A/N: I've interrupted my regular scheduled programming to venture into the world of Hunger Games fanfiction. Mockingjay part 1 made me feel some kind of way and I just had to write something.
This is is quite angsty. I'm very sorry.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Hunger Games or any of its characters. I just dabble.
All she had wanted to do was save Prim.
Hunting, for her. Volunteering, for her. The love affair, for her. Winning. Doing it all over again. Being the Mockingjay. Fighting. Prim, Prim, Prim.
It wasn't enough.
Her name is Katniss Everdeen. 18 years old. Born in District 12. Living in District 12. Without Prim.
All she had wanted to do was save Prim.
She could feel herself slipping, and tried desperately to keep up with the old exercise. The war was over. Snow was dead. Coin was too. So was Prim—No. Think of something else, anything else. Her mother—alive, in District 4.
She had asked her to come back with her, to 12. She had expected vacancy, unseeing eyes as she asked the question, a blank stare as the only response. She had expected to see the same mother that had existed in the aftermath of the mine explosion that had killed her father. What she had gotten was even worse: a firm "no." A refusal from her own mother. She had departed instead for District 4, to head a new hospital there. Katniss was furious. She wondered how much easier it was, to take care of everyone left who wasn't her.
All she had wanted to do was save Prim.
Gale was alive, in District 2. She had asked him to come back, too. He told her he couldn't return for the same reason that she had to— the memories. So he took a good job in District 2 and got on the next train. The rest of his family had gone with him. His mother, silent but steady. Rory, who looked years older than his age. Too old. He had been close to Prim like Gale had once been close to her. Vick, lanky arms, growing stronger, clutching at little Posy, who was still too young to realize what was happening. All of his siblings, scarred but alive. A family intact.
All she had wanted to do was save Prim.
She had ended up coming back with the only person who would agree to accompany her: Haymitch. Others were trickling back now in small numbers. Greasy Sae brought them food. She had even knitted a blanket and dropped it off for Katniss. They were rebuilding the town, she'd told them. There were meetings about it. Katniss hadn't attended. She knew nobody expected her to.
In the beginning, for a couple of weeks, it had been just her and Haymitch. They had returned to their intact homes in the Victor's Village immediately after disembarking from the train. On one of the first nights back, she had heard a loud clang from the outside and grabbed frantically for her arrows,convinced it was a hovercraft filled with people determined to once again drag her away. It was Haymitch, tearing down the old metal sign for the Village. Katniss hadn't ventured furthered than that gate. If she tried hard enough, she could even pretend the rest of the District was more than just a pile of ashes.
Haymitch was a surprisingly good companion. Instead of wasting away in the confines of his own home, he did it in hers, sipping his booze everyday at her kitchen table. They didn't speak much, but he watched her out of the corner of his eye, as she stared absentmindedly out the window, as she cooked their meals, when she finally retreated up the stairs to retire for the night. She knew why he did it. He was afraid she was going to off herself. She didn't much mind that he was there, either. His presence prevented her from thinking about it herself. But she knew she wouldn't do it, even if he wasn't there to watch her. She could never actually do it.
Haymitch hadn't wanted to come back, either. Because of him, because of Peeta. Still in the Capitol. Hijacked, broken Peeta. Dr. Aurelius had told them that interacting with people he knew could help him reestablish reality. It didn't help that practically everyone he knew was dead. His family. His merchant friends. All gone except for Delly, who patiently remained there trying to coax him back. Haymitch had wanted to stay too. They were better people than she was.
She was selfish. She had left him there. And Haymitch had groaned and left with her, because even half out of his mind, Peeta was still better suited to survive without him. Haymitch had reminded her repeatedly that if their roles were reversed, Peeta wouldn't have left in a million years. He would have spent each day at her bedside, watching over her, protecting her. He needn't have told her that, she already knew.
Peeta. The second person she was certain she loved. The only other person to make it onto the list, besides Prim. But Prim was dead. Peeta was dead, too. Not in the same way, but gone nevertheless. It was why she couldn't stay with him. The Peeta that was left was not hers. He was not the boy who had tossed her burnt bread. He was not the boy who had given her her pearl. Not the boy who had held her through her nightmares, through which she now suffered alone. This Peeta was a phantom. He was a trick, a torment. The shell of the boy she had known but without the insides. She couldn't look at him without believing he was him, her Peeta. But the person she so desperately wanted to proclaim her love to was someone who would no longer say it back. It was torture. She couldn't handle it. It was easier to leave. She supposed she had gotten that from her mother.
She had hunted a few times. It wasn't the same. Even the woods had changed. They taunted her, reminding her of Gale, reminding her of her first games, of him. Of Prim. Now she just sat in them, in the shade of the trees. She used them as a place to think, until thinking became painful too. The few times she had accepted Haymitch's offer of drink were all after leaving the woods.
She had come to a conclusion she had really known all along: loving people was dangerous. That was why she had always limited it to just one person.
All she had wanted to do was save Prim.
How had he managed to slide his way in? How had he captured her mind, why wouldn't he get out? Leave Peeta, leave. Denying it hadn't helped. If she was truthful, this wasn't helping either. Nothing helped. She loved him, she loved him, she loved him.
But he was just another person she knew she would fail to save.