Chapter Text
It's been three days since Peeta came back home. Surprised at his presence the first day, I had fled to the woods. Calmed by his presence the next day, we had eaten breakfast together, each wrapped in our own thoughts.
But yesterday, we found conversation as we talked about the weather, which eventually led to a discussion about the state of District 12. There had been tears all around as we discussed what was left of our tiny village.
Peeta was the one person that I knew that I no longer had to hide any emotions from. He wasn't going to judge me for my weaknesses and I was glad he was here. He went home to paint, and I left for the woods.
I spent the afternoon sitting against a tree lost in thoughts about Peeta. Why was he back? Was there a real chance that my Boy with Bread had come back to me? I wasn't sure if I should dare to dream. I was amazed at how calm he was, how absolutely Peeta-like. His voice was gentle and his eyes concerned. The only thing missing was the spark of love which had been present so long.
In my heart, I knew that I had taken Peeta's love for granted, assuming it would always be there for whenever I made a decision about my future. The cold hard facts were difficult to ignore. I believe he still had feelings for me, but love? Well, probably not and he might never feel it again. All things considered, our positions were exactly reversed from what they were a year ago. Now, I'm the one who is certain after everything that I love Peeta and he's undecided. There's kind of an ironic justice to it all.
The bottom line, though, is the fact that I still struggle with the depression caused by Prim's death. All of the unanswered questions, the what if's and the maybes, wrestle to dominate my conscious mind. I battle an internal struggle between the part of my brain that wants to move forward, and the part of my brain which berates my traitorous thoughts of love.
I sighed heavily as I dragged myself from my thoughts. If I was not careful, I could easily become lost in them and darkness could fall and I wasn't prepared for a night in the woods alone yet.
When I returned home, he and Sae were busy making supper. Conversation between the three of us was somewhat strained as we grasped for something that would not result in an emotional earthquake. Sae ended up telling stories about the people in the kitchen at District 13, which had us laughing at times. It had been so long since I had felt like laughing that I felt a familiar sense of guilt creep over me.
We cleaned up the kitchen together, and Sae left to return home to her granddaughter. Peeta stayed on and he asked about hunting and I asked about his painting. We were trying, but there was so much left unsaid. Still, I was grateful for his presence back in my life.
So, here I was this morning, standing in front of the mirror spending time fussing over my hair as if I was about to go on a date. My mind argued that it was only Peeta waiting downstairs, but still I could not seem to help myself. I had spent far too much time already worrying about what to wear and finally chose a light blue button down shirt with a flower print, and a pair of new blue jeans.
My heart is beating a little faster as I head downstairs and hear his voice. He's talking to Buttercup who apparently has found a potential ally in Peeta.
"Are you a good kitty?" Peeta croons softly, and I can already hear Buttercup purring raggedly. I smile slowly as I stop just outside the kitchen door. "Would you like some milk? I bet you would. What a good kitty. Yes sir! A very good kitty."
"Don't mind me," I say as I enter the kitchen. "You can go right on with whatever you are doing." I'm trying to hide the smile on my face. It's the first time I've even tried to tease in months, and it seems so normal. But what happens next absolutely amazes me in its normality.
"Oh it's okay, we won't mind you, will we kitty?" Peeta is teasing me back, his blue eyes sparkle at me and a smile plays at the corner. I take a moment to smile back, and notice that Buttercup is firmly entrenched on his lap staring at him with wise green eyes.
For the first time since returning home, I reach for the coffee pot and begin filling it. The pot is from our old house and I love it because it was once my father's coffee pot. In that moment, I realize that I am luckier than most District 12 residents as I still have tangible objects to cling to.
"I made muffins this morning just to change things up a bit."
I glance to the covered plate at the side, and wonder how it is that Peeta is able to still bake when so much of his memory had been destroyed. He had proven yesterday that he remembered more than I had originally thought possible as we recalled stores in and around our village which had been destroyed. Maybe he was able to salvage some of the recipes, I muse.
Peeta has always showed an uncanny ability to read my mind except for my feelings about him, so I'm not surprised when he says, "It's strange, I will be standing in my kitchen pulling ingredients out of the cupboard and my hands just seem to start working on their own. Pretty soon I've recreated something that I nearly forgot existed. Dr. Aurelius said most of my memories are just buried and that mundane tasks will jog them to the forefront."
"Do you remember everything after you were rescued?" I ask, surprising myself.
His eyes grow troubled. "Yes, pretty much. I mean some things are a little foggy." He's still holding Buttercup close, but he's quit stroking his fur.
I wonder what he's thinking of at that point as I watch his eyes. So far, I have not see any sign that he is having a flashback of any kind. Since the day of the kiss back in the Capitol, he hasn't exhibited any violent behavior toward me and I don't feel any fear being alone with him, but still I worry that he might have an episode that would force me to confront my own role in his torture.
"I'm sorry," he blurts. "Katniss, you have no idea how sorry I am." There are now tears threatening in his eyes. He gently sets Buttercup on the floor.
"Oh Peeta," I shake my head quickly. "Peeta, you have nothing to apologize for. I know what they did to you."
"You have no idea, Katniss," he wipes his eyes. "I couldn't help myself. I tried to kill you twice, and I had horrible guilt. I wanted to die." His shoulders shake, and I can't help myself as I rush to hold him. Our first hug in months, he grasps me firmly and I feel the strong arms of old, no hesitation. His face is buried in my shoulder.
I'm still holding him when Sae walks in. She's seen everything in her life, and then some. She glances in our direction but says nothing at the sight of the the broken young man weeping on my shoulder. In my head I hear my father's words, "Sometimes you just have to cry Katniss. It's how our soul heals itself." So I let him cry. Eventually, I stroke his head and he calms himself.
"Peeta, please don't blame yourself. I don't blame you." I feel a nod against my shoulder, and a weight I never realized that I carried, lifted.
He lowers himself into a chair and I move to sit in mine. So much has changed but it's comforting to have him here. I realize for the first time how much I have missed holding him and having him hold me back. I consider the young man before me, his eyes reddened. Somehow or another, he's managed to return to his sweet, compassionate self. My heart aches as I realize that he's struggling to get back to the Peeta of old.
I notice again the remnants of burns. His scars are much less marked than mine even though last fall they were every bit as apparent. For the first time I realize that I'm unaware of how Peeta came to be burned. I fidget in my chair, knowing that his answer would take me back to that fateful day but still my curiosity surges until finally, "How were you burned?"
The head jerks are simultaneous — Peeta's head in front of mine and Sae's over by the stove in my peripheral. Peeta turns toward Sae, who is now looking directly at him. She nods slightly. "Go ahead, boy. She deserves to know."
My heart inexplicably races at her words. "Deserves to know?"
Peeta clears his throat, but hesitates. Finally, "Ummm. Well, remember when we left Tigris' house? I was going to create a diversion?" I nod, and he continues. "I was keeping you and Gale in my sight, but I was trailing about twenty-five yards behind. Not too close, you know in case I was recognized sooner. When you two stopped, I stopped. I guess I just wanted to make sure you were safe."
It's a fact of our lives these past few years, always protecting each other whenever we were able.
"Well, when the street collapsed, I was just about to put foot on it. I saw you start to run toward the edge, and Gale heading off to the side. It was crumbling so fast, and then I saw you dive and grasp the edge. My heart was racing. I began running to the left around the next block. There were no pods or if there were, they weren't active. By the time I had rounded the corner sprinting toward you, you had managed to pull yourself up to the street and you were looking back toward where I knew Gale was perched. Everything about the Capitol reminded me of an arena. Tick tock."
I nodded as his words took me back to that awful day. The fear, the desperation, and like a train, his words chugged toward Prim, and I knew it.
"You started back toward City Center and I closed the gap to ten yards or so. You weren't looking back anymore, so I edged up until you stopped. My focus was on you the whole time, and then I saw the barricades and Peacekeepers, and the children. At first, I didn't understand what was going on. Then I saw the parachutes."
He stops, and I know that he's uncertain whether to continue. I think my face is impassive but then I feel the tears spilling down my cheeks. "Katniss, maybe it's better not to talk anymore about this. It's been … emotional … already today."
I shake my head "no" and tell him to continue.
He inhales shakily, but his blue eyes never waiver from mine. "There were … ummm … all those kids," his tears are flowing freely now and he doesn't try to wipe them away. "They were reaching up and you could see the hope." I'm transported back to that day, hearing Peeta's words but no longer seeing him as he speaks.
"Those damned games made those kids think they were receiving a reward. Then the bombs went off, and I stood in shock. I couldn't move forward. I couldn't make myself, and I felt so useless. The kids were screaming and there was pandemonium and then I saw the medics from 13 arrive. I was surprised how quickly they arrived on the scene."
I nod, again the rising suspicion overtakes me. The medics arrived as if they were expected.
"Then I heard you call her name." He doesn't say it, but there's only one name that I called. "And I scanned and saw her, just before the second blast." His shoulders are shaking now and there are sobs coming from all three of us. "Oh God, Katniss, the fire shot out and engulfed you and those stupid furs and it was like it was alive, and I rushed forward and pushed you down and worked to smother them. It was hard to get them out." His words hit me like a ton of bricks as I realize that he was burned saving me.
"After I got the flames extinguished, I wasn't sure whether you were even alive but I knew I had to go for Prim." There. He said it. Her name. I'm listening intently in spite of my uncontrolled sobbing. "I'm so sorry, Katniss. I tried. I tried to help her. I carried her out and laid her beside you, but she was so badly burned. I'm just so sorry."
So here it was. Peeta, the boy who was tortured because of his love for me, who was fighting demons that no one could imagine, had overcome everything to try to rescue Prim. Always. Peeta was always the decent, gentle boy that I had known.
"Please don't hold it against me, Katniss," he croaked from behind his hands.
"What?" I gasped between sobs.
"Please don't hold it against me that I didn't save her. I tried, I really did but …" His body is convulsing with sobs and he can't finish.
"Oh Peeta," and for the second time today, I'm holding him tightly. "It's not your fault. It's not." We stand there together, each lost in our own grief for several minutes.
"When I reached her, Katniss, she was slipping away but she recognized me and told me that she loved you. I gathered her up in my arms and she rested her head on my shoulder, and was gone by the time I got back to you." Without realizing it, his words comfort me. I had worried that she had died alone, and here Peeta had been there for her, lifting her up with all of his gentleness, and allowing her to die with her head pillowed on his shoulder. The fact that she spoke her love for me in her dying breath also lent some comfort to me.
Tears flow hot against my cheek, and my sobbing has increased, but I hold tightly to Peeta. Nearly an hour later, the three of us sit at the table emotionally drained. Finally, I turn to Sae who was in 13 at that time, "How did you know?"
"Oh," said Sae, "It was on the news that night, broadcast to all the districts. They said the 'male half' of the star-crossed lovers of District 12 had protected his Mockingjay and her little sister. They showed video of Peeta with melted skin hanging from him standing over the two of you and directing the medics in to help you. He refused help until Prim was attended to as well. Eyewitnesses told the rest of the story of seeing him rush forward and douse the flames on you, and then move directly in to help Prim. All of us back in 13 who knew his story, were pretty overwhelmed by him. Later, they said he turned down the medal offered for valor and heroic efforts."
I look questioningly at Peeta, who shrugs. "It wasn't heroism that motivated me that day." There's no question what his motivation was, and my heart clenches.
Shortly after, Peeta returns to his painting, and I head back to my woods to sort through everything. My heart is undeniably heavy. Two boys who had vied for my heart were such polar opposites of each other. Gale burned with rebellion. He believed strongly in the adage, "an eye for an eye." Peeta was a mediator, gentle and compassionate, potentially sacrificing his own life for love.
One may have killed her, and in fact, I'm more convinced than ever that even though the decision was not his, the apparatus of her death was his brainchild. The other looked inside himself that day and fought off the tortured demons that haunted him, and rushed in to save not only me but Prim at a great cost to his personal well being.
In my heart, I know Gale would never knowingly have killed Prim, but the fact of the matter was that he wanted to not only kill but to inflict as much psychological pain as possible. I'm glad that he found employment in another district and part of me hopes never to see him again. I don't want to confront the possibility that he would ask for forgiveness.
Those thoughts lead in the direction of Peeta, who had feared that I would not be able to forgive him because he was unable to save Prim. He might have gone a lifetime without telling me about that day to spare me the pain, but I'm glad to know. Even though heroism was not his driving force, he certainly was a hero in my opinion. I need to find a way to thank him for what he did for Prim that day.
Sae's words echo in my head about Peeta's melted flesh, and I know the pain he was in. The fact that he pushed for them to care for Prim before himself, again speaks volumes of how deeply rooted his character is. Not even the devious minds of the Capitol could alter Peeta sufficiently to abandon me or Prim.
As I've been thinking, I have been digging a small hole with my fingers. Prim's body lies in a Capitol graveyard, and I need to move it home. Because of how my father died, there is no grave, and somehow I know that I need one. In fact, we need someway to memorialize all those who have fallen.
Today is not the day to mention it to Peeta, though. I glance toward the sky and realize that Dr. Aurelius will likely call soon, so I head home. The phone is ringing as I enter the house and I rush to answer it, the first time since returning.
His voice registers a note of surprise when I pickup. I've never spoken to him about anything, and suddenly I find myself rushing through everything. He's not surprised that Peeta is here and that we are talking. He doesn't ask me if I'm afraid.
I tell him about Peeta rescuing me and realize that he already knows. He adds some details about Peeta's injuries and how severe they were. He talks about how he had quenched the blaze with his own body and had spent even longer in the burn unit than me. I find myself wishing I had sought out Peeta last fall.
Finally, I tell him about the need to memorialize everyone. As I talk, I feel something foreign, borderline excitement. The knowledge that I'm starting to manage my own grief. The idea begins to take shape in the form of a book, and my thoughts rush to my family book and Peeta's help with it. I find myself asking him if he thinks Peeta could handle the project, and he tells me that Peeta is one of the strongest, most driven young men he knows and that he's sure of it.
Before I realize it, three hours have passed and I bid him a hasty goodbye before Sae and Peeta arrive. I quickly rush to the bathroom to douse my face in cool water, hoping to alleviate the evidence of the tears I've shed most of the day. My soul is lighter though, and I realize the truth behind my father's words. I've begun to heal.
I hear the screen door downstairs, and hurry down, hoping that it is Peeta. He's busy at the counter already working by the time I get there.
"Peeta?" My voice is hoarse and raspy sounding from all the talking and crying today.
He looks up, his eyes full of concern.
"I just wanted to thank you. For Prim. For everything." The words don't come easily to me, and he knows it. There's relief in his expression, and he nods his acceptance, and returns to work on the project in front of him.
I go to the refrigerator and begin pulling the fresh vegetables out. Since the rebellion, food has been flowing between all districts, and we now have plenty to purchase. We buy directly off the train when it arrives, and we in Victor's Village are much better than elsewhere because we have electricity, and ample storage.
I clean and cut them, humming as I work. Peeta is quiet and we work in companionable silence. There's much on my mind. We will need to talk but today has already been too full of emotions.
"I'm going to rebuild the bakery," Peeta says in an offhand but resolute manner.
His declaration makes me smile, as I realize that he's putting down firm roots again. "That's good. We need a bakery."
"Yes, I was down there today and talking with Thom. They are sending equipment from 2 to help remove some of the rubble, and then we are going to start rebuilding. We are planning now for what is needed, and what we need for the future. I think you should be in on the planning."
I don't answer immediately because truth be told, I was never in most of the shops, just the bakery and the butcher, and the Hob, of course. The Hob. Would we ever need a place like that again?
Without realizing, I've spoken out loud, and Peeta looks up considering it. "I was never really part of the Hob. But I think we could use a place where people could trade until we have enough cash in circulation. I could bring bread and other goods, flour and such. It would be a good way for me to use some of the winnings."
Peeta, Haymitch and I were the only ones with a lot of money. Too much, and his idea is good.
"Maybe that should be the first building rebuilt. It would do the most immediate good. He hurries to finish the rolls he's been working on and puts them in the oven. Then he reaches for the ever-present sketch book. "Do you have a straight edge?" I reach into the drawer and hand him a beat up one I used in school.
"How many booths were there?"
I have to think now, and it's a little painful. I count in my head and see their faces. "Twelve."
He nods. "Maybe their should be more? Like 16 or 20?" Because we could add baked goods, your game, and construction supplies. I'm going to put in an order to the Capitol for nails and such. Thom suggested a saw mill and we could cut our own boards from surrounding hills. …"
Boards from my forest. Trees would be felled. At first, my stomach clenches, but then I realize that my woods could help rebuild our district and it feels right. I glance toward Peeta and notice his tongue resting at the edge of his lips. He's engrossed in his project.
Sae arrives minutes later, and Peeta is anxious to get her opinion. Typical of Peeta, he approaches the subject with finesse. "Sae, we've been thinking about our district, what we need to preserve from the past, and so forth." Sae listens attentively. "I never really got to know much about the Hob, but it was such an important part of the district before it was burned, and I'm wondering if it shouldn't be again. We desperately need a place to trade."
Her reaction is positive. "Boy, that's what I was thinking just the other day. Good place to trade, that's what we need."
"Good. I was sketching based on what I could recall from the outside, but what do you think?"
"I think it's good to remember the past, but let's not get stuck there. The old Hob was cold in the winter and unbearable in the summer. We didn't have much room and there weren't real walls to protect the goods, plus we sold hard liquor right next to diaper cloth."
"So improving the building while retaining the concept?"
Sae nodded.
"We were also talking that maybe Katniss and I could have booths. People could trade for wild game, berries or bread."
"I like that idea. I always wanted a place where folks could come for a sandwich and soup and sit."
With a flourish, Peeta rips his original design out and starts fresh. "Keep telling me everything you want, the dimensions, everything. Then we will start buying supplies and hire the able-bodied people to start building. If we have to, we can contact people from other districts to come help."
Supper is all but forgotten as we began to discuss it. There's an undeniable feeling of promise as we discuss the project. Peeta's face is flushed as he works with Sae hovering at his elbow making suggestions here and there.
Finally, it's there on paper, drawn to scale — 24 booths and a large eating area on one end. We begin filling the gaps of what each booth should contain. Peeta places our booths side by side at the end and reasons that one person can watch both so we can maintain our "inventory."
A few minutes later, I notice that Sae has stepped back and is regarding Peeta with a sort of curious disbelief. He's been talking on about purchasing the lumber and hiring people, and to me it's just Peeta speaking. Nothing out of the ordinary. He's always been generous, a doer.
Finally, Sae interrupts, "Most people won't have money to buy your goods, you know. You really gonna trade with them for scraps of cloth and whatnot?"
Peeta grasps immediately the context of what she is saying. "I don't expect any coins for the baked goods but I know that it's important that people feel they have paid for something, so yes, I'll take whatever is offered."
"You're not like most merchants," Sae says evenly.
Peeta smiles a bit ruefully. "I'm really not like any merchant. Ever since winning the games with Katniss, the 'wealth' part of being a victor bothered me. I've always felt it somewhat of a burden, and want to share it. If I can help rebuild 12 with it, then so much the better."
The "wealth part" as Peeta describes it, is the portion of our winnings which arrives annually. The new government had opted to maintain the payments, in spite of the fact that the new regime was not responsible for the Hunger Games. In fact, with only seven victors left, the government had increased our payments and other benefits, probably assuaging some kind of guilt about not protecting seventy-five years worth of tribute children from the various districts.
I feel a smile cross my lips and remember how he promised to give part of our winnings to Rue and Thresh's family. "Me too. I want to help too." Peeta's eyes meet mine for the first time in forever. Not just a parting glance, but a deep soul-searching, unwavering stare. Normally, I would feel uncomfortable under his scrutiny, but I understand him more than ever.
Sae shakes her head in disbelief. I know her interaction with the merchants of 12 was strained at best, so to hear Peeta's words must be a little strange to her. "Boy, I always knew you had a different kind of heart." It's probably the greatest compliment she can give to Peeta, who smiles in return.
Smiles and laughter still seem foreign to me. A fresh wave of guilt washes over me as I consider the number of times I've smiled or laughed in the past few days. I'm reminded of Prim whose smile and laughter I will never again see or hear. I move away from the table and busy myself with the forgotten supper preparations.
Peeta notices my departure and soon I feel his hand on my shoulder, gently squeezing. Again, he is sensing my mood absolutely correctly. "Katniss, our losses have been … significant, but we need to live for them. Prim would want this." He sounds certain of it. Certain of Prim's wishes. In my heart, I know it's true. Prim was growing up, had grown up, and her concerns were not for herself. She would want me to stop mourning her and move forward. I'm just not sure that I'm ready.
In that moment, however, I remember that Peeta's losses are even greater than mine. He has no family left, both brothers and his parents are gone. There's also that fact that so much has been taken from him through the torture. Yet, he is moving forward with his life. Peeta gives me hope that I will be able to do the same.
Our meal is overcooked, but no one seems to notice or mind. Sae is telling stories about what the Hob was like in the early days. Some are sad, others funny, but mostly they are a history lesson. Peeta asks many questions, and Sae obligingly answers all of them.
When she notices the time, Sae rushes to help cleanup. We assure her that it's not a problem for us to cleanup, and she heads out the door for home.
Peeta begins to wash dishes, and I pick up the towel to dry. After several minutes of silence, "Are you using the lotion?"
"What?" Not sure I had heard correctly.
"The lotion. For the scarring and adaptation of your new skin."
I frown. "I don't have any lotion. I don't think I ever have." But then I remember a bottle given to me when I moved to Snow's mansion. There were vague instructions, but I was not really adhering to anything at that point, let alone instructions to apply the lotion to my burned areas several times a day.
"I'll be right back." True to his word, Peeta returns a few minutes later carrying a small bottle of light blue lotion. "I noticed your arms just now, and you need to start applying the lotion so that the scarring won't be so bad and your skin will adapt to the new skin. It'll help you be in the sun too."
"What about you?" I had noticed that Peeta's scarring was significantly less than mine, and his new skin mostly the same color as his natural skin.
"I have another, but I will make sure they send more out by train. The new skin is so delicate." Delicate. Yep, that's the word for it. Mine had a tendency to be baby pink when I bathed, and I still remembered how I bled when I wore the Mockingjay costume. Of course, the Capitol had something to help. They had sent something to me to heal my burn in the first arena.
"Thanks."
"Massage it all the way in, morning and night. You might need a midday application too since you have not been using it. Your skin will feel kind of tight for awhile, but I think you will see improvement right away." He sounded like a doctor.
Peeta left for his house and I walked upstairs to my room, carrying the small bottle with me. I applied the lotion as Peeta had directed, and sought out my bed, hoping for a dreamless sleep. But it wasn't to be, as hours later I was pulled from my sleep by an excruciating nightmare: Peeta pulling Prim to safety, only to be consumed in fire as well.
My heart was pounding, and a darkness washed over me.