Fire's Calm is about Katniss and Peeta's relationship months after the end of the last book. I didn't much like the ending due to its lack of Kat and Peeta time, so I decided I was going to have to make my own version. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW my work. I have never written anything before, with the exception of school papers (which are completely different, in my opinion) so I apologize in advance if you think it is a bit rough. I really want the reviews so I can make the work better. THANK YOU FOR READING!
***UPDATE***
I am gradually redoing the first 8 chapters. I have been fixing my structure, focusing a lot on not having multiple (people's) dialogue in the same paragraph. I have buffed Chapter 1. As I have reread it for the first time in a long time, I realized just how rough it was. I think my readers will be happier with its smoother format. I'm sure I will attack it here again in another week to improve it some more. Keep reading and leaving those reviews! I love all my fans!
I have only fixed chapter 1 as of yet! 2-8 are still rough. Please be patient with me
My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. My home is District 12. There is no District 12. I am the Mockingjay. I brought down the Capitol. I killed the President. He killed my sister... Gale killed my sister. Nightmares terror me through the night; and Hunger Games never seem to be over. ..
Chapter 1
I hear her screams. The smell of burning flesh sears my nose. Explosions are overtaking me; I am running towards her. Finally, as the burning inferno surrounds me, I take her into my arms. Tears stain my face as I see Prim's lifeless body. Her gray eyes look up at me. I scream for help, though I know there is no one who can. I brush the hair out of her face and look into her beautiful gray eyes. All of a sudden I felt her hands around my throat; she snarled at me through her snout and giant teeth. She pounces on me. I can't move as I try to force her off. I can smell my hair searing and I know that the inferno is only seconds away from engulfing us both. The fire surrounds us as the mutt Prim held me down. I start screaming and thrashing, but no one comes to my aid…he isn't there.
I woke to the sound of my own screams. My thrashing body, tangled in the sheets, were wet with sweat and I was breathing hard. I opened my eyes to see my white washed walls with the sun beaming through the window. The air was heavy with moisture it made breathing difficult. Everything was as I had left it the night before.
My father's hunting jacket hung on a chair by the closet, the wedding picture of mom and dad sat on the desk across the room, and the pearl, the last gift Peeta gave me, sat on the nightstand next to my bed. I looked at the clock and it said it is 8:30 in the morning.
I let out a sigh and stared at the ceiling. Another sleepless night; the nightmares never seem to vanish. Every day, in my sleep, the arena comes back to haunt me; dreams of my sister, not being able to save her; dreams of running through an inferno to save Peeta, always so far away from me. I don't even remember the last time I had a dreamless night. Not a night goes by that I don't hope for Peeta to wrap his arms around me…to keep me safe, and guard me from my fears. Those days seem a lifetime ago.
I spent a few seconds untangling my body from the net of sheets cocooned my legs. I walked to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. As I was leaving, I look at how much I have changed since the day of the reaping; the day I volunteered as tribute to save Prim.
My skin has many different shades of pink and white. My hair, which used to be long and lovely, has yet to grow back. I now have dark circles that haunt my eyes. The girl who is on fire peers before me. I can still hear Cinna's voice "I am still rooting for you." I switch off the light and headed towards the kitchen.
I have never felt at home in this house. The halls always feel void and cold. No laughter or warmth graces its presence. Days of me coming home from a hunt, Prim's welcoming smile and Buttercup's angry his are long gone. I close my eyes and try to picture my old house; Prim making cheese, me cleaning my latest goose, Mother knitting by the fireplace. I remember feeling so safe. No matter how bad things were or how hungry we remained, we always had each other and that was enough.
As I walked into the kitchen, I notice a fresh loaf of bread sitting on the counter. Immediately I smiled knowing Peeta had left it. For months this has been his ritual and I couldn't be more grateful. I grabbed a plate and spread berry jelly on a large slice of the warm end, the crust, as always, light and flaky. As I ate, I couldn't help but think of Peeta. All the moments we had shared; us in the arena, the nights when we would find each other and face our nightmares together. The first kiss that made my insides flutter. Or worse, the day on the train when I told him I never truly loved him.
I will never forget the pain that was his face. I didn't realize it at the time just how much he truly loved me. I didn't think it was possible for me to ever love anybody, but gradually, he stole my heart.
Like my ever constant nightmares, the guilt never seems to fade. Since the Capitol hijacked Peeta's memories, things have never been the same. Does he still love me? Yes, I believe he does, but it is the distants that he maintains that makes me believe I have lost him forever.
As I finished up my breakfast, I decide it is a good day for hunting. I left my dishes by the sink; I would clean them later. I headed to the closet where I grabbed my game bag, my father's jacket, my boots and I was out the door. I walked the perimeter of District 12. My instinct was to listen for the familiar buzzing ,though, I knew it was an unnecessary fear. The only reason the fence remained was to keep out the large animals we didn't want walking the streets but I still listened in case Snow somehow came back and the power returned to their lifeless wires.
I made my way to the old spot Gale and I used to meet. I haven't seen him for months, not since we both realized I would never be able to forgive him for taking a part in my sister's death. I have seen him on the tv a lot, however. He works in District 2, he is helping with the rebuild of Panem. Not a day goes by when I do not think of the time we shared in these woods, being children together…but those days are gone, and so is Prim.
By the time I was done hunting I had gotten myself five geese, a wild turkey, and a few rabbits. Greasy Sae will be thrilled for the meat. The population of District 12 is still very small, but we have begun to rebuild as fast as we can. The more we build, the more we welcome back former District 12 members. This town will never be the same; however, we are trying to put our lives back together as best we can.
The new Hob became our new, "legal", trades and market square. Greasy Sae reopened her small kitchen and always appreciated it when she could get fresh game. Ripper has also started selling her booze again, no doubt Haymitch is thrilled. Rooba the butcher even has her butcher shop reopened.
Peeta now sells his baked goods at the market; however, he bakes them in his home until his Bakery is up and running again. Hazelle and the remainder of her children have even started their own house cleaning and laundry service. I have been teaching Rory how to hunt and he helps Greasy Sae and Rooba out with fresh game as well. Things may not be perfect, but this is home, and we have got each other.
When I finally reach the house, I looked at the beautiful primrose garden Peeta planted for me around the house. Beautiful reds, purples, whites, and yellows flowed with the wind. I could hear the bee's buzzing; the hummingbirds stole from their nectar. I don't think this house will ever feel like home to me; I long for the tiny house in the seam, where the fire was always cozy; the place where my memories of father will always remain.
I went to kneel by the pink roses. I could picture Prim's long blonde hair, her big gray eyes, and her beautiful smile; they even smell like her. I fought so hard trying to keep her alive. Everything I did was for her and in the end it wasn't good enough.
As I closed my eyes a tear trailed my cheek. A warm finger brushed it away; the soft hands cleaned my face with the wipe of a thumb. I did not have to open my eyes to know it is him; those were his hands and that was his smell.
As I looked into his big blue eyes my tears wouldn't stop. He wrapped his arms around me; it made me feel warm and safe. I breathed in his scent and buried my face in his chest. He brushed his lips against my hair and we stayed that way for a long while.
He took me inside and started on a pot of tea. I sat on the chair closest to the window; the sun bathed me with its warmth. I watched Peeta work, boiling water and grabbing the cream and sugar. He set them down in front of me. I am grateful for his presence; the world seems to stop when he is around. He makes all my fears disappear.
Peeta, like me, has multiple colors of pink and white skin that plaster his body. I felt a knot in my stomach as I looked at his prosthetic leg; a gift I unintentionally gave him. These are our battle scars, the constant reminders of the arena and everything since. His hair, the blonde curls, is much shorter than before. Like mine, it still hasn't grown back from the fire.
When I look into his eyes, I can see all the pain that still lies within him. The boy with the bread stands before me, but am I still the girl on fire to him? Even though fight it, I am irrevocably in love with him.
When he was finished making the tea, he filled us both a glass and placed a honey roll in front of each of us. We both sat in silence. We often did this, it has never seemed to matter that we don't speak; our silence said it all. When he finished his tea, he took his dishes to the sink. "I have got to get going." He said as he wiped his hands dry with a towel. "I need to be getting back to the bakery. I still have a few more batches to get done today." I look at him and nodded my head with a frown.
As he passed to leave, he stopped behind me to caresses my cheek; his hand was welcome. I laid my head into its warmth, never wanting him to let go. But almost as soon as he touched me, his hand was gone; that empty feeling returned.
I spent the rest of my day in town helping with the rebuild. I stopped by Greasy Sae's for a bite to eat. She was serving Rabbit stew, a far cry from the lamb stew of the Capitol, but a decent meal nonetheless. The air was warm and it reminded me of the arena on the beach; the humid air that wouldn't let us catch our breath. Pictures of fire and wolf mutts flashed before my eyes; I banished them from my thoughts.
As I was heading home, I saw Peeta working on a new painting on his porch. His hands and arms were swirling fast; a pensive look on his face. I pondered if I should go talk to him but I conceded and started preparing a soup of my own. I gathered all the ingredients for a chicken soup. As I was slicing an onion I peered out the window and saw Peeta looking into the sunset. I wiped my hands and headed for the door.
The grass was already covered in dew. The air smelled clean and refreshing. I love this time of day. The birds are just settling in while the animals tuck in their young. This is the time of day when the crickets start chirping and the spiders are on the hunt.
I walked up Peeta's porch steps and sat on the swing. He didn't look at me; his hands continued to paint. I watched him as if he was in a trance; he swirled his arms, his fingers blending as he went. He looked so pensive and handsome.
Before, I never thought of Peeta as handsome, but now I find it hard to tear my eyes away from him. Peeta is the best person I have ever met; he has always put others first, especially me. Even while the Capitol hijacked his memories, he found his way back to me. I will never deserve this man. He deserves a wife who would take care of him and bear his children. Though the hunger games are over, I still can't bear the thought of bringing a child into this world. In the back of my mind, I always think Snow will somehow come back and my children will be sent into the arena to die. I just can't bear the thought.
Some time goes by and I finally peer over his shoulder to view his painting. I finally understand why he kept gazing at the sunset. He has painted the landscape with beautiful oranges, purples, and reds. The grass is such a deep green it almost took my breath away. Peeta then looked at me with a question on his lips. "My favorite color is orange. Real or not real?"
"Real" I say, "but a soft orange, like the sunset."
He smiled "thank you." I never noticed it before until recently, but when he smiles I get the acidic butterflies in my stomach while goose bumps spread across my entire body. I went to sit back down on the swing. I watched him as he began putting away his painting supplies. He walked over and sat next to me. My body shivered as the night air is cool on my skin. He gave me a friendly glare, "are you cold?"
"No," I told him but I have never been a good liar. He smirked and wrapped an arm around me. We sat on the swing in silence; I lost track of time. He rest his head against mine and I felt I could sleep right there in his arms. Finally I opened my eyes; the sky was beautiful. "Would you like to come over for dinner?"
"I would love to" he replied He gave me his hand and helped me to my feet and we walked quietly to the house.
The wind blew the fragrant smell of prim roses our way. I think this was Prim's way of telling to move forward. This is the most affection Peeta and I have allowed ourselves to share since the games. He doesn't trust himself not to hurt me, fore; he still has difficulty with his hijacked memories. As for me, I don't trust myself not to hurt him. I don't think I am right girl for him, though; I want his company as much as he wants mine tonight.
When we entered the house he immediately went into the living room and lit a fresh fire. I stirred the soup and added a few seasonings. He joined me and asked what I have made for supper. "Chicken soup" I tell him.
"No noodles?"He frowns. I grin at him knowing I wouldn't even know where to begin.
"No, I'm not the baker in this house, I would only mess them up." I said with a laugh. He made his way towards me, grabbing the flour on his way.
"Now I don't believe that for a second. You got me, remember?" He whispered in my ear. His warm breath sent a chill down my spine. He walked to the fridge and grabbed butter and eggs. "Bowl?" he asked scanning the room. I walked to the cabinet cattycorner the sink and grabbed the largest bowl I could find. He laughed quietly as I set it in front of him. It must be too big. "Noodles are as easy as pie."He grinned.
I couldn't help but snort. "Since when is pie easy?"
"Since always", he remarks sarcastically and cracks open an egg.
He worked at an incredible speed; scooping flour, beating eggs and butter; his hands were fast and experienced at kneading the dough. Before I knew it, he was rolling the dough out, preparing it to be sliced. "Do you need any help? I feel bad that you are cooking for me when I was the one who invited you over for dinner."
"Yea, I am just about to start cutting it; that is the easy part. Even you can't mess it up." He said as he grabbed me by the waist.
He gave me that smile that sent goose bumps down my entire being. He centered my body in front of his and placed a knife in my right hand. The dough, which was perfectly flat, lay before me. He gently surrounded my body; his hands slowly guided mine, cutting each noodle in half inch strips. We continue like this and I felt every part of my body flowing with blood. My heart was racing and I wondered if he felt the same.
We haven't been this close in so long, I can't help but remember the time in the arena when he kissed me, and for the first time, I didn't want him to stop. I could feel his warm breath on my neck; his soft hands guiding mine with such precision. When the noodles were sliced, I could feel his hands tracing my arms; slowly continuing to my shoulders. I could hear him breathing in the scent of my hair. His hands then rest on my waist until the moment had passed; he let go.
"Now all we need to do is separate these and slowly add them to the pot." He spoke quietly in my ear. His eyes were staring deeply into mine. "They should be done in a half hour or so."My heart was racing as I nodded towards him, understanding. After we finished stirring in the noodles, I set the table and he started on another kettle of tea.
I can't remember ever feeling anything like that, for anyone. I have known love before. I loved my father, sister, and mother very much. I even loved Gale at one time, but nothing can compare to what I felt just now; every inch of my body was affected by his touch. I desperately wanted him to hold me again, hold me like he once did on the train and in the arena.
"I think the noodles are done." Peeta says from across the kitchen.
I took me a second to recollect my thoughts. "Hmm, what?" I looked at him with confusion.
"The soup…it's done."
I walked to the cupboard to grabbed us two bowls, "Oh, ok."
"This is really good, Katniss." I looked at him and smiled at his complement.
"You helped."I encouraged.
"Yea, but you did the hard part."He said earnestly. I laughed again, because I did the easy part. Throwing together a few ingredients for a soup is not difficult.
After we finished our meal, he helped with the dishes. "How have you been sleeping?" he asked me out of the blue. The question threw me off guard and I had to stop and think how best to answer his question. Should I tell him that I can't sleep without him? That almost feels selfish knowing he has no future with me, it would only lead him on. But, honesty wins and I forfeit the truth.
"I don't really sleep much anymore." He looked at me complete understanding. "I feel the same way; I only slept when I was with you." I didn't expect to hear those words come from him. My heart jumped as I felt a great deal of hope. Since he returned home, he has been so reserved. I began to blush.
"I can't seem to sleep without you either, Peeta." He smiled and continued with the dishes.
After dinner we made our way into the living room. I grabbed a book from the bookcase and sat on the couch. It is an old book of my father's with poems from famous poets of the old world. "Which book is that?" he asked curious.
"An old book of my father's; it has a bunch of old poems in it." I came and sat next to me.
"Would you read me some?" he asked sincerely.
"Is there anything in particular that you would like to hear?" He thought for a moment and shrugged.
"I don't really know any poems. I never got the chance to indulge in them."I looked at him sorrowfully. I always thought the child of a baker would have had a much better life than my own; I am gradually learning of my ignorance.
I slowly flipped through the old pages; they still smelled just the way I remembered. Father would read them to Prim and I when we were little. We would crawl into bed at night and he would sit in a chair next to us; he read until we fell asleep. I finally stop on the poem, To a Stranger by Walt Whitman.
PASSING stranger! You do not know how longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me as of a dream,)
I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you,
All is recall'd as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,
You grew up with me, were a boy with me or a girl with me,
I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become not yours only nor left my body mine only,
You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass, you take of my beard, breast, hands, in return,
I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at night alone,
I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again,
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.
I could feel Peeta's hand grab mine. We interlocked our fingers and it felt so right. I read several more poems before I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. I felt Peeta carry me up the stairs. The cold sheets sent a chill down my body. Finally, his arms wrapped around me. He felt so warm and familiar. I breathed in his scent; it hasn't changed. He held me tight and his lips brushed my neck. "You love me, real of not real?" I mumble.
There was a pause and he placed my head under his chin, "Always." He whispered.
That was the first night I had dreamless sleep.