Disclaimer: I do not own anyone or anything from The Hunger Games.
Hey guys! So I had a lot of apprehension about writing this one-shot but it's done and I'm finally ready to share it with all of you. I can only hope I did Everlark some justice. Anyway, happy reading everyone!
Saving Grace
The first time he touches me since the war is both unexpected and yet familiar, like running into an old friend after so many years. It happens on the eve of the fall equinox, marking seven months since survivors of the war began returning to the devastation that was once District 12. People all over the district are buzzing with hopeful excitement as they prepare for the upcoming fall festival. Slowly but surely, District 12 is coming back to life. I, however, have been not as optimistic.
Months of therapy with Dr. Aurelius did little to banish the demons of anger and guilt that still plagued my dreams. And while it's been easier to cope with the pain of loss, I still only feel like half a person with no real sense of purpose. I somehow feel lost and misplaced in this new world where there is no immediate threat to my life. At least in the arena, there was always a distinct goal. A reason to fight. A reason to survive.
The sound of crunching of leaves pulls me from my thoughts. I glance up and see Peeta approaching me.
"You know, it's kind of hard for you to celebrate anything when you're out here by yourself," says Peeta as he takes a seat beside me on the barren log.
"Not really in the celebration mood," I reply nonchalantly.
We both stare out past tree line to the massive bonfire situated in the middle of the field, where a crowd of people are laughing and dancing.
"Don't they realize that they're all just dancing on top of a graveyard," I say with a bitter edge to my voice. "How do you think they do it? Just move on like nothing happened?"
"I don't think anyone has forgotten, Katniss," Peeta replies in a soft tone. "But I think a lot of them are starting to find something else to live for."
"Do you think we'll ever find that? Something else to live for?" My voice is almost inaudible against the jubilant commotion nearby.
When he doesn't answer, I turn and meet his gaze. The flickering glow of the fire dances across Peeta's face and, for a moment, he looks uncertain. At last, he gives me a reassuring grin. Then to my surprise, he reaches out and gently places his hand over mine and gives it a firm squeeze.
"We'll be okay, Katniss," he says with hopeful conviction. "I promise."
The second time he touches me, I can barely stand, and Peeta's strong arms hold me up as we shuffle into my living room. As soon as he sets me down on the couch, I lurch forward and grasp my torso in pain. While Peeta leaves the room to grab some supplies, I fumble to remove my tattered jacket. When he returns, he urges me to lean back on the couch and I do so reluctantly, too overwhelmed by the burning sensation that's radiating from my midsection to protest.
"What were you thinking?" he says as he lifts my blood-soaked blouse just enough to examine the torn skin underneath. "You know that part of the woods has a lot of ditches you could fall into."
"I wasn't exactly thinking of that when I was aiming for that deer," I say through gritted teeth.
All of a sudden, I'm acutely aware of the Peeta's cool fingers on my heated skin, and I feel the blood rush to my face. Much to my relief, he's too preoccupied to notice. Taking a damp rag, he gently wipes away the dirt and blood around the lesion and then dresses my wound in bandages.
"Well the good news is it doesn't look like you'll need any stitches." He pulls his hand away and then shoots me a questioning glance. "You didn't need to go out and hunt you know. I invited you over for dinner tonight, remember?"
I feel my body tense up; I knew he wasn't going to let me off that easily. Haymitch is away at the Capitol for a whole week, and to be perfectly honest, the thought of being alone with Peeta for dinner is nerve-wracking.
He must feel my hesitation as shifts beside me, waiting for a response. But I'm at a loss for words.
"I don't bite, Katniss."
"I know that."
"So what are you afraid of?"
I swallow hard. "I'm just scared I might lose you like everyone else I've cared about!"
The words burst out faster than I could stop them. Somehow the pain I felt just moments before doesn't seem so excruciating anymore, replaced instead by a gnawing fear in the pit of my stomach. My eyes are cast downwards as a heavy silence envelopes the room.
"Katniss," Peeta says at last. "I'm not going anywhere."
Our gazes lock as he utters this and I feel my heart nearly skip a beat from the way his eyes brighten in the dim light of the room. I can't say I believe in star-crossed lovers, but sometimes I wonder if there is some truth to the role fate plays in our lives.
Averting my gaze, I timidly ask, "Does your dinner invitation still stand?"
A broad smile spreads over Peeta's lips. "Of course."
A small smile tugs at my lips and I find myself thinking that maybe a night alone with Peeta isn't going to be so bad after all.
The third time he touches me leaves me wanting more. I watch as he kneads the dough with swift fluid motions. I've watched him bake bread a thousand times before, but this time around, I'm mesmerized by the way his hands stretch and pull at the pasty mass.
"Do you want to try?" Peeta asks, catching me off guard.
"I don't know if you can trust me with your precious dough."
Peeta gives warm smile. "I trust you with my life, don't I? I'm sure you can handle a little ball of dough."
"I've never baked bread before," I say tentatively.
"It's easy," Peeta urges. "C'mon, I'll show you."
With slight hesitation, I slide from my place on the counter and stand next to Peeta. After coating my hands in flour, Peeta hands me the bread dough and for a moment, I hold it in my hands as if it were made of delicate glass. This is a bad idea.
"So you want to lay the dough flat," he explains. "Then you take one side, pull it over, and then tuck it in. And you just keep doing that over again."
I immediately regret taking Peeta up on his offer. The dough that seemed like fine silk in Peeta's hands feels cold and rigid in mine. After a few minutes of fighting the pasty mass, I exhale a sharp sigh of defeat and eventually give up. Peeta just watches me and laughs.
"You're too tense," he says as he moves behind me. "You need to relax."
I start to roll my eyes but I'm taken by surprise when Peeta's strong arm appears on either side of me. If he wants me to relax, he's going about it the wrong way. I could feel the hairs on my neck bristle with excitement when I feel his firm chest against my back. This is definitely a bad idea.
"Do it like this," he says as he places his hands over mine. "Don't be afraid to stretch out the dough."
With Peeta gently guiding my hands, the dough gradually becomes more malleable and my movements more fluid. All the while, I struggle between staying focused and melting into Peeta's warm embrace. This is the first time we have been this close in a long time, and I almost forgot how intoxicating it feels to have his arms wrapped around me, to feel his breath against my hair.
Suddenly the movements stop. On the counter is a perfectly rounded ball of dough, but all I can focus on is the feel of Peeta's fingers woven through mine.
"Alright, I think it's ready," Peeta says as he pulls away to put the dough in a pan.
As soon as his fingers separate from mine, I feel the fleeting tendrils of a familiar hunger stir within me. It's both disconcerting and thrilling, and I'm suddenly gripped by this urge to pull him back into my arms. To savor the warmth of his body against mine.
That night when Peeta races to my room to find me screaming and thrashing in my sleep, I don't resist when he pulls me close. I cling to him as I desperately try to quell the rapid beating of my heart. For once, even for a brief moment, I feel like all is right with the world and it's then I realize I want more from him. I need more from him.
Over time, Peeta and I grow back together and his arms become my saving grace. It's not until the night we both give in to desire that I realize the full force of Peeta's strength. He presses me into the bed and holds me in a passionate embrace as his lips eagerly meet mine. My body moves against his in the darkness and I feel the spark of something deep within me, spreading out from my chest to the very tips of my being.
In Peeta, I find something to live for. In him, I find the courage to face my demons and the hope that life can go on. In him, I find a love stronger than any resentment I could feel towards the demons of my past because in the end, if there was one good thing that came out of the Games, it was Peeta. And it will always be Peeta.
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