DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Hunger Games or any of its characters.
So this is all taking place at the end part of Mockingjay, but before she and Peeta become a couple and all. Say… right before he comes back to District 12.
This is my first try at a fanfic so… review and tell me what you think!
PS: THE FIRST CHAPTER OR SO IS PROBABLY GONNA BE KIND OF SLOW ON THE GALENISS STUFF. If you're a Peeta/Katniss shipper, I'll forewarn you that I'm for Galeniss, so that's who I plan to put together by the end of this. But you're welcome to read it anyways =)
Okay enough rambling. Enjoy!
A stale air hangs in the room. I cringe a little at the taste of my own morning breath. The light piercing through the shutters tells me that it's midafternoon.
Yet another day to sit through.
After brushing my teeth without toothpaste, I slowly make my way downstairs before dropping onto a chair by the kitchen table. Greasy Sae had left some food out, like she does every morning. Eggs and toast. I think she's stopped waiting for me to finish eating because we always end up sitting in silence.
My head spins as I go back in time. Gale. Gale, half conscious, weak, and wounded. Gale lying on this very table after being whipped 40 times. Gale's eyes fluttering open after I kiss him. Gale's fingers interlocked with mine all night long, as I fall asleep with my head on the table next to his. Now I think about the fact that Gale is in District 2, apparently with some kind of fancy job, probably with some other girl that lets him hold her in his arms, whisper into her ear and kiss her as much as he likes.
I don't feel like eating.
I grab a glass of water to wash down the nasty remainders of morning breath. I follow that up with some white liquor.
I think of Peeta, walking into Haymitch's living room with a box of empty bottles, announcing that he has emptied all of them, stubbornly insisting that we're going to start training for the Quarter Quell. Peeta looking out for me. Peeta trying protect me.
I take another swig.
At what point does it become unhealthy to live like this? When it's been more than a month of mess, moping, and memories? When I can shape my hair into any shape I want, because it's so greasy? Or when I stop thinking that it's not right?
I move to the couch, and collapse right into another nightmare.
I'm standing in a jungle that I immediately recognize as the arena for the 75th Hunger Games. A jabberjay screams in an agony that makes my hair stand on end. I hear Gale. Part of me wants to run to his voice, to do everything I can save him from whatever they're doing to him, but I remind myself that it's just a recording. "Katniss!" He cries. "KATNISS!" I find myself on the ground, hunched and desperately clawing at my ears, trying to ignore it. After what seems like a lifetime, I can take no more. I try to shoot the bird, but the thick foliage hides it from me, and I can't kill it. So I climb and climb, frantically looking for the jabberjay, only to find Gale, covered in his own blood, tied to a tree by a rope around his waist. His bloodshot eyes stare into mine. "You didn't help me…"
"Gale! I thought you were a jabberjay! Gale, I… I'm so sorry…"
"We were hunting partners, Katniss." His slurred words pierce right through my heart. "We were supposed to have each other's backs, no matter what…"
I can't look at him. I can't think. I can't breathe. I can't stop myself from sobbing, right there in the tree. "PEETA!" I cry, "Peeta! Help! Help! PEETA! It's Gale! It's Gale, and he-" I turn around, and Peeta's hands are around my throat. The ruins and ashes of District 12 lie around us. Gale is gone.
"You! You killed my family! This place burned down because of you! You're a mutt! You're the Capitol's mutt!"
His wild, raging eyes are still burned into my mind when I sit up. My breathing is rapid and shallow, and I think I'm screaming.
I run out the front door, tripping over nothing and landing in crumpled heap on the dirt, sobbing. I flinch when I hear my name. "Katniss?"
I'm dumbfounded. I don't know what to say. I have nothing to say.
"You came back."
Peeta looks at me, eyes full of pain. "They wouldn't let me come back. They weren't sure if I was in a…stable condition to return."
They weren't sure if he'd be able to see me without having inaccurate flashbacks programmed into his mind with tracker jacker venom. They weren't sure if he'd manage to look at my face without lunging for my throat.
"Oh," is all I can say in return.
"Katniss…" his voice sounds so agonized. He sounds like he has so much to say. "Why don't you go take a shower, and then come over to… catch up?"
Instinctively, I reach my hand up to my hair. It's clumpy and greasy and matted down. I can feel dirt on my face, and I already know that my clothes are dirty. "Right. Right. Okay. I'll see you later then." I turn and run back in, up the stairs, falling over myself again and again. I wince at the hot water burning on my raw, just-scrubbed skin. In a few minutes I'm in Peeta's living room, with my hair still dripping wet.
The first thing he asks is, "Where's Gale?" I look down, then turn my head to face the window. I shrug. We sit in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes until I find the nerve to say something. Anything.
"So, uh, how have you- …how have you been?" Vague, yes, but it's something.
He briefly tells me about therapy, about the Capitol, about what's been happening in Panem. He asks about Haymitch, and we spend the next half hour making small talk. Finally, after yet another awkward pause, he can't stop himself anymore.
"Have you talked to Gale at all?" he blurts out. I can't explain the mixture of emotions that showed up out of nowhere. Guilt, because I know that Peeta is still waiting for me. Anger, because it really is none of his business. Grief, because I haven't talked to Gale since before I shot Coin, and I don't have the slightest clue what my best friend is up to or how he is. And what I long for, more than anything, is to have my hunting partner with me, to understand me and listen to me and talk to me and be around for me.
Instead of answering Peeta, I stand up and go back home.