Chapter Text
Peeta POV
Walking through the remnants of my former home is a shock. I skip town because I don't think I could handle seeing my home—or what used to be it, anyway.
I walk around the edge of the woods, the wheelbarrow lingering where I left it, near Victor’s Village. I wander, thinking to myself about her. Katniss. Her strength and her eyes. Her stormy grey eyes, how they could put me in a trance, leaving me beyond repair. I hear a rustle in the distance, a shaking of a bush of some sort. I gasped loudly, the woods were always Katniss’.
Katniss. I had just gotten here this morning from the Capitol, and have not seen her yet. I sit down in the short grass, slightly yellowed from a lack of water, and sigh. I miss her, but I knew I did not get that privilege. Only she could make the first move. Looking out into the woods that were no longer a restricted zone to us, I see a flicker of yellow.
I knew what that was, from working with Katniss on the plant book when she had hurt her ankle. I had not drawn that page, but I added color to it. I remember this one. Real. This was not a memory that Snow or any of my torturers could have ever taken from me.
The yellow flower in the distance is an evening primrose. I know what happened to Prim. I was there, I had only seen a flicker of her blonde hair before it went into flames.
I stand up, shaking the thought of that day away. It’s where my body had become a mismatched quilt of memories, some of the skin on my back, arms, and leg is now pink and tender. I looked like the mutt that the Capitol had turned me into.
Not real. I need to stop doing it. The therapist at the Capitol assures me that I am not a mutt, but only a mutt version of myself would ever have hurt Katniss, and that is exactly what I did to her.
I have been digging all day, and I flick a bead of sweat from my brow bone. Before I let myself pick up the shovel again I walk over to the delicate flower, a symbol of what we have lost, and pluck it from the ground. I hold it close to my heart, taking a deep breath in to calm myself until I hear soft footsteps walking towards me.
“You’re back” I hear her say.
“Doctor Aurelius wouldn’t let me leave the Capitol until yesterday,” I say. For some reason a memory of what he said to me before I left resurfaces. I tell her, “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.”
I look at her with my head tilted, wondering what she is thinking. But I notice her state. Her hair is so matted, and she is incredibly thin. She has circles as dark as night under her eyes, and her clothes look so sodden they might fall off. This feeling inside of me tinges, making me feel like I want to cry. I promised to take care of her and look at the great job I’ve done. I was unable to stay with her when I promised to always be with her.
She looks at me with an incomprehensible look, probably noticing that my face has shifted into a frown, and starts speaking again.
“What are you doing?” She sounds defensive and angry, and I wonder if this is the right thing to do.
“I went to the woods this morning and dug these up. For her,” I say, “I thought we could plant them along the side of the house.” She knows exactly who I am talking about.
She looks at the wheelbarrow, and I continue talking, even if she seems tuned out. “I saw the bushes and remembered the plant book. They are evening primroses.”
She gives me a silent nod and just leaves. I wonder if I have done something wrong or upset her. Of course, I have! I just brought up her sister, whom she volunteered to go to the Hunger Games for, and she still died, helping children not much younger than her.
I wave absently and return to Victor’s Village, bearing the wheelbarrow. I go to her house, the far side of it, and plant the bushes, just as another act to remind her of her dead sister. Damn, Mellark , do you have to rub it in, she is already suffering, just based on her appearance. The worst part is I know it is I know it is worse. Yet, I can’t do anything about it.
Shaking my head, I walk back to my house, needing a shower.
I stand under the water long after it gets cold, just to let out the cries I wanted to earlier. I cry for all we have lost, I cry that I couldn’t take care of her when she needs someone, and everyone she trusts has left her. I don’t know if I will ever get Katniss back to trusting me, just because I couldn’t fight it. Damn.
I see Sae walking into Katniss’ house and see her bearing ingredients, and I know she is making Katniss breakfast. That instantly gives me an idea.
I bake, and I realize how much I missed it in the Capitol. I make a couple of loaves of bread until I find one that is perfect. I will give the rest to Haymitch, but I haven’t seen the drunk either.
I walk into Katniss’ house when she walks down the stairs. She looks better, she is in clean clothes, and her dark hair is in a braid. She gives me a kind smile, a genuine smile, and I can feel myself blush at it. With a warm loaf in my hand. I give it to Sae without a word, and without a word, she gives me a nod. She must think I can help Katniss.
I sit down to eat with them. There is no conversation but it is comforting silence. I look at Katniss the whole time, but I know she feeds the cat all her bacon.
––o––
I come over for every meal, every day for weeks before Katniss says a word. At dinner, she says,
“I talked to Aurelius today. I’m making a memory book, like the plant book.” That made me smile until I woke up screaming, returned to the Capitol. Not real.
Katniss is starting to return to her old self, and I even see her smile when I bring cheese buns to breakfast one morning. She encourages me to better myself every day.
We start to work on the book. Together. She started by asking me to draw a picture of Madge, the Mayor's daughter, because she did not have one, and of course, I obliged.
I now stay after dinner, every day, to even just hold her while she cries. We talk about what was so great about them. We both cry talking about our Stylists, the people who gave us the chance to be here today. We cry about my father, the tributes who died for us to live, the friends we had made, Finnick, and Prim. I allow myself to show emotions I never thought I would have. I even shed a tear for my mother, no matter how many times I got hit with a rolling pin, bled from her ring cutting my cheeks, had to go to school with bruises and have to lie about it, or not be able to sit down for a week, she still raised me, and I still lover her. Katniss and I, and eventually Haymitch made a promise, to these loved ones we have lost, to live well, and make their deaths count.
I look at my father, or the painting of him that I have made for the Memory Book, and see the resemblance, I don’t know if he would recognize me anymore, through the horrors I went through in the Capitol. I look over at Katniss next to me, realizing Haymitch has left while I was painting, to tell her I am done, but I find her snoring softly. I smile, knowing she has trouble sleeping, and bend over to pick her up.
I realize that I have done this before, thinking back to when she asked me to stay with her. Real.
I walk as silently as I can with my leg, of course, the mechanic thing the Capitol gave me makes a ton of noise, to her dismay.
But, alas, I reach her room, and set her down on the mattress, smiling at her sleeping figure. I tuck her in, knowing she gets cold when she sleeps. I bend down to take the tendril of hair that has fallen out of her braid and place it behind her ear. Her eyes flutter open and I see the storms inside her eyes, diminished with the hope of sleep. Damn. I know she needs sleep, why would I do that? But I hear a quiet voice asking me a question I know I can’t say no to.
“Peeta, stay with me.” My heart skips a beat as I respond, mechanically, laying down beside her.
“Always, Katniss, Always.” I curl in next to her pulling her to my chest and feeling her relax as she holds me closer to her, wrapping her arms around my body, and I feel a flush to my cheeks. Once I am next to her, I start to hear her breathing slow and turn into a light snore.
Now, sitting here, with a sleeping Katniss in my arms, I realize a simple fact. One I will never be able to banish from my hijacked mind, because I know exactly what I need, for the rest of my life, and what I could not live without. I understand why I went through everything I did and came back. I understand why Snow didn’t kill me immediately. I know why I volunteered for the Quell and teamed up with the Careers. I understand why I made every choice I have ever made since I was five years old.
I am deeply, madly in love with Katniss Everdeen. I fall asleep soundly, without any nightmares, because she is with me, and I fall asleep with a giddy smile on my face, not even one the torture in the Capitol could wipe off.
––o––
I wake up, not by a nightmare, but by the stream of sunlight fading in the window. It hits my eyes and they flutter open, but when I reach around to shield my eyes, my arms are wrapped around Katniss. I look at her, and wonder how I am so incredibly lucky she trusts me enough to do this. I shuffle slightly down from the stream of light, hoping not to disturb Katniss, and I just sit and look at her for a minute.
I admire how soft and youthful she looks in her sleep, how she is not the girl who had to fight in the games twice, lose everyone and everything around her, or lead a rebellion at seventeen, but she is just a normal girl. Her skin shows marks of what we went through, her multicolored arms and neck match mine, and her forearm shows the scar from Johanna’s axe, taking out her tracker to save her, from what I went through in the Capitol. I reminisce on her scars until I see one that doesn't match. I see a faint white line on her left wrist, straight as can be. Not jagged, or curved, but I know only one thing could do that. A single tear falls down my face as I know what she tried to do. I don’t know when it was from, if it was in Thirteen, or after her trial. But, I hadn’t noticed it until now. More and more tears follow for a minute, knowing I couldn't have helped her from– from something bigger than both of us.
After the tears died down, I look at how happy she seems to be now, carefree and unlike I have seen her recently. She is safe and that is real. I pull her closer to me if that is possible. I place a feather-light kiss on her dark hair and mumble sweet nothings at her, until eventually, I fall asleep, and my breathing comes in tandem with hers.