This was done two weeks ago. Word got mad at me and decided to damage my file. I really loved this part, and I wasn't going to let Word mess with it. So... I did it again! And it came out much better! Okay, I think I will shut up now.
Disclaimer: Mockingjay is property of the magnificent Suzanne Collins. Nothing but Peeta's thoughts are mine. Dialogue and gestures were all taken directly, word for word, from the book.
Even though the rope helps me keep busy, I can still know what's going on around me. For some people this would be an incredible gift, but I don't want it. I want more than anything for this to end. To just live a normal life. Without a Katniss.
Do you really want that?
These types of thoughts bombard me every time I think of a life without her. They tell me I loved her. They tell me she saved my life billions of times. But, now, I don't know who to trust. I don't even trust myself! Everything is so confusing.
I hear shuffling from the tent that Katniss sleeps in. It should be twelve. I overheard her conversation with Jackson earlier about her wanting to take watch. She got the twelve to four with Jackson. From my peripheral vision, I see her coming out. I don't turn to her, but keep my gaze fixed on the rope in my hands. Finnick said it would help me, and in some way it has. Of course, this is just first term therapy. Nothing that would really help me in my state.
I guess an hour passes while I formulate what I have wanted to ask her. I don't want to make conversation of course. She's too brutal for that. But I want to hear her answer, so I guess I'll give it a try.
"These last couple of years must have been exhausting for you. Trying to decide whether to kill me or not. Back and forth. Back and forth." I expect one of her cutting answers. The one that tells me I'm right. But I'm surprised when she actually answers.
"I never wanted to kill you. Except when I thought you were helping the Careers kill me. After that, I always thought of you as… an ally." She seems relieved to have gotten something out without mentally hurting herself.
"Ally." Nice word, I must say. Pictures of a small girl, around twelve, bombard my mind. Dark skin and hair. Glistening brown eyes. Rue? Yep. That was her name. "Friend. Lover. Victor. Enemy. Fiancée. Target. Mutt. Neighbor. Hunter. Tribute. Ally. I'll add it to the list of words I use to figure you out."
Now, I know I'm cutting her off. She just makes me so… mad! Although, that is not what makes me boil inside, but the idea that I don't know the real reason for my hate towards her. Maybe I don't even hate her!
I keep working on my rope. "The problem is, I can't tell what's real anymore, and what's made up."
I begin hearing shuffling from everywhere until one voice breaks the silence. "Then you should ask, Peeta. That's what Annie does." Finnick comes out of hiding and looks at me, but I just keep my gaze on the rope.
"Ask who?" I say. "Who can I trust?"
"Well, us for starters. We're your squad," Jackson replies.
"You're my guards," I tell her. I really don't like her that much. Always getting into people's business.
"That, too," she replies to my remark. "But you saved a lot of lives in Thirteen. It's not the kind of thing we forget."
I don't know what else to say so I remain silent. It may be true that I saved everybody in Thirteen by warning them, but what they don't know is that I wasn't going to. I was going to let them all die. I knew Katniss was there and all I wanted was her dead. But, when I was up there in stage, that voice in my mind asked again.
Do you really want that?
I didn't know but I didn't want to find out. Not yet, that is, so I warned them. The cause of a tremendous beating for me.
It's almost time for Katniss' watch to end. I remove my gaze from the rope to her. She is looking away from me. Deep in thought. Her face shows… irritation? It looks like it. A memory comes to my mind.
###
I followed her. She looked upset when she stalked out of the train. I see as she finally finds a place and sits. I come closer when she says, "I'm not in the mood for a lecture,"
"I'll try to keep it brief." I seat down beside her.
"I thought you were Haymitch," she says, a bit of resentment in her voice.
"No, he's still working on that muffin." I try to fold my fake leg so it's not uncomfortable. "Bad day, huh?"
"It's nothing." Cutting me off again. I take a deep breath.
"Look, Katniss, I've been wanting to talk to you about the way I acted on the train. I mean, the last train. The one that brought us home. I knew you had something with Gale. I was jealous of him before I even officially met you. And it wasn't fair to hold you to anything that happened in the Games. I'm sorry." She seems troubled. About what? I don't know. Finally she speaks.
"I'm sorry, too," she says. Her tone suggests that she just felt like she needed to say that to make herself feel better.
"There's nothing for you to be sorry about. You were just keeping us alive. But I don't want us to go on like this, ignoring each other in real life and falling into the snow every time there's a camera around. So I thought if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at just being friends," I say. My heart tells me that this is not what I want. I want more. But I know that I can't push Katniss, and I don't want her to block me away again.
"Okay," she says. Her voice sends an air of relieve. I myself feel much better.
"So what's wrong?" I ask.
She hesitates so I decide it's still too early to ask her. She picks up weeds from the dirt.
"Let's start with something more basic." I search my brain for the most normal subject possible. "Isn't it strange that I know you'd risk your life to save mine… but I don't know what your favorite color is?"
I see the tips of her mouth turning up into a smile. "Green. What's yours?"
###
I come back to reality, not really sure what this memory means. Is it real or not? There is only one way to find out.
"Your favorite color… it's green?" I take in every expression that crosses her face.
"That's right." She looked honest enough. "And yours is orange."
"Orange?" For some reason that doesn't sound right. I imagine the orange. It's too… bright! That can't be right. Katniss must sense my confusion because she explains.
"Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset," She's definitely not making this up. "At least that's what you told me once." That once might be the flashback I had a few seconds ago.
"Oh." I close my eyes and try to picture the sunset. I see the soft yellow combining with the pink. A soft brown hue at the edges. And there, there is the orange, almost bronze. The color makes me want to smile. Yes, that is my favorite color. I nod. "Thank you."I was waiting for silence until she would have to go but instead, a mass of words tumble from her mouth.
"You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces." With that said, she throws herself into her tent.
The rest of the night, I don't rest. I stay up going over Katniss' words over and over again.
Painter. I remember paintings, horrible paintings, of blood and regrets. But nonetheless, I painted them.
Baker. I know this for a fact. It was part of my 'therapy'. The blue-green cake with fishes, seals, sailboats, and sea flowers. The white tips done to perfection. It was peaceful. I felt peace in me for once since I came to Thirteen.
The rest are facts. I search my mind to find if they are true or not but nothing comes up. Maybe I'm too tired to think. This makes me see another thing.
Katniss said this with pure honesty. She didn't think about it. She didn't stutter while saying it. She actually sounded on the verge of tears.
What if she was saying the truth earlier? Maybe she never wanted to kill me. What if… what if she actually cares about me?
Was it worth it? It broke my heart in two when I read Peeta had been hijacked. I just knew. He didn't hate her. NEVER hated her in fact. He hated the fact that he didn't know why. That always frustrates everyone and I wanted to make a point.
Quick shout-out to my editor 07XReflectional. Always there helping me out in the good days and the worst days. Love you! *muah!*
I also want to thank YOU! You took your time reading this. It means you appreciate at least some part of this. Thank you once again.
Reviews? Flames are openly accepted.