Time for the third chapter I reckon! I'm a bit worried that this fic is going a bit slow, or it's not going slow enough, but more that it's going too slow... It'll quicken up a bit after this, promise folks!
Warning: Contains spoilers for all three Hunger Games books, situations of an awkward nature and Haymitch.
Disclaimer: Suzanne owns everything in the Hunger Games so I'll never fulfil my dreams of having Buttercup rule over Panem... although this fic really could go anywhere.
Chapter Three: Awkward.
Come on Katniss, I think to myself. Say something. Anything.
I've been staring down at Peeta now for an uncomfortably long period of time, he doesn't move to look away and neither do I, but still, the awkwardness of this whole situation is making me want to avert my eyes.
It doesn't have to be something compelling Katniss, just something that makes sense. My brain's in overload with the different things I could say. Do I tell him how much I've missed him? That I'll never let him out of my sight again for as long as I live? Should I swear vengeance on Snow for what he's done? So many amazing things I could tell him, these'll be the first kind words he's heard in months. A simple 'I'm glad you're back' perhaps? Or maybe-
"You should eat something,"
Wow. I astound even myself sometimes. Thanks brain, out of all the different phrases that would have brought happiness to Peeta's life you pick that. I shouldn't be allowed near people in any situation. Ever.
But Peeta doesn't seem to mind; in fact he nods slowly and tries to push himself up the bed. I had been worried about whether or not he was aware of his tongue no longer being part of his body, but he doesn't seem stressed and I'm pretty sure I'd notice if I woke up without the thing that occupies the majority of my mouth. Snow had probably had it removed straight after Peeta's last interview to make sure nothing like that happened again.
After a few attempts to plant his arms and push himself upright he's exhausted, his arms go limp again and his eyes start to flutter shut.
"Peeta," I say and stroke his cheek. He clenches his eyes for a moment but then reopens them and looks me straight in the eye. "I can help you sit up if you want,"
He just smiles and I take this for a 'yes', he's too weak to even nod anymore.
I place an arm behind his back to pull him up and rest one hand on his stomach to push as gently as possible. I'm mildly nauseated by how easy the action is; Peeta should be a challenge to move, I certainly shouldn't be able to slide him up a bed on my own with this amount of ease.
I rearrange his pillows to make him more comfortable then turn to grab a spoon from a table in the corner with various utensils. Some are regular items you'd have in your own home like cutlery; others are definitely for medical use, clamps, tiny mirrors, torches. Like the world's most prepared kitchen counter.
I turn back and find Peeta slumped with his head lolling in front of him, a thin line of drool brimming over his bottom lip. I touch his arm and he quickly snaps back to reality, wiping his mouth as best he can with his weakened arm.
He looks at the paste as though it's going to eat him. I roll my eyes and explain what it is.
"It's good for you, you need fattening up so the Doctor's given you this for a few weeks, just until you gain a few more pounds," he still doesn't look convinced."Would it make you feel better if I had some first?"
Peeta nods, or at least tries to, his head doesn't come all the way back up so I sit on the bed directly in front of his line of vision. I pop off the lid, set that to one side then scoop out half a spoonful of the paste and eat it.
"Y'know what?" I say, slowly rotating the tub in my hand. "I don't think you'd like this,"
I wink at Peeta and he flashes me a toothy grin then settles his eyes on the food, practically begging with his eyes now that it has my approval.
"Fine," I'm actually a little upset about having to give this to Peeta; it's good, much better than the muck they give the rest of us. But my conscience tells me Peeta probably needs it more than I do.
I don't bother asking Peeta if he wants to feed himself, he can barely keep his head up and I can see his eyes growing heavier with each minute so I take another half spoonful and wait for him to open his mouth.
He doesn't open his mouth far enough for me to see anything but I'm still wary to keep eye contact and not let my focus drift to the gaping empty hole that is his mouth.
It's not hard to see after a couple attempts to chew and swallow Peeta's going to need a bit of help. Not having a tongue means he can't move the paste around his mouth and I'm worried it's going to get stuck. So I stand and take the paste over to a sink on the other side of the room. I'm sure this stuff would taste nicer with milk than with water but then I remember that taste won't be an issue for Peeta anymore. I mix the paste with water so it becomes more like a soup and grab a straw from the table.
"Here," I place the straw to Peeta's lips. He instantly starts to drink and although it takes a few tries he's soon able to swallow with relative ease. It certainly is taking longer than what it would have taken under normal circumstances but I don't mind.
In less than ten minutes the paste/drink is two thirds finished. Peeta takes one last gulp and leans back. His cheeks have coloured slightly. He's starting to look better already, I feel hope starting to build in my stomach and swell up to my heart.
"Any more?" I ask. He shakes his head, I'm glad to see he's moving more. Amazing what a quarter of your daily allowance of fat, protein and energy can do for you. I dread to think what they'd been feeding him at the Capitol to make him this size. Probably hadn't been fed at all. I shudder at the thought and turn my attention back to Peeta. "Get some rest, you look beat,"
He slides himself down the bed – another sign of recovery which makes my heart inflate – but misjudges, ends up sliding a bit too far. A pillow falls onto his face with a light thud and I can't help but chuckle.
Or at least, I'm chuckling until he lifts his arms and swats at the pillow and I can see his chest moving at a faster rate.
"Crap!" I pull the pillow away from Peeta's face and he looks at me like I've just saved his life. Maybe in his tortured mind I have. "I'm sorry Peeta. Here, let me help,"
I grab the pillows and slide them under Peeta's head. He calms, his breathing slows and soon enough he's smiling at me until his eyes droop a final time and he's fast asleep. I make a quick mental note:
Peeta doesn't like having his face covered. They'd probably threatened to suffocate him more than once for information. Suffocation was probably one of a list of tortures he'd gone through. And when they couldn't think of any more ways to get the information they robbed him of his voice.
I'm startled when I hear a cough from behind me, I turn and Haymitch is stood with a guilty look on his face, he's holding a paper bag in one hand and the other is scratching his neck.
"Hey," he says gruffly. He looks so much older without his alcohol. I always thought the clean life would've helped him look a bit younger and healthier but it looks like the alcohol had been his life source and without it he's withering like a plant without water.
"Hi," I say back after hesitation.
"I, aah, I came to apologise," he says not quite meeting my eyes. "What I said... it was uncalled for, I'm sorry,"
Huh, no sarcasm, no extra snide comments. He must actually be sorry. I sigh, guessing it's my turn.
"I'm sorry too," it doesn't sound genuine, but I am sorry deep down. "I know you did all you could, and he's back now. So thanks Haymitch, he'd still be in the Capitol if it weren't for you,"
Haymitch shuffles his feet awkwardly then walks towards me opening the paper bag.
"I figured you wouldn't be leaving Dough boy for a while so I got you this," he takes out a tub of vegetable stew with a roll of bread. "Had to explain the situation to Coin first, she's going soft on you for now, but once he's better-" Haymitch pointed towards Peeta "- she'll be back to her old self,"
"I'd've gotten worried otherwise," we both smirk and I take the stew. "Thanks Haymitch,"
"Yeah, whatever," Haymitch has never been one for accepting gratitude so he quickly changes the subject. "So how's Dough boy holding up?"
"Since when did Dough boy become Peeta's new nickname?"
"Since I thought of it, he's a boy, he likes bread; Dough boy," Haymitch explained. "Now would you mind answering my question? This time without another question,"
I sigh. "He can barely move his arms he's so weak, and his tongue's gone, I'm not sure if they told you,"
"They told me the basics," Haymitch says quietly. "It's weird seeing him like this. He was so... solid before,"
"Yeah well, a couple months of torture and starvation'll do that to you," I say a bit too harshly. "Sorry, just ignore me,"
Haymitch chuckles, he's used to my outbursts by now. He's got a thick enough skin to not take me too seriously, sometimes that infuriated me, but right now it's exactly what I need.
We sit for hours making small talk. Haymitch had brought some cards along too, I like that he knew he wanted to stay with me but wouldn't have enough pleasant conversation to keep us from killing each other over the course of a couple hours. He teaches me a few simple games, me and Prim had never had cards growing up, wouldn't have had the time to use them even if we did.
We're halfway through a game called 'Black Jack' when Peeta starts to stir again. I'm at his side in a flash, Haymitch joins soon after.
"And so he returns," he jokes. Peeta smiles and starts to push himself to a sitting position. He manages halfway then I help him with the rest. Progress I keep telling myself, this is progress.
Something seems to be troubling Peeta though, his forehead's wrinkled and his eyes are scanning the room.
"What's wrong Peeta?" I ask, worried he might be in pain. Medics came in a few times to check him but no one had given him any sort of pain medication.
He looks as though he's about to move but seems to think better of it and goes back to studying the room.
"You're in the Hospital, Peeta," I say, realising that this probably hasn't been explained to him yet, he'd been so tired the last time he'd woken up he probably wouldn't have been bothered about where he was. "We're in District Thirteen, you're being looked after,"
I expect to see a dawning of understanding in his eyes; instead those light blue irises just get rolled. He's mocking me!
"What? I was just telling you where you were, I figured you might appreciate the information," he's not even listening. Instead he's making this weird face at Haymitch and I can hear my mentor laughing behind me.
"I don't think he cares where he is," he laughs. "You needing to attend nature's calling Dough Boy?"
Peeta doesn't seem too fazed by his new nickname, he's nodding vigorously and I can't believe I hadn't picked up on this quicker. Everyone needs to pee at some point.
Haymitch laughs at the minor misunderstanding and then a question forms in all our minds, he's the one who finally voices it.
"How're we going to do this?"
There's silence until Peeta sighs then points to a wheelchair at the side of the room and then to me and Haymitch. One of us was going to have to take him.
"Well, it's nothing either of us hasn't seen before," says Haymitch, I'm surprised by how willing he is to take Peeta to the bathroom. "Toss a coin?"
"Off a cliff would be nice," I joke. Then realise the longer we take making the decision and prattling on the longer we're making Peeta wait. "Sure, I'll be heads?"
Haymitch takes a penny from his trouser pocket and flips it in the air. He stumbles to catch it then holds it out in front of him.
"Tails, sorry Dough boy. I'll take you to the bathroom and help you onto the seat if you want, but I'll be damned if I'm wiping!" Peeta chuckles and I realise this is the first time he's laughed. Maybe it's the first time he's had the energy, maybe it's the first time he's found something funny enough to laugh about.
I watch as Haymitch grabs Peeta and drops him pretty unceremoniously into a wheelchair. After all that Peeta's gone through you'd've thought Haymitch would be a bit gentler. But no one gets the special treatment from that man.
"See you in a few," Haymitch wheels Peeta out who raises an arm to say 'good bye'.
When they return Peeta looks like he's just run a marathon, his cheeks are flushed just from being out of bed and when he's 'helped' back into bed by Haymitch he looks ready for another power nap. But before he does he has a question for us.
Peeta points to his stump then looks at us. I glance round the room for his fake leg and Haymitch coughs awkwardly.
"Aah sorry kid, bit of a problem there," I look over at Haymitch, what does he mean? "The rescue crew were worried that the Capitol could've hidden something in your leg, y'know explosives or a tracking device, that sort of thing. We couldn't risk that, it was risk enough just saving you all. They left your leg back in the Capitol,"
"It's alright Peeta," I say. "Once you're a bit stronger we'll get you fitted for a new one,"
That awkward cough again. Crap.
"Sorry to burst your bubble Sweetheart," Haymitch says sounding like he's about to run out of the room away from the crazy girl who keeps trying to rip his eyes out. "District Thirteen's not as up to date on prosthetics as the Capitol, in fact they're not even as up to date as Twelve used to be,"
I look to Peeta, he's processing the information. He's in bed in a place he doesn't know, he's lost his family, his tongue and now he's lost his leg. He may have lost his real leg ages ago, but that he could cope with, the prosthetic did its job. Now though, he had nothing to replace it. So not only had the Capitol made him silent but Thirteen's paranoia had bound him to a wheelchair - or crutches at best - indefinitely.
It was no surprise to me when he turned his back on Haymitch and me and fell to sleep.
Let's hear it for another chapter of angst! I think we need to pick up the pace a bit now don't you? I want your thoughts as always, any new information on tongues? What do you think of Haymitch's new endearment for Peeta? I can make him drop it if you all think it's that awful, personally I can't quite decide if it's in Haymitch's character or not. And fear not Gale lovers! He'll be making an appearance soon enough... although I can't say Gale lovers will be too impressed with it. Aah, sorry guys! Perhaps this chapter should've been called 'Aah sorry', it's the only thing Haymitch seems to be saying.
Also a bit of shameless advertising! A fellow Author: The PTB's Red Fox who has given me some great advice and ideas in this fic has written her own, it's very good and therefore you should all read it!
Anyway, that's all for now folks! See you all next Tuesday.