as I asked.

“She’s still holed up in her bed.  I got her to drink some tea and get a bite of toast, but she wasn’t having anything else.”  Sae shrugs and I grunt and we go our separate ways.  Sae back to the town and I over to Katniss’s house.  

Just like Sae, I have a key to Katniss’s house.  When they released her from custody I was officially recognized as her legal guardian.  Even signed some fancy paperwork.  I wasn’t very happy about it, but Katniss’s mother had agreed to it so she could run away to District 4.  She made me promise to not breath a word of it to Katniss, but it won’t matter for much longer.  Katniss will turn 18 soon and then she’ll be a full fledged adult.   

I plod up the stairs and open the door to her room unable to remove the scowl from my face.  This is going to be unpleasant.  Her back is to me, but I can tell from the tenseness of her form that she knows I’m here.  I grab the chair by her small desk and bring it so that I’m sitting in front of her.  She’s already glaring when I find her face amidst the rats nest of her hair.  Good, she’s angry.  Anger I can deal with, its the crying that throws me off.  

“Go away Haymitch.”  She says like the petulant teenager she is.  

“Not gonna happen, sweetheart.  I say taking a swig from my bottle.  She huffs and angrily rolls away.  I settle into my chair and wait making sure to let my presence be known.  I chug noisily from my bottle, which is depleting itself at an alarming rate.  Then I put my feet up on her bed and lean back for a bit.  When that doesn't work, I start walking around her room looking at the things on her desk, the clothes in her closet.  I finally get what I want when I start to go through the drawers in her desk.

“What are you doing here?”  She hisses.  I turn to see her sitting up in her bed staring daggers at me.  

“I’m here to talk.”  I say walking back to my chair.  

“I don’t want to talk to you.”  She snaps.

“Yeah, well, the feelings mutual, but we’re going to have to lay down some ground rules now that Peeta’s back.”  I reply noting the brief flicker of shame in her eyes before she looks away.  When she doesn’t respond I continue.  “Look sweetheart, you and I had a nice little system before he showed up.  I didn't bother you, you didn't bother me.  Nice and easy.  Simple.  But you and I both know that Peeta’s not gonna let things go on the way they are which means you’re going to have to make some tough decisions.”  She doesn't say anything but her body has lost the fight it had before.  I sigh.  

“You know, when I got back from the games, it was a lot like this.  You fight so hard to survive and when you finally make it back home, you realize that everything before that was the easy part.  They were all gone not long after I got home.  It all happened real quick.  I was off at their stupid banquets, smiling for their cameras.  My little brother was sick, so my mother stayed at our old home in the seam to take care of him.  They said that a candle had gotten knocked over while they were sleeping.  They said there was nothing they could do to get them out before the flames destroyed everything.  Later I found out that my girl was there too.  In one night, I’d lost everything and everyone knew why.  Everyone knew they died because of me.”

I can tell by the look on her face that my words have made her uncomfortable.  And why shouldn't they?  I've never opened up to her about my past before.  

“Why are you telling me this?”  She says in an accusatory tone her brows turned downwards but unable to hide the confusion in her eyes as she tries to figure out my angle.

“Because back then I had to make a choice.  Just like you do now. You know how it was in the games.  You fight so hard to come back to the things that keep you in this world.  But when you finally come back and they’re all gone, you begin to wonder why you’re still here and then you begin to feel like you shouldn't be.”  I take another chug from the bottle.  “I’m not going to tell you what choice to make.  You've had your freedom taken away enough already, but I am going to tell you this.  If you do make that choice, if you decide to just quit and give up, you leave Peeta out of it."  I point my finger at her. "You tell that boy to go away and never come back again.  Yell, scream, tell him how much you hate him, that you can’t stand him.  Just let him move on with his life.  He deserves at least that much from you.”  I pin her down with an angry stare which she doesn't manage to hold.  She looks back down and nods her head in assent.  I lean back in my chair and relax a little.

“What made you decide?”  She asks still looking down at the bed.  “What made you decide to stay...to keep going”  I sigh and dredge up old memories.

“Part of it was fear.  Snow could still hurt a lot of people even if I didn't particularly care for them.  I ran away from the decision for a long time.  Drinking was a great distraction and Ripper always appreciated the extra income.  Before I knew it, the next games had rolled around and I was mentoring two kids from the Seam.”  I laugh harshly.  “ They didn't stand a chance, but I thought I could save them.  I guess it gave me some semblance of purpose to my life.” The lie rolls smoothly out of my mouth.

The truth is, during those first games, I was ready to drink myself to an early death right then and there.  It was actually the other Victors that saved me.  Chaff and Seeder, Cecelia and Mags.  Mostly Chaff though, he’d drink me under the table and then listen as I poured out my guts to him. He had a few horror stories of his own too.  Made me feel better.  Less alone.  After about a decade or so of trying and failing to save my annual tributes I stopped caring.  It was easier that way and I wasn't the only one.  I got so good at not caring that I actually enjoyed my time at the Capitol.  At least I was among friends, but when I got back home the guilt would be crushing and the drinking desperate.  I don’t tell this to Katniss though.  Would never tell her.  She would never understand what it was like and she doesn't need to.  

“You didn't seem to purposeful with Peeta and I.”  She says coolly.  I shrug.

“Nobodies perfect.”  

She purses her lips and a stony silence develops.  A door shuts in the distance and we can both hear the sounds of Peeta’s heavy footsteps as he heads down the path into town.  She lets out a heavy sigh.    

“You never really made a decision.”  She states.  “You just numb the pain.  You don’t do anything with your life.”  She’s daring me to deny it.

“I helped lead a successful rebellion.” I retort.  “that has to count for something.”

“Yes.”  She agrees grudgingly. “But now, you’re not doing anything different than you did before.”

“True.” I agree and silence develops again.    

“You’re such a hypocrite”  She finally says with reproach and I laugh and take a drink.  

"Listen sweetheart, nothing’s stopping you except for Peeta.  Let him go, and this,” I point to her and then to me, “this could all go away and we could go back to how things were.” She turns and stares at the wall.  I can tell she’s grappling with the choice, but she finally turns to me and with a surprising sincerity huffs, “I don’t know what to do.  I wake up and I feel nothing and I like it that way, because when I do feel things, it’s just too much.  I feel like I’m going to break.  I feel like I can’t breathe.  That’s how I felt yesterday.  I was so angry...”  She trails off.  

“Get up.  Get showered and dressed and then come meet me downstairs in about 15 minutes.”  She looks alarmed and starts to open her mouth to protest, but I interrupt her. “Just do it.”  

Down in the kitchen, I find some bread that Peeta brought over from the day before and cut a couple of slices.  I hear Katniss moving around and then the shower turns on.  The bread is good and it settles my stomach.  By the time she comes down to the kitchen I've eaten half the loaf.  She looks at me expectantly and I wave her into the study.  Sit her down by the phone and then find the sheet of paper that has Dr. Aurelius’s number on it.  They printed it off for me before we left the capitol and I left it in here the day I dropped it off.  It’s still in the same spot.  She catches on and immediately scowls.

“Just call him and tell him what you told me.  He’ll be able to help you more than I can.”  It takes a long time for her to even look at the number, but eventually she picks up the phone and dials.  I leave the study and go sit on the couch.  I must have dozed off because it seems like just a few minutes before I wake to find Katniss standing in front of me holding her arms protectively around her ribs.

“So?” I ask sitting up.

“He says I should go hunt.  Do things that I did before the games.  Things that made me happy.  Find a routine…”  She rambles off.

“Well go hunt.  Bring back a squirrel or something for Sae to cook up.”  I wave at her dismissively and get up from the couch.

“Haymitch…”  she begins and I can see the vulnerability in her eyes and I hate it when she’s like this, because then those stupid feelings of affection begin to creep in.  “You could come over for dinner, if you wanted…”

“Not tonight sweetheart, but maybe another time.”  I answer annoyed when it doesn't come out as sarcastically as I'd like.  “Go on, go get your hunting gear.”  She nods, disappears and returns with her gear.  We leave the house and shut the door.  I’m about to  head towards my house when she stops me with a sudden hug.  It’s quick and its awkward and she mumbles something that I think was thank you before taking off down the road.  I watch her go and realize that I’m suddenly worried about her in a way I haven’t been since those days in District 13.  But i’m not one to get sentimental and I quickly return home, open a new bottle and drink deeply, because hell, I earned it.    

Chapter Text

The slamming of the door echoes off the high ceilings of my house and I am once again alone and seething.  It’s not a feeling I’m comfortable with.  It reminds me of my mother, but I can’t help it.  I will never understand Haymitch or Katniss I think to myself bitterly.  Bitterness.  I feel it throughout my body and it aches to be released, but I refuse to let it happen.  I will not be my mother.  I stomp up the stairs to my room sit on the bed and hunch over with my hands in my face already feeling the burning behind my eyes.  

            When I was younger, my brothers would tease me endlessly when I cried.  And I cried often.  I cried when they were mean to me, when I stubbed my or scrapped my knee.  I'd cry when the stories my father told me at bedtime were sad. One time, when Delly’s grandmother died, I spent the day comforting her.  When I got home I spent the night crying over the death of someone I hardly even knew.  I cried because Delly was so sad and I couldn't do anything to help her.

Of course, my tears provided an endless source of harassment for my brothers and almost every time I cried their taunts of crybaby would ring in my ears, making me cry harder, until my father would shoo them away, wrap me in his big arms and comfort me.  But not all the time.

The first time I remember my mother beating me was when I was five.  I’d tripped over my shoelaces while carrying a bowl of frosting over to my mother.  The bowl shattered and the frosting was ruined.  My father was out delivering some bread to the mayor, so there was no one there to curb my mother’s rage.  She’d yanked me from the ground by my arm, holding me up in the air while she struck my ribs with the rolling pin.  Screeching about disgrace and regret. Once she was done she dropped me to the ground and screamed at me to get out of her sight.  

When my father got home my mother berated him over and over about the unhappiness that was her life.  The disappointments that were her children.  He said nothing to her and nothing to me either.  It was my brothers who sat next to me silently as I cried.  Rye holding me and looking scared while Brann stared at the door looking angry.  

At home I learned to hide my emotions.  To remain neutral so as not to set my mother off, but I found that it wasn’t necessary outside of the house.  Aside from my mother, people seemed to genuinely like me and I found that I had a knack for saying the right things at the right time.  Most people were easy to read and I reveled in the knowledge that with the right words I could cause a group of people to laugh or brighten a sad face with ease.  Around other people I felt safe, sure that whatever happened I could diffuse it with a well placed phrase.  

But when I say other people, I mostly meant the merchant children. Children from the seam were different.  Everything I said to them was met with either suspicion of derision.  Given the state of things, I knew that it had little to do with my actual charms and more to do with the class differences between Seam and merchant life, but I could still coax a smile out of a few of them that I made friends with if I tried hard enough.

I sniff and wipe my face with my arm.  I didn’t cry when I burnt the bread for Katniss.  My heart pounded as I purposely knocked the bread into the fire.  It was a risk. My mother may have tried to salvage the bread or saved it for herself to eat later, but I’d counted on her rage and spite to prevent her from doing something so level headed.  so rational.  My gamble paid off.  It wasn't in her nature to try and salvage anything.

It felt so good to help Katniss.  Ever since my father told me about her I’d watched her.  For six years, she was happy and lovely.  She’d sing in music class, she’d raise her hands for questions.  You could tell she was smart, but what I loved more about her was that she was kind.  You could see that in the way she interacted with Prim and the other Seam children.  But after her father died so did that little girl and  she’d come to school thinner and more desperate by the day.  I realize that the Katniss I saw today reminds me so much of that girl from my past that I feel a jolt of alarm.  After everything we've been through,  I still haven’t been able to help her. Nothing has changed and I don’t know what else to do.

The heaviness of failure that fills me is so pervasive that I sag in response.  I rub my face and feel the fatigue remembering that I did not sleep at all the night before.    I slowly stand to remove my trousers and unbutton my shirt.  I feel like I’m giving up on everything that I set out to do.  "Why am I even here?" I think as I sit back down on the bed and release my prosthetic leg.  She obviously doesn't want me here.  The air from my window is cool and the light from the morning sun fills my room with a warm glow.  It almost feels safe, I think as I curl up underneath the covers. I let the heaviness of my despair pull me under, wondering briefly how long I will have before the nightmares begin.

It’s hard to admit to myself, but I don’t dream about Katniss nearly as much as I used to.  My nightmares these days are almost always about the time I spent in the bowels of the Capitol.  The stand by is the white room with the bright lights.  Nothing happens, but the feeling of fear, helplessness, and dread is so strong that I wake up gasping.  Other times my mind will transport me to the beatings, the painful stretching of limbs from being strung up for hours on end, the sensation of drowning, the sharp snaps of electrocution.  Tonight I am transported back to the dirty underground cell, where I was tied up to a chair and forced to watch the death and mutilation of the two red-headed avoxes.  The woman dying only 15 minutes into the session, and the beating and mutilation of the man that seemed to go on for years though it could only have been a few hours. I can hear their thick avox screams undulating in my ears, distorting as I slowly fumble into back into  consciousness, where they become the shrill ringing of the telephone.  I sit up with a start, my body covered in sweat.  

The phone continues to ring as I begin to get my bearings.  It’s late afternoon, the light of the setting sun creating long shadows  behind every object it touches.  The phone stops, my heart and breathing begin to normalize and I fall back down onto the bed.  My body hurts everywhere and it feels like there is a vise around my brain.  I lay there trying to relax to ease the pain, to no avail, when the phone begins to ring again.

I’m not surprised when I answer to hear Dr. Aurelius’s voice on the other line.  I was supposed to call him today to check in.  

“Hello Peeta.”  I hear through the line.  His voice has a calming effect on me and I return his greeting.  “You were supposed to call me earlier this afternoon and when I did not hear from you I became concerned.  How is everything going in District 12?”  He invites, because that’s what it really is, an invitation for me to release.To take all of my troubles and place them in front of him so that we can sort through them together.  

I wasn't sold on therapy after I woke from the burn unit, but it was mandatory for all surviving tributes.  Even Haymitch had to attend meetings, though I don’t think they made much headway with him, but they worked for me because I needed them.  I needed them to help me sort through what was real and not real.  And the more I got to know Dr. Aurelius, the more I began to realize that he truly did want to help me.  So I tell him everything that happened all the way up to my nightmare I just had. He listens until I run out of things to say.  Somewhere through my account I started crying again.  He waits patiently until I am through then says, “I am sorry to hear about your difficulties Peeta, however you seem to be holding up very well and that is not something to be over looked.  You've had three encounters with Katniss now and no threat of an episode or flashback even during an highly emotionally charged exchange.”  

“I still felt the fear, but it was mild.  I knew what it was and acknowledged it and after a bit it went away.  I mean, I was still scared, but it was different.  Not that it matters much anyways.”  I say.

“Because you prevented Katniss from taking the nightlock pill and now she is upset with you.  Do you regret doing what you did?”  he prompts.

            “No!” I respond immediately.  “No, of course not!  How many times have we saved each other’s life?  It’s ridiculous!” I sputter.  The injustice of her anger towards me only makes me think of all those times in the Capitol where I practically begged her to kill me and she refused over and over again.  Or when she conspired with Haymitch to save my life over hers in the Quarter Quell.  And even farther back when I removed her tourniquet from around my calf, so that she could live.  All she had to do was let me go, but instead she pulled out those berries.  Recklessly risking her life to save mine when there was no need for it.  Back then I thought she did it because she was truly in love with me.  Now I don't know.   

            “Do you remember what Katniss said to you that day, when you stopped her from taking the nightlock?”  Dr. Aurelius continues.  As if I could ever forget?  

            “She said, ‘Let me go.’”  I respond duly knowing exactly where he is going with this.  

            “And what was your response?”  he asks.

            “I told her I couldn't.”  I answer miserably.   

            “Do you still feel that way?”  

            “Yes.”

            “What will you do, if Katniss asks you to leave?”  He asks.  The question is not new and the answer is always the same.  

            "I don’t know.”  I tell him.

            “Let’s discuss some options.  Try to think of something that you could do, for yourself, that does not involve Katniss.”

            “Alright.”  Although I already know the answer.  I came to district 12 to be with Katniss, but I also came to say goodbye to my family.  I stay silent for awhile, because I don’t want to think about saying goodbye.  I’m afraid of what I will find and what I will feel when I go back to my old home.  And after that, when I finish with my goodbyes and Katniss still wants nothing to do with me?  What then?  I have always been tied to Katniss in some way or another, but without that tether what are we? Could she really just cut me loose after all we've been through?  Do I even mean anything to her? The fear of it causes my stomach to tighten.   

            “Peeta?”  Dr. Aurelius’s voice pulls me away from my thoughts.

            “I need to say goodbye to my family.”  I tell him.  

            “I see.  And how will you do that?”  

            “I want to go to the bakery, see if there’s anything left.  I don’t know.  I never got to say goodbye.  I need to know if there’s something there.”

            “It could be very hard on you.  You mentioned that Delly had returned to District 12.  Perhaps you could ask her to help you say goodbye.  I believe she knew your family fairly well.”  

“Maybe” I say noncommittally because the thought of Delly there while I say goodbye feels off.  Delly is irrepressibly optimistic and bubbly.  It’s hard to see myself saying goodbye with her there.

“It is up to you, just remember to maintain your routines and to take care of yourself.  Would you like to set up a time to talk next week?”  he asks.

“Yeah.”  I say.  “Next week is fine.”

“Alright, I will expect your call one week from now, but please remember, you may call me anytime before then if you need anything.  One more thing, Johanna has asked if she can have your number.  Would that be okay with you?”

“Yeah.”  I say surprised.  Johanna had been so angry the day I left, I’d felt sure that I’d ruined our friendship.  

“Very well, take care of yourself Peeta." Dr. Aurelius says.  I thank him and end the call.  I sit in the  study for a long time thinking about this morning and worrying about tomorrow, but I finally make a goal to at least go into town and deliver bread to Thom and Delly and see how things go from there.

The next day I set off to town with three loaves of bread.  I had hoped to make more, but the pain never left and I had to go lay down.  I weaved in and out of sleep never having any nightmares, but waking up with an unshakable feeling that something terrible was going to happen.      

I find Thom in the town with his cart and hand him the loaf of still slightly warm bread.  I can tell he’s excited about it.  He promises to take the other loaf to Delly and James.  I think about why I came into town and find my resolve wavering.  Thom seems to pick up on my discomfort and asks me if I’d like to help him today. I agree and climb into the cart with him.  

We visit with Delly before we begin and she excitedly tells me that a new shipment of goods is supposed to come in today with sugar and cinnamon.  She then asks if I would mind making her some cinnamon rolls because those were her favorite and she’s been craving them something dreadful.  Her hand rests on her protruding belly as she tells me this and  I laugh and agree.

After the lightness of my conversation with Delly the work with Thom is sobering, but I throw myself into it grateful to be doing something useful.  Its hard to walk through the ashes, to move the debris and gather the remains.  The bones come in all shapes and sizes, some of them missing, many of the frayed or cracked open. "Scavengers." Thom tells me, and I remember that it’s almost been a year since the bombings.  The idea of them sitting out for that long being torn apart by wild animals makes me feel ill, but Thom just shrugs.  “At least we’re getting to them now.”  he says and I think he must say that to himself a lot.  

By the end of the day, I am sore and tired and covered in ash.  I ride with Thom to the mass grave in the  meadow and we unceremoniously throw the remains into the pit.  I try to think of a way to be more respectful about it, but its just impractical to do anything else. I stare down into the myriad of blackened bones and can’t believe that I survived when so many others didn't.  

“Thanks for your help today.”  Thom says when he drops me off by the trail that leads to the Victor’s Village. “It’s not easy work.  It was more bearable having someone there with me.”  

“I’m glad I was able to help.  Same time tomorrow?”  I ask and Thom smiles.  

That night I dream of piles and piles of bones.  They are everywhere an entire landscape of black and frayed bones.  I’m digging through them frantically looking for something.  Looking for her.    My hands are bloody as I push aside skulls and rib cages.  Finger bones roll down as I dig making clattering noises as they fall.  I finally find her and her arms are reaching out to me her grey eyes pleading.  I reach down and wrap my hands around her throat and she’s screaming at me, “This is all your fault! You killed them!”  Or is it me screaming at her?  I can’t tell.  The light is just beginning to fade out of her eyes when I jerk awake.

I look at my hands which are mercifully clean of any blood and let out a strangled gasp of relief.  Hot tears are streaming down my face as I stumble to the shower and turn it on only pausing to throw off my prosthetic leg.  The water is cold, but it grounds me into reality, and I stay there huddled in the corner until my teeth begin to chatter. I stand up, almost falling over in the process and turn the tap to warm the water.  I stay there for a long time.

It’s early morning and I know that sleep is no longer an option so I go down to the kitchen to make some bread and cinnamon rolls for Delly.  It takes me longer than I expected, but I make it out of the house around nine with fresh loaves of regular wheat bread and a dozen cinnamon rolls for Delly.  

I decide to stop and check on Haymitch.  I’m still upset with him, but I realized while baking that I have very few people left in my life and I don’t want to lose any of them.  I wrinkle my nose at the sharp and acrid smell of his house.  It’s concerning to me that he still lives this way, but I know better than to push or pry with Haymitch.  The more you push against Haymitch the more stubborn he becomes.  I find him passed out with his body slumped halfway into a bathtub filled with vomit.   I gently sit him against the wall while I clean out the tub.  He wakes and looks at me bleary eyed and I can see his brain beginning to form some stinging insult, but I hand him one of Delly’s cinnamon rolls as a peace offering before he can get it out of his mouth and he takes it without comment.  

I help him undress and have him sit in the tub while the water pours over his head.  Then I help him crawl into bed.  He mumbles something, which I think might be gratitude, but its hard to tell with Haymitch, and then he’s gone.   On my way out, I grab some of his opened bottles and dump the liquor down the sink.  Not all of it, but it’s the best I can do without him noticing, and its the only way I can think of to help.

I present Thom with bread and a cinnamon roll which he eats noisily while I lead the cart to Delly.  She thanks me with a big hug and a sticky kiss on the cheek.  Then Thom and I head into the ashy wreckage of the town square and begin our work.  I’m still sore from yesterday, but we make good headway and I can’t help but notice that we are getting closer to the bakery.  By the time we stop for lunch I know I’m not going to be able to avoid it for much longer.  Thom seems to notice my anxiety. His eyes becomes serious and he claps my shoulder, telling me that he will be around if I need the wagon, before he gets up and leaves me to my task.  I thank him and walk slowly but resolutely to my old home.

            There’s nothing really left except for the melted lumps of the ovens, but that’s all I need to recreate my home of 16 years.  I remember it always being warm, sometimes overly so, as my father and mother kneaded and baked.   I remember running up and down the stairs with my brothers. I remember the childhood fights, the teasing, the horseplay and the unspoken truce whenever one of us came up bruised and battered.  

I sigh and begin to move the rubble around making sure my mask is properly tied as the ash rises and settles from the disturbance.  I find small  bits of bone, a rib cage,  long leg bones, hands.  I know I’m crying as I ever so gently place them in a pile, but it’s the skull that finally breaks me.  I find it underneath a blackened beam of wood.  The empty eye sockets leer at me as I carefully pull it out of the rubble.  

I realize that I have no idea who it belonged to.  I think, maybe Rye, because of the grin, but then the broad cheekbones make me think of my father.  Maybe its my mother, and I can hear her screaming at me cursing me for ruining her life and then taking it from her.  For killing all of them.  

“I’m sorry.”  I gasp between sobs.  “I’m so sorry.”   My hands are shaking so much that I have to put it down.  I place it shakily on top of the pile of bones I've collected and try to compose myself.  I avoid looking at the skull while I search the rest of the house, but I can feel its eyes following me, grinning at me as is if it’s waiting for me to catch onto some joke.  I find a few more things, some knives and cookie cutters, a couple of warped baking trays, which I add to the pile, but no more bones.  I hear Thom’s cart across the square and I know that I can’t throw my family’s remains into the pit.  I don’t even think i can bury them tonight.  My body aches, my head is fuzzy and my eyes are swollen and red.  I tell my family I’m sorry one more time and stumble back home.

I’m surprised to find the lights on in my house as I approach and enter warily to find Haymitch in my kitchen warming something on the stove.  It smells wonderful.  When Haymitch turns to see me his eyes narrow.

“You look like hell.”  he says as I slump down into a chair at the table.  I don’t reply, but I thank him as he sets a steaming bowl of stew in front of me.

“Courtesy of Greasy Sae.”  He says sitting down to his own bowl.  The stew is thick with large chunks of meat, potato, onions and carrots.  I take tentative bites because it is still hot, but its good and hearty and there’s something about the meat that’s oddly familiar.  It’s not the normal butcher’s meat, but I know I've tasted it before...

“Did Katniss…?”  I begin.

“Yep.”  Haymitch interrupts and I can tell he doesn't want to talk about Katniss, which I respect, but I can’t help but feel a twinge of hope.  A Katniss out hunting is a vast improvement over the Katniss I saw a few days ago.  We eat in silence, using bread to sop up the last bits of gravy.

“So, what happened to you?”  He asks gesturing to my deteriorated state.  I shrug.

“I've been helping Thom with the town.”  I say evasively not entirely sure if Haymitch is the person I want to share my ordeal with.

“And?”  Haymitch replies impatiently.     

“And I found some of the remains from my family.”  I say as neutrally as I can.  Haymitch just grunts and takes a swig from his bottle.  We don’t say much for the rest of the night, but he doesn't leave either, and I know that this is his way of being supportive to me.  

As the night goes on, he gets more and more drunk until he’s finally snoring on the couch by the fire.  I think about going to bed, but decide against it.  Instead I get out my sketch book.  The blank page looks back at me invitingly and I think about trying to draw my family, but after a couple of hours of drawing I find myself looking down at the skull from earlier today.

I can’t seem to get it out of my mind and I wonder who it belongs to as I shade in the deep black of the eye sockets.  I wonder what happened to the other skulls as I darken the lines between each grinning tooth.  I wonder if my family hates me or if they are happy that I’m still alive as I add the final highlights to accentuate the ridges of the cheekbones.  I realize that I will never know and content myself with remembering my final goodbyes to them before I left for the Quarter Quell.  

Bran had hugged me fiercely and there was fire in his eyes.  Rye was more abashed, but just as loving.  My mother just walked away, our relationship so torn from her hateful words before the first Hunger Games that there wasn't much left to salvage after I got back.  And then my father, who gathered me up in  his arms and held me for the longest time before pulling away with tears in his eyes.  I made him promise to take care of Prim and her mother if Katniss didn't make it back alive and he promised he would.  

I set the sketch down and doze in the chair until I hear the birds singing outside.  I get up and begin to make some more bread.  Deciding that I will make a loaf for Katniss and have Haymitch take it over to her for me.  As i knead the dough I try to decide where to bury my family.  At first, I think under the bakery, because that was their home, but as I continue to work, I realize that the town square will probably be rebuilt and who  knows what will go up in place of the bakery.  I think about burying them in the Victor Village, but decide against that as well.  In the end I decide to bury them in the meadow with the rest of District 12, but not in the pit.  I’ll dig a small grave and bury them there by the forest where it is peaceful.

Haymitch wakes around 11 bleary eyed and surly, but he sobers up after some water and some bread.

“I’m going to bury my family today.”  I say as I pull the freshly baked loaves from the oven.  Haymitch looks at me doubtfully and i realize that my hands are shaking as I set the trays down on the stove top.

“Did you sleep at all last night?”  he asks and I shake my head.

“Tell you what, you go lay down for a few hours, and I’ll come back and help you.”  I only agree to this because I’m so tired I’m not sure I could make it down to the meadow and dig a grave without passing out, but I’m terrified of what sleep will bring, Still, you can only run away for so long before the body wins out over the mind and I fall asleep shortly after I sink into bed.

Haymitch wakes me several hours later and I remember no nightmares or even dreams.  I still feel exhausted, but I know that I need to put my family to rest, so I get out of bed and follow Haymitch to the bakery.  Thom is there waiting with his cart.  I gather the bones reverently wrapping them in a sheet that I brought from home.  The skull is still grinning as I cover it with the cloth.  I wish I knew what was so funny I think as I place it in the back apart from the other bones Thom collected that day.    Haymitch and I help him toss them into the pit before taking my family’s bones to a patch of ground near the fence.  

Someone has already dug a grave.  I suspect Haymitch.  And, to my surprise, Sae is standing by the grave.  When I look at her questioningly she says, “I made many a trade with your father and knew your mother growing up.  I just wanted to pay my respects.”  I nod my appreciation.  

I hop into the grave and gently lay down the remnants of my family.  Haymitch helps me out then hands me a shovel.  I begin to fill the grave from the pile of dirt next to it and as I dig I say goodbye.  Good bye to my father who did his best to show me he loved me even as he failed to protect me from my mother.  Who showed me the girl for whom the birds stopped to listen.  Good bye to my brothers who were my first friends and stalwart protectors.  And then finally good bye to my mother.  I can only hope that whatever place she is in now allows her to find the peace and happiness she could never find in this one.

            We stand around the grave for a while.  Haymitch with his arm around my shoulder and Sae next to him.  Eventually Sae comes to me and gives me a warm hug before heading back into the town.

I don’t even hear her approaching. I just feel her hand slide easily into mine, like it has so many times before, and my heart jumps in my chest.  I turn my head in surprise to find her looking up at me with a deep sadness in her eyes.  She squeezes my hand, in friendship, in understanding, and I squeeze back tightly never wanting to let go. Haymitch pats my back and takes his leave, but I catch him giving Katniss a warning look, which she ignores, before leaving.  

            Whatever it’s about, I don’t care.  I’m so glad that she’s here right now that I don’t want to do anything to stop it. We stand together silently hand in hand.  

            “I threw away his cookies.”  she says abruptly.

            “What?” I ask confused.

            “Your father.  The cookies he gave me when I first got reaped.  I threw them out of the train.”  She sighs.

            “Why did you do that?”  I ask because i know she wants to tell me.  

            “Because he had no reason to give me cookies.  Because he was kind.  I was upset because you and him were the same and I couldn't stand the fact that I might have to kill you.  Because I already owed you, for the bread.”

            “Well, you figured out a way to make it work.” I say softly and she gives a bitter laugh, but i notice she leans in closer afterwards.

            “I’m sorry about your family.  For this, I feel responsible for all of it.”  She says sadly.  

            “I know what you mean, I feel the same way, but I can’t think of a way where something like this wouldn't have happened to someone somewhere else.  We just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”  I pause, then add, “Or the right place at the right time depending on how you look at it.”  She nods, but we both know its not enough.  That whatever good we did for Panem will always pale in comparison to the holes in our hearts.  She breaths in a shaky breath.

            “I want to talk to you, sometime.  Not now.  Just sometime… about things…”  she stammers.  

            “Okay Katniss.”  I agree.  She nods and then shifts uncomfortably.  

            “Why don’t you come over for dinner.  Sae’s cooking some fish and greens and I’m sure we’d have enough for you and Haymitch.”  I smile down at her.

            “Now look who’s the kind one.” I tease gently.  She purses her lips slightly.

            “I guess you've rubbed off on me.” She replies.   

“Well, I’d love to have dinner with you  Katniss. Thank you.”

            “You’re welcome.”  she replies shortly and then I feel her relax next to me.

As much as I don’t want to, I find myself letting go of her hand first.  She seems surprised, so I turn and put my hands on her arms.  It’s almost a hug, but not quite.

            “Why don’t you head back.  I’ll be there soon, I just want to say goodbye for a bit longer.” I explain.

            She seems reluctant, but finally says okay leaning down to pick up her game bag before she leaves.  I wait until I can’t hear her anymore before sitting down in front of the grave.  My heart is full of hope and terror, but its much better than the suffocating despair that I was feeling a few days ago.  

I give myself time to digest what just happened to let the emotions run through me.  I watch the sun set behind the trees before heading back home wondering what Katniss wants to talk to me about.  Hoping that she asks me to stay here with her to heal together, and wondering what I’m going to do if she doesn't want me to.

Chapter Text

The water is achingly cold, but I force myself to continue.  It’s a cloudy and windy April afternoon, not ideal for swimming in an icy mountain lake, but nothing in my life is ideal anymore.  The wind causes the surface of the lake to ripple, graciously preventing me from having to look at the grotesque patchwork of skin that now covers my body.

I stop when the water gets up to my knees and shiver.  The water and wind siphon the heat from my body and I instinctively wrap my arms around my chest as the nipples of my breast harden painfully.  It feels invigorating and my senses feel sharper than they have in months.  It’s the reason I am doing this.  I need to feel something physical to distract me from the turmoil inside of my mind.

I can feel the mud underneath my toes; hear the rustling sigh of the grass on the banks of the lake, the trees move in the wind sometimes making sharp noises as branches break.  I continue walking deeper into the lake.  

When the water is up to my waist, I decide to take the plunge and let my body fall backwards into the water before my mind can talk me out of it.  Cold, the water is so cold, like icy fingers it wraps itself around my head and fills my ears.  When I resurface I am gasping, but I will myself to remain calm, to become one with the cold.  After a while, I feel my body acclimate and even though my teeth begin to chatter I don’t want to get out because despite the discomfort or maybe because of it, this is the first time I’ve felt truly alive in months.

In the last three days, I’ve muddled through my mind, wading and sifting through a miasma of blurry memories, trying to find the last time I felt like myself and it always comes back to that last day in Tigris’s shop.   Certain parts of the memory surface to my mind more clearly than others.  The purple nightlock pill resting in Peeta’s open palm, Gale’s hand on my shoulder as I tell Peeta he will be alone, Tigris’s cat eyes as she applies make up to my face and my final hug to Peeta where I had reaffirmed in my mind that he was truly lost to me, or I to him, because I didn’t truly believe that I would come back from my mission alive. 

But I did.  And I wish I hadn’t.  I sigh and relax letting myself float on the frigid water.  Logically, I know I shouldn’t have yelled at Peeta the way that I had, but there’s a part of me that can’t seem to make the anger go away.  I do hold him responsible for me still being here and the strangest thing is that while I feel rage and anger at his actions I also feel hope, because that Peeta, the one that saved me, the one who couldn’t let me go, that was the Peeta I had thought I had lost forever.  It’s cruel for my mind to do that to me and I try to squash the feeling, but I can’t completely.  He is, after all, here with me in District 12 despite everything that has happened between us and that is exactly what the old Peeta would be doing if he hadn’t been utterly destroyed by Snow.

“There’s a chance that the old Peeta, the one who loves you, is still inside.”  Her voice, so grown up and so wise floats through my mind and with it comes the crushing weight of guilt.  “Trying to get back to you…”  Because even though she’s dead because of me, her words still give me comfort even if they are just memories.  “Don’t give up on him.”  But I did, and I gave up on her too and now it’s too late.

My sister haunts me.  Not with vengeance, but with love.  I know that if she were here now she would be chiding me and willing me to find happiness, but I can’t.  Doesn’t she know that she was my happiness?  No, she doesn’t because she’s dead.  My limbs feel numb and it’s not because of the icy waves of water.  The feeling is familiar and almost comfortable.  It’s the murkiness that I’ve been living in for the past two months.  My teeth begin to chatter harder and my head aches from the coldness of the water, but I will myself to relax more.  Wouldn’t it be nice, I think, to just let go, to sink into the lake and disappear forever. 

I can’t think of a better final resting place.  Here where I had so many happy memories with my father.  And the best thing is, no one would know and no one would find my body.  This last thought thrills me in a way I know it shouldn’t, but the idea of people having control over my body again, even in death, is so repugnant that I can’t help it.  I try to relax my body, I will myself to sink.  The water that covers my face causes it to ache more, but the rest of my body feels surprisingly warm and comfortable.  I am underwater now, the wind above distorted by the frigid embrace of water.  All I have to do now is breathe.  Breath Katniss,  I instruct myself in soothing voice.  Just take a deep breath and let go…

But I can’t.  The moment the water rushes into my lungs and up my nose, my body betrays me and I push myself out of the water coughing and spluttering.  For a moment I am livid and angry, then scared and finally disgusted, because the thing that got me here, this iron will to survive, is now the thing that won’t let me leave.  I stumble out of the icy water and into the howling winds that rip whatever warmth I’d retained from my body.  I make it into the small house, and with shaky fingers and chattering teeth coax a fire out of the tinder and logs.  The fire catches and I slump against the wall. 

I can’t do this, I think.  I can’t live, and I can’t die and I can’t do this.  I am trapped.   I heave in and out in panic waiting for something to happen, but nothing does and after a while my breathing calms and I mechanically begin to dress.  I comb out my hair with my fingers, re-braid it and huddle next to the fire.  My stomach rumbles, and my body responds by picking up the pole I brought with me when I decided to go to the lake this morning.

            I’d been following Dr. Aurelius’s advice.  The first day, I’d wandered around the woods feeling nothing.  I’d returned a few hours later and crawled back into bed feeling defeated.  When I talked to Dr. Aurelius’s the next day he told me to make goals, so on the second day I told myself I couldn’t come back until I’d caught some game.  It had been harder than I had thought it would be.  My body was not the same after the burns and it took me awhile to find ways to move that didn’t stretch and pull at my fragile new skin, but in the end I had been able to take a rabbit and two squirrels.  Gutting and cleaning the animals was comfortably familiar and for a moment I almost felt normal again, but the feeling was fleeting and once I was done I returned home before noon. 

            Too much time.  I had too much time.  After spending my life racing against time, this idleness was maddening.  There was nothing I wanted to do, so I just lay in my bed letting the numbness come over me.   Sae roused me to help her make a stew with the rabbit and squirrel.  She was gentle but insistent, which was unusual for Sae, and my spirits lightened slightly as I chopped vegetables and the house began to be infused with the familiar smell fresh food. 

Despite how good it smelt, the food still tasted like ash.  On top of that, Sae had somehow produced fresh bread and I knew it was from Peeta and I couldn’t eat it, not after what had happened.   I asked Sae if she would mind taking the leftovers to Haymitch and Peeta.  She told me to take it myself but I just shook my head and went upstairs and crawled into bed.  It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Sleep did not come easy that night.  My nightmares were almost corporeal.  I could smell the blood and the roses, I could feel the heat of the bombs, I could hear Prim’s final agonizing call to me before she became nothing but ash and regret.  I gasped awake but the nightmares just continued in my mind forcing me to relive all of my failures and fears.  I shook and trembled in the darkness unable to close my eyes.

 After a while, I swore I could hear Snow’s voice downstairs ordering peacekeepers to come and seize me, to throw me into another arena and my mind slipped from there.  I was in my first arena again, but this time I had to kill not only Peeta, but Gale and Finnick and Madge and countless others,  and I swore that I wouldn’t, but  they were are all hunting me in a pack, like careers.  They had me cornered and turned into the wolf like mutts.  The hatred emanating from them was so virulent that I sunk to my knees in surrender even as Gale’s teeth sunk into the flesh of my throat.  The last thing I saw was Peeta’s piercing blue eyes in the face of a snarling mutt. 

            I lay in bed a long time wishing I were dead.   I told myself that these nightmares should not hurt me the way that they do.  It’s not like I should be afraid of them happening.  They already have.  My life is a living nightmare, I think as I drag myself out of bed and into my hunting clothes.  But it always surprises me how dead inside I feel when I’m awake when my dreams are so visceral and alive.

            This morning I decided to go to the lake hoping to spend the entire day in the woods, hoping to come home exhausted, and hoping to have a merciful reprieve from the nightmares.  I don’t think it will work, but I have to try something.  I set up the pole by the edge of the lake.  The fishing hooks I’ve attached to the line remind me of Mags.  While I wait for something to bite, I dig up Katniss roots, which remind me of my father.  When I finally catch a few fish, I am reminded of Finnick.  I shove the fish and roots into my game bag feeling frustrated, angry, and cold.

            With my goal completed, there’s nothing left to do, but return home.   I try to go slow, but I still reach the fence sooner than I would like. The sound of heavy breathing and the rhythmic sound of a shovel and moving dirt pull me up short.  I climb the nearest tree to get a better view and frown as I my eyes fall upon Peeta filling in a small grave with dirt from a nearby pile.  Haymitch stands watching solemnly with one hand in his pocket, the other clasped around a flask.  Sae is next to him.  I realize that Peeta is burying his family or whatever is left of them.

 I watch him sadly as he fills the grave, as Sae hugs him gently and as Haymitch puts a comforting arm around him I think, “I should be there too .”  For him, I should be there.   I climb down the tree and grab my bag.  He doesn’t notice me when I walk out of the forest, or when I walk up beside him.  He doesn’t even look down at me until I’ve slid my hand into his. 

There is surprise in his eyes and I half expect him to break down, to start screaming that I’m a mutt and that I killed his family.  But he doesn’t.  There’s alarm in his eyes and a bit of fear, but they soften when I squeeze his hand.  He squeezes back tightly, almost desperately.  I can feel Haymitch’s glare.  I know he’s waiting for me to mess this up.  To hurt Peeta again, but I swear to myself that I won’t.  Because I’m beginning to think that Prim was right.  That some part of the old Peeta has against all odds found his way back and that he somehow still wants me here with him.  I decide to take my dead sister’s advice this time.  I decide to not give up. 

I wait for Peeta to say something, because he’s always been so much better with words than I have, but he says nothing and I realize that once again I am being selfish.  He’s thinking about his family, he’s saying goodbye.  I try to think of something comforting to say, but nothing comes to mind.  My interactions with his family had been sparse except for his father.  A kind man, a lot like Peeta, though not as brave, I think remembering his mother.  But he had promised to help Prim and he had brought me cookies when he hardly even knew me.      

“I threw away his cookies.”  I say suddenly.  Peeta looks down at me confused.

“What?”

 “Your father.” I explain already feeling frustrated with my lack of tact. “The cookies he gave me when I first got reaped.  I threw them out of the train.”  I sigh feeling guilty.

 “Why did you do that?”  He asks and I note that there is no accusation in his voice.  He genuinely wants to know. 

 “Because he had no reason to give me cookies.  Because he was kind.  I was upset because you and he were the same and I couldn't stand the fact that I might have to kill you.  Because I already owed you for the bread.” I say in a rush sounding angrier than I wanted to.  He looks at me for a while saying nothing.

            “Well, you figured out a way to make it work.”   He says gently and a bitter bark of a laugh escapes my mouth before I can stop it.  He is absolving me of blame.  Forgiving me when we both know I do not deserve to be forgiven for all the pain I’ve caused him, but I pause because it is very much the thing the old Peeta would have said.  I lean in closer without thinking and blurt out what I’m truly thinking.

  “I’m sorry about your family.  For this,” I say gesturing towards the grave.  “I feel responsible for all of it.”  

“I know what you mean, I feel the same way, but I can’t think of a way where something like this wouldn't have happened to someone somewhere else.  We just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”  He pauses, and then adds, “Or the right place at the right time depending on how you look at it.”  He’s waiting for me to respond, but I have no idea what to say.  It could have happened to someone else.  I wish it had, I think bitterly, but falter.   Would I be okay with someone else going through what we had to?  It doesn’t matter I think sharply, it did happen to us and nothing will ever change that.  I decide to steer the conversation away from the past.

            “I want to talk to you, sometime.”  I say, before remembering that he’s in the middle of mourning his family. “Not now.”  I add quickly. “Just sometime… about things…”  I groan inwardly, this is going all wrong, but he agrees.  There’s nothing much else to say, but I don’t want to leave and I don’t want to let go of his hand.   

            “Why don’t you come over for dinner?  Sae’s cooking some fish and greens and I’m sure we’d have enough for you and Haymitch.” I offer and am rewarded with a smile.

            “Now look who’s the kind one.”  He says.  I’m taken aback and my immediate reaction is to purse my lips.  Is he… teasing me?  It’s hard to see.  His face looks exhausted dark bags under his eyes and pain and grief inside of them, but there’s a slight lift to his lips and I realize he’s waiting to see what I do.

 “I guess you've rubbed off on me.”  It’s all I can muster in the moment, and besides its true.

“Well, I’d love to have dinner with you, Katniss. Thank you.”  He says.

“You’re welcome.”  I respond shortly, surprised at how easy this is.  How familiar…His large hand enveloping my small one.  He is solid and steady beside me.  Just like before…  I’ve forgotten how much I depended on this steadiness.  For the briefest moment, I begin to feel like I’m going to be okay.  But then he abruptly lets go of my hand. 

It almost hurts.  He never let go of my hand first.  I was always the one disengaging, pushing away.  Things are not the same, I think harshly to myself, angry that I could be lulled so easily by hope.  He softens the blow by putting his hands on my arms and explains that I should head home.  That he wants to say goodbye for a bit longer.  I nod, not wanting to go, but there’s nothing else to do.  I pick up my bag and walk home alone.

The sun is setting in brilliant shades of orange and red.  Against the black ruins of the town it reminds me of blood, but it also reminds me Peeta of that day on the roof of the training center when he woke me up and asked if I wanted to see the sun set with him. I begin to feel shaky. 

Haymitch seems to notice when I finally make it to my house.  His eyes narrow and he immediately wants to know what happened.  The accusation in his voice hurts more than I’d like to admit, but I didn’t hurt Peeta this time, so I just tell him numbly that he needed more time to say goodbye. 

“Alright.”  He replies heading out the door.  I know he’s going to make sure Peeta gets back okay.  I get it.  He was forced into protecting me over Peeta.  Now that he can choose, he’s picking Peeta.  Protecting him from me in ways he couldn’t before.  I drop the bag of fish and roots on the table and begin helping Greasy Sae prepare dinner chiding myself for wallowing in self pity, but I know it’s more than that.  I’m toxic.  Everything I’m around gets destroyed or runs away.  Haymitch knows this, and soon Peeta will too.  He’ll leave me; just like I left him, and I will deserve it.

I’m useless in the kitchen, so Greasy Sae shoos me out into the living room while she finishes cooking.  I lay on the couch and stare into the fire.  Dinner is almost done when Peeta and Haymitch enter the house, but I don’t move from my spot.  Peeta looks at me with concern, but Haymitch just rolls his eyes and pushes Peeta into the kitchen.  I hear him talking with Sae, hear the clank of plates and silver ware.  I want to be there too, but I can’t seem to leave this spot. 

Buttercup jumps onto the couch and curls up by me.  The steady thrum of his purring is comforting and I remember Prim’s words and my earlier resolve not to give up.  It’s hard but I make myself get up and sit down at the table next to Sae and across from Peeta.

“Well, look who’s decided to grace us with her presence.”  Haymitch says sarcastically, but I ignore him and look at Peeta instead.  He smiles weakly at me and I notice that his hands are trembling.  I’m not the only one that notices.  I catch Haymitch and Sae exchange a look.  Haymitch leans in and whispers something into Peeta’s ear.  Peeta just nods and they both stand up.  I barely register the mumbled apology from Peeta before they are out the door.  I look to Sae with panic, but she’s acting like nothing is wrong.

“What’s going on?”  I ask angrily, but she just shakes her head at me.

“You’re not the only one struggling, Katniss.   He just needs to go home and rest.  It’s not easy burying one’s kin.”  I stare down at the table.  Well I wouldn’t know.  There was nothing left of my father or Prim to bury.  They were just gone.  I move my food around on my plate sullenly until a flush of anger creeps up my face and I slam my fork down on the table.  I should be over there.  I need to know what’s going on.  I hear Sae sigh as I slam the door behind me. 

Peeta and Haymitch have already entered Peeta’s house, but the door is still open, leaving a wedge of light in on the front porch.  I enter in cautiously and listen for voices.  I can hear them upstairs. 

“It’s alright Peeta.  It’s ok.”  Haymitch’s voice is gruff and unnaturally tender.  It reminds me of the way he talked to me in District 13 before Peeta was rescued.  When I peer into the room I see Peeta curled up in the fetal position on the bed with his hands covering his head.  I can see his shoulders shaking and his muffled sobs.  Haymitch sits beside him on the bed with his hands on Peeta’s shoulder.  “Peeta, you are in your house.  You are in District 12.   No one is trying to hurt you.  You’re safe. Peeta, can you tell me where you are?”  Peeta does not respond he just rocks himself and cries harder.  It’s as though the sounds he is making are like razors in my heart.  I have never seen Peeta like this. 

            In a daze, I take a few silent steps into the room.  Haymitch notices and the look he gives me is a warning.  I stop and hold my arms to myself.  I stand like this for what seems like forever, but in reality is only about 25 minutes.  Peeta cries and cringes, Haymitch soothes calmly asking Peeta to tell him the names of things around the room, what color is the comforter on his bed, what color shirt he is wearing.  It all seems ridiculous until I remember the litany I clung desperately to during my time in 13.  I am Katniss Everdeen.I am 17 years old. I am in district 12. Prim is dead.  Peeta came back.  Peeta is broken.  It’s my fault he’s broken. My knees feel weak and my heart is pounding in my chest, but I just stand there as mute as an avox.      

            Eventually Peeta stops crying and his breathing becomes even.  Haymitch continues to ask him questions, but now he’s answering them in a ragged weak voice. 

“Where did you go?”  Haymitch asks.

“The Capitol.” Peeta mumbles.

“Do you know where you are now?” 

“I’m in my home.  In District 12.  We were having dinner with Katniss.”  I can hear the panic rising in his voice.  “Did I…  Did I do anything…?”

“No, we left and she’s fine.”  He looks at me pointedly when he says this and I know that he wants me to leave.  He doesn’t want Peeta to know that I’ve seen this.  I don’t want Peeta to know I’ve seen this, at least not right now.  I exit the room as silently as I came in and sink down against the wall. 

“I’m so tired.”  I hear Peeta say.

“I know.  What can I do to help?”

“Morphling tablets on the night stand.  Everything hurts…”

“Alright, I’ll go get you some water, you just get undressed and into bed.”  Haymitch says and I hear him thumping towards me.  I spring to my feet and rush downstairs, looking through cupboards until I find a cup.  It’s halfway full before Haymitch makes it into the kitchen.   He gives me a sour look and I know he’s upset with me. I offer him the cup of water.

“You shouldn’t have come over.” He snaps taking the water from me.

“What’s wrong with him?”  He just glares at me and I find myself glaring back.

“You sure you can handle this sweetheart?  You’re not going to make it all about you again, because if you do, I will make it my personal goal in life to prevent you from ever talking to that boy again.”  I’m taken back by the venom in his voice and I immediately feel defensive.  

I just want to help.” I grind out evenly.  He studies me darkly for a moment and then nods.

“Alright, let me get him into the bed.  The morphling will knock him out and then we can talk.”   

When he finally returns, I look at him expectantly. 

“He had a flashback; back to his time in the Capitol.  He’s not sure what triggered it.  He mentioned something about flickering light, but he wasn’t completely there when he told me that.”  I nod waiting for him to continue.  “Listen Katniss, Peeta went through things in the Capitol that you and I are never going to be able to understand.  He’s going to be dealing with this for the rest of his life.”  He’s watching me closely for any reactions, but I keep my face neutral.

“I know that you care about him, but Katniss, it can’t just be about what he does for you anymore.  It has to be about him too.  Do you think you can do that?”  It feels unfair, but I know deep down he’s right.  All I have ever done is take from Peeta and when he had nothing to give I abandoned him.  It’s no wonder Haymitch doesn’t want me near him.

“You must think I’m a terrible person.”  I reply miserably.  A nasty grin crawls onto his face and I can see the affirmation dying to leave his lips, but then he scrunches his face thoughtfully and shakes his head. 

“Nah, you’re not terrible.  I just think you have a hard time seeing past your own nose.”  He replies.  I have no idea what that even means and I make a face at him.  He just laughs and takes a swig from his flask.

“You should go home.”  He says.  I look uncomfortably towards the front door.  I don’t want to go home.   The only thing waiting for me there are nightmares. 

“I want to stay here.  In case he needs anything.”  I say.   For some reason Haymitch beams at me. 

“Fine, but I’m taking the couch.  Make yourself useful and start a fire.  It’s cold in this house.”  He says before making his way to the couch. 

After the fire is made, I curl up onto a chair and stare at the flickering heat.  It will be a while before Haymitch finally falls asleep, though at the rate he’s going with the alcohol it might be sooner than I think. I doze in and out of wakefulness exhausted from the last three days but I never long enough to lapse into nightmares.  Eventually I wake to Haymitch’s snores.  They are so loud, I know I won’t be able to even doze, but they’re strangely comforting.  Soon I hear the birds singing and know dawn has arrived.

Despite the fact that my body is aching with fatigue, I am almost giddy over the fact that I did not have to endure one nightmare tonight.  I decide to get up and make some tea thinking it will ease the tiredness in my body and also serve as a peace offering to Peeta.  I can hear him thumping around upstairs and imagine he will be surprised to see both me and Haymitch in his kitchen and living room. I turn apprehensively when I hear his heavy tread coming slowly down the stairs. 

He wanders into the kitchen in soft sleeping pants and a plain white t-shirt.  His hair is messy from sleep and there’s a bleariness to his eyes that lets me know that he’s still not fully awake. He seems confused by the sound of Haymitch’s snores until he looks into the living room and sees Haymitch sprawled out on his couch.  When he comes into the kitchen and sees me at the stove he stops abruptly and suddenly his eyes are alert. “Katniss!” he says in surprise.  “What are you doing here?”   

“Haymitch and I wanted to make sure you were okay during the night.” I answer handing him the mug of tea. 

“Thanks.”  He says taking the mug, but his eyes are focused on me.

“You look exhausted.”  He states.  “Did you sleep at all last night?” 

I shrug.  “A little.”

“Not enough.” He counters sitting down and taking a sip of his tea. 

“I’ll be fine.”  I deflect, sitting down next to him.  “How are you feeling?”   I ask it nonchalantly, but I can tell by the slump of his shoulders and the shame in his eyes that he knows that I saw him last night.

“How much did you see?”  He asks. 

“Most of it.”  I say deciding to be honest. 

“Did I do anything…I don’t remember when they happen… was it bad?”  I look down at my tea.

“You were crying and scared.” 

“The last thing I remember was sitting down to eat.  The light bulb above the table it was flickering like...” he shakes his head.  “Did I try to hurt you?”  He asks almost desperately.

I rear back a little.  “No! You didn’t do anything like that.”  I say a little too sharply.  The conversation feels too far too intense and I can feel Peeta’s anxiety like waves across the table.

“Don’t act like it’s something I’m not capable of!”  He snaps at me and I jerk back in surprise.  Was that a threat?  I suddenly feel a strong desire to run, but the emotion in his eyes is anguish not anger.  He grimaces.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to snap.  It’s just, none of this is going the way I thought it would.  I don’t want to hurt you Katniss.  You know that right?”

“You wouldn’t be here if you thought you would hurt me, Peeta.”  I respond calmly. 

“Do you really believe that?”  He asks.

“I want to.”  I reply.  He shakes his head and rubs his race with his hands.  I know he is in no way satisfied with my response, but he doesn’t say anything more about it.

“Listen, I know you wanted to talk, but I need to make some bread.  It calms my nerves and I think it would be best if I did that right now.   You should go lay down.  You look exhausted, there’s a guest room just down the hall.” He offers.  I quickly shake my head.

“Just make your bread.  I’ll watch.  I’ve actually never watched you make bread before.”  I say.  He smiles slightly. 

“I guess you’re right. It’s not that exciting though.” he says as he gets up and begins to get supplies, but it is.  Everyone in district 12 knew how to make bread.  How many times did I make bread from my tesserae rations, but what Peeta does is not the mundane task that I grew up doing.  What Peeta does is a dance.  Everything moves in a fluid and hypnotic motion.  From the mixing of the ingredients to the kneading of the dough into perfectly round balls, no step is out of place.

He seems nervous at first, but soon he loses himself the same way I’ve seen him when he paints.  There’s an intensity about him when he works that I never cease to find enthralling.  The sounds of his movements and the steady snores from Haymitch in the front room are so comforting, so domestic, that my head finds itself on my arms and before I know it my eyelids are drooping.

I feel strong arms lifting me up from my chair and jerk awake slightly disoriented.  But its just Peeta helping me to stand up.

“Come one.  Let’s get you to bed.”  He says leading me down the hallway.  A horrendously loud snore rumbles from the living room.

“Has he always been this loud?”  I ask as Peeta opens the door to the guestroom.  Peeta chuckles.

“Yeah.  Your train compartment wasn’t adjacent to his, so you never heard him snore, but this was what I had to sleep with whenever we traveled on the train.”   He walks past me and pulls down the covers, but I don’t move towards the bed.   Instead I stand there biting my lip. 

“Still having nightmares?” he asks although he already knows the answers.  I nod. 

“Why don’t you try to sleep?  If you have a nightmare Haymitch and I will just be down the hall.  We’ll make sure you’re okay.”  It sounds ridiculous, the way he’s talking to me like I’m five years old, but no one knows my nightmares better than Peeta.  No one knows better than he does the way they strip me to core exposing all my vulnerabilities and fears. 

“Promise?”  I ask. 

“Of course.”  He assures me.  “Come here.”  He gestures towards the bed.  I do as he says and slip in underneath the covers.  He sits on the bed next to me and strokes my hair away from my face. 

“I’m glad you’re here.” He says softly. 

“Me too.”  I say sleepily hoping that he knows I mean him and not me, but I’m too tired to clarify.  He stays by my side continuing to stroke my hair. I feel myself begin to drift off, but something nags at me.

“Remember, you promised.”  I say drowsily.

“I know.  I will.  Go to sleep.”  He replies soothingly and I drift off. 

It’s always hard to tell how much sleep you get before the nightmares come, and they almost always do, but I feel as though I have been sleeping for a long time before it comes.  I’m on the streets of the capitol staring at a dead girl in a yellow jacket.  I don’t do anything I just stare and as I stare a sick feeling of dread knots itself in my stomach.  Suddenly the street opens up and I’m falling.  Falling into the blackness with the cloying smell of death. Black figures crawl over me scratching and biting I turn my head to see the severed head of Finnick Odair grinning at me and hissing “sssecretsss…”

I wake up screaming and then start to cry.  It’s not fair.  It’s not fair! I think to myself throwing the covers off of me as if they’re snakes.  Peeta bursts into the room and is at my side, but I’m already up and ready to run.  He stops me and wraps me in his arms.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok.  Just a nightmare.  It was just a nightmare.”  He says as I sag against him, but it’s not just a nightmare.  This is my life. These things really happened.  I clutch his arms digging my nails into the thin cotton of his t-shirt.

“What’s with all the screaming?” I hear Haymitch shout, but when he sees me clinging to Peeta he just says “oh” and wanders off.  Peeta sets me on the bed and sits next to me.  I try to compose myself and begin to hiccup.  Peeta hands me a cloth and I wipe my nose and my face.  Then lean forwards holding my head in my hands.

“I can’t do this anymore.”  I confess miserably. 

“Do what, Katniss?”  Peeta asks stroking my back.

“This!  I can’t sleep without seeing them.  All the time.  I wake up and feel nothing one moment and then everything the next, and I miss her so much Peeta.  All I ever wanted to do was keep her safe.  And I failed.  I’m a failure!  Everyone’s dead, because of me.   She’s dead because… of… me!” I’m gasping for breath now as more sobs rip from my throat. 

“That’s not true.”  Peeta says firmly.  “You left her safe in District 13.  She chose to volunteer for the war.”  I look up at him in disbelief.  How would he know that?  He seems to read my thoughts.

“Prim would… come talk to me.  She was very involved with my recovery in District 13.” He explains.  I’m staring at him intently absorbing every word that he says. 

“Tell me what happened?”  I demand.

“She was the one who came up with the morphling treatment.  After a while she would come in with Delly to talk to me.  Everyone was against it, but she was adamant and very persuasive.  I… I was so angry… and obsessed with you in 13 and Delly… she was just too nice. I could just talk circles around her.  I knew she was lying about you, talking you up because the doctors told her too…”  He falters clearly uncomfortable telling me about this time in his life.  “Prim was… different.  She knew me, but more importantly she knew you.  And she was honest… with me… about you…”

“What did she say?”

“Well, she talked to me a lot throughout the morphling treatments and then afterwards, when I could watch the videos without…” he shifts uncomfortably.  “I started to trust her more than anyone else.  Her versions of things felt… balanced.  I think… I think she’s the only reason I didn’t actually kill you when Coin sent me your squad.  By that time, I was beginning to realize that nothing in my head could be trusted, and I didn’t trust district 13 either.  I knew that I’d have to find more people like Prim; people without an agenda.  And I knew I’d have to talk to you… but I didn’t ask to be deployed, I mean, I had no say in that.  Even Plutarch tried to put a stop to it… and Prim, well Prim was livid.  Before I left, she told me that she wanted to volunteer.  That she was tired of people risking their lives to keep her safe.  She wanted to help.  I always assumed that that’s what she did.  Talked Coin into letting her serve as a medic… ” his voice peters out into silence, but his words are ringing in my ears. 

“It’s not your fault, Katniss.”  He says sadly and I nod to get him to stop talking because I will never believe for a second that what happened to my sister was not my fault. But this new revelation about Prim’s involvement with Peeta is precious to me.  Because even though I chose to give up on Peeta, Prim didn’t, and she did that for me.  She watched me break, and began to work on the one thing she knew would cure me.   A true healer…

“Thank you, Peeta.”  I say, and I take his hand in mine.  He squeezes it gently in response.  I shift and turn so that I can look into his eyes because this is the part where I honor my sister’s gift.  “Is that why you came back to District 12?  To talk about what happened between us?”  There’s a vulnerability in his eyes that I wish I could wipe away.

“Partially, I guess.  I worked out a lot more things in the Capitol with Dr. Aurelius, but it would be nice to hear things from your point of view… but Katniss, it’s not just that.  I… I want to be here with you.  I mean, it’s what we do… we…”

“Protect each other.”  I finish for him and he gives me a sad smile.  “Does this mean you don’t hate me anymore?  You don’t think I’m a mutt?” 

“No.”  He says sadly.  “I’m sorry I ever said those things to you.  I was… out of my mind.” 

“Don’t apologize, Peeta, I understand.  I just want to make sure.  What do you think when you see me now?”

“I’m still conditioned to be afraid of you.”  He admits reluctantly.  “But Dr. Aurelius told me that the more I am exposed to you, the more that fear will fade…”

“Are you afraid of me now?”

“Terrified.”  He says with a teasing smile and a warm sensation settles in my stomach.  I can’t stop the smile that appears on my face.  “But no, I mean, I might feel a jolt of panic when I first see you, but once I realize that you’re not going to kill me it just fades to the background.  It’s hard to explain, but with the Tracker Jacker venom you were… larger than life… impossibly attractive… I was terrified of you and wanted you all at the same time… it was maddening…”  The warm feeling in my stomach constricts painfully.  Peeta must see it in my eyes because he immediately apologizes.

“Don’t.”  I say pulling my hand away and brushing a strand of hair away from my face.  “It’s important to talk about it… I think…”

“No, I’m sorry.  That was a lot to dump on you all at once, but Katniss, it wasn’t real.  As soon as the Tracker Jacker venom got out of my system, I realized that.  It’s why I was so surprised when I talked to you on the night of Annie and Finnick’s wedding.   Compared to the Katniss in my head, you were just a very small girl…”

“…and not particularly attractive one at that.”  I finish for him. 

“I’m sorry.” He says.  I sigh surprised at how much this hurts to talk about. 

“Well, now that you’re pretty sure I’m not going to kill you, what do you want to do now?”  I ask placing my hand by his; an invitation.  He picks it up in his hand and rubs his thumb over it.

“I thought… we could start out as friends.  Help each other figure out what comes next…”  I deflate inwardly. This again.  Doesn’t he realize that I am incapable of what he’s asking of me?  A home, marriage, a family, a happy life. 

“It doesn’t have to be marriage or kids.”  He says reading my thoughts so well.  “I just want a chance.  I know I loved you… a lot… and I still feel… pieces of that.  And I think, you have… had feelings for me too.  The things you did for me… that kiss on the beach.  You didn’t have to do that.  That one wasn’t for the cameras and it wasn’t out of pity.”  

I can’t stop the color that blooms on my cheeks nor can I look away from the blush on Peeta’s face.  His blue eyes have taken on that bold intensity again and I know he’s daring me to deny what he’s said. The memory of that kiss rears its head in my mind and convulses through my body.  That strange bottomless hunger, so alluring and demanding, begins to spread through my veins once more demanding to be sated.  I can’t stop looking at his lips; can’t stop remembering the way they pressed and parted so sweetly against my own, but is that love?  Is that what Peeta wants from me to feed each other’s hunger?  No, that won’t be enough.  Not for Peeta… or would it? His eyes are searching my face begging me for an answer, but I don’t know if I am capable of loving him the way he wants me to.  I don’t know…

“Katniss…” he murmurs and I’m surprised to find that I have leaned in alarmingly close to his face.  “Do you… want to kiss me now?”  He asks.  I answer by pressing my lips gently onto his.  They are soft and warm and taste indescribably good.  He opens his mouth to mine and begins to kiss me back softly gently exploring my bottom upper lips.  I allow my tongue to dart into his mouth and am rewarded with that too familiar taste of Peeta.  All those times for the Capitol, I took it for granted, and in District 13 I lost it, but here he is again and I whimper softly at the relief I feel from the taste and closeness of him.  I don’t stop, but eventually he begins to slow and pull away.  I know he wants me to say it.  To put a name to what I am showing him, but I don’t even know what to call it.  He cups my face in his hands and tilts my head so that I’m looking up into his eyes. 

“Does this mean you’ll think about it?”  He asks.  I nod my head because I have to and because I want to.

“I’ll try.”

Chapter Text

"Really, Haymitch, are you trying to get Katniss incarcerated?"

I tune out the squeaky discourse on the importance of following proper procedure that follows Effie Trinket's exasperated question, but its harder to ignore the feeling of nausea laced with guilt that's beginning to stretch uncomfortably in my stomach. It had been one of those nights that start off good. The liquor cutting its familiar fiery path down my throat and settling luxuriously in my stomach. My head buzzing pleasantly, making my limbs feel heavy and my head light.  I have a vague recollection of singing some old bawdy songs that my Seam buddies and I would belt out when I was young and stupid.  When I believed I could make it to my 18th year without being reaped.  But then the bookshelf had loomed threateningly in my direction and I knew it was going to be bad.  It must have been, because when my liquor soaked brain finally dried out enough to notice the phone ringing incessantly in the background, the bookshelf lay broken on its side with its contents ripped and strewn around on the floor.

"I just can't believe you could be so irresponsible when it comes to Katniss's and Peeta's future!"  Effie's shrill voice bursts out of the receiver so loudly it crackles.  "After everything they've been through!" This last bit is delivered with such dramatic flare that I'd roll my eyes if it didn't hurt so much to open them.  But then her voice lowers and takes on a tone I don't normally associate with Effie; fear.  Not the fear of being late to a party or showing up in the same outfit as someone else, but real fear.  Something she'd picked up in the Capitol during the rebellion.   "Haymitch, President Paylor is very upset.  Without proper documentation of Katniss's whereabouts and actions, District 13 is threatening to reopen her case..."

The silence hangs heavy between us.  District 13 had pursued Katniss's execution relentlessly after she assassinated President Coin.  Among District 13's general populace, the anger reeked of patriotic fervor for their beloved and martyred leader. But according to Plutarch,  the real impetus for Katniss's persecution was that Coin had made a lot of promises to both District 13's higher ups and the ambitious Capitol rebels who had risked so much to aide the rebellion.  Promises that she was no longer able to keep after Katniss had buried an arrow into her heart.  

Powerful people make dangerous enemies.   That arrow created a schism between District 13 and the rebel Districts that President Paylor has been trying to straddle ever since.  Her position has been precarious at best.  And seeing as she only won the presidential election because the rebelling district's populations outweighed District 13's, she's been keen on keeping them as satisfied as possible.  It didn't help that District 13 had access to three times as many nuclear weapons as Paylor had acquired from the Nut in District 2.  Of course, no one said anything.  No threats were made, but the implication, the possibility, hung heavy in the air.  All of this because of a girl with a bow and an arrow.  

"She has no idea.  The effect she can have."  Words spoken from the mouth of a love struck boy, but prophetic none the less.  

"What do you need me to do?"  I ask tiredly.

"I need you to get your head out of that bottle and do your job."  Effie bites back. Her fear turning to properly placed anger.  

My job, as it turned out, was to monitor what The Republic of Panem was calling a political exile.  Dr. Aurelius had provided ample evidence and had high enough clout with enough influential Capitol citizens to convince the hastily assembled tribunal to let Katniss off on a temporary insanity plea.  They then bullied District 13 into agreeing with the ruling, but not without acceding to some of their demands. The major one being Katniss's exile and confinement to District 12.  They also insisted on an implanted tracker in her arm, mandatory counseling with Dr. Aurelius, and weekly detailed reports on her daily behaviors, words and actions.  Paylor had agreed immediately.

The reports were to be created and delivered to them by an appointed liaison.  At the time of the appointment, there were really only two people in her life willing and able to take the role, me and Gale Hawthorne, but Gale had declined immediately and left for District 2 without looking back.  It had surprised me.  Gale had been fighting hard for Katniss's affections ever since she returned from her first Hunger Games and after what had happened with Peeta he had to be coming out ahead. Whatever had happened between him and Katniss in the Capitol must have been bad for him to walk away like that.  

With Gale gone, the appointment fell to me.  I accepted because I wanted to go home and because it felt wrong to leave Katniss in the middle of a political feeding frenzy where I knew she'd get used.   Because Katniss has always been a pawn, not a player, when it came to games. Besides, the whole thing seemed ridiculous to me.  Katniss didn't care about politics and power.  Katniss cared about her family and now that they were gone I was pretty sure Katniss didn't care about anything.  Except maybe Peeta, although not likely considering their last encounter.  So I had agreed to their stupid requirements and took Katniss home.      

Of these requirements, three of the four had been met.  Katniss had remained in twelve with a tracker hidden in her arm and Dr. Aurelius had been turning in documentation of their pretend counseling sessions, but the reports had not been delivered and that was on me.  I rummage around the room, looking for the important looking packet of documents I had been given.  I find them under a pile of discarded bottles.  The bottles clink together loudly as I pull the packet out from underneath them and I hear Effie's exaggerated sigh over the phone.  Some of the liquor has leaked onto the paper causing the papers to stick together and releasing a sharp smell, but they should still do.  I step over some shredded books to the desk and set the packet down looking it over.  

My eyes ache looking at all the questions.  There are sections on her health (bad), her moods (worse),  Is she taking the medication prescribed to her by Dr. Aurelius? (um...) her interactions with other people (hardly any), any negative thoughts she has expressed towards the new government (none).  Effie is silent on the phone as I scratch away at the paper making up half my answers for almost a months worth of questions. 

"How are they, Haymitch?"  I hear Effie say wistfully, and its so different from the Effie I knew before that I feel like I'm talking to another person.

I've known Effie for almost 15 years.  She became District 12's escort at the young age of 22.  Apparently she had been trying to work her way into a modeling and fashion career and had been failing miserably.  Her boyfriend at the time was some up and coming director for the Hunger Games recaps and was able to get her the job.  

I wouldn't have called Effie an improvement over the old escort; a severe older woman named Isolda. They were both part of something terrible, but they went about it in very different ways.  Isolda was detached and clinical, Effie vapid and shallow, but I did appreciate the way Effie treated her tributes like they were her precious darling pets. The way she would fawn and dote over them was a vast improvement over Isolda who treated her tributes like livestock.  I still remember the way she evaluated me and the others.   All four of us, freshly reaped and standing silently as she poked and prodded our muscles, measured our lengths and weights.  When she tried to touch me, I smacked her hand away and glared.  I still remember the almost bored way she looked at me saying, "I can work with that." before moving onto a crying Maysilee Donner.  

"Well, they seem to be able to talk to each other without having mental break downs now, so that's an improvement, but I still think we're a long way from good."  I say marking another inane box on the questionnaire. I hear Effie sniff, and its the same showy display of emotion that she's always felt the need to display, but there's a hint of authenticity to it now that was never there before, and so i hold back the biting comment that immediately comes to my lips.  

I sigh inwardly, I used to love to make Effie cry.  It had been so easy in the beginning, she cried over the stupidest things, but it's different now.  I can't just see her as the Capitol Peacock, not after what we went through with Katniss and Peeta, she's a real person to me, and now she's also my partner.  While I manage Katniss in District 12, she works closely with President Paylor on what she calls "Mockingjay Maintenance" which basically translates to managing Katniss's image to the new country without pissing off District 13.  I frown sourly feeling like some things never change.

"I'm almost done with these damned forms."  I grumble and suddenly she's all business.  

"Sign and seal the envelope using the proper stamp.  The red one not the green one.  When you drop it off at the train station make sure you tell the carrier that it belongs in the first class mail.  There's a code on the packet that they'll be able to scan for verification."  

"Alright." I say as I fumble around the desk looking for the red stamp.  "I'll take it down to the train station now.  Is there anything else I need to do?"  

"No.  Wait, yes."  She takes in a breath as though she's holding back tears.  "Give my two victors my love."  She sighs dramatically.  This time I do roll my eyes.  "And don't forget to send the forms.  Every week.  On time!"  She says her voice suddenly sharp.  

"Yeah, yeah."  I growl and she hangs up with a sniff.

Even though its hours before I usually wake and the pulsing behind my eyes is pounding sharply, I decide to go down to the train station and drop off the mail.  The truth is, I feel guilty.  I haven't been much of anything to Katniss since she returned.   Not that anything I would have done would have helped.  But this thing with District 13, the idea of Katniss getting shipped off back to the Capitol to be persecuted and possibly executed, well, I'd never forgive myself.  I feel angry just thinking about it, but I know I have to cut down on the liquor.  "It's probably for the best."  I think, like I always do when I think about drinking less, but it never seems for the best when the flashbacks and the rage return in the dark of night.

Following the path leading to the market square, I can barely make out the remnants of the old justice building.  It sticks out like sore thumb against the rubble of the mostly wood and brick merchant shops that used to surround it.  Being made of almost solid concrete it withstood the bombings better than any of the other buildings, but that won't prevent it from being torn down and removed with the rest of the wreckage.  There was talk of trying to salvage it, but in the end, everyone decided to start fresh.  No one could even try to separate that building from the years of Reapings they were forced to watch.  I myself will be glad to see it go.

The clean up crews have been busy and there is an actual path leading to the makeshift store that has popped up by the train station.  I pick my way across the square and through the couple of blocks to my destination.  As I walk I notice Peeta and Thom lifting a heavy beam of charred wood onto the cart. Their faces are flushed with the effort, young muscles flexing in strong backs.  Ah, to be young again, I think as they drop the beam into the cart slowly.  

"Thanks, Peeta.  I've been trying to figure out a way to move that bastard on my own for a few days now."  I hear Thom say to Peeta.  Peeta chuckles and grins, wiping sweat from his brow that follows the path of his scar.  

"No problem, Thom."  he says rolling his sleeves down to cover up the burn marks he has on his arms.  He turns his head at my approach.

"Hey Haymitch."  He greets.  "You're out early." 

"Yeah. Need to send something to the Capitol."  I grunt.  He looks at me questioningly, but I don't elaborate.

"I'll join you.  I need to order some more supplies and I told Delly I would visit her today."   He looks at Thom.  "I'll be around to help later." 

We walk in silence for a moment.  I notice Peeta eyeing my package curiously, so I try to distract him with a question.  

"Katniss out hunting?"  I ask.  I can tell by his reaction that she's not.  The downwards look, the way he pushes his hands into his pockets.

"No, she hasn't gone for a few days now."  He answers.  I grunt.  It's been about a week since their reconciliation after Peeta's flashback.  When he told me they'd kissed, I hadn't been too happy about it.  Even less happy when he told me that they were sleeping together, like they did on the Victory Tour train.  "You guys are moving too fast."  I had warned but he just shrugged helplessly at me because Peeta had always been helpless when it came to Katniss.  I can tell Peeta's happy to have her back in his life, but he's been pretty quiet about the specifics.  I haven't even been able to talk to Katniss about it.  The whole thing sets me on edge.  

"We don't talk much."  Peeta admits.  He must sense my disquiet on the issue and his answer doesn't ease my concern.

"What do you do?"  I ask.  He shrugs.

"She lets me hold her.  We sleep.  She wakes up screaming and I try to calm her down.  She cries a lot..."  He pauses for a few seconds.  "She's usually there when I wake up, but she's already dressed and ready to leave.  Then she'll comes back in the afternoon with something to cook for dinner, but she hasn't done that in the past few days..."  I look at him out of the corner of my eye.  Notice the despondent slump in his shoulders, the tiredness in his eyes, the subtle way he is favoring his prosthetic leg.  

"You two need to dial it back."  

"Maybe."  He admits reluctantly.  "But she needs me to sleep at night and I don't want to take that away from her.  From us."   He adds when I give him a look.  I decide to be blunt.  

"Peeta,  I'm glad you guys are trying to help each other out,  but you look like shit and you sound worse than you look.  I know you've come along ways from District 13, but I can't help but feel like you are playing with fire.  Have you had any more flashbacks?"  Anger flashes across his face.

"Do you think I'm going to hurt her?"  He asks hotly.  I stop and turn to face him.

"It's not outside the realm of possibility Peeta."  I say sharply.  I can't help it.  These two are being beyond reckless and I can see it in his eyes that as much as he wants this thing he has with Katniss, that he's worried; that it's not happening the way he had hoped it would in his mind.  

"Well, what do you suggest we do?"  He asks harshly.  

"I don't know, but at the very least you two should be talking."  He just looks at me angrily before walking away.  Because he know's I'm right.

"Peeta!"  Delly's voice carries over to us as she sees our approach.  He smiles and waves in response.  Delly moves out from behind the counter to greet him with a hug.  "Are you here to order supplies?"  she asks.  She goes back behind the counter and pulls out a large book and they begin to look through it together smiling and laughing. I continue on to James, who is sorting through the mail.  

"Good morning, Haymitch."  He says mildly.  I throw the packet on the table.  

"I need this sent first class.  Should be a bar code or something you can scan."  He takes the package and turns it around looking for the strip of black lines that apparently mean something to the little plastic wand he has attached to a small computer.  I shift uncomfortably.  I'm no stranger to technology, but it's always been a Capitol thing, and it feels strange to have to interact with it in the Districts.  I know I'm not the only one.  There's a computer set up behind the counter to help with ordering supplies and inventory, but I notice that Delly never uses it.  She does business the way we've always done business in the Districts, with a pen and paper.  But James is from District 13.  He grew up around technology and seems to have no qualms about it.  

"Should get sent out tomorrow when train arrives he informs me."  I nod and decide to head back home now that my civic duty has been completed.  Peeta lets me go without a word.  I stifle my irritation at both him and Katniss.  There's not much I can do, but wait and see how this plays out.