#katniss did everything she could to protect peeta inside and outside of the arena

[readingforaneternity]

One thing I hate the most is when I see ppl use “you could live a hundred lifetimes and never deserve that boy” from CF as a way to say Katniss isn’t worthy of Peeta, and that he deserved better than her.

I hate it so much and I hate Haymitch a little for saying that to her. If we’re talking about reaction times, it’s not a fair argument to say that Katniss didn’t turn into the Flash and zoom on over to Haymitch’s to strike a deal with him to save Peeta’s life.

She had a PTSD episode. I just never get the fact that ppl hold that against her.

I think ppl forget that Snow came into her home and threatened her. The burden was on her to convince the Districts and Snow of her love for Peeta. So for her to see the consequence of her failure is frightening.

[theartofdreaming1]

Slightly paraphrased, but Peeta talking about that moment he developed his crush on Katniss is just too sweet 😊

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and random thoughts on chapters 22-24 are below the cut (sprinkled in some psychology thoughts again).

heart

Honestly, I think the people in Panem would perceive the whole everlark storyline the same way we perceive and react to our ships on tv (desperately wanting to reach through the screen, shoving the characters forcefully together, screaming “And now, kiss!”); especially the Capitolites who barely recognize the tributes (or people in the districts, in general) as people. The people in the districts would definitely view the whole thing more under a “reality tv” kind of lens, questioning how much of the relationship is real or not (we know that Finnick certainly thought that the entire thing was just a spiel, until Peeta hit that forcefield). The time spent in the cave must have been pretty convincing, though.

mind

I think that Katniss is still torn here - On the one hand, she kind of wants to believe that Peeta is actually into her (remember the happiness she felt when Peeta told her how his crush on her began, and it all added up and seemed so real), but on the other hand she’s terrified of that possibility because A) lingering trauma from her mom’s depression in response the Mr. Everdeen’s death, B) Katniss never even considered falling in love, so that’s a sudden unexpected thing to deal with, and C) maybe it’s just for the sake of the Games; and wouldn’t that hurt, getting your hopes up only to learn it was only for show? (How about we ask Peeta about that?)

soul

Yeah, that quote about Peeta only eating stale bread also struck me as quite sad. It just further adds to his understanding how there should be more to life than just survival, though. (One day, I’ll make that post about Peeta, Katniss, and Maslow’s pyramid of needs, I swear! I’ve already gathered some research material)

Chapter 22

My mother’s hand strokes my cheek and I don’t push it away as I would in wakefulness, never wanting her to know how much I crave that gentle touch. How much I miss her even though I still don’t trust her. - Ugh, I can’t... Katniss misses her mom, misses being cared for😢 I’m so glad we’re going to see her patch up her relationship with her mom in CF... On a different note, Katniss craving that gentle touch just perfectly illustrates why she’s so drawn to Peeta, who is generally such a gentle soul (I mean, he’s literally the person stroking her cheek here 😊)

He [Peeta] doesn’t seem angry about my tricking him, drugging him, and running off to the feast. Maybe I’m just too beat-up and I’ll hear about it later when I’m stronger. But for the moment, he’s all gentleness. - As I was saying... 😉

“I’ll go hunting soon,” I say. “Not too soon, all right?” he says. “You just let me take care of you for a while.” - I love them so much😊🥰 And then Peeta makes sure she’s well-fed and hydrated, he rubs her cold feet and tucks her into the sleeping back... and she let’s him! 💗

“He [Thresh] let you go because he didn’t want to owe you anything?” asks Peeta in disbelief. “Yes. I don’t expect you to understand it. You’ve always had enough. But if you’d lived in the Seam, I wouldn’t have to explain,” I say. “And don’t try. Obviously I’m too dim to get it,” he says. - Oof. This exchange here is interesting in many ways: 1) it highlights their different experiences, tied to their different socioeconomic backgrounds, basically, and 2)  that Katniss is very much aware of this difference, but we also see hints of her own ignorance here - because Peeta didn’t have to starve in his childhood, she thinks that he can’t possibly understand this level of hardship; but there are other ways in which one can suffer/lack fundamental needs, which brings us to 3) Peeta’s response about being “obviously too dim to get it”; I think this is a clue to his mom being also verbally abusive towards him: she called him “stupid creature” when he burnt those loaves of bread for Katniss and when he’s losing it in the attic of the Justice Building in D11 in CF he is mad that Katniss and Haymitch keep things from him “like [he’s] too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them”, which - to me - sounds like he’s tired of being treated that way (i.e. the way his mother treats him)

“I want to go home, Peeta,” I say plaintively, like a a small child. - God, this is a teenager in a murder-arena who feels like wanting to go home is a childish notion instead of a totally legitimate wish for anyone in that situation, regardless of age 😢

It’s not that Peeta’s soft exactly, and he’s proved he’s not a coward. But there are things you don’t question too much, I guess, when your home always smells like baking bread, whereas Gale questions everything. What would Peeta think of the irreverent banter that passes between us as we break the law each day? Would it shock him? The things we say about Panem? Gale’s tirades against the Capitol? - Geez, Katniss, give Peeta some credit here! A) It’s not like Peeta can walk around District 12 talking publicly about the injustices happening there - she and Peeta hadn’t even talked with each other before the reaping, whereas Gale is her best friend who rants to her while they are outside the confines of D12 and B) Peeta is literally the one who introduced the whole “not a piece in their Games”-idea to her; why would he be clutching his pearls over Katniss and Gale’s irreverent banter?! Just because Peeta didn’t live on the brink of starvation (she again brings up how his house smells like bread and - at this point - still thinks that the family running the bakery actually gets to eat what they produce just like that), doesn’t mean he doesn’t see how shitty life in D12 is - he can still want better conditions for those who are worse off than him!

“I did do the right thing,” I say. “No! Just don’t, Katniss!” His grip tightens, hurting my hand, and there’s real anger in his voice. “Don’t die for me. You won’t be doing me any favors. All right?” - Well, we’ll see this song and dance again in CF...

And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don’t want him to die. [...] And it’s not about what will happen back home. And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.” - I wish CF Katniss would remember this moment when she is questioning her motives about saving Peeta’s life in the arena - You. Care. For. This. Boy! You. Value. Him. For. Who. He. Is!!!

This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. [...] This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another. - Whoo! Is it hot in here or is it just me? 😉

I’m struck by his immediacy now. As we settle in, he pulls my head down to use his arm as a pillow; the other rests protectively over me even when he goes to sleep. No one has held me like this in such a long time. Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else’s arms have made me feel this safe. - He makes her feel safe in a murder-arena!!! 😭 This is the kind of stuff that makes everlark just a top tier romance, tbh

Peeta telling Katniss about his crush starting on their first day of school 🥰😭 - and her reaction to it... For a moment, I’m almost foolishly happy - yes, because you have a crush on him, too! - and then confusion sweeps over me. Because we’re supposed to be making up this stuff [...] So, if those details are true... could it all be true? - YESSSSSSSS!!!

“You have a... remarkable memory, “ I say haltingly. - as a severely socially awkward person... I felt that lame response in my bones 😅

“You don’t have much competition anywhere.” And this time, it’s me who leans in. - God, this would be such an amazing moment if it didn’t get tainted by that immediate sponsor gift, which just serves to muddle Katniss’s feelings with her sense of survival, further complicating her relationship with Peeta... *sigh* 

Chapter 23

“What was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me... no competition... best thing that ever happened to you...” “I don’t remember that last part,” I say, hoping it’s too dim in here for the cameras to pick up my blush. “Oh, that’s right. That’s what I was thinking,” he says. - Peeta is the master of being a cheeky little shit and adorable flirt at the same time

“So, since we were five, you never even noticed any other girls?” I ask him. “No, I noticed just about every girl, but none of them made a lasting impression but you,” he says. - I appreciate that while Peeta has had a crush on Katniss forever, he clearly didn’t spend the entire time pining after her, oblivious to the rest of the world - he has a life outside of Katniss Everdeen, but ultimately, it all lead back to her

A disturbing thought hits me. “But then, our only neighbor will be Haymitch!” “Ah, that’ll be nice,” says Peeta, tightening his arms around me. “You and me and Haymitch. Very cozy. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tales.” “I told you, he hates me!” I say, but I can’t help laughing at the image of Haymitch becoming my new pal. - Laugh all you want, this is going to end up being your future anyway 😄

He [Haymitch]’s at something of a disadvantage because most mentors have a partner, another victor to help them whereas Haymitch has to bready to go into action at any moment. Kind of like me when I was alone in the arena. I wonder how he’s holding up, with the drinking, the attention, and the stress of tring to keep us alive. - Katniss is already worrying about her “new pal”, I see ;)

Maybe he [Haymitch] wasn’t always a drunk. Maybe, in the beginning, he tried to help the tributes. But then it got unbearable. It must be hell to mentor two kids and then watch them die. - Honestly, that sounds absolutely awful...

Poor, Katniss, when she learns of Thresh’s death :( - But no one will understand my sorrow at Thresh’s murder. - It’s horrible how compassion and basic human decency gets construed as ‘weakness’ in the world of Hunger Games (esp. the Capitol)

Then I escape into sleep, comforted by a full belly and the steady warmth of Peeta beside me. - Honestly, I think a word analysis of THG-series could be interesting; how often does Katniss mention “warmth”, “steady/steadiness” “safe/safety/security” in connection with “Peeta”?

“We make a goat cheese and apple tart at the bakery,” he says. “Bet that’s expensive,” I say. “Too expensive for my family to eat. Unless it’s gone very stale. Of course, practically everything we eat is stale,” says Peeta [...] Huh. I always assumed the shopkeepers live a soft life. And it’s true, Peeta has always had enough to eat. But there’s something kind of depressing about living your life on stale bread - Katniss is starting to realize that the lives of the merchants isn’t a cushy as she thought; also, in a way, we see a “prettier” version of how Panem treats the districts overall -> feeding the districts just enough that they can do their work (plus/minus a couple of people who’ll die of starvation, but at a small, for Capitolites insignificant margin), but not so much that they are in good shape to rebel; here, the merchants of D12 have just enough that they can live a “decent” life (they know it could be worse -> the Seam), but they don’t have enough to live a free, comfortable, self-determined life either. This also just further drives a wedge between the inhabitants of D12 (the merchants won’t want to rebel because they don’t want to get ‘demoted’ in their lifestyle, starving like the people from the Seam, and the Seam folk feel resentful towards the merchant people, while also not having the resources to rebel, due to their awful socioeconomic conditions)

What would be my life like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I’m not really sure who I am, what my identity is. - It’s so sad who Katniss has been so consumed with ensuring that her most base needs are fulfilled that she barely has had the time to really figure out who she is and what she wants from life (If we’re talking Maslow’s pyramid of needs, Katniss would primarily be stuck on the lowest tier 😢)

At least, we’ll be friends, I think. Nothing will change the fact that we’ve saved each other’s lives in here. And beyond that, he will always be the boy with the bread. Good friends. - Honestly, Katniss counting on being good friends with Peeta after the Games is the highest honor she can bestow on him at that moment (she’s so into him, lol); of course, knowing that their relationship is going to be a bit rocky once they’ve come back makes this thought a little sad... but we also know they’ll make up (and out ;) in the future

Peeta licking his plate and blowing a kiss out to Effie is such an adorable goofball-moment 😊

I cover his mouth with my hand, but I’m laughing. “Stop! Cato could be right outside our cave.” He grabs my hand away. “What do I care? I’ve got you to protect me now,” says Peeta, pulling me to him. - This moment would be so cute (also, Peeta’s so confident in Katniss’s skills to protect him, which is adorable - toxic masculinity who?) but... Ugh, he’s just so giddy here, it kind of breaks my heart for when he learns later that (at least some) of Katniss’s reactions were just for show

“If we want food, we better head back up to my old hunting grounds,” I say. “Your call, Just tell me what you need me to do,” Peeta says. - Love how Peeta’s always ready to follow Katniss’s lead :)

Ideally, I’d dump Peeta now with some simple root-gathering chore and go hunt [...] “Katniss,” he says. “We need to split up. I know I’m chasing away the game.” [...] “Show me some plants to gather and that way we’ll both be useful.” - Teamwork! If it weren’t for Katniss worrying for Peeta’s safety, they’d be on the same page here

“What if you climbed up in a tree and acted as a lookout while I haunted?” I say, trying to make it sound like very important work. “What if you show me what’s edible around here and go get us some meat?” he says, mimicking my tone. - I really like how Peeta’s challenges Katniss here; he doesn’t just go along with everything she says, while still being quite reasonable

I feel like I’m eleven, again, tethered not to the safety of the fence but to Peeta, allowing myself twenty, maybe thirty yards of hunting space. [...] I allow myself to drift farther away, and soon have two rabbits and a fat squirrel to show for it. - I don’t know, but Katniss feeling tethered to Peeta makes me think of Mary Ainsworth’s attachment theory, according to which children with a secure attachment to their primary caregiver use  their “attachment figure as a safe base to explore the environment”... Of course, Ainsworth’s Strange Situation was conducted with young children, but attachment styles are supposed to influence the relationships we form with people in our later lives as well (including romantic relationships)... I dunno, just a random association that popped into my brain 😅

Chapter 24

Peeta’s a whiz with fires, coaxing a blaze out of the damp wood. - Heh, Peeta sure knows how to handle fire, huh, Katniss (or should I say: Girl on Fire?) 😏

I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside the rest of his food for him when he wakes. He drops off immediately. I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I’m so greateful that he’s still here, not dead by the stream as I’d thought.  - Aww, this is so sweet (and domestic)!

It’s funny. I feel almost as if it’s the first day of the Games again. That I’m in the same position. [...] But no, there’s the boy waiting beside me. I feel his arms wrap around me. - They are a team! Katniss doesn’t have to face the horrors of the Games alone anymore! It keeps boiling down to this.

[everlarkficexchange]

A Simple Choice

Written by: @justajjfan​

Beta’d by: @sunsetsrmydreams​

Prompt 83: Katniss is whipped instead of Gale in Catching Fire, Peeta’s the one who’s there to take care of her after. [submitted by anonymous].

Prompt 116: Peeta braids Katniss’ hair to soothe her. [submitted by anonymous] 

Rating: Mature 

Warning: Mention of whipping 

A/N: My thanks to @everlarkficexchange​ ; @javistg​ and @xerxia31​ for allowing me to go way over the deadline. It was a real struggle but I’m so excited I finally have something post-worthy. My apologies to the 2 anons who have been so patiently waiting for their prompts to be turned into stories. I hope you like what I’ve written. A special thank you to @sunsetsrmydreams​. This story would be nothing without you. 

 ~~~

Chapter 1

“Trust me.”

I did. I trusted Katniss with my life, and so it seemed at the time…with my impending death. 

After everything we both went through to survive, enduring the pain and horrors only The Hunger Games could bring, it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough. 

The Capitolites craved this abhorrent form of entertainment and under the watchful and devious eye of President Coriolanus Snow, thrilled at the sight of children kill and be killed.   

As it was in previous games, once the first wave of bloodshed was spilled, tributes from Districts 1 and 2 formed packs like wolves and hunted down the weak and vulnerable one by one before turning on themselves until only one was left standing.   

The Victor.

All this savagery was broadcasted live each year across Panem in all its goriest detail and deemed mandatory viewing for every citizen.

Through it all, Katniss and I beat the odds and fought our way out of the gruesome web the Gamemakers spun to be the last two remaining tributes from the same district. But I should have known better…should have never allowed myself to be duped into believing the odds would at last be in our favour. 

All our valiant efforts to stay alive was thrown in our weary and battle-scared faces. 

President Snow had no intention of honouring the change in rules by allowing both of us to live and for the first time in The Hunger Games infamous history, have two tributes jointly crowned as Victors. So when the words bellowed in the air announcing the revocation of those rules, it came as little surprise to me. 

The promise of a peaceful life and all the wealth any citizen could ever want held no sway over me. Already knowing the odds would never be in my favour, I accepted my fate. 

For as long as I could remember, it had always been a fanciful dream of mine to live a life with Katniss, if she would allow it. Dreaming of our toasting and the vows I would say to her as I broke a piece of bread I baked myself and brought it to her sweet mouth. The feel of her soft body as we made love for the first time, even as far as raising a family of our own someday was a stupid pipedream, and I foolishly clung onto it all. Any hope of it becoming a reality was ripped from my grasp and shattered into a million pieces. 

The choice was a simple one. When we were reaped, I vowed to do everything I could to protect Katniss even if it meant sacrificing my own life so she could live. I had no chance of winning and besides…no one needed me back home. But it became apparent Katniss had other ideas. 

“Together?”

The sound of her voice echoing my question came as a soft whisper and in that moment we understood each other. If we couldn’t leave the arena together, then we would die…together. 

In the face of death itself, that one singular word gave me a strange sense of calm and peace. 

“One.” 

Starting off the count knowing how little time I had left in this cruel and merciless world, the chance to tell Katniss what I’ve always felt in my heart was before me…and quickly ticking by. 

“Two.”

I inhaled a deep breath sure the words would flow but instead my voice fell silent. Time was clearly against me but how many words would I need to express what Katniss meant to me?

In the precious dying second, my hand as if possessed with a will of its own, reached for her braid. This was something I had always longed to do and if I couldn’t say those words to Katniss, then I hoped she would feel them through this one innocent touch.

I would have given anything to sketch those steel grey eyes staring back at me. A chance to kiss her deeply and unravel her braid as I gently combed my fingers through the silky dark tresses the way I hoped she would like. Just one last chance to watch over her as she slept soundly in my arms and whisper the words she should have heard me say years ago.

But this was the cruel reality I was faced with and the closest thing I would ever get to realising any part of my dream. And I made sure not to let that final moment between us slip by.  

“Three.”

I focused on the only image I would take with me into the darkness…her eyes.

Slowly, we brought the handful of poison berries to our lips, ready to end this before the Gamemakers took the choice away from us when the deafening sound of Claudius Templesmith’s desperate shout rang out from the hidden audio speakers, freezing us both from any further movement.

“STOP! STOP! STOP”

…and so we did.

***

All that seems like a lifetime ago instead of weeks. The Hunger Games, The Victory Tour and everything in between changed after the cameras finally stopped rolling and we boarded the train for home. And as we sped closer to District 12, Katniss began to withdraw from me and eventually shut me out completely and it confused me.

What did I do to make her feel so indifferent towards me?

Those lonely nights on the train were the hardest to deal with. Sleeping without Katniss beside me was a new torture all on its own but it was what she wanted. I guess in the end, conscience got the better of her and I was finally put out of my misery with the hurtful truth.

It was an act…a show that Katniss and our mentor Haymitch Abernathy devised to fool the Capitol into believing we were star-crossed lovers desperate to be together even in death, only it was me who was completely fooled.

But their plan worked, and it kept us both alive. The cave…the embraces…the whispered words…all those kisses were just part of the act and she wanted to forget them all…but I didn’t.

When we finally arrived home, the citizens of Twelve were all at the train station to welcome us home. To my astonishment, they were cheering us both as heroes. Perhaps they too, were acting in front of the cameras. But as soon as the scripted speeches were done and the crowd slowly dispersed taking Katniss and her family along with it, the finality of it all hit home.

I was alone.

***

Living in the Victor’s Village was a new start. But even in our proximity, Katniss avoided having any sort of contact with me. I tried my best not to let it affect me, but the hurt I felt inside festered like an open wound.

I missed her so much.

At first, I blamed myself for Katniss distancing herself from me. She said she wanted to forget and maybe I reminded her too much of the arena and the nightmares those memories brought her.

But I had nightmares too.

Hearing her screams in the dead of night will haunt me forever and even now, it takes all my willpower to stop myself from crashing through her front door and rushing to her side.

She doesn’t need me.

At first, I thought time alone would help her figure things out in her head and I of all people, understood. But time wasn’t what she needed. I finally came to terms with what was real.

Gale Hawthorne had been her choice all along.

***

As one lonely day slowly creeps into the next, working in my family’s bakery has been my saving grace, helping me cope with my new life a little more each day. With both Bran and Rye learning new trades from the Merchant businesses they successfully married into, it left my father with no resources to help run the bakery, making me his only viable option.

The strain showed on his face and although dad would never admit to it, especially in front of my mother, I knew he needed my help desperately. So, when I suggested I could work in the bakery for a few hours each day, he accepted my offer in a heartbeat. In an odd kind of way, it felt good to be needed even if I was being used to keep our family business afloat.

It wasn’t like I had anything better to do.

Understandably, my older brothers were quick to register their new living and working arrangements at the Justice Building, automatically forsaking any claims of inheritance or ownership of the bakery. But it was a small price to pay as far as they were concerned, if it meant being free from under our mother’s thumb.

So, technically speaking I am now part-owner of the Mellark Bakery with all rights and privileges bestowed to any Merchant business holder, making mother my employee.

An ironic twist in fate.

***

Safely hidden in the darkness of my own room, my racing heart begins to calm after waking from my usual nightmare. As it is on most nights, my first compelling impulse is to rush towards the opened bedroom window and look in the direction of her room and breathe out a sigh of relief when I see her.

“It’s okay…just another bad dream…she’s safe,” I whisper to myself as I stare at the shadowy figure pacing the floor from across the way. Even in the darkness of her room, I would recognise her silhouette anywhere and she’s becoming alarmingly thinner by the day.

Katniss always leaves her lamp on during the night because she fears being left in the dark. Her phobia started soon after her father’s tragic death in the mines and the thought of him being buried alive in the explosion has left her emotionally scarred. At least that’s what she told me once before she drifted off to sleep in my arms.

Now, each night I watch on helplessly as Katniss paces her room. When I leave my house in the early hours of the morning for the bakery I try so hard not to look, but it only takes two steps outside my front door before my eyes dart towards her dimly-lit bedroom. She’s always there. Standing at her window, sleepless, anxiously twirling her messy braid around her fingers. When she spots me, she’s quick to move from sight.

I tell myself I must be imagining it, but I swear I can feel her eyes boring into the back of my head as I walk along the pathway, towards the gate. But I won’t allow myself to turn around and see if I’m right. She’s probably glad to see me leave while she waits for Gale Hawthorne to arrive.

It’s no secret Gale and Katniss are together now. My mother takes great pleasure in reminding me of this fact.

“Stop pinning over that Seam trash! She used you! It’s a known fact what she does with that Hawthorne boy in those woods. She’s probably carrying his brat inside of her. Time to get on with your own life and find a wife to help you in the bakery…a nice Merchant girl…someone pure like Delly Cartwright. She’s smart, pretty, comes from a respectable family. Those qualities are a rarity. Delly’s the perfect choice for you.”

Choice. Why do I always cringe when I hear that word?

I can’t continue to ignore the facts before me. Katniss hates me. She spends every Sunday with Gale sneaking off to the woods for hours. When they return, he stays at her house until late and the curtains in her bedroom which are usually left open even during the night, are drawn until he leaves.

I’m surprised Mrs Everdeen who was brought up with Merchant values would allow such a thing, but I guess after watching us in the cave during The Games and The Victory Tour, she’s not troubled by it now and happily overlooks her daughter’s lack of propriety because it’s with Gale Hawthorne after all.

I’m sure to hear the announcement of their toasting soon.

I need to keep reminding myself what Katniss does with her life is none of my business. What made me think it ever was? She’s clearly moved on with her life and maybe it’s time I thought about doing the same with mine.

For once my mother may have a point.

tbc…

[ilguna]

Tacenda - Chapter Four (f.o)

Summary: you’ll never truly be free from the Capitol.

Word Count; 4.3k

Warnings; swearing, DEATH MENTION

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

It took a little longer to get out of bed this morning, like it had on the train. Finnick sat next to you the entire time while you explained over the nausea. You told him your theory that it’s because you’re stuffing yourself, because it’s logical. All he did was continue to brush your hair out of your face and suggested not to eat as much.

Which was the thing. You ate a light breakfast, stayed hydrated throughout the day. Then you ate healthy snacks while you were getting ready for the parade. And then once again, when you got into the apartment, you ate slowly and tried not to shovel it in too quickly.

Normally you eat as quickly as possible because you won’t fill up as quickly. If you’re taking your time, then of course you’re going to be full faster. And you didn’t even eat that much last night either. You thought it would give you a stomach ache right after eating, but there you were, the morning after.

When you had gotten up, you then noticed a pain in your achilles on your feet.

There’s blisters lining the back of your feet because of the heels that you were forced to wear during the tribute parade. Laurel knew what she was doing when she gave those massive shoes to you, and you have to give her props. Her revenge was silent, but lasting. You’ll have these for a little while.

Unfortunately for her, you know a couple of ways to keep them from getting worse. The first thing you did at brunch–since you and Finnick had gotten up a little later than expected–was complain to Elysia and Mags until they told you to shut up. Elysia told you she would find some healing cream for you to use. But in the meantime, you would just have to deal with it.

To not make them worse, you’ve decided against shoes today. You’ll still be wearing the training outfits that are provided. You had a choice when it came to a top, a sports bra, a tank top and a full-sleeved shirt. You decided for the sports bra, since it wasn’t as uncomfortable as you thought. Plus, the leggings they’ve provided are high-waisted on you. You’re not showing as much skin as you thought you would.

Finnick didn’t really have a chance when it came to what to wear. He slid on his sleeveless tank top and the leggings that he was provided. It was either sleeveless or full-sleeved. Leave it to your husband to show off all the muscle.

After you guys were dressed–opting for a shower after training–you and him said your goodbyes to Elysia and Mags. You two will see them at dinner, but not in-between. They’re sponsor hunting, they’re going to start tying down people.

As you and Finnick head down the hallway, hand-in-hand, he starts to head for the elevator. He knows the plan for today, this is just to throw off anyone that might be watching.

“Let’s take the stairs today,” you tell him, letting go of his hand as you bounce around in the hallway giddily, it’s all an act, “As a warm-up. We can’t just go in there without stretching first.”

“We’re going down the stairs, not up,” he says, but there’s a smile hinting at his face.

“All the same to me!” You smile at him.

You go to grab the door first, but Finnick isn’t having it. He practically pushes you out of the way so he can get there first. All so he can open the door for you, what a dork.

“Thank you.” you chirp, skipping into the stairwell, he follows you in, and even makes a point to pull the door shut entirely.

At the bottom of the staircase is Haymitch, staring up at you guys. You motion for him to go up the couple of steps to where you are. This is mainly to get away from the door, there’s two peacekeepers out there. If they hear anything, they are going to report it. The smart thing to do is get away from the door, and stay quiet.

“I came down the stairs.” he tells you two, “They don’t know I’m in here.”

“Same as us.” Finnick nods.

You lean up against the wall, fanning your face since the humidity in the stairwell isn’t the best. It’s making you feel like you’re overheating, like heat stroke, which you’ve had before in the summertime from being on the boats for too long. The only problem is, you haven’t gone outside since yesterday during the parade. These next few days, you’re going to be inside.

Almost as if Finnick knows that something is up, he wraps an arm around your waist. If you fall, he’ll keep you from collapsing against the cement. Although, being pressed up against his body is making all of this worse. You don’t complain though, you’d rather have his arm around you than not. It’s a safety net.

“Katniss is stand-offish.” Haymitch begins, and you can’t help but snort. Neither of you interrupt him though, “She’s difficult to work with at first, but the more you talk to her, the easier she’ll be.”

“But why?” you ask, “We don’t mind being in an alliance with her, but what’s your motive of making one for her?”

He lowers his voice considerably, “A rebellion.”

You and Finnick share a look, and just right there is enough communication. He gives you a look of ‘this is happening’ and you tell him ‘our time is now’. Just in that one little look, an understanding has passed through you two.

“We’re in.” Finnick says for the both of you, shocking Haymitch, “What will it take?”

Haymitch is shocked, “That’s… it?”

You tilt your head, “The districts are going nuts right now. Just at the mention of it, four goes wild. Now’s the time to do it. What do we have to do to help?”

And just like that, Haymitch launches into his explanation. Starting from the beginning, and how the berries had angered Snow. Katniss and Peeta’s families were on the line, and so they were trying to do everything they could to quiet down the districts. Including a marriage to appease the Capitol to prove that the action was done out of love, rather than resistance.

Haymitch tells you that there’s talk about it everywhere, and people are looking at her. He believes that she can be the face of it. She can get people moving behind her, but a few things need to happen first.

She needs to stay alive. An alliance acts in her best interest, but since she’s stubborn, she won’t be making it by herself. She might suggest a few people that she might like, but other than that, it’s one thing or nothing. The worst thing about it, is that Katniss can’t know that any of this is going on.

Haymitch is supposed to be ‘saving’ Peeta, and not her. Since she was ‘saved’ the first time around, she wants it to be Peeta’s turn. But Peeta doesn’t like that, and he’s already acting with Haymitch to make it look like they’re working in Katniss’s favor. It’s unnecessarily complicated, and you’re not too interested in that.

To boil it down, you and Finnick will spread the word a little bit, bring in people that might find this to be a good idea. Keep it from the careers because they can be difficult. They love the Capitol because they spoil them. So, telling them would result in the destruction of the plan.

Katniss can’t know that any of this is happening. You have to pretend that none of this is happening. Haymitch will give Finnick a bracelet as solidarity with you guys, since you’re going to be the main part of the protection. You’ll show it to Katniss inside of the arena, and just like that, hopefully she’ll put the puzzle pieces together and allow you to help her.

The last part of the plan is keep her alive long enough for them to take her out and take them to District Thirteen. You called Haymitch a lunatic, because everyone knows what happened to thirteen for being rebellious. If they’re still thriving, then you guys would have seen them by now. But all he had to do was tell you that they have a gamemaker in on it already.

That was convincing enough. If a gamemaker is in on this, the plan will be much easier. They have more insight than you guys do. Haymitch can be unreliable, but you asked if he’s sure that Plutarch is trustable, and he told you yes.

After that, you split. Haymitch went back upstairs to get his tributes, and you and Finnick left the stairwell together, hand in hand. You made a comment while passing the peacekeepers about being tired, telling Finnick that you didn’t sleep well last night, and you hope that you’ll wake up more as time goes on.

It wasn’t until you entered the actual building, when you started to feel better. The entire building has AC like you wouldn’t believe. It was only a couple of minutes before you completely forgot about it entirely.

You and Finnick spend a moment, finding people and choosing wisely. Unsurprisingly, he wants to have a chat with Johanna, and you decide that you might as well see Cecelia again. Her and Woof are sticking together it seems, they’re sitting around the bug station.

That’s a good thing to touch up on. The dangers that might be hiding around inside of the arena. There’s so many possibilities and dangers that the arena holds, that it just makes you overwhelmed.

First, it’s fish, and the type that live in the fresh water, or salt water. Next are the types of leaves, is it ivy or not. The trees, do they burn smoke easily? The berries and the chance that they’re poisonous. And this is all to be paired with not having the food, or the iodine to make the water safe. Not being able to skin rabbits and cook it properly so you don’t get sick.

Finnick taught you CPR one of the times on the train while you were teaching tributes before all of this–of course. That goes right along with first aid. You’ve gone as far as to recreate the creams to show the tributes which ones mean which. What’s healing, what’s supposed to be used on your weapon, and so on. You teach them how to stitch, and create stents and the list goes on.

It’s so simple to overlook something like bugs. When you’re so worried about literally everything else.

Cecelia offers you a big smile when you sit beside her. Watching as she and Woof easily identify the types of bugs. You keep the conversation light, and then you begin to enter in the keywords.

“How would you feel about an alliance?” you ask, she looks up, “This can go for you and Woof.”

Woof smiles, but Cecelia looks a little confused, probably wondering what’s bringing this all on. You almost can’t believe that she thinks that you wouldn’t invite her into an alliance with you and Finnick. She’s practically your best friend, for her not to be in it would be stupid.

“Sure, is Finnick fine with this?” she asks, going back to the bug game.

“Actually, a few of us are okay with this.” it’s a hint that there’s more than one of you, “it’s sort of a protection plan.”

Cecelia nods, thinking about this. You hope that she’s smart enough to get this. She’s raised three kids that have spoken in cryptic ways when they’re toddlers. It can’t be that hard to decipher the double meaning in words. You had to go through this all with Alyssum.

“Behalf?” she asks subtly.

“Katniss.” you tell her, “Girl on fire, it’s quite a brand isn’t it? It’s almost like she’s trying to set the Capitol ablaze.”

Her eyes flicker to yours the same time that Woof does, “Is that so?”

“You don’t think so?” you’re hoping that isn’t a no.

You watch as Cecelia’s face slowly holds a smile, “I do think so. Count me in.”

“Me too.” Woof tells you.

“More info to come.” you mouth quietly, and they nod slightly, “Nice seeing you guys again.”

Deciding that visiting two people is enough, you go ahead and head over to one of the knife throwing stations. As you get closer, you can see that they have projections now, it’s not just dummies anymore. They move, and get closer, and throw virtual weapons.

“Perfect.” you laugh, stepping up to one of the stations.

At the programming, you go ahead and make it the hardest possible. You select your weapon, keeping it at knives. It’ll be easier to throw than spears. Spears, you have to get your hands right on the hilt before throwing it. As for knives, you’re literally picking them up and throwing them.

You go ahead and pick up a few, feeling them in your hand. As a test run, the program automatically gives you one to start with. You have to find your footing first. You’re not in shoes, you’re barefoot. It’ll be easier for you to slip, since your feet aren’t gripped like the bottom of a shoe is.

However, you’ve been training for months for this exact moment. It might have been in shoes, but you haven’t fallen in a long ass time. You’ve always caught yourself, gradually becoming less clumsy as time goes along.

You throw the knife, being careful as to watch how it flies through the air. It hits the hologram in the middle of the chest, and then the blocks crumble. Just like that, the game has started, and they’re coming at you. For a moment, you’re overwhelmed, because you need to find a pattern for it.

Then, it all comes to you. They come in twos to three’s. You can hit them the first time if you aim for the chest and above. You’re typically hitting them in the head, getting them down the first time around. But on the off chance of missing it the first time, you always have an extra fourth knife in your hand.

You take them on at one at a time. The closest one is always the easiest, you get them out almost immediately. The second one is a little harder, you lean forward a bit more for this one. And the final one, is the one you’re needing the fourth knife for. They’re farther back on purpose, and they don’t come any closer past the half-way mark.

You throw with more force, allowing your body to move forward with the momentum that you build. The knives rest between your left hand’s fingers. You’ll grab the handle, flip for the blade, and then chuck.

The game is over before you realize it. There’s no more people coming at you, it’s just the playing field in front of you.

This is when you’re able to see that you’ve successfully hit the wall, that’s over twenty-five feet away from you, hard enough to get the entire knife into the wall. The ones that weren’t tough enough to make it through, dented.

“Damn.” Finnick’s voice is smooth, he whistles slightly, “That was good.”

You turn slowly, almost like you’re revealing yourself. And then it’s all at once and you’re doing jazz hands.

“This–” you jab your thumb at the station, “–is fucking awesome. I could do this all fucking day.”

“Well, go ahead,” he motions, “Do it again.”

You bounce slightly, heading back to the programming thing for the station. You go through the settings of it, curious on what it holds. These things are brand new, and they have endless possibilities on things you can do.

“It can be for two people!” you tell Finnick, looking over your shoulder, wiggling your eyebrows a little bit, “Wanna fight with me?”

Finnick laughs, coming up the steps to join you, “Don’t have to ask me twice.”

“Good.” you set it up, “I was afraid I might have to force you. It’s set to knives, and the hardest it can be.”

“Nothing we can’t handle.” Finnick is proud.

You start it, picking up on your technique. You don’t let Finnick know what the pattern is, letting him figure it out on his own. He takes a different approach with it, throwing the knives one at a time, rather than gathering them into his hands. It’s almost like he’ll be overwhelmed if he did it that way.

Eventually, you two have caught up with the system, even if there’s double the amount of holograms running at you. You and him turn it into a competition to see who can get them the fastest. Finnick is ahead, getting the most, moving faster than you are, but the ‘one at a time’ technique eventually fails on him.

You can only hold so many knives in your hand at once, but it works. You can get four or five of them down, leaving one for Finnick because you’re throwing yours so quickly. Eventually, he begins to give up, allowing you to take on the challenge that’s supposed to be for two people.

The last one that comes at you is a little quicker. You take your time with ending the game. Letting him get as close as possible before throwing the knife dead at his chest.

You’re pouring sweat. You can feel it almost everywhere on your body.

“I need a rag, holy fuck.” you wipe your forehead, and the back of your hand literally looks like it’s had water dumped on it.

Finnick grabs one for you, and then one for himself. You sit on the steps as you dry up your skin. Your forehead, the back of your neck, Finnick does his best to pat your back dry.

Your body feels like it’s vibrating from the exercise. It’s a good feeling, you haven’t felt this alive in such a long time. If the hunger games were targeted just for fighting rather than killing people, you might have volunteered sooner. The whole arena, and weapons and testing your survival is a good way to keep your skills in check.

Except, it’s a punishment, so there’s no way that this will ever be just an event for fun. It’s not fun, hundreds of kids have died because of it.

“How are you feeling?” Finnick asks.

“So good.” you tell him, “I need water, and then some time before I do that again.”

“Wanan fuck around with knots?”

“Sure, I could teach you how to tie a noose.”

You get off of where you were sitting, stretching slightly, and then you toss the towel wherever. It doesn’t matter, you won’t be the one cleaning it up, and you could care less about manners. They’re sending you into the games, who cares about one measly little towel?

Someone will come after you and pick it up. Finnick follows the same thing you did, and you skip your way over to the knot tying station. Fortunately, this is the same time that the doors to the training center open.

Finnick looks over, “Girl on fire approaching.”

The guy from nine suddenly pukes, and you cover your mouth, laughing to yourself. Finnick can’t help but to laugh too.

“First impressions always stick,” you snort, stopping in front of the ropes, “Oh shit! Look, they’ve got different types.”

Finnick joins you. He messes around with the rope, creating several different loops, and then he’ll pull it apart. You on the other hand, tie the constrictors knot, and even pull the entire rope off of the display.

“You think you could hang me from the ceiling?” you ask, looking up to see how far away it is, “It would be kinda impressive to get down from there.”

“Don’t test your luck,” he shakes his head at you.

“I think I might!”

You untie the knot that you had made, and instead make one of the ends of the rope heavy. You swing it around a couple of times to make sure that it won’t fall apart, and when it’s sturdy, you toss it straight for the beams. You miss the first time around, but the next, it goes over.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun!” you laugh, “Watch–I can make a swing out of it.’

Finnick does watch as you make a couple of knots to sit and stand on, evenly spaced out. Then, you get on the end with the knots, and use the other side of the rope to pull yourself up.

“This is not real life,” Finnick laughs, “How?”

“Push me,” you laugh, and he complies, “Okay listen, there was a tree that we had in our backyard that was fucking huge. Not as high as these beams, but it was pretty big.”

“Let me guess, you made a tire swing or something dumb like that?”

“Exactly. We used to use old rope that we got from the square, so naturally they snapped easily. This is where I got a ton of practice with getting the rope over a tree branch.” you smile a little bit, “I would always have to climb the tree to tie the rope down, even if it wouldn’t last very long.”

“Which is how you were able to climb that tree so easily.”

“Ding ding!” you laugh, slowly letting yourself down from where you were in the air, “If only Reed were able to see me now. Instead of training, I’m swinging on a rope just for nostalgia’s sake.”

“I see nothing wrong with that.” Finnick tells you, “It’s my turn.”

You laugh, and he gets fixed onto the knots how he wants. You both pull the rope to get him up a little higher, and then you push him so he starts swinging too. You can see some of the other tributes stopping to stare at you guys. Acting like you’re a bunch of nutcases.

Eventually, Johanna jumps down from where she was practicing and heads over to you two.

“Really?”

“Don’t act like you don’t want to try.” you smirk, “Wanna go up next?”

“I think I’ll pass,” she goes over to grab a bottle of water.

“Johanna Mason, the girl who never had fun.” Finnick laughs, letting himself down too, “God, that hurts the thighs.”

Johanna rolls her eyes, “I know how to have fun, thank you.”

She then squirts water at you two, smiling slightly as she heads back to where she was practicing. Unbothered, you turn back to the rope swing.

“I should definitely hang upside down.”

“That is where I draw the line.” Finnick tells you, beginning to pull the rope down, “You’re not doing that.”

“Oh, why not?” you pout slightly, but there’s a smile on your face.

“You know why.” he tells you, gathering up the rope and then tossing it back into the display it came from, “What’s next?”

“Fish hook making?” you suggest, offering your hand for him to take.

He does take it, and squeezes your hand tightly, “Mine are going to look so much better than yours.”

“Another competition?” you ask, “Are you sure you can handle it?”

“Honey, we both know who’s the better fisher here.”

And only five minutes later, Finnick is eating his words.

“All the fish have fallen asleep again.” you tell him, “Or they’re leaving the area from how long you’re taking.”

He looks a little frustrated, and then motions to your hook, “Not like that could catch anything, anyway.”

“Just because it looks nice, doesn’t mean it doesn’t work.” you argue, looking up when you hear someone coming, “Ah look, we have a judge!”

Katniss doesn’t look too thrilled at her new title.

“Tell us, who’s looking better?” you motion to what you have.

“I’m not done yet–” FInnick tries to protest.

“You can’t fix the unfixable.”

Finnick glares at you, “Honestly, fuck you.”

Katniss cracks a smile, coming closer as she looks over what you guys have made. She seems hesitant, uncomfortable. She’s obviously trying to make allies, but she doesn’t want to. You guys need to make a lasting impression on her. Especially since she’s seen you fuck around with a rope swing and argue over fish hooks so far.

“(Y/n)’s is better.” she decides.

“Smart girl!” you flip off Finnick for a moment, and then you turn to Katniss, “Alright, protege, I could teach you a few things.”

“Like you know anything.” Finnick jokes.

“We come from the exact same district,” you shake your head at him.

Katniss accepts your offer. As soon as she does, the bickering between you and Finnick calms down a lot since you’re in teaching mode. Every now and then Finnick will chime in with some good advice on how to get a fish to bite quicker, or make a hook that’s flimsy but it works.

Eventually, she offers to teach you specifically, how to shoot a bow and arrow. You turn it down, telling her you have better ways to deal with long-range enemies, but you and Finnick definitely follow her over to see what she can do. Sure, you saw her in the arena last year, but these holograms are something else.

She’s quick on her feet. She turns quickly, her eyes are always searching around. She doesn’t get surprised easily, and she almost dances around.

“She doesn’t want to make too much noise,” you point out to Finnick, pressing your finger against the glass, “Look at how she moves her feet.”

“Definitely a hunter, I’ll give her that.” Finnick nods, “I wonder what else she knows.”

By the time she’s done shooting, she’s gathered a whole crowd. The careers, Wiress and Beetee, Johanna, Peeta, Cecelia and Woof and a few of the others. Wiress erupts into clapping when Katniss is finished, and you can’t help but to smile.

“This is going to work perfectly.”

[ginarbk]

Maybe... Everlark Oneshot

So I finally, after years of wanting but not doing it, I wrote something! I’m excited, and scared, and I know it’s going to be hard for someone to actually find this and read it, but I still feel happy about posting it here. So here goes nothing!  

This is a story where we see Katniss struggling to come to terms that she is not alone on her misery, even in her darkest times Peeta is there for her.

It's been two months since Peeta came back, since I woke up from the fogginess that covered my thoughts, since my nerve-endings became aware of how much that fog was covering up the pain and grieve. Sometimes I don't know how I can manage to breathe, how is it that my body has not gotten the idea that I'm dead inside, that I wish to be dead on the outside as well.

That first day, when I saw Peeta again I was so confused and shocked that I did not recognize this feeling inside me that is consuming me now. I feel such sorrow, and guilt. And each time I see Peeta, it all comes back to me, it's like a train set in motion that cannot be stopped. I see him, and I feel tremendous guilt, for what they did to him to break me, for what I did to him in order to not be broken, he is so calm, even now after all, each time he comes he brings an aura of peace and calmness that makes me want to crawl out of my skin because I feel anything but.

So, I start to close myself off to him, he comes in the mornings, after I have come from hunting, we eat breakfast with Sae, sometimes they talk sometimes they don't, but I usually just listen. Too tired, and really what can I say that has any meaning now? I'm sorry? Too little, too late. Because a world with no ducktail in it is not a world I can see as something whole, or good so why bother talking about it?. A world where supposed-friends were nothing but an instinct of survival, where mothers forget they still have families when others don't even get to say that and where the best people had to go through the worst just to keep living. I try to remind myself that we live in a different world now, a better one. But for the life of me, today I can't seem to be able to grasp that concept. Maybe if I hadn't heard about Gail today while I was coming back from my usual morning in the woods, but I did and I remember everything so vividly that I cannot escape the past reality on my own now, which revolves around a dead sister. Maybe if Peeta, being the gentleman he is, was trying to give me space, because even without communicating it so to him, he felt that I was withdrawing and didn't want to push me. Maybe, maybe, maybe...

But, we will never know now. Because we don't live in a world of maybe, we live in a world of facts, and the fact is that I have several pills on my hand, most of them I don't know their purpose but I do know that I'm taking more than my fill for a couple of days. And the fact is, that I feel relieved. I take the pills and with a last sigh, I swallow them all.

I guess I could have left letters, I have heard that was the custom thing to do on these cases, but I can't say I thought this through, I just did what it felt I needed to stop feeling everything I was. Or maybe I did think about this before and am just as selfish as everyone thought I was. It can be either way, but the fact is, that I'm beginning to feel really sleepy now, and can't summon the energy to write anything now. I guess selfish it is then.

And just as I am starting to be lifted into the darkness, I see him. Right there in front of me, and I think that this is the final reprieve from life to me, a gift, his face one more time before I go. And I embrace it.

But as it turns out, it wasn't a reprieve. Because first, I start feeling something stuck on my throat, making me gag until I can't breathe, this along with something rhythmically trying to make me spit out my longs by hitting me in the back, and a burning that goes up from my stomach to my mouth. And all I once I'm aware that I'm throwing up everything into the floor of my bathroom where I was just sitting before with someone forcing it out of me by hitting my back and introducing their fingers down my tongue.

Once I feel some air in my lungs again I chance a peek up and come into view with the angriest Peeta I have ever seen in my life. Not even when he had his hands around my neck did I see such anger in him, I saw fear, desperation, and an almost animal instinct to fight, but not this pure raw rage.  "What are you doing Katniss?!"

I find that I can't answer his shouts, so I just lower my gaze to something safer to watch, like his trembling hands which come up to me, but it isn't until I'm suddenly surrounded by his arms that I understand what they were meaning to do. I feel him all around me, something I haven't been able to feel in months and I'm thankful I came back even if this was the last embrace he ever gave me, because it feels so incredibly good that once again, I know I'm not going to be the first one to let go. I hear him whisper something, and first I can't decipher its meaning, then as I pay better attention I make out a faint  "Please no, Katniss, don't do this. You can't, please."

This is the final straw for me, and it's ironic that after all, fires, mutts, arenas full of monsters, even ghosts, this is what breaks me. I start sobbing so hard, that I can't keep myself from shaking and repeating over and over how sorry I am. Sometimes to him, sometimes to people that can't ever hear me again. And each time he just replies "Shhh, I know. I'm sorry too"

And for what can be hours or days, I just sit there, in Peeta's arms crying like a little girl, because for once I get to do just that, I get to fall apart and someone was there to catch me. Peeta keeps feeding me gentle words, his rage nowhere to be found now, it evaporated as fast as it came. And it's a wonder he has held me so close and hasn't had an episode, I guess he has come farther than I have realized, lost in my grief as I was.

Once I have settled, we come back to my bedroom where the light of midday is shining through the curtains. And it seems so foreign, that I could feel like that in such a beautiful day. And I still feel it, inside me, but it's no longer consuming me because now I feel like someone is lifting the weight with me. Somewhere along the tiles of the bathroom I understood that being as good as he is, Peeta also feels guilt like me, he also lost people, his family was killed indirectly because of him too, though it was really mostly my fault he still carries that on his shoulders and I feel like he can understand after all.

So, when I lift my face and find his there, waiting for me, with an arrangement of emotions on his face like sorrow, anger, empathy, and just general understanding I decide that maybe, I can keep on going as long as he walks along with me. Of course, the implications of this scare me, and instead, I just say "I felt so lonely"

"I know Katniss, I do too. Do you think it's easier for me? All my family is gone, I have nowhere else to go, not really. There are days where I just can't keep myself out of bed. But I do, and I'm here, and you are here and doesn't that counts for something?" I just keep staring at him, because I realize that yes, it does counts for something. It must, because otherwise what was the meaning of everything we went through? But, before I can reply, he continues "Can't we be lonely together, until we are not anymore? I know we can get better Katniss, Dr. Aurelius has taught me that I can get better, but most of all, being here has proved that to be right because each time I'm with you in the same and I don't get lost in my hijacking I feel that as a small victory. So, please just let me help. Take it one day at a time, and it'll become a week at a time, and then a month, and you'll see Katniss..."

"I'll see what?"

"That we can make it worth Katniss, everything that happened, we can give it meaning. Don't you see? That by doing this you throw all that away? There has to be a meaning Katniss!" And his pleads are so desperate, that it awakens my protectiveness of him.

"Ok," I say

"Ok?"

"Yes, Peeta. We can find its meaning together"

"Do you want breakfast?"

And just like that, we are back to our morning routine. We both know the magnitude of what I just did, and that we'll have to discuss it later. But we both also know that we are not nearly ready at the moment to do so without causing another breakdown in me or a flashback on him. I guess we were lucky it wasn't anything bloody or reminiscent of his torture days, otherwise, I think things wouldn't have had worked out as they did. For now, I'm just glad he found me, and that I found in him a companion for my burden. Even though he was there all along, I didn't understand that he could walk this path with me, that we could find understanding on each other again. Or that he would even want to. But I guess we are all each other has at the moment, and for now, that's all we need.

Weeks later, I find that we were wrong, we have so much more than just ourselves. Haymitch, by some miracle, starts appearing out of nowhere for dinners, and it becomes a thing. Sae keeps on coming for breakfast even after I'm well enough to start cooking, not every day, but enough to make it count each time she does. I find that Peeta was right, and Dr. Aurelius can help along the way, and I even start calling my mother which helps me comes to terms with everything that has happened, everyone who is not here but we fight hard to still make proud. There are still days where I feel in a black pit again, but Peeta is good now at figuring out what I need and when I need it. And I have found, that even with all my inadequacy at emotions I can read him quite well, so well that I also know when he is having a bad day or week, and in those moments I try harder to be of help. Sometimes it works, sometimes not so much. And because of this, I think that maybe, just maybe we will be able to make it through after all.

And there comes the day where that Maybe starts to become more and more blurry and gives wake to a Real.

[readbookywooks]

16 "Always." In the twilight of morphling, Peeta whispers the word and I go searching for him. It's a gauzy, violet-tinted world, with no hard edges, and many places to hide. I push through cloud banks, follow faint tracks, catch the scent of cinnamon, of dill. Once I feel his hand on my cheek and try to trap it, but it dissolves like mist through my fingers. When I finally begin to surface into the sterile hospital room in 13, I remember. I was under the influence of sleep syrup. My heel had been injured after I'd climbed out on a branch over the electric fence and dropped back into 12. Peeta had put me to bed and I had asked him to stay with me as I was drifting off. He had whispered something I couldn't quite catch. But some part of my brain had trapped his single word of reply and let it swim up through my dreams to taunt me now. "Always." Morphling dulls the extremes of all emotions, so instead of a stab of sorrow, I merely feel emptiness. A hollow of dead brush where flowers used to bloom. Unfortunately, there's not enough of the drug left in my veins for me to ignore the pain in the left side of my body. That's where the bullet hit. My hands fumble over the thick bandages encasing my ribs and I wonder what I'm still doing here. It wasn't him, the man kneeling before me on the square, the burned one from the Nut. He didn't pull the trigger. It was someone farther back in the crowd. There was less a sense of penetration than the feeling that I'd been struck with a sledgehammer. Everything after the moment of impact is confusion riddled with gunfire. I try to sit up, but the only thing I manage is a moan. The white curtain that divides my bed from the next patient's whips back, and Johanna Mason stares down at me. At first I feel threatened, because she attacked me in the arena. I have to remind myself that she did it to save my life. It was part of the rebel plot. But still, that doesn't mean she doesn't despise me. Maybe her treatment of me was all an act for the Capitol? "I'm alive," I say rustily. "No kidding, brainless." Johanna walks over and plunks down on my bed, sending spikes of pain shooting across my chest. When she grins at my discomfort, I know we're not in for some warm reunion scene. "Still a little sore?" With an expert hand, she quickly detaches the morphling drip from my arm and plugs it into a socket taped into the crook of her own. "They started cutting back my supply a few days ago. Afraid I'm going to turn into one of those freaks from Six. I've had to borrow from you when the coast was clear. Didn't think you'd mind." Mind? How can I mind when she was almost tortured to death by Snow after the Quarter Quell? I have no right to mind, and she knows it. Johanna sighs as the morphling enters her bloodstream. "Maybe they were onto something in Six. Drug yourself out and paint flowers on your body. Not such a bad life. Seemed happier than the rest of us, anyway." In the weeks since I left 13, she's gained some weight back. A soft down of hair has sprouted on her shaved head, helping to hide some of the scars. But if she's siphoning off my morphling, she's struggling. "They've got this head doctor who comes around every day. Supposed to be helping me recover. Like some guy who's spent his life in this rabbit warren's going to fix me up. Complete idiot. At least twenty times a session he reminds me that I'm totally safe." I manage a smile. It's a truly stupid thing to say, especially to a victor. As if such a state of being ever existed, anywhere, for anyone. "How about you, Mockingjay? You feel totally safe?" "Oh, yeah. Right up until I got shot," I say. "Please. That bullet never even touched you. Cinna saw to that," she says. I think of the layers of protective armor in my Mockingjay outfit. But the pain came from somewhere. "Broken ribs?" "Not even. Bruised pretty good. The impact ruptured your spleen. They couldn't repair it." She gives a dismissive wave of her hand. "Don't worry, you don't need one. And if you did, they'd find you one, wouldn't they? It's everybody's job to keep you alive." "Is that why you hate me?" I ask. "Partly," she admits. "Jealousy is certainly involved. I also think you're a little hard to swallow. With your tacky romantic drama and your defender-of-the-helpless act. Only it isn't an act, which makes you more unbearable. Please feel free to take this personally." "You should have been the Mockingjay. No one would've had to feed you lines," I say. "True. But no one likes me," she tells me. "They trusted you, though. To get me out," I remind her. "And they're afraid of you." "Here, maybe. In the Capitol, you're the one they're scared of now." Gale appears in the doorway, and Johanna neatly unhooks herself and reattaches me to the morphling drip. "Your cousin's not afraid of me," she says confidentially. She scoots off my bed and crosses to the door, nudging Gale's leg with her hip as she passes him. "Are you, gorgeous?" We can hear her laughter as she disappears down the hall. I raise my eyebrows at him as he takes my hand. "Terrified," he mouths. I laugh, but it turns into a wince. "Easy." He strokes my face as the pain ebbs. "You've got to stop running straight into trouble." "I know. But someone blew up a mountain," I answer. Instead of pulling back, he leans in closer, searching my face. "You think I'm heartless." "I know you're not. But I won't tell you it's okay," I say. Now he draws back, almost impatiently. "Katniss, what difference is there, really, between crushing our enemy in a mine or blowing them out of the sky with one of Beetee's arrows? The result is the same." "I don't know. We were under attack in Eight, for one thing. The hospital was under attack," I say. "Yes, and those hoverplanes came from District Two," he says. "So, by taking them out, we prevented further attacks." "But that kind of thinking...you could turn it into an argument for killing anyone at any time. You could justify sending kids into the Hunger Games to prevent the districts from getting out of line," I say. "I don't buy that," he tells me. "I do," I reply. "It must be those trips to the arena." "Fine. We know how to disagree," he says. "We always have. Maybe it's good. Between you and me, we've got District Two now." "Really?" For a moment a feeling of triumph flares up inside me. Then I think about the people on the square. "Was there fighting after I was shot?" "Not much. The workers from the Nut turned on the Capitol soldiers. The rebels just sat by and watched," he says. "Actually, the whole country just sat by and watched." "Well, that's what they do best," I say. You'd think that losing a major organ would entitle you to lie around a few weeks, but for some reason, my doctors want me up and moving almost immediately. Even with the morphling, the internal pain's severe the first few days, but then it slacks off considerably. The soreness from the bruised ribs, however, promises to hang on for a while. I begin to resent Johanna dipping into my morphling supply, but I still let her take whatever she likes. Rumors of my death have been running rampant, so they send in the team to film me in my hospital bed. I show off my stitches and impressive bruising and congratulate the districts on their successful battle for unity. Then I warn the Capitol to expect us soon. As part of my rehabilitation, I take short walks aboveground each day. One afternoon, Plutarch joins me and gives me an update on our current situation. Now that District 2 has allied with us, the rebels are taking a breather from the war to regroup. Fortifying supply lines, seeing to the wounded, reorganizing their troops. The Capitol, like 13 during the Dark Days, finds itself completely cut off from outside help as it holds the threat of nuclear attack over its enemies. Unlike 13, the Capitol is not in a position to reinvent itself and become self-sufficient. "Oh, the city might be able to scrape along for a while," says Plutarch. "Certainly, there are emergency supplies stockpiled. But the significant difference between Thirteen and the Capitol are the expectations of the populace. Thirteen was used to hardship, whereas in the Capitol, all they've known is Panem et Circenses." "What's that?" I recognizePanem , of course, but the rest is nonsense. "It's a saying from thousands of years ago, written in a language called Latin about a place called Rome," he explains. "Panem et Circensestranslates into 'Bread and Circuses.' The writer was saying that in return for full bellies and entertainment, his people had given up their political responsibilities and therefore their power." I think about the Capitol. The excess of food. And the ultimate entertainment. The Hunger Games. "So that's what the districts are for. To provide the bread and circuses." "Yes. And as long as that kept rolling in, the Capitol could control its little empire. Right now, it can provide neither, at least at the standard the people are accustomed to," says Plutarch. "We have the food and I'm about to orchestrate an entertainment propo that's sure to be popular. After all, everybody loves a wedding." I freeze in my tracks, sick at the idea of what he's suggesting. Somehow staging some perverse wedding between Peeta and me. I haven't been able to face that one-way glass since I've been back and, at my own request, only get updates about Peeta's condition from Haymitch. He speaks very little about it. Different techniques are being tried. There will never truly be a way to cure him. And now they want me to marry Peeta for a propo? Plutarch rushes to reassure me. "Oh, no, Katniss. Not your wedding. Finnick and Annie's. All you need to do is show up and pretend to be happy for them." "That's one of the few things I won't have to pretend, Plutarch," I tell him. The next few days bring a flurry of activity as the event is planned. The differences between the Capitol and 13 are thrown into sharp relief by the event. When Coin says "wedding," she means two people signing a piece of paper and being assigned a new compartment. Plutarch means hundreds of people dressed in finery at a three-day celebration. It's amusing to watch them haggle over the details. Plutarch has to fight for every guest, every musical note. After Coin vetoes a dinner, entertainment, and alcohol, Plutarch yells, "What's the point of the propo if no one's having any fun!" It's hard to put a Gamemaker on a budget. But even a quiet celebration causes a stir in 13, where they seem to have no holidays at all. When it's announced that children are wanted to sing District 4's wedding song, practically every kid shows up. There's no shortage of volunteers to help make decorations. In the dining hall, people chat excitedly about the event. Maybe it's more than the festivities. Maybe it's that we are all so starved for something good to happen that we want to be part of it. It would explain why - when Plutarch has a fit over what the bride will wear - I volunteer to take Annie back to my house in 12, where Cinna left a variety of evening clothes in a big storage closet downstairs. All of the wedding gowns he designed for me went back to the Capitol, but there are some dresses I wore on the Victory Tour. I'm a little leery about being with Annie since all I really know about her is that Finnick loves her and everybody thinks she's mad. On the hovercraft ride, I decide she's less mad than unstable. She laughs at odd places in the conversation or drops out of it distractedly. Those green eyes fixate on a point with such intensity that you find yourself trying to make out what she sees in the empty air. Sometimes, for no reason, she presses both her hands over her ears as if to block out a painful sound. All right, she's strange, but if Finnick loves her, that's good enough for me. I got permission for my prep team to come along, so I'm relieved of having to make any fashion decisions. When I open the closet, we all fall silent because Cinna's presence is so strong in the flow of the fabrics. Then Octavia drops to her knees, rubs the hem of a skirt against her cheek, and bursts into tears. "It's been so long," she gasps, "since I've seen anything pretty." Despite reservations on Coin's side that it's too extravagant, and on Plutarch's side that it's too drab, the wedding is a smash hit. The three hundred lucky guests culled from 13 and the many refugees wear their everyday clothes, the decorations are made from autumn foliage, the music is provided by a choir of children accompanied by the lone fiddler who made it out of 12 with his instrument. So it's simple, frugal by the Capitol's standards. It doesn't matter because nothing can compete with the beauty of the couple. It isn't about their borrowed finery - Annie wears a green silk dress I wore in 5, Finnick one of Peeta's suits that they altered - although the clothes are striking. Who can look past the radiant faces of two people for whom this day was once a virtual impossibility? Dalton, the cattle guy from 10, conducts the ceremony, since it's similar to the one used in his district. But there are unique touches of District 4. A net woven from long grass that covers the couple during their vows, the touching of each other's lips with salt water, and the ancient wedding song, which likens marriage to a sea voyage. No, I don't have to pretend to be happy for them. After the kiss that seals the union, the cheers, and a toast with apple cider, the fiddler strikes up a tune that turns every head from 12. We may have been the smallest, poorest district in Panem, but we know how to dance. Nothing has been officially scheduled at this point, but Plutarch, who's calling the propo from the control room, must have his fingers crossed. Sure enough, Greasy Sae grabs Gale by the hand and pulls him into the center of the floor and faces off with him. People pour in to join them, forming two long lines. And the dancing begins. I'm standing off to the side, clapping to the rhythm, when a bony hand pinches me above the elbow. Johanna scowls at me. "Are you going to miss the chance to let Snow see you dancing?" She's right. What could spell victory louder than a happy Mockingjay twirling around to music? I find Prim in the crowd. Since winter evenings gave us a lot of time to practice, we're actually pretty good partners. I brush off her concerns about my ribs, and we take our places in the line. It hurts, but the satisfaction of having Snow watch me dance with my little sister reduces other feelings to dust. Dancing transforms us. We teach the steps to the District 13 guests. Insist on a special number for the bride and groom. Join hands and make a giant, spinning circle where people show off their footwork. Nothing silly, joyful, or fun has happened in so long. This could go on all night if not for the last event planned in Plutarch's propo. One I hadn't heard about, but then it was meant to be a surprise. Four people wheel out a huge wedding cake from a side room. Most of the guests back up, making way for this rarity, this dazzling creation with blue-green, white-tipped icing waves swimming with fish and sailboats, seals and sea flowers. But I push my way through the crowd to confirm what I knew at first sight. As surely as the embroidery stitches in Annie's gown were done by Cinna's hand, the frosted flowers on the cake were done by Peeta's. This may seem like a small thing, but it speaks volumes. Haymitch has been keeping a great deal from me. The boy I last saw, screaming his head off, trying to tear free of his restraints, could never have made this. Never have had the focus, kept his hands steady, designed something so perfect for Finnick and Annie. As if anticipating my reaction, Haymitch is at my side. "Let's you and me have a talk," he says. Out in the hall, away from the cameras, I ask, "What's happening to him?" Haymitch shakes his head. "I don't know. None of us knows. Sometimes he's almost rational, and then, for no reason, he goes off again. Doing the cake was a kind of therapy. He's been working on it for days. Watching him...he seemed almost like before." "So, he's got the run of the place?" I ask. The idea makes me nervous on about five different levels. "Oh, no. He frosted under heavy guard. He's still under lock and key. But I've talked to him," Haymitch says. "Face-to-face?" I ask. "And he didn't go nuts?" "No. Pretty angry with me, but for all the right reasons. Not telling him about the rebel plot and whatnot." Haymitch pauses a moment, as if deciding something. "He says he'd like to see you." I'm on a frosting sailboat, tossed around by blue-green waves, the deck shifting beneath my feet. My palms press into the wall to steady myself. This wasn't part of the plan. I wrote Peeta off in 2. Then I was to go to the Capitol, kill Snow, and get taken out myself. The gunshot was only a temporary setback. Never was I supposed to hear the wordsHe says he'd like to see you. But now that I have, there's no way to refuse. At midnight, I'm standing outside the door to his cell. Hospital room. We had to wait for Plutarch to finish getting his wedding footage, which, despite the lack of what he calls razzle-dazzle, he's pleased with. "The best thing about the Capitol basically ignoring Twelve all these years is that you people still have a little spontaneity. The audience eats that up. Like when Peeta announced he was in love with you or you did the trick with the berries. Makes for good television." I wish I could meet with Peeta privately. But the audience of doctors has assembled behind the one-way glass, clipboards ready, pens poised. When Haymitch gives me the okay in my earpiece, I slowly open the door. Those blue eyes lock on me instantly. He's got three restraints on each arm, and a tube that can dispense a knockout drug just in case he loses control. He doesn't fight to free himself, though, only observes me with the wary look of someone who still hasn't ruled out that he's in the presence of a mutt. I walk over until I'm standing about a yard from the bed. There's nothing to do with my hands, so I cross my arms protectively over my ribs before I speak. "Hey." "Hey," he responds. It's like his voice, almost his voice, except there's something new in it. An edge of suspicion and reproach. "Haymitch said you wanted to talk to me," I say. "Look at you, for starters." It's like he's waiting for me to transform into a hybrid drooling wolf right before his eyes. He stares so long I find myself casting furtive glances at the one-way glass, hoping for some direction from Haymitch, but my earpiece stays silent. "You're not very big, are you? Or particularly pretty?" I know he's been through hell and back, and yet somehow the observation rubs me the wrong way. "Well, you've looked better." Haymitch's advice to back off gets muffled by Peeta's laughter. "And not even remotely nice. To say that to me after all I've been through." "Yeah. We've all been through a lot. And you're the one who was known for being nice. Not me." I'm doing everything wrong. I don't know why I feel so defensive. He's been tortured! He's been hijacked! What's wrong with me? Suddenly, I think I might start screaming at him - I'm not even sure about what - so I decide to get out of there. "Look, I don't feel so well. Maybe I'll drop by tomorrow." I've just reached the door when his voice stops me. "Katniss. I remember about the bread." The bread. Our one moment of real connection before the Hunger Games. "They showed you the tape of me talking about it," I say. "No. Is there a tape of you talking about it? Why didn't the Capitol use it against me?" he asks. "I made it the day you were rescued," I answer. The pain in my chest wraps around my ribs like a vise. The dancing was a mistake. "So what do you remember?" "You. In the rain," he says softly. "Digging in our trash bins. Burning the bread. My mother hitting me. Taking the bread out for the pig but then giving it to you instead." "That's it. That's what happened," I say. "The next day, after school, I wanted to thank you. But I didn't know how." "We were outside at the end of the day. I tried to catch your eye. You looked away. And then...for some reason, I think you picked a dandelion." I nod. He does remember. I have never spoken about that moment aloud. "I must have loved you a lot." "You did." My voice catches and I pretend to cough. "And did you love me?" he asks. I keep my eyes on the tiled floor. "Everyone says I did. Everyone says that's why Snow had you tortured. To break me." "That's not an answer," he tells me. "I don't know what to think when they show me some of the tapes. In that first arena, it looked like you tried to kill me with those tracker jackers." "I was trying to kill all of you," I say. "You had me treed." "Later, there's a lot of kissing. Didn't seem very genuine on your part. Did you like kissing me?" he asks. "Sometimes," I admit. "You know people are watching us now?" "I know. What about Gale?" he continues. My anger's returning. I don't care about his recovery - this isn't the business of the people behind the glass. "He's not a bad kisser either," I say shortly. "And it was okay with both of us? You kissing the other?" he asks. "No. It wasn't okay with either of you. But I wasn't asking your permission," I tell him. Peeta laughs again, coldly, dismissively. "Well, you're a piece of work, aren't you?" Haymitch doesn't protest when I walk out. Down the hall. Through the beehive of compartments. Find a warm pipe to hide behind in a laundry room. It takes a long time before I get to the bottom of why I'm so upset. When I do, it's almost too mortifying to admit. All those months of taking it for granted that Peeta thought I was wonderful are over. Finally, he can see me for who I really am. Violent. Distrustful. Manipulative. Deadly. And I hate him for it.