"Gale," I sigh. He strides over and crouches down in front of me, his eyes searching mine for lasting brain damage. Reaching out, he runs his right hand down from my bandage down my cheek and across my jawbone, but snatches it away and stands up when Peeta's heavy footfalls sound.
"Hel- Oh, I thought I heard someone enter in a rush," Peeta's voice sounds cold. I shrink a little, anticipating some kind of fight. The blanket Peeta put around me in my sleep is warm and woolly. It smells like bread and cinnamon. Like Peeta. "What do you want?"
"Relax, Mellark. I've just come to fetch Katniss. We'll be leaving now."
Gale motions for me to stand up, and when I try I feel slightly woozy again. This head wound might be more severe than I thought.
"She can't even get to her feet. Don't you think the best option is for her to stay here? This way, she can't hurt herself again."
"Staying here isn't an option. The plan is to bring her home, which I am trying to do now. Katniss, come here."
"I'm not your dog, Gale," I mutter. "Give the world a second to stop spinning."
I don't want to leave. The bakery is warm and comfortable, and I feel so tired. My back aches, my head is throbbing – the last thing I want to do is get up and walk all the way up the graveled drive leading to the Victor's Village. Gale was shifting his weight from one leg to the other – he's impatient to leave. He never liked Peeta, especially after the games. No matter how many times I told him that it was just an act. I didn't understand why he wasn't grateful to Peeta, as he was the one that kept me alive through the whole thing, but I put it down to Gale's suspicious nature. It took us months to earn each other's trust after we first met. We're alike in that sense. I don't like to trust people because, in the end, they leave you or betray you. It's not worth the hurt.
"Katniss. Come on!"
"Give her a chance - she nearly cracked her skull open! She shouldn't be getting up at all," Peeta was coming to my defense. "It won't be good for her; you should let her stay until she can leave!"
Gale snarls, and draws himself up to his full height. He doesn't like people telling him what to do. "I know what is good for her, and it isn't staying here with you."
"Shut up, Gale. Peeta's right, I won't make it home. I'm staying here until I feel better. Stop fighting, you're acting like a pair of wild dogs over a fresh kill." I exclaim wearily. I lean my head back against the bakery counter and close my eyes. Now that Peeta and Gale are silent I can hear a quiet ringing in my ears and my head throbs. As long as I don't move my back shouldn't hurt me too much. Their arguing is annoying me, but I don't have the energy to give out to them. I smirk when I think that through all my hunger games experience, the worst I got was a very bad burn, but as soon as I get home, I nearly split my head open and bruise my back so that it looks purple.
"Katniss?" Peeta ventures quietly. I realize that I must look very strange, my face in half a grimace and half a smirk, my one hand holding my head, the other on the place on my thigh where I was burned by the gamemakers' fireballs. Thinking of the arena has reminded me of horrible memories and maybe it's my damaged head, but when I open my eyes, I can see the mutts with the eyes of the tributes out of the corner of my vision. I shut my eyes quickly again, but this time I can hear a high pitched sound in my ear. Rue's scream.
Despite the fact I know that I have not moved from my spot on the floor of the bakery, when I open my eyes I see green leafy trees. The mockingjays sing the four note melody as my pace increases, trying to find her. I see the mutilated corpses of Glimmer and the girl from District four. My fault. I see Marvel, fresh blood pumping from the hole my arrow made in his neck. But still I have not found her.
And then I come to a clearing and there she is lying helpless, tangled in the net. I run towards her, but I'm too late.
"Peeta, I see her. I see them. Peeta," I say helplessly, my arms stretched out to him. I feel so weak, so heartbrokenly sad, that I give up trying to fight to be strong. I remember the sight, the smell, the terror of the arena. "No..." I whimper, as the spear enters Rue's body with a dull thud.
I forget Gale in the second Peeta's hands clasp mine. All I concentrate on is Peeta's steadiness, the warmth of his chapped hands stilling my cold, shaking ones. He was in the games too – he knows what I am seeing… Gale cannot even begin to guess how I feel.
My pounding head is on Peeta's shoulder, my shoulders shake waves of pain down my back as his shirt soaks up my tears. All the emotions I have been hiding since we returned home, worried that my mother or Prim would see me, the strong one of the family, so damaged and hurt. They all come pouring out onto Peeta's shirt as Gale looks awkwardly on, unable to do anything because he can't do anything – the hunger games is an experience Peeta and I share, only he knows exactly what I am going through right now. We are haunted by the ghosts of dead tributes, of our old selves.
Peeta lets me cry myself out. Exhausted, I hiccup, trying to control my rollercoaster emotions, which have left me with an even worse headache than before. I hurt all over, but I feel comforted. Not safe – I know that I'll never feel that way again – but calmed. Peeta's steadfastness held me to the ground when I was hysterical; he tethers me down now that I am done. He takes care of me.
Peeta had let me mourn in silence, but now he speaks. "You shut them out." It's a statement, not a question.
I nod. I had opted for sleepless nights instead of dreams, denial instead of acceptance. I wanted to pretend the games had never happened, to go back to my old life, even though I knew it wasn't there to return to. The games had changed me. They had changed us both.
"You have to remember them, Katniss. Don't you think they deserve that?"
Taking a shaky deep breath, I know that they deserve it. They were someone's daughter, cousin, brother. They were just like me – a child, forced to grow up too quickly. "Do you remember how smart Foxface was? You had no idea she was tracking you until… until the cannon fired." I end, realizing that most of our memories of tributes are going to be their deaths.
"Yeah. I do," Peeta says softly. He leans back and puts both hands on each side of my face, sparkling blue eyes gazing into dull grey ones. "And when you heard the boom, you ran back to find me, yelled at me, and then pulled me into a huge hug." There's a small smile playing on his lips.
"I didn't want you to die. I didn't want to lose you." I say, remembering my horror at finding the nightlock berries.
"You didn't. You'll never –" Peeta begins, but someone clears his throat and we look up, remembering Gale is there at the same time. A space that was comforting becomes awkward, and we both pull away from each other. I grip the counter and force myself into a standing position. It's painful, and tiring, but it's necessary that I leave. There's more than a small twinge of longing in my chest, but I remind myself that it's not supposed to be there.
Peeta has gone behind the counter, and is pulling out some of the white bakery bread my family can afford now. He wraps it up and puts it into a small bag, which he then hands to me. When I open it, it has wrapped up bits of food, bandages, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.
"I had a look at your shopping list," he says as I frown, trying to remember if I had bought these before I had come into the bakery. "I hope you don't mind. I got it together when you were asleep."
"You went out in the blizzard?" There's a small twinge of surprise to Gale's question, as well as irritation.
"Most of it is from the pantry. I couldn't leave Katniss here in case she was seriously hurt by her head injury so I just took what I had and what you needed." He's talking to me more than Gale.
Gale frowns, but I just thank Peeta and take the bag. I don't have a hard time taking things from people anymore, because I know I can pay them back now, though I feel guilty from taking the bag from Peeta. Gale, however, relies on only himself. I'm afraid that someday, that might backfire on him.
I hobble towards the door of the bakery, feeling a thousand years old. I thrust the bag into Gale's arms and steady myself against the wall, waiting for him to open the door. I'm just about to leave when I remember.
I turn, slowly, and stagger over to the display case where I had left the cake I wanted to buy for Prim. Peeta comes over with a paper bag and gently places the cake inside, folding the opening over so it won't fall out. He won't accept the money I try to give him.
"Peeta, please, I have to try to repay you for all you've done for me today. Take it." I try to force it into his hand, but instead he grabs mine and pulls me into a rough hug. After letting out a hiss of pain as my back wrenches, I realize how good this feels.
"I was worried," he admits, after holding me tight for a moment. "When you came in with blood all over your face and dripping from your fingers, it was like waking up in the cave after the feast all over again. It scared me."
I remember that. Getting him the medicine from the cornucopia, Clove slicing my head with her vicious knife, and then Thresh killing her but letting me go because I was Rue's ally… Rue… The spear impaling her…
I shake my head to free myself of memories, but one stays in my mind: Peeta's anger at me when I woke up after getting him the medicine. If I had made him feel the same way he did on that day… I feel guilty for causing him pain by making him remember, and on impulse I kiss him on the cheek. We're both stunned when I pull back.
"Thank you," I whisper, and place the money in his open hand. Still surprised, he gazes wordlessly at me. "I owe you so much. I hope this marks the beginning of me paying you back."
I shuffle to the doorway and open the door to see Gale halfway down the steps and waiting impatiently. He gestures at me to hurry up and I scowl at him.
After hobbling down the steps, I allow myself one look back at the bakery. I can see Peeta's profile in the window, watching me. After studying his silhouette, committing it to memory, I turn and limp away, reminding myself that that was the last time I will to see him for a while. I am sure that as soon as this day is over, we will go back to ignoring each other. This was just one unique day. Thinking back over it, I wonder if it was such a bad day after all.