I just re-read Mockingjay for the second time after a year... And it still had the same effect on me. I thought I'd write a little tribute to Prim seeing as she died so suddenly. I also thought I'd put some things in here about Peeta because I think it kind of glossed over his recovery. Let me know what you think!
ALWAYS by ryrous
The stupid cat won't leave her alone. She throws things and smashes things and knocks things over to scare the little beast away, but he won't go. The damn thing is set on staying, and no matter how many times she throws him off her bed he always returns with that stupid look of determination shining in his yellow cat eyes. Despite the abuse, he never as much as hisses at her, which in turn only makes her more frustrated. A hiss she can deal with. It is, after all, the most accurate expression of feeling she can come up with herself, a perfect reflection of how she feels about the world that is so twisted and unfair
Buttercup seems intent on sticking around, and it angers her to no end. The companionship of that stupid ugly thing is the last thing she wants, for all he signifies about her weakness, and for all he signifies about her need. The spot of body heat through the covers can't warm her shattered being anyway, so what's the point?
PRIM!
She still wakes screaming the name, eyes alight with the fire she can't stop seeing. She wanders about the empty house, hopelessly looking for an escape.
"Here it's safe, Here it's warm"
NO PRIM NO DON'T GO!
"Here the daisies protect us from every harm,"
STAY WITH ME!
"Always," she says, and her smile is as radiant as the blazes that envelop her.
Again and again, morning after morning, Katniss screams to block out the sounds, to muffle the roar of the ghosts in her brain. At night, ducklings are swallowed by flames.
She is broken.
The knocks at the door bounce and echo through the darkness. She drags herself out from under the mountain of covers and begins what feels like a long journey to answer the door. From the haze, a single thought emerges.
Doesn't Greasy Sae have a key?
It's not Greasy Sae though. It's Peeta. He smiles, but it doesn't reach those blue eyes the way it used to. Those eyes are now rimmed with dark circles that look like bruises, and the eyes themselves swim with his demons. She lets him in.
His arms are loaded down with plastic bags that rustle as he brings them inside. Katniss collapses into the plush chair as Peeta works in the kitchen, kneading dough and grating cheese. The sizzle of the eggs as they hit the buttered pan is the only sound accompanying them. They need no words, or perhaps they're just tired of them.
They eat in silence.
After dinner, Peeta washes dishes while Katniss feeds Buttercup her last strip of bacon.
Something in the kitchen falls to the floor and smashes. Buttercup bolts under the plush chair. In the kitchen, Katniss finds Peeta grasping the edge of the countertop, white-knuckled. His hands and shoulders relax after a few minutes, she justs stands there, without questions, a silent observer. He opens his eyes and trains them on her, his desperation raw and unguarded.
"I'm sorry…" he says slowly. His eyes are downcast now. She knows he's not talking about the plates.
Maybe in another life she would know what to say, how to make him see that she doesn't need apologies, that of all people, his missteps cause her the least grief. She parts her lips to say something, anything, but he runs away before she can finish. The door slams behind him and she's alone again.
She leaves the plate shards on the floor, Greasy Sae will clean them up tomorrow.
Peeta burns with Prim in her dreams tonight.
Sixteen sunsets come and go before she sees him again. Sixteen days of sweat-soaked sheets and the torment of the fallen. The days feel like pages in a book she's too distracted to read, she's aware of their passing, but nothing makes an impression on her.
Greasy Sae brings cheese buns every so often. Katniss gazes at them longingly for a long time before tearing into them. Sae knows why. Nobody ever has to ask anymore, nobody needs to say anything. The words have all been used before, they're battered and tired and positively useless. Anything said by anyone would break the spell, the final vigil for the dead. This is why Katniss never speaks, she's already lost Prim enough, she doesn't need words to push her farther away, to confirm what she's already far too aware of.
Peeta visits the next day. They eat eggs again and sit in silence, the table a barrier between them that she's too weak to admit she wants to cross. They sit like this for a long time, studying each other, not knowing exactly what it is they're searching for. Eventually, the sun begins to go down and the heat starts to leach out of the already frosty seeming air. Peeta sighs and gets up to leave, because he knows he won't be of use to her sitting there.
"I'll see you tomorrow…" he says, but it's almost a question. In answer, Katniss leaps off her chair and clings to him, shattering the icy formality between them. She lets the reigns off her sobs, and his shirt is soaked within minutes. She's murmuring unintelligible things so he shushes her and plants a kiss on her forehead. Under different circumstances, he would've had the faculties to ponder the appropriateness of this, but he needs her and this as much as she does. They are broken, both of them. They rock back and forth, holding as tightly as their tire muscles allow, and wait. Wait for the pain to pass, wait for the horrors to banish themselves from their memories. It doesn't happen, it can't happen, they're too raw, the pain too recent.
The sun has gone down. There's a whisper in the darkness. Three thin, feeble words. Not the three words he's been dying to hear, now is not the time for those. Now is the time for the words of dark-eyed grief and desperate need.
Stay with me.
He doesn't need to think about this, the word springs forth almost on its own, a given, a definite.
Always.
She untangles herself from him and leads him upstairs. He knows where her bedroom is, but he doesn't let go of her pale, shaking, hand, tiny and delicate in the moonlight that now falls gently through the house. He doesn't let go because if he does he knows he'll be lost again, miserable and incomplete. She doesn't let go because her sanity is tied to his warmth.
A long time ago, this would have been unthinkable.
She still wakes up screaming, but he's there to comfort her. Night after night he protects her – and himself, from the monsters that threaten to devour them. Gradually, slowly, she begins to have a few peaceful nights. His flashbacks begin to lose their intensity. The loved ones they've lost begin to collect dust as time passes. Prim's hair, Finnick's eyes, even Cinna's soft voice, all begin to become hazy and blurred, as if they'd never been people at all. They still have their remembrance book of course, but it becomes more and more like a storybook, as if all those lost lives are just dreams of people in some far-off land. This is how they heal.
There are still bad days, days they can't escape the skeletons in the closet, but they become less and less frequent. Slowly they begin to come to life again.
I need you Prim
"Deep in the Meadow,"
Stop it Prim, come back to me
"Under the willow,"
Oh Prim, please don't leave me.
"A bed of grass, a soft, green, pillow"
No…
"Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes,"
Peeta she won't stop singing!
"And when again they open, the sun will rise,"
No Prim no don't die, please no.
"Here, your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true,"
COME BACK!
"Here is the place where I love you."
NO PRIM YOU CAN'T DO THIS!
"Here is the place, where I love you…"
Let me know what you thought of it by hitting that review button, I love constructive criticism and I certainly don't mind praise :) so go on, push the review button, you know you want to.
-ryrous