Post-Mockingjay and Pre-Epilogue
I'm sure this has been done to death but I wanted to write a version myself, one that makes me happy, because the books left me feeling pretty awful. That, and there's such a gap between the end of the book and the epilogue that I really figured more needed to be said.
Summary:
Katniss struggles to cope with life after the war, but as District 12 pulls itself together again, Katniss learns to do likewise. Katniss x Peeta.
Chapter 1
It's a morning like any other. I lie in bed without a dreg of energy, conscious that the prime time for hunting has long passed me by as the sunlight teasingly trickles between the curtains. The curtains are now collecting dust, as I haven't touched them since I had haphazardly thrown them together a few months ago when I arrived back in District 12. I've become a poor excuse for a hunter, only managing to pull myself out of bed when I hear Greasy Sae pottering around in the kitchen, and then, only half-heartedly picking up my bow and trotting into the forest for a few hours, and then, only on my better days. My energy wanes so easily. It frustrates me at times, but I'm getting to the point where I've stopped caring.
Today I lie there, eyes closed, legs heavy as lead. I haven't slept well. My dreams centred around Prim, sweet Prim, and her dying moments continued to replay in my head. I squeeze my eyes, feeling my tears spilling over their lids, and I force myself out of bed and down the stairs. I'm still in my pyjamas but I open the front door and look upon the row of primrose that Peeta had planted several weeks ago. They are still small and vulnerable-looking, all the more painful paired in memory with Prim, and I close the door, sinking to the floor. I know Greasy Sae won't be far off now though, so I head to the bathroom and shut myself in the shower.
I'm not long out of the shower when the familiar clunk of pots alerts me to my visitor. I push my legs forward down the stairs, conscious of my dripping hair hanging limply over my shoulders. My mother would have clucked in disapproval and thrust a towel at me, but Greasy Sae just gives me a smile and gestures for me to sit. She soon has a steaming bowl of something placed in front of me. It smells good, whatever it is. I eat it slowly, trying to find pleasure in the taste. Most things taste like cardboard to me now.
Greasy Sae's voice jolts me out of my reverie. "Peeta's making bread every day now." She gives me a warm look. "I'm sure he'd let you have some if you popped over and said hello."
I wonder how much Greasy Sae knows about Peeta now. About the anger that took him over, thanks to the hijacking he underwent at the Capitol. I can almost feel his fingers around my neck again. I once more hear the icy words spilling from his lips during our time in District 13. I slurp the porridge Greasy Sae has made loudly. I don't want to see him. I know I can't handle it. Peeta and I had become so close up until the Capitol whisked him away to their trackerjacker torture, and though he usually seems to be himself, I'm always fearful of the moment his mind decides to about-turn, and his eyes issue a death warrant to me.
Greasy Sae leaves for the Hob as I finish breakfast, and I decide it's high time to go hunting again. As much as I want to mope around all day, there is a nagging, guilty feeling that plagues me, and that is that I should be catching game for District 12. Shipments arrive on the train regularly enough, but I feel it's my duty to provide for the Hob, and our small, slowly growing population. Over the months that I had cooped myself up, feeling sorry for myself, people returned to District 12 and the rebuild began. I was glad to see the Hob had started up again, although it didn't buzz with activity half as much as it used to. It's now situated on top of the place where the original warehouse had stood. Now that it's not a centre of illegal trade, stands and stalls are abundant with beaming merchants.
I slip on my hunting gear and stride out the door. I pass by Haymitch's house, which as usual, is dead to the world, and then past Peeta's house. I know he'll be there by himself. I can smell the brisk scent of freshly baked bread, and I hurry past, before I feel tempted. I don't want to face him yet.
I find a rabbit in a snare that day, and I manage to catch a squirrel with an arrow to the neck, but nothing more that day. Feeling somewhat disappointed, I enter the Hob that afternoon and get rid of my catches quickly before disappearing back into my house. Greasy Sae is there again, whipping up dinner for me. I thank her and she leaves once I finish eating. And now I'm alone again. Well, technically I'm not on my own. Buttercup is sitting on the chair where Prim used to sit, curled up comfortably. He still seems to hate me to a degree, but I'm his only company now so he tolerates me.
The loneliness creeps up on me this evening though. I can't finish my meal and I find myself in front of Haymitch's door. I walk in without knocking – he's probably in so great a drunken stupor that he won't hear me anyway. But lo and behold, he surprises me today. He is sitting in a chair in the kitchen, bottle in hand but eyes slightly alert.
"Well, hasn't it been a while?" he drawls. "What's the problem today, sweetheart?"
Haymitch always knows how to make me feel like rubbish. I turn tail and leave his house, ignoring his hurried apologies and regretting my stupid impulse to seek out company. However, what's worse is that I walk straight into Peeta outside the door.
"Oof!" Peeta almost loses his balance, but he catches my arm and manages to steady himself. My arm feels like it's on fire under the touch of his fingers.
"Sorry," I quickly mutter, and I shrug his hand off before retreating to my own house. He doesn't stop me. I do watch him from the window of my kitchen as he goes into Haymitch's house though. Are we both lonely? I ponder.
It's the first time I've interacted with him since he planted the primrose bushes outside my house. It was a gesture I appreciated immensely, but I couldn't bring myself to thank him, to approach him, even. However, seeing him today changed the themes of my nightmares. I know the Capitol had Peeta physically restrained and subjected him to trackerjacker poison while watching excerpts of his interactions with me in the games to hijack his memory, as he had been firmly under the belief that I was a mutt of the Capitol when we were reunited, but what exactly he saw, imagined, I don't know. I recall Johanna saying she was very familiar with his screams. What was making him scream? Was he being physically tortured? Or was it all in his mind? I had fret over it when he was still in their clutches, but since the war I had avoided thinking about him. I had avoided thinking about Gale too. And my mother. And Prim too, but it didn't stop her haunting my dreams, and now it was Peeta who began to feature centre stage.
My mind goes crazy with terrible imaginings, of what they did to him, of what he in turn imagined I had become. He had been so stalwart, so loyal to me, and his love for me felt so unconditional… I hadn't deserved it, and hadn't appreciated it, but once I was lost to him, the loss felt unbearably heavy. I feel it deeply tonight, thrashing in my bed, trying to halt imaginary doctors from jabbing Peeta with their venom-filled needles, trying to stop imaginary Peeta from ripping my neck out when they get to him. I wake up panting heavily, and find my trusty rope and began tying knots. I won't manage anymore sleep tonight.
The next day I get out of bed well before dawn, and am ready at the table when Greasy Sae comes in with her granddaughter. Once again, she mentions Peeta and the bread, and once again, I say nothing.
I go hunting, but fatigue wears me down and I only catch an injured rabbit. I bring it home with me that evening, hoping Greasy Sae will be happy to cook it for me. Thankfully, she obliges, and I enjoy my dinner more than usual. I head to bed early and sleep comes upon me, but followed swiftly by dreadful dreams. I relive the moments where Peeta was on death's doorstep in the games. I scream myself hoarse in that nightmare, but when I wake up, my throat burns with such pain that I realise I must have screamed aloud too. The last thing I saw was Peeta on the ground, chest unmoving after he had hit the forcefield in the arena, and in my nightmare there was no Finnick to rescue him.
He can't be dead. He's not dead, I think to myself, panic-stricken. I was sure I'd seen him yesterday, but what if I hadn't? What if I had imagined it? I leap out of bed, only in pyjamas again, and race down to his house. I just need to check, I reassure myself. He's here. He's alive. I just need to check. The house is dark and looks unoccupied, and my fear multiplies. I fling the door open easily – it's not locked – and sweep up the stairs, slowing myself outside the only closed bedroom door. It has to be his. I click it open quietly and peer in cautiously. Relief soon floods me. I see his tousled blonde hair on the pillow, and watch the blankets move up and down smoothly with his breathing.
He's alive, I think to myself, trying to relax. He's safe. Then I suddenly became aware of how foolishly I'd run out, and embarrassed, I pull the door shut as quietly as I can manage. It gives a horrendously loud click as it shuts though, and I know it would have woken him. I can't help myself – I flee back into my house as quick as a flash, lock my door and curl back up in bed. The rest of my night is rewarded with peaceful sleep, at least.
The next morning I sleep in late, and my breakfast is cold when I make it downstairs. It feels too late in the day to bother heading out into the woods to hunt, so I sit in the rocking chair, staring at my pile of letters. I still haven't touched them, and I know I probably receive a few calls during the day that I miss due to hunting. Today, as if on cue, I hear the phone, and I picked it up, feeling brave.
"Hello? Is this Katniss?" comes my doctor's unsure voice.
"Oh, Doctor Aurelius. Hello," I say coolly.
Aurelius recovers himself quickly, and pleased that I had answered the phone for the first time in the months I had been in District 12, begins asking me about my condition. Had I been hunting? Had I made a good daily routine for myself? I'm very stiff with him though, answering with a curt yes or no, and by the end of our conversation he seems wearied.
"I'm going to call you again in a week," he tells me, more than a hint of exasperation in his voice. "We'll pick up where we left off."
"Okay, thank you Doctor," I say sweetly before hanging up.
I decide I deserved a treat for putting up with him today, so I visit the Hob and see if there are any decent sweets for sale. I wander the stalls, happening across Thom, and he entertains me with polite conversation for a few minutes. Then I return to searching the stands, and finally find what I was looking for.
"I'll have a bag of those," I tell the merchant, pointing at the peppermints, and missing Prim desperately.
As I enter Victor's Village, my heart stops as I see Peeta knocking at my door. He turns back down the path to his own house when his eyes catch sight of me. I'm frozen where I stand. I can't even move as he approaches me.
"Hey, Katniss," he says casually. "I was just looking for you."
"I-I was at the Hob, sorry. I'm actually a little busy right now," I respond quickly, and I start walking back to my house.
"With what?" Peeta asks, keeping step with me and ready to call my bluff. "I can help you with whatever it is."
I squeeze my eyes shut and stop walking. "It's fine, I'll do it later. Do you need something?"
Peeta's blue eyes search mine. "Someone was in my house last night."
"You never know with Haymitch," I say lightly. "I find him in my house sometimes too." Okay, that was a lie; he hasn't bothered calling in at all since I'd been back, but it sounded plausible.
"Was it you?" His eyes bore into mine, and I flinch from his gaze. He could go into a rage at any moment, I realise with a start of terror.
"I have to go, sorry," I stutter, not meeting his eyes. My legs suddenly carry me back to my house at a run, and I lock the door before collapsing in the living room onto the sofa.
What an ordeal. What a fool I had been, sneaking into his house, desperate to check he was still there. Of course he was still there. I kick myself mentally. You idiot, Katniss!