A/N: Thank you very much for staying with me throughout this change. If you read my previous two chapters, I hope you won't hate me for this. But I think this is a much stronger chapter, and I hope you will agree. Thanks for reading!
Chapter One: Katniss
At some point you have to realize that life goes on with or without you. With or without your little sister, your mother, your best friend. Life goes on, and spring gradually replaces the winter. Sometimes that spring comes with a lot of rain (mine certainly did). But it still comes, and eventually the sun and dandelions follow.
I've lost track of the time, but I know it's been at least two weeks since Peeta's return to Twelve. I've spent almost every waking minute hunting since then, which might sound impressive if I hadn't spent more than half of each day sleeping. Greasy Sae still comes to check on me, but she says I'm recovering. I wouldn't really know.
Haymitch has been as absent as ever, and I can only assume he's back to his usual lifestyle of excessive drinking. Peeta has also spent most of his time alone, though I've seen him several times, usually hanging around our new primrose garden. He seems a little quiet but looks healthy enough.
As the time stretches on, I realize I miss him more than ever. I begin to think that he might be the only person who can help me return to normal. But I know he's not ready for that kind of responsibility, and I'm not sure I want him to have it anyway.
You're brooding again, I think, reprimanding myself. I should at least do something useful, like hunt. Instead I've been sitting at the dining room table, staring at my empty breakfast plate, for more than an hour. I'm about to wrench myself out of my chair when the phone rings. I can't explain why, but for the first time ever I feel compelled to answer it. I must be having a really off day.
I settle onto the living room couch before pulling the phone from the hook. "Hello?" I ask.
"Katniss? Oh thank God, you've saved me a trip to Twelve!" It's Dr. Aurelius, and he seems genuinely shocked to hear my voice. Which is justified, because I never answer when he calls. "If you didn't pick up today I would've been forced to come check on you. New hospital policy, can't go more than a week without speaking to you. Anyway, enough about that. How have you been?"
Great, now I guess I'll have to keep talking. I don't even want to think about the alternative, because I know that if Aurelius comes he won't be alone. And I've promised myself there will be no more Capital people in my house. Besides maybe Effie Trinket.
So I give in and tell him all about my recent hunting, the primrose garden, and spending time in bed with Buttercup. He prods until I admit that I'm lonely, and that most nights I cry myself to sleep. He asks about my interactions with Sae, Haymitch, and Peeta. I tell him I've been taking my medicine, eating, and showering. After all that he seems pleased, but he still gives me what he calls a "homework assignment."
"Go over to Peeta's tonight, " he orders. "Eat dinner with him, talk to him. I think it will help both of you. And ask him about his artwork."
I agree, knowing I really have no other choice. After a few more instructions, Aurelius says he'll call back tomorrow and that he expects a full account of my outing. I sigh and hang up the phone without really saying goodbye.
Dinner with Peeta. I mull that over for a few minutes before forcing myself into the woods. Why is it that I feel so lonely yet so unwilling to change that? Why would I rather socialize with President Snow (if he was alive) than the boy with the bread?
I can't think of any answers to these questions, so I take out my frustrations on the first animal I see beyond the fence. My arrow sinks right into the plump little pheasant's brain and I almost whoop with joy. As always, hunting feels good.
From there I follow the tracks of a pack of raccoons toward Gale's rock, losing myself in the pursuit. The smell of pine rising from the needles under my feet comforts me. The steady rise and fall of my breathing is the only sound I hear. Within an hour I find the raccoons, but the sight of the mother protecting her offspring turns me away. It would be cruel to take their mother, and even worse to shoot the young. The whole situation reminds me too much of Prim, and I can't face it.
Fighting back tears, I whisper, "I'm sorry." And I move on at a run.
The sun is at its peak in the sky when I begin my retreat. Even without the raccoons, this has been my most successful day so far. There's the pheasant, which will make a nice roast, a handful of squirrels, and two thick rabbits. As I make my way to Sae's house, I know she'll be pleased.
"What've you got for me, Katniss?" the old woman asks as she opens the door to her new home in the Victor's Village. It's just temporary, until they can get the town rebuilt, but Sae seems to have settled in nicely. This is the first time I've come to see her. Usually I just wait for her to bring dinner over and give her my game then, but a special haul deserves a special visit. Even still, we don't leave the front porch.
"You sure were busy today!" she exclaims when I hand her the game bag. "I think you've earned yourself a pretty good stew for dinner tonight. Which one would you like?"
Dinner. Tonight. Hunting was such a good distraction that I actually forgot.
"Dr. Aurelius says I have to eat at Peeta's," I confess.
Sae nods sympathetically. "So the squirrels then? I just got a shipment of real potatoes and carrots this morning. Those will go great together. I'll bring it over around six."
"Thanks, Sae."
With that, I find myself back in my living room with three hours to spare. I watch a bit of televised propaganda about District Integration (a new policy allowing free movement between districts for everyone except me) and take an accidental nap on the couch. I wake with just enough time to clean myself up, and I shower in a hurry before heading down the street.
The door, an exact replica of mine, is unlocked but I knock anyway. I hear frantic footsteps before the door swings open, and when I see Peeta he's panting. He looks a little disheveled and his cheeks are very flushed, but his crisp shirt and slicked hair makes it obvious that he was forewarned. And that he tried to look nice, which is just so Peeta.
I feel a pang of guilt as I inventory my own appearance. Dripping wet hair hastily thrown into a loose braid. Plain black thermal shirt. Olive green pants with a tear at the bottom of my left leg. Slightly muddy hunting boots. Well, at least I bathed.
It's all I can do to force a smile and meet Peeta's eyes, and I can tell by the way his pupils contract that it isn't easy for him either.
"Nice to see you," he says rather formally. "Please come in."
"Thanks," I mutter.
Nothing about his house has changed since the last time I was here, before the Quarter Quell, but the atmosphere is all different. What was once warm and inviting seems cold and indifferent, despite the cheery flames in the hearth.
We sit silently on the couch by the fire, not talking or looking at each other. After all we've been through, this is what's left of us. Just a pair of mismatched people, no different than having one blue and one black sock. I wish I could hug him, but Dr. Aurelius made me promise there would be no physical contact. He says I use physical affection as an escape, instead of using it to express my feelings. He's probably right, but that doesn't make it any easier.
Finally I force myself to speak. I try my absolute hardest to play nice, which is a struggle. I concentrate on thinking of something Peeta would say to me if our roles were reversed, which does help. I've noticed myself using this tactic a lot recently.
"You look nice today, Peeta. You didn't have to dress up just for me."
It's true. I can't even remember the last time he wasn't coated in either dough, dirt, paint, or blood. Probably not since Thirteen.
"It's not a big deal," he dismisses, but he smiles anyway. "Besides, I actually dressed up for Sae."
He says this just as the door opens and the older woman comes in, her arms wrapped around a large metal pot. "No need to flirt with me, boy," Sae jokes, her face slightly obscured by the steam rising from the stew.
The smell hits me as she closes the door and moves toward the kitchen. It's a savory scent, strong and meaty but with overtones of spice. My mouth is watering just thinking about it.
"That smells fantastic!" Peeta exclaims, voicing my thoughts exactly.
"It wouldn't be possible without those six squirrels Katniss brought me earlier," Sae says with a smirk before disappearing into the kitchen.
Peeta looks at me with wide, curious eyes. "Squirrels," he repeats quietly. "My father used to buy those from you. Real or not real?"
"Real," I nod in assent.
"They were always delicious."
After Sae leaves, wishing us a good evening, we make our way into the dining room. When our bowls are full of the chunky brown, green, and orange stew, and our stomachs are growling ravenously, Peeta reveals his own contribution to the meal. "I almost forgot, I made these."
He sets a tan basket in the middle of the table, filled with small spiral-shaped rolls that glisten in the light. "Garlic knots," he explains. "I would've made something else but I ran out of cheese."
"These look great," I tell him, and I mean it. Maybe all of this isn't as hard as I thought.
We enjoy the meal in relative silence, only speaking to ask for more food. When our mouths are no longer busy, we just sit across from each other and stare.
"We used to be better at this, didn't we?" Peeta finally asks, sounding resigned.
"Only in the arena." It's not inaccurate, but it sounds horrible when I say it out loud.
Peeta frowns. "If we're so bad together, why did we get married? Why try to have a child?"
He's going right in for the heavy stuff then. I scowl and I'm about to launch my defense when I remember that I'm trying to play nice.
"We were never married," I answer quietly, staring down at the wood grain of the table. "You just said that to get sponsors for the Quell. Same thing with the baby."
His eyebrows knit together, and I can hear the confusion in his voice. "But I remember a toasting."
"That never happened, Peeta." I try to remain as calm as possible, despite my lack of patience, knowing it might help him believe me.
It does not.
"I remember a toasting!" he insists, frustration replacing the doubt in his voice now. "In your living room. I made the bread. Your mother was out checking on patients, and Prim was at school. It was fast, but it was the best moment of my life, Katniss! And you're trying to tell me I made it all up just to get sponsors?!"
"If that happened, wouldn't I remember it?" I ask as gently as I can manage. Still, I'm afraid of what his answer will be.
He pauses for a second, contemplating. "It has to be real," he decides. "The Capital only gave me bad memories."
I have to admit, that pulls me up short. It bothers me too. Why give him a wedding? How could that help the war? And then I get it.
"It is a bad memory," I explain, "because Snow wanted you to think that even after marriage I betrayed you in that arena. And again when Thirteen didn't rescue you right away. That even as your wife I never really loved you, and it was all an act. Or that I had chosen Gale after all, and left you to die."
When the words leave my mouth I immediately know they're right. It's exactly the kind of twisted mind game Snow loved to play with us. Just thinking about it hurts. A direct blow to the heart, swift and mercilessly to the point. No wonder Peeta has had so much trouble trusting me.
If that had happened, I would never trust myself again, either.
The pain on Peeta's face, the way his eyebrows almost obscure his eyes, the tight-knit line of his lips - I know it mirrors my own. I know he understands, but I can't tell how much he really believes.
"But the baby..." he whispers, "During the Quell I watched you cut it out of you with a hunting knife. There was so much blood..." He breaks down crying, hiding his face behind his hands. I want to scream. My whole being rebels at his accusation. I want to yell, fight, and claw my way out of this. But more than anything I want to hide someplace I can never be found again. Because Peeta thinks I as good as murdered our unborn child.
"It was the worst thing I've ever seen!" He's wailing now but still curled in on himself, still concealing himself with his hands. "So much blood! So much blood!"
My mind is reeling. I'm in shock. My body is moving, my hands reaching for my shirt, my lips opening, but my brain isn't keeping up. "If that's true, then where is the scar?" I hear myself ask, my voice like a whimper. And I lift my shirt, baring my stomach for Peeta's inspection.
He looks up, his eyes intense as he examines every inch, every cell of my skin. "It should be here," he mutters, reaching out and tracing a line with his pointer finger. I stand still, frozen, as he draws a curve from the left of my bellybutton down to the waistband of my pants. Finally his resolve falters, he lets his hand drop, and he looks up in surprise.
"Katniss, I'm sorry," he says, his stormy blue eyes locking onto my bewildered grey ones. "I'm so sorry."
We're both crying now, tears flowing like streams down our cheeks. And I realize we're not like those mismatched socks. We're perfectly formed for each other's misery, equally damaged. We're the same color after all. And I don't care about Dr. Aurelius's rules. As I extend my arms to Peeta, wrapping myself up against his chest, I think that even the doctor must admit we both deserve this hug. He might yell at me tomorrow, but that'll be too late, he can't stop it. And there's something oddly comforting about that thought.