I
There are times, Katniss decides, when she really hates the feeling of being trapped within her own skin. Standing in front of the full length mirror in her home, she examines herself, nude, clothing in piles around her. Summer has come, and Katniss has realized that her scars could be on display, for the world to look up – some with pity, others with disgust or derision. The scars crisscrossing her body are numerous, a souvenir of her time as the Mockingjay. There are burns that couldn't be healed, raised welts received during her confinement after the assassination, and a variety of self-inflicted injuries gained in the weeks and months after her return home. Sighing, she turns away, disgusted by what she sees, and begins to methodically redress in her underwear, a long sleeved shirt pulled over, cargo pants to follow. No one has seen her scars except for Peeta, who she makes love to only under the cover of darkness, an assortment of gowns and other lingerie covering her body, and that was only once. Peeta, upon seeing the scars, reverted to an incoherent state, trembling and out of touch with reality for days after. Since then, she only allows him access to her body at night, when the worst of them are hidden. The ones on her lower arms are a delicate network of fine lines, traced into her skin during the evenings when, alone, the pain overwhelmed her and she would scratch herself bloody while she screamed herself hoarse. They've grown faint enough now that one has to be standing close to see them clearly. Still, despite the heat, she heads out to meet Haymitch in front of his home, covered from collarbone to ankle, for a promised walk through the woods to forage for his favorite berries.
Seeing her emerge from her home, he walks over to her, backpack in hand, far more sensibly dressed. Haymitch raises an eyebrow at her clothing but says nothing, instead gesturing for her to lead the way. In the woods surrounding the District, it is only marginally cooler, and Haymitch notices that Katniss isn't moving with her usual energy, in fact, there is a sluggishness that is worrying. Eying her critically, Haymitch says, "Um, darlin' maybe you ought to wear something a bit lighter? Roll up the sleeves maybe?" Katniss rolls her eyes, and replies, scathingly, that it's his age that's making him think it's so warm, and that she was perfectly fine, thankyouverymuch. Onward they continue, seeking berries, talking about jams and pies, when Katniss begins to feel as if she is entering an altered state of consciousness. Her skin feels too tight, and everything is in a haze, Haymitch's voice further and further away. Haymitch, noticing the slurred speech, rushes to catch her as her knees give out. The last thing she hears is him saying "Dammit, you stubborn woman, don't you…"
II
Cold. She is so damn cold. She can't stop shivering, and everything hurts. Through a fog, she hears a voice, angry, harsh, and she tries to open her eyes despite the throbbing of her head. Her arms and legs are so cold, parts of her feel wet, and all she wants to do is curl up and die. That distance voice becomes louder, and suddenly, it's by her side, stroking her hair, pleading with words she is only starting to comprehend.
"Come….open…eyes….drink….please….."
Slowly, her eyes flutter open, and she sees Haymitch next to her. A straw is placed to her lips, and she sips cool fruit juice, exhausted by the effort. Wanting to give in to the inviting darkness, she begins to close her eyes again, when she hears, more clearly now, "Oh no you don't. I'll haul your ass back into that shower, open your damn eyes." As she comes to full awareness, she realizes that she is in her bed, a light sheet draped over her, damp, cooling her arms and legs.
Wait…why is she wet? Why are her arms and legs so cold?
Katniss really takes in her surroundings, and realizes that, under the sheet, her shirt had the sleeves cut off, and her pants were unevenly cut above the knees. A cut had been made at the neckline, and torn, opening up the shirt to just between her breasts. "You were going into heatstroke, so I dumped our water on you, cut off what I could and carried you back home. Your temperature was climbing, so I got you into the shower. I know you feel cold, but that's just your body recovering." That's when she realizes.
Haymitch cut her clothes.
Haymitch has seen her scars.
Katniss begins to curl into herself under the sheet, hyperventilating. Haymitch, still damp from holding her under the shower, concerned that she is relapsing, grabs the sheet and goes to pull it off of her, ready to take her back into the bath, when Katniss, in a panic, snatches it back. "Darlin', you've got to be reasonable. If you can't breathe we have to get you back into the shower and get you cooled off. It'll be ok." As Haymitch reaches out to lift her, he realizes that her skin feels cool; confused, he looks at her, and sees under the covers, she is rubbing her arms.
"What in the hell is going on, Katniss? First, that damn boy runs out the door when I tell him to strip you down and get you in the shower, now, your scrubbing at your own skin somethin' fierce. Will you please fill me in," he demands, as he notices that she has begun to cry at the news that Peeta left. "S'my scars." Katniss whispers, embarrassed at her self loathing, and Peeta's inability to deal.
"What about your scars?" he asks, genuinely curious now, confusion crossing his face. "Peeta can't deal with seeing them. It's too much, too hard. " Haymitch sighs as she explains his reaction to them, and then, hesitantly, her own discomfort with her marred body. How when she first returned home she'd worn a tank top once, and the response she'd received from others was painful enough to not repeat it. How she never ventured out without everything covered, that her rare appearances for the Capitol, in her fancy dresses, were done with special cosmetics that made them disappear from sight, coating her body in a waxy residue that gave the appearance of perfection. "So you mean to tell me, that you nearly died of heat stroke today because you were too embarrassed to show me your arms?" Haymitch states slowly, anger beginning to flood his face. "That Peeta, who is supposed to love you, never sees you in the light of day, and can't man up enough to get his fucking fiancée into a shower?"
Muttering under his breath, he steps back from the bed, and begins to unbutton his still damp shirt. Ignoring her questioning glance, he finishes the buttons and takes his shirt off. "Let me show you something, sweetheart. None of us got out of the war intact. We all have our scars," he tells her, as he walks back over to the bed, sitting next to her. He starts to point out childhood scars from circumventing the fence around the district. A knife mark from his time in the Games. Gunshots. A scar on his palm from a broken bottle. And, for the first time, Katniss notices very faint, fine lines as he turns his arms over, exposing his wrists. Tentatively, she reaches out a finger, sheet slipping, and traces the lines, realizing that they were similar to hers, except his were created to cause far more damage. "These happened when I got home from the Games," he tells her quietly. She begins to trace all of his scars, different from her own in size, texture, and appearance. She realized that she's seen many of these before, when he rolled up his shirtsleeves, or unbuttoned his collar. "I'm not ashamed of my scars, and you shouldn't be either," he tells her, as her examination comes to an end. He picks up her arm, still on top of the sheet, and traces her own scars, looking thoughtful. Suddenly, he stands and pulling back the sheet, lifts her in his arms and carries her over to the full length mirror.
III
"Do you think you can stand, Katniss" he asks her as he deposits her on her feet. Nodding yes, he steps back, and turns her to face the mirror, standing behind her, hands on her shoulders. "OK darlin', now it's your turn. You, my dear, are going to show me your scars, and tell me about them." Taking a deep breath, she meets his eyes in the mirror and nods. Slowly, she begins to point out the obvious ones – the lines she left on the anniversary of Prim's death, the thicker tissue from the cuffs used while she was in isolation, and worked her way up, to needle marks from sedatives forced on her, the faint cut in her hairline from the Games.
" I have more," she tells him, "and they look worse than these," she warns him. She lifts the back of her shirt. There, under and below her bra strap, are marks from a beating she received while in custody. Haymitch reaches out and, confirming her consent, touches them gently. "I don't even remember when they happened. I have these scars, and I don't even know why," she says, voice shaking, as he caresses her back. She looks in the mirror and see the look of guilt and self blame for not getting her out sooner. She drops the back of her shirt, and taking a deep breath, reaches down and rips her pants up the seams, exposing her thighs. One leg, then another, she then kicks off her shoes and removes her socks. Burn marks cover her legs; while they clearly had been treated, the difference in color and texture was apparent to Haymitch at this distance.
Katniss, when faced with the intensity of his gaze on her legs, begins to cry, really cry, for the first time since she was faced with them. Sobbing, her legs give out, and she collapses, Haymitch following to gather her up in his arms, as she wails. Rocking her gently, he strokes any skin he can reach. "Do you think these bother me?" he asks her, as he holds her chin to tilt her face towards him. "Do you think they disgust me? Well, they don't. They show that you survived, Katniss. They are the story of your life, written in your skin. They tell me that you faced terrible things, and dammit, you are here. Don't you dare apologize for them, or feel shame," he tells her, "because they show your strength, and that makes you beautiful beyond words. These say that there is no weakness here."
Haymitch becomes aware of her physical presence in his arms, her body, strong from hunting, enticingly warm against his bare chest. He meant it when he said that her beauty lay in her strength, and now, with her in his lap, begins to feel the stirrings of arousal. "Peeta is a damn fool." Haymitch growls, running his fingers through her hair. Katniss, feeling him harden against her thigh, turns in to his chest, and cautiously places a kiss against a scar he has there. Haymitch stops his hand, startled by the action. He looks down to find her studying him intently, biting her lower lip, as she often does when thinking. Releasing her lip, she smiles, grabs the back of his head, and pulls him down for a kiss. "I want to make love in the sunlight" she murmurs against his lips. "Just once, I want to be looked at like I'm beautiful. I don't want to have to wear some lacey shit," she tells him, as she swings around, locking her ankles behind his back. "I miss the feel of skin against mine, Haymitch," she says, serious now. Not since Gail has she been comfortable in her skin, and here, now, she sees a glimpse of the old Katniss, who had lost her virginity long ago, on a carpet of grass early one morning. That girl had giggled after, the cool breeze leaving bumps on her skin as Gail tickled her with a leaf between her breasts. "You know you want this" she whipers into his neck.
IV
Standing with her still wrapped around him, Haymitch walks them over to the bed, dropping her unceremoniously onto the mattress, smirking as she bounces. Divesting himself of his remaining clothing, he climbs onto the bed, and helps her undress, complaining that she is too slow. Laughing, they get her clothes off, and Haymitch, without warning, blows a raspberry on her stomach, because in his opinion, she doesn't laugh enough, and when she does, she lights up the room. Katniss discovers that Haymitch is a surprisingly playful and generous lover, and realizes that this is the man he is protecting behind the surly attitude and booze. They chase each other across the bed with playful nips, seeking out ticklish areas, and steal kisses as they get to know each other's bodies.
When Haymitch kisses his way down her abs to her thighs, Katniss tenses. Haymitch, under heavy lids, looks up at her darkly, making her feel tight and wet down low. "I told you" he says in a husky voice, "that these," his tongue flicks out to explore the valleys and peaks of her scars, "don't bother me." Working his way down to the sensitive skin on the inside of her knew, he places a kiss. "All this is , sweetheart, is more texture for me to play with. For example," he says, and he works his way up the other thigh, " does this feel the same here, when I do this, "licking at the juncture of her thighs and her pelvis, "and this," licking at scar tissue just below. "Or," he says, a glint in his eyes, "if I do…this." Deliberately slowly, he takes his thumbs, and stroking her lower lips, separating them, runs his tongue across her clit, making her back arch off the bed with a shriek. He then places all his attention to that area until Katniss grabs his head, and, begging him not to stop, screams her orgasms. Just as she is coming down, he attacks her breasts, pulling her nipples between his teeth as his fingers slide between her legs, stroking and stretching. Leaning in for a kiss, he asks her if she is ready, and when she nods, flips them over, so that he is lying on his back. "I'm a bit older than you, Kat, and we'll last longer this way," he tells her, as he hands her a condom from the bedside drawer. Opening the wrapper, she looks at the condom, looks at him and, with a grin, pops the condom between her lips. Leaning over, she covers him with it, coming off with a pop. Startled as hell, Haymitch asks where she learned to do that. She simply winks and says, "Effie", as she pushes him back down and climbs on top.
There is no hiding her scars now. Here, with the sunlight streaming in, Katniss realizes that her body , her scars, they are the highlight of this experience. As she moves in for a kiss, she feels his hands cup her ass, moving her atop him, sliding down to her thighs, reveling in the feel of her skin under his hands. This is how sex should be, she muses, wondering if she and Peeta will ever reach this point. Haymitch, drifting back between her legs, uses his thumb to help her as he feels his own orgasm approach. Sated, they flop down onto the bed, eventually moving into the bath to shower together. Exhausted from the day's events, Katniss is sent back to bed by Haymitch, who promises to clean up. As her eyes drift shut, she imagines the feel of lips pressed against her forehead and a murmured endearment.
In the morning, when Katniss awakens, she finds all traces of Haymitch gone. Laid out on the foot of her bed is a sleeveless blouse, back and neckline modest, and her favorite pants. As she steps out the door, she sees Haymitch sitting on his front porch, mug in hand. As she walks past him to head to the market, she makes eye contact, and winks. Raising his mug in salute, he watches as she walks away, a sway to her hips and a bounce in a step.
At her wedding later that year, Katniss makes her vows in a sweetheart dress, gloveless, with an exposed back. Haymitch can't help but notice that while she is moving with self assurance, accepting compliments on her appearance, Peeta shudders a bit every time he places his hand on her back when they pose for photos. As Katniss takes a quiet moment to her self, tucked away on a balcony, she hears a set of footsteps follow her. Leaning her arms on the railing, she smiles as a set of fingers ghost across her back, and a hint of a kiss is left between her shoulders where a tattoo now resides.