Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I wake in a pool of sweat. 

Surprisingly, not due to the horrors that haunt my dreams every night. It’s strangely humid in my house. I know it’s morning because I can see the light coming through my window, but it seems darker than usual.

Then, the thunder starts, and I understand why the air and my skin feel so sticky. It’s raining. I won’t be able to go into the woods today.

We’ve grown accustomed to a routine, Peeta, Haymitch and I. Peeta comes over in the mornings with bread and makes us breakfast. Haymitch joins us most mornings. We eat and exchange a few words. Peeta and Haymitch more so than I. Then we go our separate ways for the day. I go to the woods. Peeta bakes. Or paints. Haymitch drinks. And then we see each other again for dinner. Peeta usually cooks whatever I bring back from the woods. 

Sae stopped cooking for me a couple months ago. When Peeta came back to District 12, he started joining Sae in her daily morning check-ins on me, always with a fresh loaf of bread. Then he started helping her with the cooking. Eventually, he started doing all of the cooking, and Sae didn’t feel the need to come in the mornings anymore.

I’m not angry that it’s raining. I’m uncomfortable. Although I don’t feel completely lost without my routine, I still feel uneasy. What am I going to do today? I usually spend hours in the woods every day. It clears my head. And it gives me a purpose for the day. Even though I have some meat in my freezer for days like these, I feel like I have to return with something for Peeta to cook for the three of us. 

The three of us. Peeta, Haymitch, and I. My family, now that the war is over. 

When Peeta came home, he convinced me to answer Dr. Aurelius’ calls after a few weeks. Routine is good, Dr. Aurelius told me, and I have to admit that he was right. Making myself get up and do something with myself every day, rather than rot away in my house and think about the dozens of ways everything has gone wrong in my life, has been beneficial. It gives me a distraction.

I hear the front door open downstairs, and I know Peeta is here. He lets himself in every morning to get started on breakfast. I pull myself out of bed and get myself ready for the day. I shower. I braid my hair. I brush my teeth. I put salve on my scars. I change into a decent shirt and comfortable pants. I try to keep everything in my routine the same, even though I know I’ll have what seems like endless time to kill today. By the sound of the thunder outside, this storm isn’t going anywhere for a while.

By the time I’m downstairs, the kitchen is filled with the delicious smell of Peeta’s cooking. Haymitch is sitting at the table while Peeta finishes up our breakfast. 

He looks up at me, gives me a smile, and I smile back. I didn’t realize he’d lost his smile until he started wearing it again, just a few months ago. I also didn’t realize how much I’d missed it, and how grounded it makes me feel. It’s one of the few things that truly makes me feel alive when every day just feels like surviving. 

“Nice of you to join us, Sweetheart,” says Haymitch sarcastically. I scowl at him.

“Well, with this weather, I wasn’t sure if it was morning yet,” I reply tauntingly. 

“Someone’s sad she can’t go off into the woods today.”

“Food’s ready,” Peeta interrupts our bickering. 

We eat our breakfast with the humming sound of the rain and the occasional distant yet close roar of thunder interrupting our conversation. Peeta and Haymitch talk about the rebuilding of the town. I haven’t seen it since I came back to 12, but Peeta says that Thom and his crew have made a lot of progress with the rubble.

I can’t help but think how much braver he is than me. Even after months since the war ended, I can’t even bring myself to go into town. But Peeta goes to town regularly to check on the progress. 

“What are you going to do today, Katniss?” Peeta asks and touches my hand, just as a rumble of thunder rocks the house. 

These small touches are pretty much the extent of physical contact Peeta and I have. We’ve hugged a few times since he’s gotten back, but those are few and far between. I’m not sure if our physical contact will ever go beyond this level, or if Peeta even wants it to. These are topics we haven’t talked about. These are topics I don’t allow myself to think about.

I don’t know how Peeta feels about me anymore. I know that he feeds me and keeps me company. Smiles at me and touches my hand. But I don’t know why he does these things. I don’t know if he loves me like he once did, or if he just sees me as family now.

I look up at him from my food and see the familiar gleam of blue in his eyes. Rarely do I ever see his eyes cloudy anymore. And when I do, he’s clutching something to the point of his knuckles turning white. It usually only lasts a few minutes, and then he’s back. 

Then, I see his eyelashes and I remember the time he and I worked on my family’s plant book together. Suddenly, I know exactly what I can do today.

“I think I might work on my family’s plant book today,” I reply, hoping he remembers. I don’t know which memories he has and which ones were stolen from him. I don’t ask either, for his sake, but mostly for mine too. I leave the “real or not real” questions for him to ask and me to answer.

At this, his eyes light up. 

“We worked on the plant book together when you hurt your ankle, real or not real?” he asks. 

“Real,” I say, with a smile. Relief washes over his face, and he gives my hand a squeeze. 

“Would you like some help with it?”

“Yes, that would be nice.”

Peeta and I clean up the kitchen after breakfast. It’s our routine. The only difference is we pull some frozen squirrel meat out of the freezer to thaw, since I won’t be able to get fresh game today.

“See y’all for dinner,” Haymitch mutters as he walks out the front door. 

Peeta and I settle on the couch facing the fireplace. He opens a few windows to try to get some movement through the muggy air. I grab the plant book and start flipping through the pages, not sure what to start with.

“Where should we start?” Peeta asks, almost reading my mind. 

Then I find a few bagged dried samples of plants in between the pages, just as I’d left them more than a year ago. It’s strange to think about how much everything else has changed in this time.

“I guess let’s start with these,” I say with a shy smile.

Peeta begins sketching the first sample as I write down everything I know about it. It doesn’t take long for me to do that, and before I know it, I’m watching Peeta sketch. His natural talent never ceases to amaze me. He replicates the sample effortlessly and then looks at me for approval. After some adjusting and erasing, it finally looks right, and I give Peeta a nod and a smile.

We’ve been working on this first sample for a while now, and I realize that this is the longest time we’ve spent together at once since the war. We usually get together just for meals and the occasional times I’ve watched him and Haymitch play chess. It must be mid-afternoon by now.

I rest my head down on Peeta’s shoulder without thinking, and he stiffens. But before I lift my head, he relaxes again. 

“I think the rain stopped,” he says quietly. “I should get started on dinner.”

He gets up swiftly, touching my shoulder as he walks into the kitchen. That’s new.

I stay on the couch and start flipping through the book. And then I see it on a random page. A primrose. 

I drop the book on the floor. It’s not too loud, but loud enough for Peeta to come check on me.

“Katniss?”

My eyes start to pool with tears. I am frozen. I know how I am going to react, but I try to delay it as much as possible. I wanted today to be easy and full of distractions in the woods. When I don’t answer, I hear Peeta walk over to me. He looks at the book, and then looks at me. Then his arms are around me.

“It’s okay, Katniss. Let it out.”

And then I’m sobbing. Loud cries wreck my body as I tremble in Peeta’s arms. Tears stream down my cheeks onto Peeta’s shirt. He runs his hand up and down my back while I cry. 

She’s gone, and she’s not coming back.

I don’t know how long we sit there, but eventually, my breathing steadies, and I look up at Peeta. He wipes a tear away with his thumb on my cheek.

“I’m just afraid I’m going to forget her,” I say with a hollow voice.

“You could never forget her,” he promises.

“I feel like I already am. I can’t even picture her smiling. When I picture her, she’s not smiling.”

I don’t tell him what I do see when I picture her. I see the face she made right before the second bomb went off. A face filled with terror but also relief. She thought I was dead.

“I can picture her smile. I’ll draw her for you,” he says as he moves his hand to mine and gives it a squeeze.

I look up at him with an expression of gratitude and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. 

“Thank you.”

He smiles and nods. 

“Are you okay? Do you want to sit with me in the kitchen while I make dinner?” He asks, and I nod while looking down at his tear-stained shirt.

He grabs my hand and leads me to the kitchen. I take a seat at the table and just watch Peeta cook. Haymitch walks in and looks at my face a little longer than usual. It must be obvious that I’d been crying. He then looks at Peeta with a knowing glance and walks over to me to pat me on the shoulder. Haymitch knows when one of us is having a bad day, and he’s there for us in the ways he knows how to be.

We eat dinner in silence. Peeta made a stew with the squirrel and heated up leftover bread from this morning. Without a word, Peeta grabs all of our dishes and cleans up while I sit at the table staring into space. I don’t have to look up to know that Haymitch and Peeta are having a conversation, only with their eyes and facial expressions. When I do look up, I see Peeta give Haymitch a stern nod.

“Okay sweetheart, I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast,” Haymitch says as he gets up, pats me on the shoulder once again, and leaves.

I realize this is usually when Peeta leaves too, and that I don’t want to be alone. He approaches me carefully.

“The kitchen is clean, Katniss. Are you going to be okay tonight?”

Would he be willing to stay? Is he opening that door by asking me if I’ll be okay? I want to ask him to stay, but what would that entail? Would he sleep on the couch? Would he hold me like he used to on the train?

Despite these thoughts, I simply nod. He gives my hand a squeeze before he walks out the door.

As soon as the door closes, I go up to my room and look out the window. I can’t see Peeta walking to his house from my window, but I can see the reflection of the lights in his house when they’re on. The lights flicker on after a few moments, and I sigh. He’s home. He’s safe.

My room is still a little stuffy from the humidity of the rainy day, so I crack open my window before plopping into bed, afraid of what I’ll see when I close my eyes.

Chapter Text

I wake up screaming and gasping for air. It’s still dark outside. Though I always expect them, I’ll never get used to the nightmares. Tonight I lived through it again. Seeing Prim die. I knew this was coming as soon as I saw that primrose in the plant book. I see it often. I try to catch my breath as the tears start pouring from my eyes. I sit up and hug my knees to my chest, knowing I won’t be able to sleep for the rest of the night.

Then he appears in my bedroom doorway. I didn’t even hear him come into the house.

“Peeta?”

I’m sure he’s heard me screaming at night before, but this is the first time he has come to check on me. Is he checking on me because I had a bad day? Or could it be that I’m still dreaming?

“I heard you screaming. Nightmare?”

He’s still standing in the doorway, and I can faintly make out that he’s still wearing the same clothes he left my house in. I see him glance toward my open window which he must have heard me through.

“Yes, I’m sorry if I woke you,” I say with a strained voice.

“I was awake actually, it’s okay. Do you want to talk about it?”

I shake my head. Because I don’t. I don’t want to think about that look on Prim’s face ever again.

“Okay. Goodnight,” he says, as he turns to leave.

“Wait!” I say without thinking. It’s selfish, but I don’t want him to leave. He turns back to look at me with a concerned expression. 

“Yeah?”

“What – why were you still awake?”

“Oh – I uh, I couldn’t sleep. So I started sketching, and once I start, I can’t stop,” he says, scratching his head and looking down. I know he still has nightmares too. At least once a week, dark circles sit under his eyes when he comes over for breakfast. It’s not something we talk about, but rather an unspoken understanding. I’m sure I look unrested more often than not.

“What were you sketching?” I ask gently, not sure what to say.

“I started on the drawing of Prim for you,” he whispers. “I had the image of her smiling so clear in my mind, so I had to get started on it to make sure I got it right.”

Though I see parts of the old Peeta, the real Peeta, more and more every day, in his kindness, his generosity, his smile, and his bright blue eyes, I know this is the closest I’ve seen him be completely himself in a long time. The kind, selfless, gentle boy that he is.

And it’s in this moment in my half-awake consciousness that I know it’s safe to ask him. So, I do.

“Will you stay?”

I see his face change from concern to relief, almost like he wanted me to ask. It’s no secret that we both sleep better with each other. 

“Yes, of course,” he says gently, but he makes no move toward the bed.

“It’s just that – I should go change. And wash my hands. They’re pretty dirty from the pencils. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

I nod, and he slips out of the room. I stay still, hugging my knees to my chest, and looking down at my bed. I can’t help but wonder if I’ve stepped over a line. Peeta and I, despite everything, have grown comfortable with each other since the end of the war. But I know this comfort is fragile. I know he has triggers as much as I do. And his triggers make him see things I can’t even comprehend. We haven’t discussed our boundaries – what’s safe and what’s not? 

Before I know it, Peeta interrupts my thoughts and appears again in my bedroom door. I look up at him. He’s changed into more comfortable clothes. He approaches the bed cautiously like he’s waiting for a signal from me. I scoot to my right to make room for him. He sits at the edge of the bed for a second before laying down. I can tell he’s treading lightly, letting me set the pace. I scoot closer to him, lay my head on his shoulder, and we both sigh as we relax into each other. He wraps his arm around me, and I close my eyes. It’s not quite my preferred spot on his chest, but it will do for tonight. I don’t want to push it, and I know I’ll be able to go back to sleep now with him here.

Although I don’t know what Peeta feels for me anymore, I know that he must feel the same way. I saw it in his face when I asked him to stay. We simply sleep better when we’re next to each other, and we understand each other like nobody else. 

“Thank you,” I tell him just as I’m on the brink of sleep. 

“Always.”

~

I wake up alone and late. I can tell by how much the sunrise is shining through my window. Peeta must have climbed out of the bed at some point. And I, despite usually being a light sleeper, always feeling like I’m on watch, didn’t wake up at all. For the first time in months, I feel well-rested. Although part of me is a little sad to wake up alone.

I pull myself out of bed and get myself ready for the day. Today, unlike yesterday, will be a perfect day for hunting. A perfect day to keep myself distracted. When I get downstairs, Peeta and Haymitch are already eating and whispering to each other. They both look up at me with concern as I descend down the stairs. 

“We waited for you for a little bit, but you were sleeping so well, I didn’t want to wake you,” Peeta says as he’s getting up to grab me a plate, and I notice he’s not in his sleep clothes. 

“Oh, that’s okay. Thank you,” I reply and look at him gratefully. He gives me a small smile.

Peeta and Haymitch talk more about the rebuilding of the town. Haymitch says that Thom and his crew have cleared all of the rubble and are going to start building soon. I just listen. Usually, Peeta will ask me something, try to get me to talk, or touch my hand, but not today.

It’s like any other day, except it’s not. We’re doing what we normally do, but they’re both being cautious, not only in their words but in their mannerisms too. None of us acknowledges that Peeta slept here last night. I’m not even sure if Peeta told Haymitch. By the way they were whispering to each other, I assume he did. And although it’s nice to be spared Haymitch’s sarcastic comments, I can’t help but wonder if I truly did step over a line last night with Peeta.

Without a word, I grab all of our plates and start cleaning up. They both look at me as soon as I move, like they’re waiting for me to explode. I just carry on. Peeta gets up too, and cleans up the rest of the kitchen while I wash the dishes.

Haymitch leaves muttering something I don’t quite catch, and Peeta and I are left alone. 

“Thank you for staying last night,” I say, breaking the silence. “It was the best sleep I’ve had in a while.” 

“Me too,” he says quietly, looking away. “Well, I know you want to get to the woods, so I’ll see you for dinner.”

I nod, and he slips out the front door. I stay frozen for a few seconds, confused. I must have crossed a boundary last night. He was so normal yesterday, and today, he feels distant.

Before I let myself think about it too much, I grab my father’s hunting jacket, my game bag, my bow, and my quiver of arrows, and walk out the door. The brisk spring air surrounds me as I make my way to the fence that’s never electrified anymore. I wonder if Thom and his crew will ever just take it down entirely.

In the woods, I feel at home. I haven’t been able to bring myself to set snares. I haven’t allowed myself to mourn the loss of my hunting partner. I’ve been too busy grieving everyone else. Those that are truly gone and not just gone from my life. I’ve figured out how to be okay with hunting alone. It’s the only option. The alternative is unthinkable. So everything I catch is shot, not trapped.

I don’t even feel Gale’s presence in the woods anymore. But I do feel my father’s, and it’s comforting. I’m doing exactly what he taught me to do – feed myself, survive on my own. I don’t need a hunting partner anymore.

I shoot a few squirrels, gather some herbs and berries, and then come across some wild turkeys. Sae will be able to make a whole turkey last a while, so I shoot one, and then rest on a log. After eating a few berries, I decide to walk to the lake. I haven’t been in a while, and it feels almost like meeting my father there – this was our place.

The walk doesn’t take too long because I don’t stop to rest. When Sae was still checking in on me, I wasn’t eating much. Just enough to stay alive. Enough to get rid of the pain in my stomach. After the war, I didn’t want to live. On bad days, I still don’t. But, she wouldn’t let me completely starve myself. So, I was weak.

But when I finally started answering Dr. Aurelius’ calls a few months ago, he told me to make lists. A list of anything good I’ve ever seen someone do. A list of my favorite things. A list of all the people I’ve lost. You’re still here, Katniss. You can’t waste that, he’d said to me. And I realized he was right. So, I started eating more and hunting again. And in the few months that Peeta has been back in District 12, I’ve regained a lot of strength. It must be all the fresh bread.

I sit in the grass and listen to the water. This has always been the most beautiful place to me. Peeta would love it here – he’s always had an eye for beautiful things.

Here, it’s safe. Here, I can allow myself to think of Peeta and why he acted so distant earlier. I conclude that maybe he’s confused. Confused about what we are to each other. And the truth is that I am too. As selfish as it is, I haven’t allowed myself to think about what I feel for Peeta.

I knew I'd misjudged you. That you do love him. I'm not saying in what way. Maybe you don't know yourself. But anyone paying attention could see how much you care about him .

Finnick’s words ring through my mind, and I can’t help but think about how much has changed and how much has remained exactly the same since the war ended. I love Peeta. That much I know. He is my family now, along with Haymitch. But in what way? I still haven’t figured that part out. Maybe if I knew how he felt, I could sort it out.

I know I would do anything for him. Anything to protect him and keep him alive. And that he would do the same for me. He’s proven that to me time and time again – despite the hijacking and all. I know he’ll care for me in however I need him to. I know that I enjoy kissing him, even though I haven’t kissed him since the war, when I pulled him out of a flashback. But despite all of this, I don’t know if he loves me like he once did. He certainly doesn’t make the loving comments he once did – before the hijacking. 

Or maybe he’s just having a bad day, and I’m overthinking it. Maybe he had a flashback before I woke up. We both have bad days. I’m sure he thought I seemed not all there after the plant book incident yesterday.

I look up after being deep in my thoughts and realize it must be mid-afternoon by now. The sun is starting to set, and I recognize the muted orange as Peeta’s favorite color. I should head back soon before it gets too dark. So I start the trek back to Victor’s Village. Sae and her granddaughter are living in one of the houses, so I stop by there to drop off the turkey. 

“You’re too good to me, girl,” she says when I turn to leave.

As I approach my house, I see Peeta walk out of his front door with a loaf of bread. He must be coming over to start dinner. We exchange waves. When I get up to my porch, I wait for him. He eyes my game bag.

“So, what’s for dinner tonight?” He asks as we’re walking in.

“Squirrel, again. But I gave Sae a turkey, so maybe she’ll bring us some tomorrow,” I reply. 

Without a word, he grabs my game bag and starts dinner. I notice he’s still quieter than usual. He usually asks me more about the woods.

I go upstairs to clean myself up. I take a quick shower and leave my hair down to dry. My hair has grown back to its previous length before patches of it were burned off in the fire. Sae gave me a haircut a couple months ago to even it out, and for the first time in months, I feel like I finally look like myself again, for the most part. My scars are fading, though I don’t think they’ll ever fully go away.

When I get downstairs, Peeta is clutching the counter, and his eyes are squeezed shut. 

Chapter Text

“Peeta?” I say before thinking. I’ve learned that it’s usually best to leave him alone when he’s like this, but I can’t help but try to be there for him, especially after last night.

He doesn’t move. His eyes remain squeezed shut, and his grip on the counter gets tighter. A single tear escapes his eyes and falls down his cheek. I approach him like I would in the woods. Quiet and quick. I place my hand on his on the counter. He remains frozen but doesn’t recoil from my touch, so I leave my hand firm on his. 

After a few minutes, he takes a deep inhale. I didn’t realize that he’d been almost holding his breath. His shoulders soften, and he slowly opens his eyes. In his blue irises, I see pain and fear. He’s not looking at me, but rather above my head, straight forward. When he finally exhales, he looks down at me. First at my hand on his, and then into my eyes. Another tear falls down his cheek, and then he crumbles under my touch. He reaches out to me, and I wrap my arms around him. He buries his face in my neck as he cries. This is the worst I’ve seen him after a flashback since he’s been back in District 12.

But the fact that he is seeking out my comfort makes me think this might be something more than his typical flashbacks. Though I don’t know the details of what he endures in his flashbacks. I don’t know if it’s me, the mutt version of me that the Capitol fabricated, that he sees anymore, or something else. Regardless, I know it’s my turn to take care of him just like he took care of me yesterday. I keep my arms wrapped around him while he cries. I won’t be the first to pull away.

I don’t know how long we stand there embraced – but as I promised myself, I wait for Peeta to pull away first.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers with a shaky breath.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I say, and squeeze his hand. “I’m here.”

“Thank you,” he says, then looks away with glassy eyes. “Oh no – it’s getting late, I should finish up dinner,” he says but doesn’t move. He remains frozen in place looking straight ahead with tears pooling in his eyes.

“No,” I say, and grab his hand again. “Let me.”

I guide him to sit at the table. He reluctantly takes a seat and watches me closely as I walk back toward the counter. I haven’t cooked in a while, and I’m nowhere near as good a cook as Peeta, but I can manage. I try my best to pick up where Peeta left off. He’d finished preparing the meat, so I just decide to cook it in a pan on the stove. Peeta also seems to have brought some carrots, so I cut some and throw them in the oven. It’s nothing special but it will do for tonight.

After setting the timer, I feed Buttercup the scraps from the squirrel, just as Peeta always does, and join him at the table to wait for the carrots to be done. I don’t expect him to say anything, but to my surprise, he grabs my hand and looks directly into my eyes.

“Katniss,” he says firmly.

“Yes?”

“I want you to know – it’s not you that I see – in my flashbacks – not anymore,” he says.

“Peeta –” I start.

“No, just let me finish.” He takes a deep breath. “You need to know that I’m not – I’m not scared of you like I was after they – you know,” he shakes his head and buries his face in his hands. “I don’t see you that way.”

Tears fall from my eyes, and I look down at the table. I know this is hard for him to talk about, but I’m glad he’s telling me. 

“I never would have come home if I thought I might hurt you again. Dr. Aurelius wouldn’t have let me either,” he finishes matter-of-factly as he looks up at me.

Without thinking, I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest. He sighs into my touch as I cry into his shirt, and I can tell he’s crying too. This feels like a new start for us. For the past few months, I’ve been in the dark about his flashbacks. I hadn’t known if it was safe to say anything to him to try to comfort him or bring him back. When he first came home, he seemed so normal . But maybe that’s just because I was so far from normal. And then after a few days, I saw it for the first time – a flashback.

He’d only been joining Sae and me for breakfast at that time. I was just barely coming back to life. I was just starting to take notice of the little things again. That started when he planted those primroses in front of my house. Something had awakened in me that day and has been slowly growing ever since.

Sae had just left that morning. Peeta and I were left at the kitchen table, both of us staring down, not saying anything. I had stood without a word to go to the bathroom, and when I returned, he was clutching his seat with his eyes squeezed shut. He was whimpering and whispering something so quietly to himself. I froze. The last I’d seen him like that was in the Capitol, during the war. I didn’t know if he would try to hurt me again.

I turned around, went back into the bathroom, and locked myself in there. I sat on the floor with my knees hugged toward my chest rocking myself forward and backward. I don’t know how long I sat there, but I awoke from my trance when I heard the front door open and close. I slowly walked out of the bathroom to an empty house. Peeta’s chair was further from the table than usual – he didn’t push it in. He must have left in a rush.

After that, I’d seen him have flashbacks every now and then. I’d learned to not say anything to him. To let it take its course. I’d learn to not run from him too. He hadn’t tried to hurt me. He hadn’t said anything to me. But today, for whatever reason, I felt compelled to try to comfort him. So I did. I’m so glad I did.

So now here we are, wrapped in each other’s embrace in complete utter silence. Neither of us needs to say anything. We just know. We’re here for each other. And though I don’t know exactly what we are to each other, I know that just being here is enough. Peeta and I’s relationship has always been far more than any label could ever describe. 

That’s what you and I do. Protect each other. 

Our silence is interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. Haymitch. We pull away and sink into our seats.

“Smells good in here,” he mutters as he walks into the kitchen. Then he sees our tear-stained faces. He freezes before taking a seat at the table. 

“Everything okay here?” Haymitch asks. I nod, and like clockwork, the timer goes off for the food. Peeta and I both rise without a word. 

The three of us eat in silence. Peeta’s silence gives him away – he’s usually the most talkative. Haymitch glances at me with a concerned look, and I know what he’s trying to ask. Is he okay?

I nod, more with my eyes than my head, and Haymitch sighs. We finish our dinner and I rise to collect everyone’s plates. Peeta just stares ahead. To my surprise, Haymitch joins me at the kitchen sink, no doubt to get a word in without Peeta hearing.

“A flashback?” He whispers. I nod.

“He’ll be alright. That boy can take care of himself,” he whispers, and I just nod again.

Haymitch and I finish up the dishes. We then rejoin Peeta at the table, and Haymitch tries to spark up a conversation. 

“Either of you been keepin’ up with the rebuilding of the other districts?” He asks. He knows the answer, at least for me, that I have absolutely not been keeping up. I haven’t even turned on the television at all since I’ve been back. But Haymitch is trying to get Peeta’s mind off of his flashback.

He’s become more and more in tune of what Peeta and I need since being back home. Or I guess over these past two years since our first Games, really. I think back on the grudgingly depressed man he was when I volunteered and Peeta was reaped. Back then, he was just my mentor – but now he’s family. Although, I can’t blame him for being an old drunkard, who at first, showed no interest in mentoring Peeta and I at all. We probably don’t know half of all he’s been through after mentoring kids who all died for over two decades. I wonder if he’ll ever tell Peeta and I about all that we went through. I wouldn’t blame if he didn’t. 

Peeta looks up at him with soft eyes.

“Yeah I saw what they’ve been doing in some districts the other day on TV. 8, 5,” he pauses. “And 2.”

Haymitch furrows his brow at that.

“I saw it too,” he says.

They go back and forth about Districts 8 and 5, but not 2 for whatever reason. Haymitch seems content with the fact that Peeta is talking again, and seemingly normal. With a nod toward me as he gets up, he leaves Peeta and I at the table and walks out the front door.

“Will you be okay tonight?” I ask Peeta. The real question is if I’ll be okay tonight. Last night was the best sleep I’ve gotten in a long time, and I hope Peeta asks to stay tonight. I want to ask him but I also don’t want to push it. 

“I think so. Thank you, Katniss – for being here,” he says as he stands up.

“Of course. That’s what you and I do, right? Protect each other,” I say with a smile, trying to hide my disappointment. I know that nightmares I’ll have nightmares tonight without the comfort of Peeta’s presence.

“Right,” he says. I start for walking toward the door to walk him out. 

“Goodnight, Katniss,” he says, as he walks out the door.

“Goodnight.”

I walk up to my room and peek out my window. I see Peeta’s light flicker on and then get myself ready for bed. When I sit on the edge of the bed, I’m scared. Last night I had the luxury of sleeping in the comfort of Peeta’s presence. Tonight, I’ll face the nightmares all alone – again. So, I do the only thing I can think of. The closest thing that will give me the comfort of Peeta’s presence. I reach into the drawer of my bedside table and I see it. Peeta’s pearl. 

I hold it in my fingers and then sigh as I bring it to my lips. Suddenly, I’m a little embarrassed but I don’t stop. I lay down fully and hold the pearl in my hand. Buttercup curls himself around my feet.

I do. I need you.

I remember when I admitted this to Peeta on the beach, and I realize it’s still true. I need him and I always will. But does he need me?

Chapter Text

I wake up before the sun rises. Only a couple of nightmares plagued my sleep last night including the one that just woke me. The pearl remains in my hand. I must have held it all night. As I sit up in bed, I pull my knees into my chest and put the pearl back in the safety of the drawer in my bedside table. The only sound in the room is the ticking of the clock. Buttercup is still asleep at the end of the bed. Even he’s grown used to my thrashing and crying.

Today is a Wednesday. On Wednesdays, I talk on the phone with Dr. Aurelius and then my mother afterward. I usually speak with each of them before I go to the woods, but it’s so early. So, I decide to go into the woods early today. I might as well. I’m already up. I pull myself out of bed, brush my teeth, and braid my hair. I put on my boots and my father’s hunting jacket and head out the door. 

To my surprise, I see Peeta’s lights on in his house. I know that he gets up early every day to bake but I didn’t realize that he wakes up this early. I hope he was able to sleep last night after the rough day he had yesterday.

As I make my way toward the woods, I see the sun start to rise on the horizon, but I know it won’t get any warmer today. The brisk autumn air remains intact. The rain we just had was probably the last we’ll get this year. It’s starting to get cooler. Though it’s not too cold yet but it will be within the next month or so. The first fall of snow should be soon. Normally, I dread the winter. Because the winter meant less game to hunt. Less food to eat. And the same number of bellies to feed. But, I no longer have to worry about that. This year, I’m dreading the winter for a completely different reason.

This winter will mark one year since the end of the war. One year that Prim has been gone. One year since I’ve lost my best friend and hunting partner for good. One year since I killed Coin. One year since everything has changed. And my guess is that if you ask most people in Panem, everything has changed for the better. Snow is dead. There are no more reapings. No more Hunger Games. And while it’s true that things have changed for the better, I can’t help but feel like there’s an emptiness inside of me. Prim is gone. Peeta was hijacked. Finnick is dead. And though it’s gotten better these past few months, the emptiness is still there. I wonder if it will always be there. I don’t notice the emptiness as much when I’m with Peeta – he makes me feel better.

When I get into the woods, I take a seat on the log. The log that Gale and I used to meet each other at. Though it’s not our log anymore – just mine.

I wonder what my mother and I will talk about today. Our conversations are pretty much the same every week. How are you doing? How are Haymitch and Peeta? How is your job at the hospital? 

My mother has surprised me since Prim’s death. She shut down when my father died. She outright quit being a mother – and a functioning person for that matter. And she was that way for a little bit after Prim. Not that I needed her to be a mother to me after Prim – I’ve been taking care of myself for years and I pretty much decided that I didn’t want to live. Until Peeta stopped me from taking that nightlock pill.

But ever since my mother moved to District 4 and started her job at the hospital, it’s almost like new life was instilled into her. Like she’d found a new purpose. I know she’s still sad, but at least she’s functioning like a real person. She has a job. She works. She has her own place. She calls and checks on me.

I think that her going to District 4 was for the best – for both of us. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss her. I do. And sometimes I hate that about myself. I know how to take care of myself – have been for years, but sometimes, all I want is a hug from my mother. But us being apart allows us to heal. If my mother were here, I’d be reminded of Prim’s absence all the time. And she would too – there are too many memories of her in the house, in District 12, or what’s left of it. I don’t think she could bear it.

What scares me the most is that Prim’s death made me realize how similar I am to my mother – whether I want to admit or not. I’ve always said that I took after my father, and I did in most ways, but emotionally, I am my mother. Just like she did when my father died, I shut down when Prim died. Completely removed myself from the world around me. I would only eat to get rid of the pain in my stomach. That was until Peeta came back around. Seeing him plant those primroses in front of my house reminded me of something. It reminded me that even though she’s gone, and that I feel this emptiness, that I owe it to her to live – that’s what she’d want me to do. It reminded me that maybe life can be good again. And that was something that seemed completely unthinkable for a while.

Maybe Peeta is to me what my mother’s job at the hospital is to her. Maybe my mother realized that she too owes it to Prim to live her life and do what they both loved – healing people. Prim died doing what she loved. 

I don’t want to shut down again. I need to break that cycle.

I look up and realize I’ve been sitting on this log for a while now, just thinking. The sun has fully risen at this point. It’s almost time to head back, and I’ve caught nothing. Although, I think it was worth it. We have plenty of meat in the freezer and I needed the time to think. I hadn’t been able to fully form these thoughts until now. Last night, I realized that I needed Peeta, always will. Today, I realized that Peeta makes me feel like life is worth living again. And now – I’m just wondering if what I feel for him is romantic and what he feels for me.

I rise from the log and head home. When I walk into my house, Peeta and Haymitch are surprised to see me.

“I thought you were still asleep,” Peeta says gently. 

“No, I was up early, so I got out earlier today,” I reply. Peeta nods. Neither of them make any mention of my empty game bag.

“Well you’re just in time for breakfast,” he says as he serves me a plate. Our breakfast chatter is normal, which is nice since the past couple of days have been a little tense. Haymitch challenges Peeta to a chess game later today.

“Are you sure you can handle it? I beat you the last two games,” Peeta jokes. Haymitch scowls at him.

“That’s because I hadn’t had enough to drink,” Haymitch says.

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” Peeta retorts. At that, I chuckle, and Peeta looks at me with a smile. I like making him smile.

Peeta and I clean up together after we eat. 

“See you for chess later,” Peeta calls out as Haymitch leaves.

When the door closes behind Haymitch, Peeta looks at me with a soft smile.

“Hey – I wanted to show you something,” he says.

“What is it?” I cross my arms, suddenly nervous.

He crosses over to the other side of the kitchen and opens a drawer. He pulls out a sheet of paper and hands it to me.

I gasp. It’s his drawing of Prim. She’s smiling. It’s perfect. It’s just as I remember her. I feel the tears start to pool in my eyes as I clutch the sheet of paper. A tear runs down my cheek as I look up at Peeta.

I set the sheet of paper on the counter and throw my arms around Peeta’s neck. I nuzzle into his chest as more tears fall.

“Thank you,” I blurt out. “Thank you so much, Peeta.”

“Do you like it?” He asks.

“It’s perfect. I love it.” I say as I lean back but keep my arms wrapped around him. I feel his arms wrapped around my waist. I take a second to gaze into his blue eyes and then my eyes dart down to his lips. I’m so happy, I could kiss him right now. But I don’t because he starts to lets go.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says as we separate from each other. 

“Peeta, this means so much to me. I’m going to put it in my bedside table. So it stays safe,” I tell him. 

“I was thinking that maybe we could get a frame and hang it somewhere – only if you want to,” he suggests.

“I’d love that.”

We stand there gazing at each other for a few seconds. He breaks the silence.

“Well I know it’s your day to talk with Dr. Aurelius and your mother, so I’ll let you get to it,” he says. I pull him in for another hug.

“Thank you. I’ll see you for dinner,” I say as we pull away. He nods, places his hand on my cheek, and then he’s out the door.

 My conversations with Dr. Aurelius are mostly the same every time. Though today, I tell him about my desire to not shut down again.

“That’s good, Katniss. The fact that you’re aware of that and are taking active steps to avoid it shows great progress. You should be proud of yourself,” he says. The rest of our conversation is routine. 

Immediately after, I call my mother. We exchange the usual round of questions and answers. And then I blurt it out.

“Peeta drew me a picture of Prim,” I say.

There’s a pause after I say her name. My mother and I haven’t talked really talked about her, much less mention her name. It’s difficult for the both of us to talk about her, so we avoid it most of the time. I decide to break the silence.

“It’s perfect. It looks just like her,” I say.

“That’s great, Katniss. She deserves to be remembered,” she says with her voice breaking and a sniffle. It’s not often that my mother cries. She’s usually numb and emotionless. Her crying is a good sign. A sign that she’s not shut down anymore. 

“Yes, she does,” I reply.

“Katniss – do you think Peeta could draw her for me too? You two could mail it to me,” she asks.

“Of course. I’ll ask him but I have no doubt that he will,” I reply. We stay silent again for a few seconds, and then say goodbye. 

I sit by the phone for a few moments after we hang up. She deserves to be remembered, my mother said. And she’s right. Not just Prim, though. Finnick. Rue. Boggs. Madge. Wiress. Mags. My father. All of them. So many to name. Come to think of it, their faces are fading from my memory too. I wonder if Peeta would be willing to draw everyone we’ve lost. 

This gives me the best idea.

~

I decide to go to Peeta’s house to tell him about my idea. But when I step out the front door, I see him and Haymitch playing chess on Peeta’s porch. When I approach the steps of his porch, Peeta looks up at me. Haymitch turns around and spots me as well.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says.

“Hi.” I pull up a seat next to Peeta. As I sit down, our shoulders brush each other. I don’t know the first thing about playing chess, but what I do know is that the person with less pieces on the board is losing. Sure enough, Haymitch is down a couple pieces. 

“Had enough to drink, Haymitch?” I tease. He scowls at me.

“Just you wait,” he says. Peeta chuckles.

“How’s your mother doing?” Peeta asks me.

“She’s doing good. I told her about the drawing you did,” I say. Both him and Haymitch look up from the chess board at me.

“What drawing?” Haymitch asks.

“Oh – I drew a picture for Katniss – of Prim,” he says in a rush, looking back down at the chess board.

“Well that was sweet of you, lover boy,” Haymitch teases. Peeta’s cheeks flush at this.

“Yes, it was. My mother put in a formal request. For a drawing,” I don’t have to say her name for him to understand.

“Of course. Consider it done,” he smiles.

“You two are cute. Always there for each other,” Haymitch teases again. And now my face is flushed too. 

I continue watching Haymitch and Peeta play chess. After Peeta takes three more of Haymitch’s pieces, he takes a huge swig from his flask. Peeta and I laugh. I don’t mention my idea to Peeta. I will when it’s the right time. Today has been peaceful. So, I just enjoy it – with my family.