Flashbacks and Echoes
(i'm going to take these broken wings and learn to fly)
A Hunger Games Fanfic by Jewel
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Disclaimer: The Hunger Games series and its characters were created by Suzanne Collins and are copyrighted to their rightful owners; no copyright infringement is intended.
Rated: M for themes and language
Set after Mockingjay and contains spoilers for all three books.
Summary: Peeta's good days outnumber his bad days, but Katniss doesn't believe there's anything good left in her to love, so she goes to District Two, thinking she's found a way to drive a permanent wedge between herself and the boy with the bread. (Scenes are set before the Reaping, during the Victory Tour, during their time in District 13, and after the war. Mostly canon compliant.)
…
"Love and other moments are just chemical reactions in your brain... / And feelings of aggression are the absence of the love drug in your veins... / Love and other socially acceptable emotions are morphine... / Cleverly concealing primal urges often felt but rarely seen"
.
She twists and spirals, but always she circles back to him.
[District 2, present day]
"I was so stupid," he tells her.
The words coil around her like a constricting snake made of barbed wire. His smile is devastating as he looks at her with half-lidded eyes. He could have given Finnick Odair a run for his money.
"I let myself believe for a long time that it was just an act. A show for the Capitol so you could make it out the arena alive.
She looks out over District Two, admiring the new skyline that's been rebuilt since the war ended. She doesn't look at him when she picks up her abandoned glass and sips the amber liquid. It burns going down. She can't say anything that he hasn't already guessed. Gale just knows her too well.
"Poor little Catnip, you probably thought you were faking being in love with him."
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[District 12, after the war]
He makes her a better person. He burns away all the hurt and anger. Strips her of all her defenses until she doesn't know who she is anymore. They grow back together, even though they're just vines with nothing to cling to except each other. The girl who sits for months, dirty and hollow, disappears. In her place is a girl who chides herself when she finds her eyes searching for him in every room she enters.
Eventually there are even weekly phone calls to her mother on Sunday afternoons. She tells her mother that the cleanup in Twelve is making progress, a new shop has been built, or another family has moved back. Listens to her mother babble about the new hospital and the new techniques they're pioneering. Closes her eyes when her mother says she misses her. But she remembers to say I love you at the end of the call.
She doesn't know where in herself she finds the words, because since she saw her sister go up in flames and become a girl on fire, she doesn't believe she can love. Or should love, because face it, everything she touches dies.
But it's like he's bleeding into her, breaking her apart and reshaping her into someone who wants to lean against him when he stands behind her.
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[District 13, during the war]
He finds her in one of her hiding spots one afternoon. His body blocks out most of the light trying to filter in from the corridor into the dark supply closet. She gasps when the door is thrown open, because even if people know about her hiding spots they've been gracious enough to feign ignorance and leave her in peace. But she knows better than to expect that from him.
There's an intensity around him, like a contained storm. She tells herself he's not the same boy she knew, but the darkest corner of her mind whispers pretty, silver tongued liar as she remembers him standing next to her on a train speeding to the Capitol, waving at the crowds as he tells her one of them may be rich.
She feels his eyes rake over her and shudders because it makes her think of his hands, holding her as she drifts off to sleep, propping her up when the Capitol and Snow has her ready to crumble… cupping her face as he kisses her and she knows it's a real kiss and not one for show.
All his kisses were real, her mind taunts her. My kisses were fake.
He doesn't say anything, and she doesn't understand why misery, not relief, settles over her when he turns away and slams the door behind him.
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[District 12, before the Reaping]
One day at lunch she catches Madge staring at Gale. She smiles when Madge blushes bright red.
"He's nice to look at," Madge says defensively, looking down at her lunch as she pushes a carrot around with her fork.
Katniss shrugs but doesn't say anything. It's true, Gale probably is the handsomest guy in all of Twelve, but she doesn't think about him like that. To her he's just her best friend and hunting partner. Her own eyes look around the school yard, where she immediately finds the baker's son. He's sitting in the center of a large and noisy group, though she's too far away to hear what they're talking about. He laughs at whatever the girl next to him says, shaking his blond head as he gestures with his hands. She's so busy taking in the sight of him, unguarded and animated, that she freezes like a deer when his eyes actually lock on to hers.
She looks away fast, her eyes focusing on the table. But she wasn't fast enough and Madge leans over and bumps shoulders with her, giving her a quick wink. Her face is heated, and when she's finally brave enough to let her eyes scan over the kids filing back into the school she catches him looking at her. But just as quickly he blinks and looks away.
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[Victory Tour]
After a while all the parties seem to blend together into a string of blinking fairy lights. She feels surreal when she's twirling on a dance floor, her pretty dress fanning out. She smiles at him (she's always smiling at him during these dances) and accidently trips on her hem. She stumbles against him but his hands are there to catch her and hold her while she steadies herself in the ridiculous heels Cinna has sent with the outfit. Katniss lets him lead her in the dance since she's now forgotten all the steps Effie showed her this morning.
Her hair is unbound, soft and curling around her face. She uses it to her advantage and tilts her head to let the dark hair fall over her face like a curtain. She's surprised to feel his fingers brush away her hair, like he can't stand to have her hidden from him. His fingers skim her jaw as he presses a kiss to her forehead. His breath is steady in her ear when he asks if she needs to step away for a minute. She nods, just once, but it's enough for him.
He holds her hand as they navigate around the other dancing couples, pass the tables laden with food. Their eyes dart around the room, looking to see who's watching them. Usually someone will try to prevent them from sneaking out, and usually it's just a ploy on their part to look like they need to get away from the crowd so they can steal a passionate embrace they don't want the cameras to catch. But other times, like now, they just need to step away for a minute, to catch their breaths and reel in their anger.
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[District 2, after the war]
Gale's surprise gives way to delight as he wraps his arms around her.
"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," he whispers to her even as she squirms out of his grasp.
"They finally cleared me to travel between the districts," she says with a small shrug. She's wearing clothes Cinna designed for her, a pair of soft, loose pants, and a tunic with an intricate maze of flowers. Her arms are bare, her scars visible. Her hair is in its typical braid, the end curling over her breast.
She pulls her small suitcase behind her as he steps back to let her enter his apartment.
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[District 12, after the war]
She comes home from a successful hunt, her game bag stuffed with two fat rabbits and some blackberries. She's not surprised to find him in her kitchen, an apron around his waist and a smudge of flour on his cheek. She nods at him and goes to put her bag on the table.
When she turns around he's pulling a tray from the oven. A summer breeze drifts through the window, carrying the delicious smell of cheese buns. Her mouth waters instantly and her feet move without thought to the island between them. She snags a bun and tosses it from hand to hand as she blows on it, trying to cool it down. He puts something else in the oven, adjusts the knobs, and starts wiping down the counter. She's eying a second bun when he plops down a stool across from her and breaks apart one of the buns, handing half to her while he chews on the other.
He's not paying attention to her, instead he's flipping through a brightly colored food magazine Effie sent him on the last supply train. But she's too aware of the way a stray curl is hanging over his forehead, sticking to the damp sheen of sweat that is no doubt the result of a hot kitchen on an already too warm late summer day. When she becomes too aware of the way his shirt is clinging to his chest and shoulders, she grabs another cheese bun and flees to the formal living room.
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[District 13, during the war]
Thirteen is sterile and cold, the antithesis of Twelve. She misses the meadow, the valley, the heat of summer, the noise of the Hob. She throws herself into getting ready for battle. Joanna's taunts keep her going when she's ready to collapse on the training field.
But when Finnick brushes his lips against Annie's temple at dinner one night, it's a knife in her heart, twisting when she finds Peeta staring at the lovebirds from Four. When he looks at her she pushes away from the table and rises to return her tray. In her room that night she rubs the pearl against her lips, huddled under her thin blanket, facing the wall so Joanna doesn't see.
Finnick loves a mad girl, but the Capitol has done more than rip apart Peeta's mind. They've reconstructed it, smashing the pieces back together regardless of how they fit. She'd happily trade her left arm for a mad boy, so long as he can't see the real her. The fire mutt who leaves nothing but destruction in her wake. The old man from Eleven, practically everyone in twelve, all those people in the hospital in Eight - she knows they'd all still be alive if it weren't for her. Everything she touches dies.
She won't survive this war, she's already accepted that, but maybe if she keeps away he'll have a shot to get out of this alive.
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[District 12, before the Reaping]
Katniss stands at the back door to the bakery, holding out two squirrels to the baker. Behind the robust man she can see a shadowed figure swish a broom back and forth. It must be the cleanest spot in the bakery because for the entire transaction she's aware of him, fixed as if nailed to the floor, hovering just beyond his father, his broom swishing. She smiles shyly when the baker compliments the precision with which she shoots.
The baker asks her if the pelts have been sold, and when she shakes her head he offers a packet of cookies for one. She tells him he has a deal and he turns to speak over his shoulder, as if he knows the shadow has been fixed there. It disappears for a minute and returns with a small box of cookies. He hands the box to his father, staying inside the bakery as if afraid to step out. She only realizes she's holding her breath when the baker thanks her for stopping by, as if she's doing him the favor.
Her eyes flicker over to the shadowed figure once before she turns and leaves.
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[Victory Tour]
At the Capitol, of all places, they do manage to sneak outside. They're walking through a maze of brightly colored flowers before anyone can stop them. Each flower is perfectly shaped and in full bloom, but the fragrances are as cloying as the perfumes the Capitol citizens drench themselves in. She says as much to him, prompting a burst of genuine laughter. Her lips curve as the sound, enjoying the sound of his real laughter rather than the one he can produce on command when they're in front of the cameras.
They find a small gazebo that's just beyond the garden but close enough to be seen from the terrace they've escaped from. He leans against one of the columns, and looks up at the sky. She sinks onto the bench encircling the wooden structure, kicking off her high heels and flexing her toes.
"It's like a bad dream," he murmurs. She looks at him sharply, knowing that the Capitol probably has every inch of this place under surveillance. He crosses to where she is and sits beside her. "I'm at a party, dancing with Katniss Everdeen of all people, but I'm not happy." She's quiet because she doesn't know what to say and senses if she opens her mouth she'll only make a mess of what she means to say. But he's not expecting an answer from her, it seems, because he falls quiet as if he didn't mean to say any of it out loud.
She reaches down to rub some feeling back into her pinky toe but before she knows it he has maneuvered her legs into his lap. He presses against a spot on the arch of her foot and she moans. She means to tell him not to do that, because every nice thing he does for her feels like a nail hammered into her heart. And her heart already feels like shreds held together by a single fragile ligament that won't stand up to another nail.
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[District 2, after the war]
Gale sounds genuinely happy as he tells her about the work he's been doing. She nods along, trying to take it all in. The darkness in him seems to have subsided, as if washed away by the meaning he's putting into his new work. He is animated and smiles a lot. They sip red wine, facing each other on his couch. His apartment feels clinical and impersonal, like being back in Thirteen. There are a couple pictures on the wall of his family, but not much else to indicate a person lives here.
She's waiting for him to ask why she's here, to ask what she's been doing in Twelve, to ask who else is in Twelve. But he doesn't mention their old home once. Everything is focused on the future, on the things that have happened since the war. None of the stuff leading up to Prim going up in flames. He mentions some people by name, and she arches a brow when he says Joanna has moved to Two.
She doesn't tell him about Haymitch's flock of geese, about the new bakery being built over the rubble of the old one, about the new black market that's popped up near the ghost of the hole in the fence she would sneak through to get to the woods. She doesn't tell him that if Peeta doesn't come to her bed she seeks out his, because she knows Gale doesn't want to hear that only his arms can keep the nightmares and dead people at bay. And anyway, she's here to find out if maybe that's not true.
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[District 12, after the war]
She asks Greasy Sae to cut her hair, holding out a pair of delicate silver scissors that use to belong to her mother, passed down from when her parents ran the apothecary. The old woman keeps her thoughts to herself, but Katniss can't help the flush she feels recalling all those months she didn't shower, let alone wash her hair, until Peeta came home. And now here she is now, fussing over split ends. Greasy Sae doesn't have the artist's eye or hand that her prep team possessed, but she gets the job done.
There was enough game the previous day that she doesn't need to hunt today, so she decides to work on the book. It's another humid summer day and she tells herself that's why she opts to pull out a sunny yellow dress from the depths of her closet. The material is thin and clings to the curves that have formed out now that she can eat her fill. After some searching she finds the headband she knows is supposed to accompany the dress. But she feels like an idiot with a flower on her head so she takes it off and stuffs it under her bed.
When Peeta comes over later, a tray with a lump of dough balanced in one hand, she's sitting at the kitchen table, one hand holding her hair at her neck to keep it out of her face while she's bent over the parchment detailing Cinna's best creations.
She shoots him a small smile of acknowledgement when he says hi. Out the corner of her eye she catches him with his eyebrows raised while he assesses her, but he doesn't say anything. While he's fiddling with the oven's knobs she disappears upstairs for her hunting jacket and her hair is in its customary braid when she comes back down.
"It looked better the other way," he says with gentle laugh that follows her out the door.
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[District 13, during the war]
He finds her again, in another of her hiding spots. She's in a laundry room, tucked behind a pipe, and her eyes dilate upon seeing him. She drinks in the sight of him, like a drug she doesn't want, like one that sets her on fire the way morphling does when it first hits her bloodstream. She wonders who keeps telling him how to find her. He seems aloof, his eyes are clear but not focused on her, and instead they take in the small room and the machines along one wall. Slowly she unfolds from behind the pipe and stands.
All this time and she still doesn't know why she acts the way she does around him. Doesn't know why, with a smirk, she asks, "You here to finish me off, sweetheart?"
He snarls and she's happy that it hits its mark. Perversely, this show of annoyance bolsters her enough to walk past him. She doesn't realize she's holding her breath until he grabs her arm and her breath rushes out of her. Suddenly he's got a vise grip on both her arms and he's pressing her back against the wall. His kiss is hard, punishing even, and nothing like their other kisses. But she welcomes it.
You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him. Haymitch's words haunt her but maybe she can exorcise them. Because this she does deserve. If she hadn't lied, hadn't pretended to love him, he wouldn't have to question whether his memories are real. If she'd swallowed a handful of nightlock he would have been crowned the Victor and their debt would have been settled. If she'd left the boy with the bread alone Snow would have never been able to use him like this, to twist the gentle boy she knows into a manic bent on destroying her. To build on the treachery she started the second she found him in the first arena and kissed him because it would mean more gifts from Haymitch.
When his lips leave hers and trail down her throat she can gasp for breath but she can't find the strength to push him away. She can't even summon up panic when his hand goes to her neck. But he doesn't close his hand around her throat and extinguish her life. He holds it like the old lover she knew, his thumb stroking along her jaw as he presses himself even closer to her. She can't resist the lure of the promise of the boy she use to know, so she can't help turning her head and capturing his lips, her freed arm snakes around his neck and she buries her fingers into his hair, clutching at the blond curls.
He lets go of her other arm and grabs her waist, in one easy motion lifting her up to kiss her without having to hunch over. Instinct, as old as the first man and woman who walked over the earth, wraps her legs around him, and her hands both grip the back of his head, as if he'll pull away and stop kissing her if she lets go.
She tries to say in kisses what she can't say in words.
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[District 12, before the Reaping]
Delly Cartwright sets her lunch down next to Madge's and invites herself to join them.
"Boys!" She says with an annoyed sound and tucks her straw colored hair behind her ear. "They're so immature," she elaborates, rolling her eyes and gesturing over to where her friends are sitting.
Madge turns her head to look, and Katniss does the same because she knows he'll be sitting there. She can't see him clearly through all the bodies between them, but she recognizes the blond head like she recognizes her sister's voice. He's one of two boys at the table who aren't engaged in an open flirtation with the girls, she doesn't remember their names, who are perched on the table next to the boys, casting them cloy glances.
"Madge wouldn't know," she says jokingly, actively trying not to think about those blonde merchant girls. "She likes them older." Her friend looks at her with murderous rage and Katniss hears herself laugh.
Delly fluffs her hair and shoots a knowing look at Madge. "I can't blame her. Certain tall, dark, and attractive men have that allure you can't find in boys from town."
She rolls her eyes at the silly statement, even as she remembers her pretty blonde mother can barely bring herself to get out of bed some days since her dark, handsome husband died in a mine collapse. Madge and Delly start tallying up the pros and cons of the boys in their year, and Katniss pretends to listen, laughing halfheartedly now and then. But out the corner of her eye she can see a blond boy rise from the others, shaking his head as he laughs at them and walks over to the table where the blond merchant girls are.
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[Victory Tour]
The train speeds on through the night, taking them back to Twelve. She doesn't want to think about home, because then she has to think about her engagement, and how her family will react. How will Gale react? So instead she thinks about Peeta's even breathing. She doesn't think he's asleep, but she's afraid to speak because she doesn't want to ruin this. Both of his arms are still securely around her, holding her to him. She's curled up against him, soaking in his heat and strength. She feels a tug on her hair, and when she opens her eyes she sees one of his hands is absently winding a lock of it around his finger.
"Can't sleep?" she asks softly.
"I didn't want to miss any of it."
She almost laughs and tells him there's nothing to miss, the sun hasn't even broken over the horizon. But then the meaning of his word sink in and she feels another nail in her heart. She can't stand these camera ready moments, but she knows this is him - no pretenses, no lies (not like her clumsy attempts) - just him and his raw love for her. The burden of it feels so heavy it settles over her like a blanket made of chainmail.
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[District 2, after the war]
She's had a lot to drink. Between the two of them they've finished off the whole bottle of wine and started on a second. When the conversation dwindles and neither can think of anything else they're willing to say to the other person, he shows her the guest room and wishes her a good night. She showers quickly, before she can change her mind. She slips on a silky black robe that falls to her knees and ties it tightly. She reaches up to unravel her braid, but at the last second replaces the hair tie. The heavy braid sways against her back as she pads from her room to Gale's.
He's already in bed when she opens the door. The room is dark, with faint light coming from the large window opposite the door. The neon glow of his clock tells her it's way past midnight. She knows he must have heard the door, even if he was sleeping, because he's a hunter, and was a solider, and things like that don't get by him, even if he's never been in the arena. But he doesn't move, doesn't stir, doesn't turn over to look at her.
It's almost a blessing because she doesn't know if she could do this if he turns to her. She unties the sash and lets the robe fall to the ground. She's more comfortable with nudity now than she was when Joanna stripped in front of her on that elevator in what felt likes centuries ago but was really only a couple years ago. Nonetheless, she's cognizant that her body isn't the rosy perfection it was before she went into the first arena. At least the dark cloaks her shiny burn scars.
She lifts the sheet without hesitation and slides onto the bed. She scoots over the large expanse of cool sheets until she's pressed against his back. She feels a shudder go through his body. She touches her lips to his shoulder. He does turn to her then, his lips are cool but not chapped like all those years ago when he first kissed her. His hand roams along her body, skimming over her like he can't decide where to start, or if it's real.
He kisses her neck and the first tear escapes the net of her lashes. She screws her eyes shut, as if to stop them, but another slips out, and then another. She raises her fist to her mouth and bites her knuckle, as if she can push through this with enough courage. Gale pulls back, and she can sense his eyes moving over her. He curses and launches himself out of bed. A string of foul curses follow him as he storms away.
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[District 12, after the war]
It happens on a random, inconsequential evening that should have been like all the ones before it.
They're sitting in his living room and she's concentrating on making her handwriting neat as she writes down everything she remembers about the first arena. He's next to her, sketching the cornucopia when he startles. Katniss, attuned to him like they're parts of the same whole, tenses next to him. He leans towards her and she holds her breath. The scent of him as he brushes by intoxicates her, reminds her of things she'd like to forget. But she can't really forget, as much as she wants to, and the feelings slide through her body, reaching out to her toes and fingers. She can feel her skin hum with electricity. But he reaches past her to the side table next to her end of the sofa to grab the controller for the television.
He flashes her a rueful smile. "I promised Effie I would watch tonight's episode." The screen flickers to life with Plutarch's singing contest. "I bet Effie would sell all her wigs to get you on as a contestant."
She can't concentrate on the book anymore, and it has nothing to do with the stupid show. She gives up after a few minutes and bids him a good night.
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[District 13, during the war]
She whimpers his name when his teeth scrape against her earlobe. His hands are bruising her hips, holding her in place while he grinds his erection into her. The entire world has fallen away and she's no longer in a laundry room in District Thirteen, about to get fucked by someone would probably just as happily kill her. Instead they're hanging suspended in time, outside of the world where a war they started is raging.
She registers the cool air on her skin when he pulls her standard issue gray shirt from her standard issue gray pants. Now that she's aware that his hands aren't keeping her pinned, she realizes she's the one pressing back against him, finding the right angle to swivel her hips against his hardness. He hisses her name when he pinches one nipple and she shatters.
"I don't remember this on the train," he growls before kissing her again.
"We've never done this," she pants when he pulls back. She feels like her entire being has liquefied and is barely solid again as her shaky legs release him.
He lets go of her hip and she stumbles to keep her footing when he's no longer holding her up.
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[District 2, after the war]
Gale flips the bright overhead lights on when he comes back, carrying two short glasses. He pulls a bottle of amber liquid from the bedside table and carefully pours out two drinks, keeping the larger one for himself.
"Get dressed," he tells her before he turns on his heel and stalks back out.
It feels like it takes hours to gather her battered courage and forgotten pride. But she puts on the robe and goes to the guest room. She slips back into the clothes she had worn earlier. Eventually she forces herself out into the living room to face him. She finds him out on the balcony, looking at the shimmering city. He doesn't look at her when he starts to speak.
"I must be the biggest fucking idiot on the planet. I knew, of course, that you didn't show up here in Two because you missed me. But I wanted to pretend maybe you did. I wanted to pretend that we don't have the past we do. That we could move forward like we were always supposed to." He stops and swallows half his drink in one gulp. "I've had a lot of girls in my bed, Catnip, and you're probably not even the first to need liquid courage to get there. But believe it not, none of them cried like I forcing them to be there."
He pours himself another drink, and when he sets the bottle back on the wrought iron table near his chair, she sees that this must be his third drink. She thinks about their conversation earlier, about the bright, shiny life he has here. Wonders how much of it was a show. Wonders how much like Haymitch he's become.
"Have you even realized that you were faking not being in love with him?" He laughs bitterly, a sound she's heard him make when talking about Capitol pigs. "You should go back to Twelve, Katniss. I don't know what's going on with you, with him, with Twelve. But even I can tell it was a mistake coming here."
She takes a sip and then keeps drinking until her glass is empty. This is what she does. She destroys everything she touches.
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[District 12, present day]
Haymitch is sitting on his porch when she strolls past his house, her small suitcase trailing behind her. "Morning, Sweetheart," he greets her, taking a swig from the bottle of white liquor. "Missed you the last few days."
She tells him to go do something sexually explicit with a goose.
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[District 13, during the war]
Joanna's eyes are alight with merriment when she enters their compartment. "Loverboy strangle you again?" Her hand goes to her neck. In the mirror above their bathroom she can see the marks blossoming like bruises. She doesn't reply but Joanna is like a dog with a bone. "I guess you found a better way to keep him from killing you."
She snaps at the other girl to shut up, which just sends her into peals of laughter.
Katniss stops going to her hiding spots, and he doesn't come looking for her again.
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[District 12, present day]
Peeta is in her kitchen, speaking in soft tones with Greasy Sae and her granddaughter. He greets her with a smile, his eyes are clear and pleasant. There's no accusation, or hurt in them. She nods at him, and they eat breakfast in silence while her suitcase sits on in the foyer. She goes to hunt afterwards.
.
After dinner they watch Plutarch's show and make jokes about Effie's elaborate beehive wig. She showers and slips under the covers feeling exhausted. She keeps her back turned to the door, but she hears when Peeta comes in and goes to the shower. When he comes to bed he wraps an arm around her middle, pulling her back towards him. It's second nature for her to curl into the shelter of his body, letting his other arm serve as her pillow. He whispers her hair is tickling him and presses a soft kiss behind her ear.
.
The bakery is near completion and Peeta spends more and more time there, getting all the equipment in place, organizing all the supplies. Production in the Districts are almost back to what they were before the war and he's excited to try different recipes to find what he wants to make staples in the bakery.
One night at dinner he asks her, casually, if she wants to move in above the bakery.
She thinks about how big and empty her house is, how he never spends time at his, how she could be the baker's wife. But she tells him they can't leave Haymitch alone. He shrugs and doesn't pursue it further.
.
Her dreams start taking a strange turn. One night she wakes up with a foggy impression of them on a beach where she's naked but he's clothed with his apron, and he's leaning over her with a piping bag full of icing, tracing out seashells on her body and erasing them with his tongue.
Soft, early morning light is shining through the blinds and she knows he'll be awake soon to go to the bakery to get it ready for its grand opening. She turns over carefully so as not to wake him. She wants to go downstairs where she can find a cupboard to hide in for a few hours, but she knows he'll panic if he wakes up and she's not there.
She reaches out and traces the line of his jaw. His eyes are still closed when he turns his head and kisses her palm. She snatches her hand back and his laugh is rusty with sleep when he kisses her forehead before rolling over to get out of the bed.
.
"I went to see Gale."
It bursts out of her like unexpected gunfire, and she feels deafened in the wake of it. She abandons her place beside on the sofa and starts to pace back and forth, blocking Plutarch's new talent competition show on the television. It's been months since it happened. Seasons have changed and outside the last leaves cling to their trees. He doesn't ask when. In fact, he nods and then continues to sketch.
"Nothing happened," she says, stopping to look at him. "It was stupid. I don't even know why I went. Nothing happened."
Peeta looks up, his expression patient as ever. "I believe you."
It's the one thing he shouldn't have said. He should have called her a whore, tell her she's a mutt, that she ruined his life, killed his family, scream that she destroys everyone who loves her.
"I kissed him. I got into bed with him. But I couldn't-" her breath catches and she tries to hold back her tears. "Gale wouldn't let me go through with it."
She tenses, waiting for him to react. He sets aside his sketchbook and rises. He folds his arms around him and lets her cry. He kisses her temple and rubs her back soothingly. She waits to feel the hammer of the nail into her heart, but nothing comes. Instead she feels relief wash over her, and she wraps her arms around him, burrowing her head against his chest.
"I don't even know why I did it," she says with a hiccup. "I don't even want him that way. Not like-" She forces the words out. "Not like I want you."
Eventually the tears subside and she pulls away from him. He leans down and kisses her softly. She savors the feel of his lips, leaning into him as he straightens. She's not good with words, not like he is, but somehow she finds the words she needs him to hear.
"I'm scared all the time that I'll lose you. I'm afraid to let you in because I don't know how to survive if they take you from me again. I'm terrified I'm going to hurt you, because I destroy everything I touch, and Dr Aurelius did such a good job of piecing you back together."
"I'm not going anywhere," he tells her, squeezing her arm so she knows he's real. "Nothing in all of Panem could keep me from you. So you're stuck with me, Sweetheart."
.
She's nervous that night, waiting in bed for him to join her. When he kisses her good night she kisses him back, savoring the feel of his skin against her fingers as she finally lets herself hold on to him. His hands and lips are hot, leaving trails of fire as he learn the shape of her. Somewhere in the uneven breaths and moans and gasps, she whispers "I love you."
The fear doesn't dissolve into nothingness, but that night and each night after she feels its hold on her slacken, and for the first time in perhaps forever, she lets herself look forward to tomorrow.
.
[District 12, next summer]
She stops by the bakery on the way home from hunting. The front window has intricate lettering that spells out Mellark's Bakery, and she takes a minute to admire the display cakes. The shop girl, one of Thom's kids, waves at her from behind the counter. Katniss raises her hand in acknowledgement and then goes around the back where she knows the door will be open to let a cool breeze in.
He's standing at a wide table, surrounded by a sea of cookies. He doesn't look up at the sound of her footsteps. She steps closer, entranced by the quick but sure motions of his hands. After a few minutes she grabs one that hasn't been iced as yet and she chews it slowly while watching him work.
He glances up at her and smirks. "You're just in this for the baked goods, aren't you?"
She shrugs and takes another bite of the cookie.
...END...
Author's Notes:
1) Lyrics quoted at top, and part of the title, are from Savage Garden's "Gunning Down Romance." The actual title is from Taylor Swift's "Red": "Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes / Tell myself it's time now, gotta let go / But moving on from him is impossible / When I still see it all in my head / In burning red"
2) Sorry, fans of Katniss/Gale; I feel for you, there's a lot of merit to the ship and Gale is a great character, but at the end of the day I'm Everlark all the way.
3) According to my LiveJournal and , I haven't posted a fanfic online since 2006. On top of that, this is my first ever Hunger Games fanfic. I actually have two others that I've started, but somehow this plot bunny attacked me this weekend and I had to get it out of my head. If you liked it, please review or fave as I would love feedback on how I've written the characters so I can improve in future fics!
4) Edited 6/28/14 to add sequential markers.