"You had a goat named Lady."
Katniss feels a pang inside of her that she snuffs out. Peeta's health and assurance is more important than her leftover feelings for a dead goat, and Peeta never reminds her of Prim if he can help it. (Dr. Aurelius said that she had to face her emotions eventually, but Peeta refused to be the instigator.)
"Real."
He bites his lip. "Pink ribbons."
"We had one for Lady. She wore it around her neck." Until it fell apart, Katniss thinks, because it's not good to remind Peeta of how age always destroys things in the end.
"And your house…"
"It was around here." Katniss can easily pick out the wreckage that she called home for sixteen years, and wonders if it's not better that it was finally destroyed. You have to tear down before you can build up again, and the Seam would've held on for another hundred years if anyone had let it.
"It was destroyed?" Peeta's eyebrow furrows, and Katniss thinks that his breathing is getting uneven. It's time to stop talking about destruction. Peeta knows about what happened to 12, who doesn't, but he's not supposed to think about it too much. And Katniss won't be the instigator for another talk about death.
XXXXX
Gale doesn't want to come back to 12. Gale is happy in 2. Gale didn't understand why Rory felt the need to go back.
But Rory had to see where it all happened just one more time. District 12 was home, and it was a place where Rory could have died infinite times, but Rory finds as he steps off of the train that it still feels like home. Make of that what you will, but Rory doesn't think that it's so bad to like home better than a place like 2, which was one their side in the end but still produced Careers for sixty-odd years.
Rory wasn't allowed to visit 12 during their stay in 13, he didn't have the special privileges that the Mockingjay (it's weird to think of Katniss as that) did, so maybe the effect isn't as bad as it would have been.
The Square's been fairly cleaned up and picked around, some new buildings in place of what used to be there. The wood is clean and new-looking, and Rory's surprised that no coal dust has gotten on it yet. It hurts to remember that the mines are closed down until they can get more manpower and more safety measures in place. But the farther you get from the center of town and the train station, the worse it gets, despite the fact that the Merchants were hit hardest when hell fell from the skies.
The neighborhood where he used to live has been cleared out, a few new buildings in place. Gale said that they should have more public housing, high-rises like there were in the lower Capitol, one of the only good things that the Capitol actually produced. Gale also says that no one is ever going to give attention back to 12, so Rory guesses that public housing is never going to be introduced.
He stands in the general area where his house used to stand, remembering all of the years that he spent there. He guesses that it's kind of amazing that he's still alive. He tries to appreciate that and finds that it's hard.
It's hard to believe that things are actually done with. The Capitol isn't in control anymore. Rory won't be expected to die in the mines. It's like a dream.
Real or not real? He asks himself, wondering if he'll wake up.
XXXXX
"Real or not real, kid?"
Haymitch knows that his smile is unsettlingly wide, and wonders if he should get some red lipstain just like the Capitol used to have. Except red reminds him a lot of blood, despite all of the wine that he drinks. Haymitch involuntarily wonders whether his lips are stained red anyway with alcohol, before remembering that he hasn't drunk anything but straight whiskey or water in weeks.
Peeta looks offended, and Haymitch knows that he's offended the boy's delicate little sensibilities, made fun of him in some way, and Haymitch doesn't want to insult the perfect little kid, but sometimes the real world is like that. Sometimes, drunks-you-should-respect ask you whether their drink is real whiskey and not just tap water that Ripper gave him in an attempt to cheat him or get him off alcohol or something of the sort. Haymitch can't quite taste right anymore. Side effects of war and years of being a raging drunkard.
"Of course it's real," Peeta tells him. "It's here, isn't it?"
"Doctor Aurelius gave me the impression that I could see things without them actually existing."
"In that case," Peeta retorts, "it would be helpful for us all if you could conjure up a friendly dragon. Or at least a better government."
XXXXX
"Real or not real?"
"The sky?"
"All of it."
Katniss stares up at the starry night. She wonders if Haymitch is sober or not.
"What does it matter?"
Haymitch laughs, laying back on the grass of the Meadow and taking in the sky. "Of course it matters. What's the point of all this if you can't find a reason?"
"Lots of people have deluded themselves into thinking that there's a reason. Most of them have been wrong."
"Like who, sweetheart?"
"Careers. Snow. Coin—"
"You mean, all the people that actually did something with their lives."
Too much wine has loosened Katniss's tongue, and she keeps on talking, even though Haymitch never listens. "All the people who did something bad."
"But at least they did something."
"What's your point?" Katniss knows that he doesn't have a point. He's just an alcoholic without enough alcohol left, a cynic hiding under the guise of a dreamer, or maybe the other way around, and only when he's drunk.
"My point is, people like you, sweetheart, they get all cynical and better-than-thou and assume that life is pointless. And then you stagnate. You could do so much, and you refuse, because you think that there's no reason to."
"Are you saying that I haven't done anything?!" Katniss demands.
"Is the Mockingjay actually going to act proud of her accomplishments?"
"I'm just saying, I have reasons to believe that what we do doesn't matter in the end!"
Haymitch snorts. "Life can be its own reason."
"You've been talking with Peeta too much."
"Peeta nowadays is too much like you."
"You're an asshole."
"No shit, sweetheart." Haymitch takes a breath. "Okay, look at it this way. Maybe what you do doesn't matter in the long run, in the run of the universe, but it matters to a lot of people. A lot of kids are living better lives because of you. And in the future, in a hundred years, people will still be living better lives. That's not pointless."
Katniss is silent. Haymitch laughs. "Did I actually get you to shut up?"
Silence.
"You did good, sweetheart. I guess that's my point."
Katniss snorts, and then the two of them, probably drunk, are laughing together.
XXXXX
"We were in a cave."
"Real." Katniss pours some vanilla into the bowl. It smells nice, but tastes like something Haymitch likes drinking.
"And in the cave...you said...you said…"
"We talked about Lady."
"Right." Peeta's eyebrows aren't furrowing all the way yet, which is good. He mixes the eggs and sugar and vanilla together. They're making cake. Katniss doesn't tell him that about half of the story was a lie.
"We talked about…"
"We were in a romance."
"You said I had no competition." Peeta laughs, and Katniss is glad to hear that he doesn't sound hurt. The sound is genuine, and there's no bitterness in his sky-blue eyes when he opens them.
"Yeah. I did." Katniss dips a finger in the bowl and tastes it. It's good.
"Thief," Peeta jokingly accuses.
"What can I say?"
"Real or not real?"
"What?"
"I have no competition. Real or not real?"
"You should try it." Katniss feels put-upon, like Peeta is being unfair to her. She knows that's just her being selfish again. Peeta isn't trying to hurt her, and if he is, she probably deserves it.
Peeta does try it. "It's good."
"There's not much competition around here, I guess."
Peeta's eyebrows furrow, and then unfurrow again, his face somehow unlined and ageless. His eyes really are beautiful. "That's good, I guess."