They've barely adjusted to the blackness that greets them when they clamber into the storage bunker from the Dark Days before she sets him to work, looking for candles.
"Or lanterns," Katniss instructs him, her mind already sifting through the possible outcomes of seeking refuge underground. It's anyone's guess how long it will take for the cloud of mustard-colored fog to dissipate. "Looks like we'll be trapped for a while."
Peeta, her co-leader who somehow had the misfortune to be saddled with Katniss at the end of the world, grumbles a little at first. "How am I supposed to find lanterns if I can't see anything?"
"Use your hands," she says. "I don't care. If we're gonna be stuck down here for the foreseeable future, we've got to find a light source and figure out what we're dealing with down here in the way of supplies."
"Yeah," he returns. "And what if there are no supplies?" He pauses, the sound of his blind footfalls ceasing for a moment. "What if there are… bodies?"
Katniss chews on her bottom lip and considers this. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, Mellark."
"Don't tell me that you haven't thought of it," Peeta says. "Imagine someone hiding out here while the missiles were flying a hundred years ago, and never making it out alive. Their body just lying here for us to discover."
She rolls her eyes, even though he can't see her. "If it's any consolation, it's probably mostly decomposed by now."
"Not helping."
"Just keep looking, okay?" she huffs. "You stay over there. I'll feel my way around over here."
"You sure you don't want me to help you with that?" His tone is almost playful. If they weren't on such bitter terms most of the time, she'd allow it. But she won't allow herself to be charmed by Peeta Mellark.
"I'm one-hundred percent sure," she says.
"All right." He resumes shuffling in the opposite direction.
Arms outstretched, Katniss wanders around the bunker with the hope of blindly stumbling upon something useful. She still hasn't quite recovered from the shock of seeing a wall of fog descending on their hunting pack, the wild scramble for safety into known Grounder territory, the sheer luck of seeing a rusted-over door poking out of the earth and realizing that Peeta was close at her heels.
Peeta Mellark. As much as she clashes with him back at the drop ship, she couldn't bring herself to let him die an ignoble death in the fog. He's as much of a leader as she is, if not more so.
It's in his blood, after all. His mother and father were on the Ark's council, representatives from the Go Sci station, until his father was floated for some attempted treason. She remembers, dimly, hearing that Councilor Mellark's son was going to the Sky Box for conspiring with him. But he doesn't seem like the rebellious type, since he was so adamant that everyone keep their wristbands on so the Ark wouldn't believe them all to be dead.
He still has some kind of lingering loyalty to the Ark. To the very people who sent him to juvenile detention for a few months before sentencing him to certain death on the ground. It's dangerous to show blind deference to people who will not sacrifice an opportunity to screw you over.
"Aha!" She hears a click, and then sees his face bathed in a soft orange glow. "I think I found a flashlight."
"Nice," she says. "Now how about some candles?"
…
It's an hour's toil, but they have a decent haul at the end of it all.
A couple of lanterns, a handful of batteries, a pile of fleece blankets, some cans of nonperishables, and a handgun with a few rounds of bullets.
Oh, and dozens of candles.
"Mood lighting," Peeta remarks, after he strikes the last match. He deftly touches the blazing tip to the wick and sets it alight. The flame blooms to life and flickers back and forth in spite of the stagnant air. "Very romantic."
Katniss glowers at him. "Hilarious."
"Just trying to lighten the mood." He's grinning. Teasing her, obviously.
"No need," she says. "For all we know, our people are dying out there. We don't know how far this fog spread. We could head back to the drop ship and find them all dead." Including Prim, the sister she swore to protect the day she was born.
Peeta's smile drops, almost comically fast. "Wow, you're kind of morbid."
"No, I'm kind of realistic," she corrects him. "I have to be. I'm responsible for their safety, aren't I?"
It's like she can hear her mother's voice echoing back to her, across time and space.
"Your sister. Your responsibility."
Somehow, that's come to mean that she's responsible for the lives of ninety-nine other teenagers. If it wasn't for Prim, she wouldn't be quite as concerned.
"Sure. But it's my responsibility, too," Peeta retorts, his eyebrows creasing together. "We're all supposed to look out for each other. At least until the Ark can send more drop ships to the ground."
She narrows her eyes at him. "Right. That's exactly what we need. The Ark leaders shuttling down to the ground so they can lay down the law."
"I don't really see a problem with that."
"Yeah, well, I do." Katniss refocuses her gaze on the flame flickering before her eyes. She can't listen to him being an advocate for the Ark and meet his eyes.
There's a moment of silence. Then Peeta clears his throat. "You know, for someone who takes on leadership roles, you sure seem to have a problem with authority."
She bristles. "And you don't?" Her eyes flash to his, and she sees that he's scowling now. It's something that he only ever seems to do in her presence. "I mean, you're the one who got yourself locked up in the Sky Box. Had to have a problem with authority to end up in a cell, right?"
Peeta gapes at her. "That—that was different," he sputters.
"I don't understand how a delinquent like you is interested in making peace with the Ark," she snaps. The stress of the day is finally taking its toll on her, and she's quickly losing patience with the drop ship's resident golden boy. "They sent you here to die, and you want to thank them?"
"Hey, your 'whatever the hell we want' attitude isn't getting us anywhere," Peeta bites back. "We're at each other's throats. Six people are dead, and it's only gonna get worse if we don't ask for help." He's breathing heavily now, air hissing through his flared nostrils. We take those wristbands off, and we're all as good as dead."
"Or we keep those wristbands on, and I'm as good as dead!" Katniss bursts out, then drops her head into her hands once she's realized what she just said out loud.
It's like a bucket of water tossed over a raging fire. The tension in the air fizzles out and leaves the air between them stale.
"What are you talking about?" Peeta asks in a low voice, once he's found the temerity to speak.
Katniss keeps her head down. It's easier if she doesn't have to meet his eyes when she says it.
"I shot Undersee," she mutters. "Commander Cray… he put a gun in my hands. Told me that if I wanted a seat on the drop ship— if I wanted to see my sister again— I had to shoot the chancellor." She blinks, and her eyes burn with unshed tears. "I didn't have a choice."
She can't look at him. If she looks at him, she thinks that she'll recognize the look in the chancellor's eyes when the bullet tore through his abdomen. The shock, the fear.
For some reason, she doesn't want to see those feelings reflected in Peeta's eyes.
The silence bothers her. "Probably better that you know," she chokes out. "Now that you're trapped in a bunker with a—with a murderer." The word is bitter on her tongue, but she has to confront it at some point, doesn't she?
He has to be horrified. His best friend's father—worse yet, his father's best friend— shot dead. Murdered in cold blood.
Katniss sits with her head bowed, her hands clasped tightly together in her lap, rigid with anticipation. But all she hears is the faint sound of rustling beside her, before she feels the weight of a blanket settling around her shoulders.
She's tempted to shrug it off, but she doesn't. Instead, she feels the warm pressure of his hands squeezing her shoulders through the soft fabric, and then he settles down beside her again.
"Even if he's dead," Peeta starts softly, and she cranes her neck to see him staring into the candlelight with a grim expression. "You said it yourself. You didn't have a choice."
The tears prick at the corners of her eyes again. "Of course, I did," she murmurs. "I could have let him shoot me instead."
"No, you couldn't. And let Prim come down here alone?" Peeta finally looks up at her. "She needs you. She looks up to you. So does everyone from Factory, and pretty much everyone from Go Sci to Mecha." He shakes his head. "You didn't have a choice."
Her eyes well over without permission. "God, if my mother knew what I did…" she says through clenched teeth. A tear rolls down her cheek, unimpeded. "The things I've done. I'm a monster."
"You're not a monster."
"But I am," she insists, hugging her arms to her chest. "What kind of a person does that? Kills someone without remorse?"
"This is remorse," Peeta points out.
She sniffs. "Still."
"Look, Katniss…" He shrugs. "If you're looking for forgiveness… fine. You're forgiven. We may have our differences, but if that's what you need to move on from this, you've got it. I can't say that it'll be the same from the Ark, but don't you think that they'll be a little more inclined to pardon you once they see what you've done for all of us down here?"
She thinks about that. About the camp she's helped to build from the ground up, the fresh game she's managed to haul back to feed one hundred mouths, the few lives she's managed to save.
"Maybe," she says.
Peeta shrugs. "We're co-leaders," he says simply. "We have to have each other's backs."
Katniss manages a thin smile in response.
…
Somehow, they fall asleep together. Her head resting on his shoulder, his back propped up against the metal wall.
Katniss wakes with a lazy start when she realizes where she is, but settles back against Peeta after a few moments of consideration. Though she doesn't know how much she can trust him, she has no other choice at this point.
She trusts him in this moment. Because for the first time since they've set foot on this earth, she feels safe.