A Candle For Panem.
Trigger warning: terrorism. Attacks. Blood. PTSD.
My huge, huge thanks to three persons: dandelion-sunset for her beta-ing skills, and her support, kind words for me, you are a star, Heather! And to the wonderful, incredible titania522 who started this Love In Panem blog - and who's such a bright, smart, caring person. Thank you for being my friend !
And to bandathebillie, who was there all through the writing process, every day, encouraging me. She wanted a follow-up toVoices … but this came instead.
This has been very very hard to write and not because of the language. I'm French.
Feb. 14th 2016, somewhere in the world.
There were still flowers and candles everywhere, placed along the walls or just lying on the pavement. The security barriers had been removed a long time ago, allowing passers to come and pay their respects.
The thin woman extracted herself from the embrace of the blond man, looking into his eyes for a long moment, before he nodded, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.
She dug into his left pocket, took the small candle that was there, hidden behind his pair of gloves, before turning towards the flowered wall, trying to take a step forward.
Tears rolled down her cheeks, she clung to the candle in her hands like a lifeline, trying to find the courage to take this last step on her own, until she felt his warm hand in hers, and he whispered in her ear.
If someone had been close enough, he would have heard one word. "Together."
The girl with the raven hair nodded, holding his hand tighter.
They took the last step together.
—
215 Days before.
Katniss could hear the music a block away. She was still unwilling to go, though, not wanting to get out of the cozy, air-conditioned room she shared with her new friend Madge to face the heat of the evening. The temperatures had been skyrocketing lately, reaching new heights Katniss wasn't used to. Madge, being Californian, relinquished in the heat and sweet breeze coming from the sea, a few kilometers away.
After a lot of pleading, pouting, and pretending-to-cry, Madge finally convinced her friend to put on a little halter dress and sandals before heading to the traditional Bal Populaire taking place on July 14th.
Apparently, these balls were a big thing here. Everybody came and danced until the first lights of morning appeared, sharing drinks, laughing, flirting – everything could happen on this evening. Apparently there would be fireworks too, to celebrate this national holiday, a spectacle Katniss was looking forward to seeing. But to get through the show in the sky, when lights fight with the stars to shine, she knew she had to go through the ball first.
She wasn't really looking forward to it.
Because, really? She was in a foreign country for another nine months, she barely knew anybody here save Madge, she didn't understand completely the language she came to learn, and was only looking for an evening in bed, watching some TV shows she had saved on her computer before coming. She did not intend to socialize nor did she come here to make friends. She was there to study, go home, graduate, and start working.
Whatever her plans for the night had been, she now found herself in the middle of a crowd, in the village main square, covered in little flags, lanterns, a band on the podium playing old 80s tunes - with no way to run home.
"Isn't it exciting? Think of all the stories you'll be able to share! People are going to be so envious you came here! It's so different from July 4th, right? No parade, just… dancing! And wine! This country knows how to live, let me tell you!"
Madge's enthusiasm did nothing to cheer Katniss up, but the glass of wine she was offered by her friend did. This country had the best food possible, along with wine – you only needed to be 18 to drink it! – and she didn't even want to get started on the cheeses.
"How long do we have to stay before we can head home?"
"Katniss, don't even start! We're here to have fun, enjoy the experience, flirt, and who knows? Maybe I won't go home tonight?" Madge raised her eyebrow suggestively, looking straight at the group of firemen standing next to the podium.
Katniss rolled her eyes so hard she thought she wouldn't be able to put them back in place. She did not intend to spend the night with a total stranger, in a foreign country. She was there to study the civilization, language, certainly not the body parts of some strange male who would find her accent "délicieux." No kidding, these men were masters at using the cuteness of their accent when speaking English. Add to that their pick-up lines were ridiculous ("Miss, your dad must be a thief… he stole all the stars in the sky to put them in your eyes.") and their passion with football that wasn't football but soccer. Nope. Definitely a no-go for Katniss in this country.
The band on the podium started covering something a bit more recent that dragged Madge forward to the center of the dance floor - or rather pavement covered with hay. Katniss tried to avoid her friends attempts at dragging her, rather looking around and pretending to be interested in the landscape.
She should have known any attempt to drive Madge away from her objective was useless. She soon felt a warm hand taking hers, and she complied, following her giggling friend bobbing to the beat of the music, without noticing the looks men shot her.
Both girls started to dance, Madge completely lost to the music, using her years of dance lessons to bust her moves and ace them, while Katniss only moved her feet, looking around, making sure nobody came too close to them. She never felt comfortable in crowds.
They spent a good amount of time swaying to the music until it was time to take a break - when the slow dances started. Both women moved towards the bar, when Madge was swept away by a tall man with dark hair, easily giving up to his smile and sparkling eyes. Katniss shook her head, understanding that Madge wouldn't make it back tonight - the man had been looking at her friend all evening long.
If only she had known Madge would never make it back again.
It was harder reaching the hand-made bar than Katniss thought it would be: in this country, wine was all kind of sacred, and on this special day, all restrictions were gone. She finally reached the plank counter, asking for a glass of white wine when she felt someone besides her.
"It's Kathy, right?" a deep voice asked, in English. She assumed the stranger was talking to her, as a quick look around showed her she was the only one on her own.
"Wrong." She took a sip of her wine, which was unexpectedly still fresh at this hour of the night, in this Mediterranean heat. She wasn't there to flirt or create links with people she would never see again.
"Oh, then I must have been hearing right. Katniss isn't it?" His English was too good for him to be a local - they had a funny way of saying "the", morphing it into a "ze" that had always been quite funny.
She finally turned to her right side, meeting a mop of curly blond hair very much like the cherub on the paintings they studied this week.
"How do you know that?"
"We're in the same auditorium? You're in an exchange program too, right?"
"Yeah…."
"I'm here until April. You?"
"Same. End of April."
"I'm Peeta. Peeta Mellark, by the way." His hand was extended, waiting for her to take it. She complied a few seconds later.
"Katniss Everdeen."
"So, where are you from, Katniss Everdeen?"
"Middle of nowhere, Pennsylvania. You?"
"Ohio, Cleveland. Looks like we're neighbors, right?"
"Hurray." She took another sip of her wine, trying not to notice the glass was getting empty.
"Do you want to dance?"
Katniss nearly choked on her drink, taken aback by both the question and the bluntness of the man - Peeta? What kind of name was that?
"What? No! I can't dance."
"I saw you earlier. You can pretend you can't but you have rhythm."
"I'm sorry?" Her cheeks turned red at the thought that someone had been watching her dance for a while, without her realizing it. Where were her hunter's instincts when she needed them? True enough, she'd been monitoring men watching Madge, never thinking anyone would be interested in herself.
The man seemed to realize his behavior could be seen as stalkerish, seeing the blush creeping on his cheeks, his blue eyes - how had Katniss not noticed how blue his eyes were? - looking down.
"I'm sorry, I'm usually so much better with words…. " He took a deep breath before lifting his gaze to hers. "It's just, you know, I thought I recognized you from the auditorium, so I looked closer. You had this scary glance, looking around, and I kind of figured you were looking after your girlfriend. But seeing how… um, close, she is to Gale, well, I guessed you two aren't in a relationship."
Honestly? was all Katniss could think about. You dance with a girl, and you're straight-up labelled as lesbian? She wasn't ready to admit she had just done what Peeta assumed - looked around for Madge, who was way too joyful and cheery, kind and beautiful, and couldn't see a threat even if it was waving just under her nose. Katniss knew better.
Speaking of Madge… the brunette looked around, searching for her friend. She wasn't on the dance floor anymore, and Katniss felt panic balling up in her belly. She checked her phone - no message.
Katniss quickly put her half-empty glass on the makeshift counter, and headed towards the dance floor, on a mission to find her friend.
She didn't expect at all to be pulled back gently by a strong hand on her arm. Her reaction, born of years of being on her own, fighting her own battles, and maybe, a dozen of self-defense classes, was immediate. Grabbing the hand, she turned herself back to the front of her opponent, and stepped as fiercely as possible on his foot.
Only this time, her heel found nothing else than the concrete under her sandal, the man behind her having clearly moved away from her.
She heard a voice tickling her ear, calm and soothing. "Don't worry, I'm not attacking you. Look at your friend."
Slowly, she felt a tug on her right, a hand on her waist, trying to make her turn when all her body stiffened. She tried to relax and follow his lead, The man obviously didn't have bad intentions, or his armlock would not be one she could easily escape, even though it felt surprisingly good to be in his embrace.
Finally giving in, Katniss turned to her right, looking through the crowd in search of Madge, finding no one. She stiffened again, when she felt the hand on her waist pushing her to the side a bit, giving her a clear view of her friend, clearly mingling with the guy she began dancing with earlier. Madge seemed to really, really be enjoying herself, kissing the man like her life depended on it.
Katniss felt the hands and arms around her setting her free, the body heat emanating from the man behind her leaving her too. She realized she would indeed spend her night alone in their apartment, but most importantly, that she would have to go back there on her own. Thank you Apple for putting a GPS in your phone.
"So, do you want to dance?"
The least that could be said about Peeta was that he was persistent.
Katniss did really want to go home, while at the same time, she wanted to enjoy this holiday, on the very possible chance she would never come back after her exchange was over.
She hesitated for a few seconds, before caving in. What was wrong with a dance? It was only three minutes, right? And then she would be able to tell Prim she had fully enjoyed her experience abroad, right?
Right.
"Yes."
Peeta's smile at her answer made the full moon look pale in the sky.
One dance turned into five, ten, or maybe fifteen, endless talks about the exchange, the majors they were taking, as well as how to make perfect cheese buns. Katniss couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so much, or had been so carefree.
Until she heard the sounds of the gunshots.
At first, they all took it for the fireworks that were supposed to start a few minutes later, but when one, then two musicians fell on the podium, their shirts red with the blood, they realised it was happening. She felt herself being pushed down on the ground, covered by something warm and heavy - until she opened her eyes to see it was Peeta, protecting her. The mayhem continued, the gunshots being sometimes covered by the shouts and cries - until Katniss felt a seething pain, a ray of white light… then the dark.
—
Katniss woke up to the sounds of sirens - so many of them, so different from those in the US.
She wasn't on the the dance floor anymore, more likely far away from where she had been when it happened.
She could recall seeing Madge kissing that man.
She could recall dancing and laughing with Peeta.
And then….
Her heart started beating faster at the thought of the soundof the gunshots, echoing in her memory like drops of water crashing on a sink. She started to shiver, her pulse quickening, her belly contracting. She turned quickly, too quickly, and her head started to spin.
Where was Madge? Where was she? Did something happen to her?
Did something happen to Peeta?
The noise around her was too loud - sirens, cries, shouts….
The smell hitting her nose was too heavy - blood and powder, and antiseptic.
A mop of curly blond hair a dozen yards away, holding a small girl in a red dress.
The pain in her arm - a makeshift tourniquet preventing her from bleeding….
Men in uniform that were usually white were stained with blood today, talking to her in another language… just before she fainted again.
—
The next few days were a blur of pain, stitches, paperwork, until she found herself ona plane back to her country.
She hadn't slept in nights, the sounds too loud, too real in her head, her eyes closing only to see the chaos in front of her - blood everywhere, people crying, screaming, the sound of the sirens. She couldn't sleep anymore, being too shaken up. Of course she saw a shrink - but what was the use? Her skill at language just wasn't good enough to express her feelings, and the good man couldn't speak good enough English to help her.
Weirdly enough, she didn't panic as the plane took off, taking her away from the horror of this night of July, away from a country brought to its knees. The attacks took one hundred and fifteen lives… and counting.
Katniss only wants to go back to reach out to Madge's family. She hadn't heard from her since she last saw her sucking face with the tall guy. She asked, at the hospital she was in, but nobody knew. Injured people had been dispatched to so many hospitals, it was hard to keep track of anybody. Her mind wandered to the kind blond man too - Peeta, who covered her body with his when the shooting began, shielding her from taking more than a bullet in the arm. She wondered where he was, too, whether he made it out of the chaos.
Somehow, Katniss could remember a mop of curly hair at one point, but she couldn't tell whether it was him or not. Remembering Peeta brought back the memories of before - before the attack started. Laughs, warmth, smiles, a feeling of quiet and peace, of belonging, maybe? But everything died along with one hundred and fifteen lives.
She felt an emptiness inside of her, a cold threatening to take over her mind, her body, her soul - as if the flame of life she had inside her had died on that hot summer night.
The flight home was surprisingly short, or maybe Katniss was too lost in her mind, in a state of non-being she started to settle in. As the plane lands in New York on time, the representants of the Red Cross, escorting some of the passengers back home, came closer to her, taking her cabin luggage, holding her arm until she was safely on her flight to Harrisburg, where her family would pick her up.
During all the time it took her to get out of the first plane, Katniss had checked the mass of passengers, looking for long blond locks - and moppy, curly hair, finding none.
Of course, she could have called to check on her friend, if her phone hadn't died that fateful day when she crashed on the floor. She had just grabbed it from Peeta's hand after he had entered his number in it, when she had felt that rush of energy at the mere touch of him.
"It's time, dear." The Red Cross woman handed Katniss two pills - one she knew was for the pain in her arm, the other she had no clue why. She didn't question her medication, what was the use of that?
Another quick trip. Not even the time to think of anything, to stare at something other than the clouds lingering under the plane. Katniss realised she could stay there, in this place between the ground and the sky, where everything was like cotton wool, where her mind wouldn't be torn in pieces, where everything was calm and quiet.
The landing came way too soon, bringing her back to a reality she didn't want to face.
There were people around her, too many people. What if someone was carrying a gun? Or starting a shooting? The sounds of the crowd, the cheers and the laughs, were too much to handle. How can life go on? Katniss stopped in her tracks, her heart beating way too fast in her chest, her breathing too shallow, too difficult to get out of her lungs, the airport around her fading into a mass of colors and sounds.
Her hands went to her ears to block out the noise, her eyes closed, and she started rocking back and forth, her legs shaking, trying to find comfort in that familiar rhythm. Back and forth, again, again, as images of death and destruction passed in front of her eyes.
She would never know how long it lasted, or what happened. When she was strong enough to regain some consciousness, she found herself sitting on a bench, with the Red Cross woman near her, trying to pry her hands from her ears.
She finally let go, to be immediately assaulted by the sounds of the airport, and tears began to flow down her cheeks.
"I've arranged for you to clear customs. Your family is just there, on the other side. In this envelope is the Red Cross number. You call us whenever you need us, okay? Someone will call you tomorrow, to set up appointments. Okay?"
Katniss nodded, barely registering what she was told.
"Just tell me when you're ready, dear. I have all the time in the world."
The woman sat down beside Katniss, shoulder to shoulder, the barest contact to anchor her to the ground, to the world around herself.
Time passed. How long, Katniss couldn't tell. Minute after minute, though, the world became more bearable, less frightening, something she could be a part of for some time.
–
The drive home was difficult. It seemed like her family didn't know how to talk to her anymore. They kept telling her stories of what happened while she was gone, how Neil, the boy next door, broke his arm while falling from the swing, how Buttercup brought back crows every day for a week, how Prim was happy with her volunteering at the hospital, and that maybe, their cousin Gale finally had a crush on a woman that lasted for more than two weeks.
They completely avoided talking about what happened overseas. As if there weren't signs everywhere , as if each flag showing the colors of the country that was bleeding right now weren't enough to remind Katniss of what happened. As if the looks their car was getting while driving through their familiar neighborhood weren't enough. Even thousands of miles away, there were reminders.
But nobody dared talk about it.
The house hadn't changed. The same flowers on the benches, the same old rocking chair on the porch, near the swing that still needed a fresh coat of paint, the same cat prying his way inside trying to be unnoticed, the same frames on the wall. Nothing had changed.
But she had. So much. On the table of the living room sat a familiar white box, which content she guessed, but pretended not to see.
Without saying a word, she rushed to her bedroom, breathing in the familiarity of everything, throwing her shoes away to hide under the comforter. Here, she could rest and try to forget.
She heard the whispers of her parents, her sister, blaming the stress, the jetlag for her exhaustion.
She wasn't sure they were right.
Katniss woke up, shivering, her throat sore. She heard the sounds of people running on the hardwood floor of the corridor, opening her door feverishly. In no time, her mother and sister were at her side, embracing her, whispering to her, trying to soothe her.
However, she soon felt oppressed in that cocoon of limbs and blond hair - it was too much to take in, too much to handle, too much comfort for her - something she didn't deserve. People had died, and here she was, home, being cuddled by her family, when hundreds would never see theirs again.
A thought attacked her wickedly, taking all the air out of her lungs. Madge. She tore away from the warm embrace, and rushed out of her room, heading downstairs as quickly as she could.
But the white box on the table was gone.
"Phone! I need a phone!" Katniss shouted through her tears, disturbing the cat from his nap. He hissed at her, before moving to another place, to find peace. She could hear her mother and sister coming down the stairs after her, but she couldn't care less.
"Here sweetie, I put your sim card in it."
The calm voice of her father startled her out of her near-breakdown. He always was the quieter one in the house, not needing words to make himself understood. In his extended arm was a brand new phone she grabbed eagerly, unlocking it. Not fast enough, she brought Madge's number up, ignoring the texts and notifications endlessly coming in.
She pressed the green button.
It took a very long time for the line to connect, or maybe time had ceased meaning anything.
Katniss was about to hang up when she heard the distinctive sound of someone picking up.
"Hello?"
"Madge? Is that you?" Katniss could feel the relief flowing through her veins. The line was bad, but her friend was there.
"No…." On the other side of the line, the voice broke down. "Who is calling please?" A man had taken the phone over.
"I'm Katniss, I was Madge's roommate in…."
The voice chided in. "Oh, of course, Katniss. I wish we could have met under other circumstances." She heard the voice take a deep breath. "Madge… oh, god, Madge is dead, Katniss…. Didn't you know?"
Katniss felt herself falling down on the ground, her hand still clutching her phone, as if it was a lifeline, while images of Madge passed in her mind. Memories of the blond woman laughing, smelling flowers in the market, pushing Katniss into a small beauty parlor, of Madge twirling to the music, laughing, laughing, laughing..
She would never laugh again, or smell the perfume of a rose, would never be the teacher she had wanted to become. Her life had ended one day in July, in a foreign country.
Katniss felt the tears fall from her eyes, again at another loss. She felt her phone being taken from her hand, a voice speaking through it - she couldn't recognize which, her pain too sharp to bear.
Then she heard it - the soft words of a lullaby, just like when she was a little girl going to bed, as strong arms gathered her, the familiar smell of her father surrounding her.
She clinged to his flannel shirt, the soft material a comfort under her fingers and cheeks as the tears kept falling, until her father laid her down on her bed, still singing. The sound of his voice, long forgotten, lulled Katniss back to a dreamless sleep.
–
Days passed, hot and sunny outside, filled with the laughter of children playing in the backyard of their houses, or the whisper of the wind playing in the chimes. To Katniss, it was all cold, dark emptiness, filled with fear and tears. She went to therapist appointments that her parents dragged her to. She refused the antidepressants, and tried to regain a grip on her life.
She didn't try to reach out to Madge's parents again, the guilt still too present in her heart. How was she still alive when her friend had met her end? How could she face the Undersees, or even talk to them? How could they want to see her?
People called less and less as time passed. She didn't answer the calls, didn't even pick up her phone. In fact, her new iPhone had remained untouched on her nightstand since the moment her dad had put it there.
Still, every day at 9:30 AM, someone called. Was it the same person? She couldn't know, she didn't have enough will to look at it, afraid to hear more bad news.
Katniss started to build a routine, following Dr. Aurelius's advice, trying to anchor herself in her new reality. Each time she felt the tendrils of fear grabbing at her, she was to start repeating a kind of mantra, listing all the good actions she had witnessed, creating a kind of equilibrium with the horror she saw. Days passed, and with time, she was able to add something more, tiny bits of life passing in front of her, reminding her that there was some good still left in this crazy world.
Still, every day at 9:30 AM, someone called.
Until her phone didn't ring anymore.
Katniss didn't notice it at first. She went on with her day, easing into the familiar chores she asked to take on, talking with her sister Prim about her upcoming move to Brown, her absence already leaving a big hole in her big sister's heart.
She started searching for what was missing in her new found routine. Breakfast was done with, dishes were cleaned and she had showered, even putting on clothes for her approaching appointment with her therapist. She had started making progress, realizing nothing was her fault - not the attacks, not the deaths of people she knew or not.
Something was missing, though, in her morning. It took Katniss some time to realize what it was.
Her phone hadn't rung at 9:30 AM, as it did every day.
And for a reason she couldn't explain, it bothered her a lot.
This day, when she left to her appointment with her therapist, she grabbed her phone. She couldn't explain why either, she just knew she had to.
She kept checking it, even during her session.
"Are you okay, Katniss? You look like you're a bit… distracted. And I see you brought your phone? That's a first."
"I…." How could she explain what her 9:30 AM phone call meant? She didn't even know for herself.
"Take your time. Are you expecting a call?"
"Yes? No? I don't know, really."
"Who's calling you?"
Katniss started to feel a blush creeping up her cheeks. She started fidgeting with the phone, trying to occupy her mind while she gathered her thoughts.
"I… I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"It's just… it rings every day at 9:30 AM. Every single day since I got a phone back, I had this call. No message, no text. Just a call."
"And you never answered? Aren't you curious to know who it is?"
"I… I…. No."
"Why?"
That was a good question, one Katniss didn't dare ask herself.
"I don't know…."
"Really?"
"No?"
Dr. Aurelius smiled that little smirk that seemed to be a trademark among shrinks the world over. That tiny little curl of the lips that said, "I really don't believe what you're telling me right now, so let's not play with that bullshit anymore."
"Well, at first I thought it was, you know, some kind of tv news thing. But it went on, and now I'm kind of afraid of who it could be. If I pick up, maybe he'll realize he didn't want to call me, and…."
"And?"
Katniss looked through the windows, not daring to face her therapist's piercing eyes.
"I won't have anybody left calling me."
"So why don't you try to call?"
"What if it's, you know some call center?"
"What if it's not?" She couldn't think of a suitable answer.
But the good doctor had more things to add.
"So maybe try this. Next time it rings and it's this same number again, you answer it. So you'll know?"
Katniss could always say yes, and pretend later that she had called and nobody answered, right? Right.
Again that little smirk, she noticed, as if he had guessed she would pretend.
"So, if you're ready to call this person if the phone doesn't ring tomorrow, why don't you call right now?"
She knew he had her. She'd been trapped by her own doing.
"And if nobody answers?"
"You leave a message, isn't that what you young people do nowadays?"
"I guess…."
"So, Katniss, are you ready to take a chance on life?"
It's just a phone call, she thought. Just one and she will have shown Dr. Aurelius she wasn't walking away from her word.
One call.
She grabbed the phone, turned it toward her, unlocked it, and went to the list of missed calls. The last one was from the day before at 9:30 AM sharp. Breathing in, she pushed her thumb on the number displayed on the screen.
There was no ring, no long wait until somebody picked up. No, the call went directly to voicemail.
"Hey, this is Peeta. You know how this works, leave a message and all."
Katniss hung up without leaving a message, her mouth opened from the shock. She hadn't expected the rush of warmth spreading in her body at the mere sound of his voice, the relief she felt at hearing him.
"So, I guess this was not a call center?"
"No, it wasn't."
"Why didn't you leave a message?"
Why? She knew why. She got scared… what would she say besides, "Hey Peeta, it's Katniss, why did you call me every day since… since it happened?"
Because even after nearly two months, she couldn't find it in herself to use the right words to describe the sheer horror she'd been a part of. Gunfire, blood, the moans of people dying, the sounds of the sirens, the tears, the cries. In her nightmares, she could still hear the shouts of the people shot to death, smell the gunpowder and burnt flesh. Time did not heal some wounds. It just made them more bearable.
"Katniss?"
The young woman realized the good doctor must have been talking to her while she had zoned out.
"Yes?"
"Why didn't you leave a message?"
She took her time to answer, carefully choosing her words.
"I don't know, really. I never thought it would be Peeta, we only talked for a couple minutes before… it happened."
"But maybe it would be good to have a friend to talk to? Someone that's been through everything also? Where does she live?"
"Who?"
"This Peeta? Where does she live?"
Katniss felt herself blushing at the words, even though she had no clue why.
"Oh, Peeta's not a she. He's a man, and it's a name that's been in his family since they arrived from Finland ages ago. He lives in Cleveland."
"And you spoke only for a couple of minutes, right?"
"Yes, I don't know how long? But it couldn't have been that long…."
Actually, while thinking about it, it had been that long. She and Madge had arrived around nine in the evening, when the sun was still well above the horizon, giving the chalk walls a color nearing orange. But it had been night, complete and dark, when the shooting happened. So yes, maybe a little more than a couple of minutes. Damn if she knew.
"And now, what will you do when he calls back?"
"I have absolutely no clue."
Katniss hadn't paused this time to consider her answer. The words came out of her mouth easily, naturally for once.
"Then I guess you will need to figure this out quite quickly. Because I'm pretty sure he's going to call back."
"How do you know that?"
"Because he called all the other days. He's persistent."
"How do you know that?"
"He called you each day at the same time, even though you never answered?"
Katniss considered Dr. Aurelius's words. She had called back, voluntarily, to realize the caller had been Peeta all along. Questions ran through her mind - had she known before that Peeta was calling, would she have answered? What if he had something important to say? Or what if it had been his parents, calling all the numbers in his list, because he was….
Her chest constricted at the thought of Peeta being dead. Katniss felt her breaths becoming more difficult to take with every second. She couldn't bear the thought of losing someone else she knew. She was barely over Madge's death, dealing with her survivor guilt, but just the idea of kind, cute Peeta being dead was unbearable.
"Breathe, Katniss, through your nose, then exhale through your mouth, slowly, and start your list."
She was pretty sure Dr. Aurelius was by her side, but she couldn't see him, lost as she was in the world her mind created. Her hands went to her ears, trying to muffle the sounds inside her brain, or to cut herself from the world, she didn't know. She was back in that place, with Peeta falling over her, again and again, pierced by bullets, his mane of blond hair stained by blood.
"Katniss, listen to me. You're fine, you're in Harrisburg, nothing is happening to you. You are twenty-one-years-old, you have a sister and your parents waiting for you at home. You are safe."
The therapist's words finally broke into Katniss's mind, his gentle tone piercing her defenses, slowly, until she could start breathing normally again. Sweat was running down her back, her head was still spinning from the shallow breaths she took, making her pant.
"Katniss, tell me, what prompted this attack? It's been awhile since the last one, right?"
She nodded, still unable to speak. Four weeks and two days. That' precisely how long it'd been since the last panic attack. Thirty days in all.
"Do you know what prompted this one, Katniss?"
"Peeta…" she whispered.
"Why?"
"He protected me… when I fell on the ground, after hearing the guns, he put his body above mine to shield me…."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, there was a lot of space where we were, and he just… protected me."
"And what happened during your attack?"
"He died, over and over again, while covering me. He had his body pierced with so many bullets, and his eyes were… dead."
She felt the roots of another attack coming, of the fear climbing up her body, but this time she was ready. She took deep breaths, opened her eyes, and let her hands fall on her knees, while focusing on the air coming in and out of her.
"I'm afraid he's dead too, and I'm not sure I can take another death right now."
Katniss stood up, before turning to the doctor sitting in front of her.
"This is all so unfair! They shouldn't be dead! They did nothing wrong! And yet, there they are, lying under the ground because some crazy people thought this was how to prove their worth to their god? This is bullshit! This is crazy! They shouldn't be dead!"
"No, they shouldn't. But for now, the only one you know is dead for sure is Madge. Peeta is still alive."
"How can you say that? You don't know!"
"How can you say he isn't? You don't know either. And you won't until you've picked up your phone when it rings again."
Dr. Aurelius rose from his worn-out chair, and went to Katniss.
"You're the only one who will know what to do. Trust yourself, Katniss."
She nodded, only to hear the clock on his desk ringing twelve times. Her session was over. Without another word, she gathered her belongings, and tried to compose herself before leaving the office. She had almost reached the door when the calm voice of the doctor stopped her in her tracks.
"You probably don't realize it, but you made tremendous progress today, Katniss. It's actually the first time you told me precisely what happened. You're on the good way out of this, you know?"
She knew.
She hoped.
–
The phone didn't ring that day.
Katniss spent a good amount of time fidgeting with her brand new iPhone, trying to find out if it worked properly, if she hadn't messed things up in any way.
Even if she was sure it was perfectly fine.
It was brand new.
Right?
She went to bed that night wondering whether her phone would ring the next day at 9:30. And if it did, what she would do about it.
–
She woke up the next day after a night full of nightmares, again, this time featuring Peeta as the main role, being tortured, killed over and over again. She couldn't explain why, but the thought of this kind, gentle, handsome man being dead brought a sadness she hadn't expected. She was holding onto the fact that he was the one calling, the one trying to reach out to her. He hadn't forgotten about her.
To be honest, she hadn't forgotten about him either.
Katniss tried to patiently wait until the time decided to pass, without looking every ten seconds at the clock. She had stopped wondering what would happen when the call would come. She had spent a good part of the previous afternoon asking herself the same questions. Would she pick up ? What would she say? What would he say?
As time decided to play its relativity trick on her, she busied herself sorting her clothes - the last box of her remaining items had arrived by mail earlier in the week - before answering her college-related mail, confirming that she was putting an end to her exchange year abroad.
At 9:29 sharp, she stopped everything, rushed to find her phone (still lying on her bedstand), checked if it was charged enough (it was), locked her door to not be disturbed, and waited.
Time seemed to stand still, to stop and take pleasure at lingering to frustrate her more.
Finally, 9:30 arrived.
And her phone remained quiet.
Dozens of questions passed through her mind. Had she waited too long to answer or call back? Did he give up on her?
The sound of the ring echoed in the bedroom. Same number - she hadn't dared save it as Peeta's yet not to jinx things - same time. It was still 9:30, and hopefully the same caller.
It was the time to know. To take a jump into the unknown.
She picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
–
She fidgeted, waiting for the train to stop. She wanted to be the first one out of the carriage, not wanting to waste a minute of her time in Cleveland. Two days would either be not enough time or way too much, depending on how their meeting went.
If she was to trust the long conversations they'd been having since she decided to pick up the phone on that September day, they would at least be friends. Or that's what she hoped. She never thought a simple phone call could lead her here, now - but more importantly, make her feel any better. After the awkward first minutes of the phone call - him apologizing over and over again for not picking up when she called, because of course he was at his grandparents and had forgotten his cable to recharge his phone. After that, she apologized for not answering before.
He understood. He knew what she had been through, how tough coming home had been for her. It had been the same for him. Endless lists of questions asked, prying eyes as to when he was going to break down, and long therapy sessions. Until they were able to talk about the attacks to each other. Sharing their fears, their nightmares, without being judged, with someone who understood. Who got how hard it was to get back into life, to start laughing again. But they made it, and began sharing a bit more of themselves with each other as time passed. He made her drool with the pictures of his parents' bakery in the morning, all the counters full with pastries and so many different kind of breads; she made him laugh with videos of Buttercup trying to catch a ray of light. They talked, they laughed, they emptied their hearts of all the pain and sorrow, slowly building the grounds of their friendship.
Until they decided it was maybe time to see each other again.
As soon as the doors opened, Katniss rushed onto the platform, looking around for her friend. The text he sent her earlier was the clue as to where to find him, a simple picture of the big black board showing all the departures. She could feel the tension building up in her belly, not from the fear of being surrounded by a crowd like in Harrisburg, rather by the fear of what would happen once they were face to face. Would their easy banter continue? Would they be able to talk to one another without the safety of being hundreds of miles apart?
She grabbed her travel bag tighter. Now wasn't the time to have doubts. She had to stand up for herself, and accept this life with all its flaws - and all its good moments. That's what she understood after her sessions with Dr. Aurelius. That despite all the horrors, there was still a path in front of her, filled with happiness if she looked for it, but also with some disappointments. A life, with its ups and downs, if she was willing to go for it.
Katniss followed the flood of passengers inside the big hall of the station, her head held high, looking for the blackboard until she bumped into a wall.
Wait, not a wall. Walls are not warm and they do not hug back.
She let her bag drop on the ground to allow her arms to go around Peeta's waist. She rested her head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat - a bit too fast, maybe - but she didn't care. It felt too good, warmth spreading directly from him into her, relief washing over her tired body, on her scarred mind, taking the pain and fear away.
They would have been really embarrassed if anyone had asked how long they had remained in each other's arms. Seconds, or hours, they weren't able to tell, nor could they find a reason to care. They both needed the comfort the other brought, the certainty that they understood each other, without needing to say a word.
"I'm so so glad you came," Peeta whispered in her ear, still holding her tight.
"Then show me around, Baker Boy. I seem to remember cinnamon rolls were on the list!"
He laughed.
The sound was a source, a river of fresh water in a deserted land. It was hope, it was happiness. it was life.
"Very true, let's go, right?"
They chatted like the old friends they were, not forged in time but in the depth of their common past, Peeta pointing to Katniss all the important places of Cleveland on their way to the bakery. He pulled up in the parking lot in the back of the building, then grabbed her bag before leading her through the back door, directly into the kitchen.
"My mom and dad really want to meet you. They asked if you're willing to come have dinner tonight at their place? They also told me they would completely understand if you didn't want to come, okay? My brothers are working the afternoon shift, and they are so going to ask you two thousand questions, so be ready." She felt a scowl coming to her face - noticing it had been absent for quite a time now - before Peeta added, "No, not those kind of questions. They know better. They will grill you about your family, what's your favorite bread, and those kind of things. Don't worry. Are you ready?"
Katniss wasn't sure whether she was ready or not. Taking first steps was exhausting. That's when she felt a hand slowly touching hers, the whisper of a move against her skin. She felt her own limb respond in kind, fingers intertwining of their own accord, her head nodding.
"Okay. But if they go too far…"
"I'll hold them while you kick their asses. Can I say I hope they talk too much?"
She almost laughed - almost, before following Peeta inside the bakery.
"Oh, she really exists!" She was greeted by the cheerful voice of a man obviously kneading some dough. He didn't look at all like Peeta, who was sturdy built and of average height. The baker in front of her was all thin and reaching above 6 feet high, his green eyes shining under his brown hair.
"Shut up, Brian. Of course she exists. Where's Will?"
"Dealing with Mrs. Scott's granddaughter. She's flirting outrageously with him, so I gave them their privacy."
It was Peeta's turn to chuckle, soon to be interrupted by another man, blond with green eyes, of the same built as his younger brother.
"You must be Katniss. I'm William, Peeta's brother. And this asshole, here, is Brian. We have to pretend to like him, you know? Since he's our brother and all." Will had extended his hand for Katniss to shake, and she realized Brian was now washing his hands to do the same.
She extracted her fingers from Peeta's, walking to the two men in front of her, extending her hand too. As soon as she was close to them, they both took her in a bear hug, one of them (William if she could give a guess) whispering very softly so only she could hear, "Thank you for bringing our brother back."
Katniss felt the tears coming to her eyes. She knew the attacks had taken a toll on Peeta, that he underwent the same process as she did. But knowing she helped him take the steps forward, and being thanked for that was not something she expected.
"He protected me… I'm the one who should thank your family," she answered, in the same tone.
"He did what he always does - Look out for the persons he cares for. He's the best of us all..."
Katniss felt herself blushing. This was almost too much to bear, too much love for her. She felt she didn't deserve it.
The two brothers pulled back, their eyes shining too. Her reprieve didn't last long, though, as she felt an arm around her shoulder. Brian pulled her closer to him, dragging her gently along near the door to the bakery.
"Now, Katniss, you're getting a treat from the Mellark's. While Will and I pour you a little something to drink, we are going to tell you all you ever wanted to know about our Baby Bro here. We even have pictures of him in his wrestling outfit."
"You do not…" Peeta's voice was laced with laughter, as Will lead him into the back of the bakery.
"Come, Katniss. Are you a coffee or tea person? Or can I tempt you into a hot chocolate?"
They all spent quite some time in the bakery, Brian and Will sharing not so glorious stories of the Mellark brothers, regaling Katniss with anecdotes about Peeta and his love for art (they proudly explained that the paintings adorning the walls were his), and his friend Delly's childhood crush on him, before they finally all dispersed for the night.
Katniss had talked to Peeta's parents on the phone, thanking them for the invitation, although she wasn't sure she was up for meeting them yet. After they both helped Brian and Will close the bakery, Peeta showed up to the stairwell in the back of the kitchen.
"I live upstairs from the bakery. I signed off college, and needed a place to crash…. Will and Brian both have their places, so it was easier for me here. At home, it was too much, you know? They did their best, but didn't understand…."
"Yeah… I go to the woods outside my home when I need space."
"Oh, yes, that's where the lake is, right?"
Peeta lead her upstairs, in the large flat that took all the space above.
"Wow, it's… huge!"
"Well, the five of us fit in here so… yes."
"Oh my god, Peeta? Your parents still live here?"
He chuckled.
"Nah, they left a few years ago, bought a house in the suburbs. My mom got tired of being woke up at four by the iron gate being lifted. As Dad is getting closer to retirement, he doesn't come as early as before."
"And your brothers?"
"Will is married, they live two blocks away, and Brian has his own apartment. This place was free, so I took it. I can be here early in the morning too, it's practical."
"You're baking too?"
"We all bake."
"But your degree in art? You told me you wanted to be a teacher."
"I still do. One day, eventually. When I finish my degree." He passed through the large living room with an open kitchen. "I'll show you where you will sleep. I hope my room will do."
"What? Your room? No, I'll sleep on the couch!"
"I think my mom will kill me if she learns I let someone sleep on the–" Peeta stopped his phrase completely, realizing a second too late his choice of words. Katniss saw him tense, his eyes getting a shade darker, his whole body going rigid, his hands, fisted so tight the knuckles were white and protruding. It didn't last long, maybe a couple of seconds before he was able to relax and go back to his original self, only with his head hanging low, not daring to meet Katniss's eyes.
"I'm sorry, Katniss, it's just…" He completely turned away, shielding herself from her gaze. "Sometimes, it all comes back to me, you know? A word, a sound something triggers it all.I space out, and I totally get it if you don't want to stay here."
"Shhh…" Katniss's voice was in his ear in a second, her hands around his waist from behind.
"I have nightmares… I see it all happening over and over again… everybody dies… my parents, my sister, my cousins… you…" At her words, Peeta turned in her arms to look at her. "I understand, Peeta. I was there. I have bad days too. It's hard to be strong all the time…."
"You can be weak with me, Katniss…."
She looked into his eyes, back to their ocean blue shade, standing on her tip-toes so that her forehead was on his.
"Only if you let yourself be weak with me."
–
Guns were firing, bodies falling around her. In front of her, Primrose was standing up, her hands on her belly, but nothing could stop the spreading stain of blood from covering the white dress Katniss's sister was wearing. On the right, Madge was slowly collapsing on the ground, in slow motion, her shout echoing into the night. Gunshots. Blood. Sirens. It started again. The screaming. The shouting. A voice, like a lifeline, pulling through the terror, the panic, the fear. A voice, silencing the guns, stopping the falls, the bleedings. Her name, said over and over again, anchoring her to another reality.
"Katniss, please, wake up!"
She startled awake, looking at the unfamiliar surroundings, her eyes still wet from the tears she cried over her losses. Peeta was next to her, holding her against his chest, his hands stroking her arms gently.
She pulled away from him, too ashamed to look at Peeta in the eyes, hiding her tears.
"I'm sorry - it's just… I get nightmares…."
"Don't apologize… I get them too, you know?"
Katniss nodded. With a final brush of his hand on her arm, Peeta stood up from the bed, tightening the sheets.
"Will you be okay now?" He asked, moving towards the bedroom door.
She doubted she would. She didn't want to be left alone in this room she didn't know, in these sheets that were too cold for her liking…
"Peeta?"
The young man had already reached the door when Katniss's voice made him turn.
"Will you stay with me?" she asked in a small voice.
He didn't say anything, just nodded slightly before making his way back to the bed. Katniss moved to her left, leaving some space while holding the bedsheets open for him.
He laid on his back, not wanting to appear too invading, not knowing where to settle, but Katniss had a mind of her own. She snuggled next to him, searching for his warmth, for the comfort of his arms, of his body. Sleep was already calling her back, when she heard him whisper to the night.
"Always."
—-
Feb. 14th 2016, somewhere in the world.
There were still flowers and candles everywhere, placed along the walls or simply lying on the pavement. The security barriers had been removed a long time ago, allowing passerbys to come and pay their respects.
The thin woman extracted herself from the embrace of the blond man, looking into his eyes for a long time, before he nodded, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.
She dug into his left pocket, took the small candle that was there, hidden behind his pair of gloves before turning towards the flowered wall, trying to take a step forward.
Tears were rolling down her cheeks, she was clinging to the candle in her hands like a lifeline, trying to find the courage to take this last step on her own, until she felt his warm hand in hers, and he whispered in her ear.
If someone had been close enough, they would have heard one word. "Together."
The girl with the raven hair nodded, holding his hand tighter.
They took the last step together.
For all the families and friends that lost someone during any kind of attack.
This was written after the Paris Attacks on November 13th, in the hope it would never happen again.
Alas, it did.
There's a Canadian song called "Quand les Hommes Vivront d'Amour" that was the starting point of this story. It's a song of hope, of love.
And finally, thank you so much to all of you who on Tumblr or FB showed their support. Blue, white and Red were never as beautiful as they were last November.
Thank you.