Here we are at chapter 2! I am slowly writing this story, mostly for my own satisfaction, but decided to publish it here in case there are other people who feel similarly deprived of the proper happy ending like myself. Feedback helps me gauge if I'm staying true to Suzanne Collins' characters or if it's all a little OOC. Please let me know if something feels off!
As I mentioned previously, to have a genuine development, believe it is necessary to have the slow movement in the beginning, allowing Peeta and Katniss to re-acclimate to their "peaceful" lives before readdressing their feelings for one another. This chapter is a bit long though since it was hard to find a good place to stop, but I think that the ending has just the right amount of sweetness. The next chapter will have more events though, and yes, some drama.
Peeta leaves right after I answer, disappearing like a tornado. I'm left standing in my living room, frozen and unsure of what just occurred. I think about my quick answer to his question, hoping he and I could be friends again, and I feel warmth flood to my cheeks. I have never been so forward, so unabashed.
Buttercup chooses this time to show up, grumbling for food. I have a small admiration for his ironic timing, either not knowing or not caring about the conversation that just went down. Rolling my eyes at my envy over a cat, I shake off thoughts of Peeta and make my way into the kitchen, only to realize there's only some leftover bacon from Greasy Sae. I make a note to go hunting tomorrow and split the food with Buttercup. We quietly eat and observe each other from across the table. He had disappeared after our crying session the other day and if possible, I felt an awkwardness settling in between us. Neither of us knew how to tolerate the other before, and after letting our walls down for Prim, we seem to be at a loss for words.
It's a knock on the door that stirs us out of this silence. I finish off the last of my bacon and make my way to the door. Half expecting Greasy Sae, I'm instead surprised to see Thom.
"Hey are you busy?" His skin is coated in a layer of what looks like dirt and dust. I try not to think about the ashes that probably cling to his boots, carrying around the remnants of our village. I look behind me into my empty house and look for something to say in response. My mind draws a blank. Since the end of the war, and my indefinite banishment from the capitol, I haven't had any drive. There was no country that needed my rallying and nobody that needed saving. I didn't have much purpose. A voice in the back of my head quietly points out Peeta but I swallow the thought, not wanting to uncover the lid on that complicated mess yet. I return my gaze to Thom.
"No I'm pretty free these days." I say in as casual a manner as I can manage.
"I wanted to invite you out to the meadow tonight. We're going to hold a vigil for the villagers who… have departed." He chooses his words carefully, knowing the guilt I still feel for my district. It is the guilt I will always feel, weighing on my shoulders.
"I don't know Thom," I start to say. I barely have a grip on myself now, I can't imagine that attending a vigil for all the people who are dead because of my actions in the quell will bode well for my mental stability.
"I think it would be good for you." Thom starts off gently. "None of us see you as the cause. No one could have known that this would be the outcome. And we wouldn't have changed the outcome anyway. I think Gale would have said the same thing too if he were here." I flinch slightly at the mentioning of Gale. Thom's words feel dull against my deadened heart, but I don't want to tell him no when he took the time to come all the way here. "Just think about it. Bring Peeta and Haymitch too if you want. We're all just looking to finally put everything to rest. It wouldn't feel right if we started to rebuild without doing so, you know?" And I do know. Even as I tell Thom I'll think about it, I know that I have to go. I have to say my apologies and my goodbyes. To Madge, the mayor, and everyone at the Hob. Peeta would want to say goodbye to his family as well.
I wait for a while after Thom leaves before I steel my nerves to go to Peeta's. I'm not sure what state he'll be in. Maybe he's calmed down or maybe he's in the midst of another relapse. When I reach the front door I don't hear any movements, leaving me slightly optimistic. I give a small knock at the door and wait. A few seconds later the door opens.
Peeta looks worn, his hair is still as messy as when he came to me earlier but his breathing seems to be even and his nerves seem settled. His eyes aren't clouded and his body language is calm.
"Thom and the others are holding a vigil for everyone at the meadow tonight. He invited us to go." I say quietly, waiting to see how he handles the information. His eyes drop a little and I see a far away look cross his face. Surely he is thinking about his family.
"Ok, yeah. I'll go." He says barely above a whisper. I never did apologize to him about his family. It feels too late to say it now so I don't say anything at all. I leave after we agree to meet at sunset in the middle of the Victor's Village to walk over together. We both don't speak much above a murmur, as if we're afraid to break the delicate peace between us and all our ghosts.
Next I approach Haymitch's door. I don't bother knocking, knowing I wouldn't get a response. Luckily, Haymitch rarely locks his door and I enter the dark house. The smell burns my nose. Alcohol and body odor and old bits of food mix together into a perfume that makes me want to gag. I find Haymitch slumped over in a cushioned armchair in his living room. He tilts his head to the side and lazily looks at me from his seat.
"Looky here. She lives to see another day." I know he's referring to Peeta's breakdown earlier. I'm surprised he can recall the events clear enough to push it in my face. I take a good long look at him, taking in his deteriorated mental and physical state and his brash personality that so similarly mirrors mine. I can't help but look at him and wonder if this is where I would've ended up had I been a regular victor. Would I have turned to alcohol to forget the pain of the games? I think that Haymitch is a fool for letting his life spiral down so tragically, but he has had to watch 25 years of tributes die as he watches helplessly from the mentor's seat. To return to the district, without a victory, I wonder how many families he's had to apologize to. I wonder if I would've come up with the same solution if I had to watch 25 years of tributes walk to their deaths in the arena.
"Come on. We're heading to the meadow at sunset." I decide that's all the information he can manage in this state. I also have the feeling he wouldn't have come if I told him everything either. And maybe I'm a little afraid that he would drink more if I did tell him. He already drinks too much on a normal day. I can only imagine how he would react to the vigil.
Haymitch doesn't seem suspicious though. He only give a grunt and I take it as a yes before quickly retreating to the outside and taking in a deep breath of fresh air. I look back once more at Haymitch's house, a dark and cold looking place, drowned in self-loathing and misery. The fall of the capitol doesn't seem to have improved his outlook much. Then again, my outlook hasn't improved much either.
Pushing these gloomy thoughts aside, I make the short walk back to my house and see that Greasy Sae has arrived and started cooking in my absence. Buttercup rests on the staircase, and quietly acknowledges me with a small noise. I ignore him and settle into a seat in the kitchen. Greasy Sae looks over at me before returning her attention to the stove.
"Have you heard about the meadow?" She asks as she stirs a pot of something. She hardly waits for me to answer before she continues. "It's about time we lay them to rest. It's time to move on." I feel a small sting at her words. She makes it sound so easy to move on, like it's the same thing as taking a shower and washing away everything that's happened.
I sit there in silence, brooding over her words when she turns to me suddenly, as if reading my thoughts.
"We can't rebuild… We can't live if we don't move on." She gives as justification. It still bothers me but I can't find the words to argue with her. I don't want to fight with her anyway, not after she's taken care of me since I returned after killing President Coin. My list of people who don't hate me is already short as it is.
A bowl of soup appears in front of me and we eat in silence. There isn't much to say after her last statement. I hardly taste the food but it helps warm my frozen core. I hadn't realized how cold I was until then. I slowly feel the soup work its way down my arms and into my fingertips, down my legs and into my toes, returning some life to my slight frame. It comforts me like a warm spring day or an embrace from Peeta keeping the nightmares away.
Reluctantly, our meal comes to an end when I see the sky is starting to change colors as the sun disappears over the tops of the trees. I help Greasy Sae wash the bowls before changing into dark jeans and a black sweater. Spring is coming but the nights are still chilly. I pull on a pair of black boots before wrapping a thick scarf around my neck and making my way to the middle of the Victor's Village. Peeta is just leaving his house wearing a long black coat that reaches his knees and a striped scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. As we meet in the middle, we both glance at Haymitch's door. Unsurprisingly, he hasn't emerged yet.
"Should we go get him?" Peeta asks. I'm hesitant to go back inside, but the same way that Thom thinks I need to go for my sake, I think Haymitch should go for his sake. I nod and we start towards his house. We're about to open the door when it swings open on its own and a wobbly Haymitch is standing before us. He hasn't changed but he looks less like a drunk than before. Peeta finds a coat in the front closet and we stuff his arms into them before half walking, half dragging him outside and towards town.
We arrive at the outskirts of the meadow just as the sun has disappeared over the horizon. The rest of the town has already gathered around the mass-grave and candles are being passed out.
"What is this?" Haymitch asks, and I'm reminded that I never told him where we were going. Peeta gives me a questioning look and I give a weak wince in reply.
"It's a vigil." I say carefully. Haymitch's body seems to tense up at that and I'm half expecting him to make a break for it. But instead, he straightens up a little more. His expression has darkened a bit though.
Slowly, everyone starts to notice our presence and the circle opens up for us to join in. No one has any looks of contempt or anger from what I can tell, but I try not to meet anyone's eyes. Haymitch stands to my right like a frozen statue and Peeta is to my left. Someone gives us candles and a box of matches and we look to an older man who has taken up the position of leading the vigil.
"We are here to remember the people of district 12, who were so brutally taken from us by the former capitol." Everyone's eyes shift lower as everyone's memory flies back to the quarter quell. "We keep them alive in our memories as we look to the future, and pray that they are in a better place now." I feel my pulse begin to quicken and my palms are sweating. I lose my grip on my candle a couple of times and I try not to look like I'm on the verge of a panic attack.
Too many faces, too many memories flood my mind and it's all I can do to stop myself from running away myself.
That's when I feel Peeta's hand take mine. I turn my head to him but his eyes stay remain forward. Sweaty palms or not, he gives me a small reassuring squeeze and I feel my heart begin to beat a little slower, my panic washing away. If anyone notices our joined hands, they don't say anything and I selfishly rely on Peeta's sturdy strength to get me through the rest of the vigil. We only separate when it comes time to light our candles and then without words we find each other again, as united as we were in the arena. Except now it's not for the capitol. This time it's for us. This distinction makes it feel all the more intimate.
When the ceremony ends, there is nothing but love. Everyone is talking in small circles about memories and people that are no longer with us. Peeta, Haymitch, and I stand in one awkward triangle of silence. Peeta doesn't let go of my hand once.
"Thanks for coming guys." I turn to see Thom with a soft smile. Like the rest of the coal miners, Thom has the seam look, dark hair and grey eyes and the signs of early aging that the mines and the war did to him. Still, he looks young and healthy and I find that my smile back to him is genuine. Him and Peeta talk about the ceremony while I turn to Haymitch.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you." I confess.
"It's ok. I see why you didn't." Haymitch grunts in reply. It's not much, but it's all the forgiveness needed between us. I feel a little thankful that I didn't tell him when he wanders off to some of the other villagers and starts to talk to them. He seems uncomfortable, his social skills not being too polished, but everyone already knows him and they invite him into the conversation easily. This was a good thing for him. Which makes me wonder if it was a good thing for me too.
I walk to the edge of the grave, where everyone placed their candles, and crouch down in front of them. I try and think of what I want to say to the dead. I was never very religious, it didn't serve any purpose to my family's survival, but I close my eyes and take the time to think of as many faces as I can this time. With every face, I silently apologize and let them disappear. I don't know how long I'm there for, but as I'm finishing my goodbyes, I hear someone next to me. I open my eyes to see Peeta has joined me.
"Sorry I didn't mean to disturb you." He says, a little bit of concern in his eyes. I shake my head.
"It's ok I was done."
"What did you pray?" He asks.
"It wasn't much of a prayer." I hesitate before continuing. "I was just apologizing."
"For what?" I turn to him and see nothing but genuine confusion.
"For killing them." I say and resent how weak my voice sounds.
"You didn't kill them. The capitol did." He says it so calmly, so assuredly.
"But I'm the one who pushed them to do it." My voice is rising slightly.
"Is this what you think of yourself?" He stares straight into my eyes.
"How can I not?" The pain is so clearly expressed in my voice I'm afraid to say anything more. Peeta continues to stare at me but he doesn't say anything more.
Everyone starts to leave shortly after that. The sun has fully set and the air is starting to get colder. The three of us return to the Victor's Village in silence. Haymitch retreats to his house with a small grunt as goodbye and I start to head to my house when Peeta calls my name. I turn to him, waiting for him to speak but he seems to have nothing to say. We stand there for a little while, staring at each other with eyes full of unspoken words and unexpressed pain.
"Want some tea?" I ask finally, and I let him inside. We sit in the kitchen in silence, slowly sipping at our cups. Peeta doesn't look at me right away and I sit, waiting for his words to find him.
"I just…" he finally starts. "I don't want you to think that you should be carrying this burden. You were just trying to survive the games. You were disoriented because of Johanna and there is no way you would have known that Snow was going to do this. Even if it happened to District 13, even if he's given you endless threats, it still doesn't mean you are the one who signed everyone's death warrant. Snow was a mad man. He wasn't a rational person. This response was not a logical one so you shouldn't be the one left behind to carry all the blame. And I don't think that anyone blames you either. I certainly don't." And there it is. The topic of Peeta's family hangs in the air. And while his words aren't much different from Thom's words when he first told me no one blames me, Peeta's seem to wash over me like medicine for a headache. I feel myself let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and I finally meet his eyes.
This boy, no, man, in front of me, knows me so well. I'm not sure about everything, not even close, but I know that right now, if he can look at me and say that he doesn't blame me for the death of his family, then maybe I can begin to forgive myself.
"Stay." the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I hear the longing in my words that make me sound more vulnerable than ever. But Peeta doesn't recoil. He quietly stands up, without breaking eye contact, and walks over to me. I rise to meet him and he wraps me in a hug that's more comforting and warming than Greasy Sae's soup. I feel my muscles relax in his embrace as I rest my head on his shoulders.
I'm not sure how long we stay like this before we break apart and make our way upstairs. Without words, Peeta crawls under the blanket of my bed and I climb in after him. The sheets are cold but Peeta's body is warm and I feel a sense of security that I don't feel anywhere else. Sleep comes quickly and before I doze off, I feel his lips lightly brush against my hair.
In this moment at least, I have my Peeta back.