Here it is at last! It took me a while to get this chapter right.

Thank you to Lbug84 for betaing!

Loss

Being able to feed my children, every day, in copious amounts, is overwhelming. My life has revolved around food for so long that thinking about anything else is difficult.

I watch my children change, day by day. Arrow smiles more and he's a lot more active. The rose color returns to his cheeks and he's energetic enough to spend more time playing. Ivy has been hungry all her life, and now she's finally able to put on some real weight. My milk becomes thicker and richer when my own diet improves, though it's not enough. But Ivy's thankfully old enough to eat solid food too, which increases her weight more than my own starved body could on its own. She nurses almost continuously when she's wrapped on my chest, as I work myself through the dirty hole that is Peeta Mellark's home.

It's not as bad as Haymitch's house, and for that I'm grateful. But it seems like there is a decade's worth of dust and grime in many of the rooms. There is only one room I'm not allowed to enter - the one at the end of the corridor, next to Peeta's room. I don't know what he keeps in there. When I asked him if wanted me to clean it, he just said it's not necessary, and that he'll keep the door locked to keep the children out. He spends a lot of time in there, though. Late at night, when he thinks that I'm asleep. Sometimes, he'll spend an entire day in that room and he won't even come out to eat.

His bedroom is a different, less scary kind of isolation. I hear him whimper in there at night. I was embarrassed at first, unsure of what the sounds meant. But then I realized that they were muffled sounds of fear, not pleasure. And that he'd probably be even more mortified if he knew that I'd overheard his... nightmares?

At least, I think they're nightmares.

When we've lived in the Victors' Village for a week, I ask Peeta when I can I give some food to my mother and Prim's family. He looks startled, as if he'd forgotten, but quickly nods. "Take as much as you need." He ordered a generous amount of food after we moved in. Four people eat a lot more than only one, even though one of them is very little.

I look down, chewing on my lip. "Is it okay if I… give Gale's family some extra food as well?" This was not part of our agreement, but I have to ask. Hazelle is my children's grandmother, and she has always tried to help me, even though I did my best to hide from her how bad things were. I knew she had so very little herself. Rory and Vick have helped too, even though they both have hungry and rapidly growing families. I know they are all starving, while we have real butter on the table every night now. Actual yellow, real butter, with a taste so rich I actually had a dream about it one night.

"Um… of course. How many siblings did Gale have?"

"Three. Only his sister Posy still lives at home since she's just 18."

He nods. "Of course. I'll order more food. It's not a problem." He looks down. "I know what it's like to be hungry too, Katniss." I open my mouth to say something, but he continues before I have the chance to. "I know what you're going to say. Starving for 16 days in the Hunger Games isn't the same as starving for half your life, or watching your children starve. I just wanted you to know that I've been hungry, too. Even though I'm from a merchant family, I'm from 12 too."

I smile softly at him, and let his words settle into my mind.

It's a cool spring morning. Before taking Arrow to school, I stuff a backpack full of foods that are fresh, salt cured meats, butter and pickled vegetables, but that will keep for a little while in the Seam. The children and I are just clearing the threshold of the front door when Peeta puts on his jacket and shoes. "Mind if I take a walk with you?" He asks me.

I shake my head 'no,' but I can't hide my confusion. Peeta pretends not to notice as he takes the backpack from my hands and slings it over his shoulder. It's full and quite heavy for me, but he lifts it as if it's weightless. I suppose he grew up carrying all those heavy flour sacks in the bakery. And I think he used to be on the wrestling team when we were in school.

We walk in silence, while Arrow excitedly tells us about his project at school. It is, unsurprisingly, about coal. Peeta doesn't seem to know that much about coal or mining. I guess because being merchant meant he was pretty certain he'd never have to work down there. Or maybe it's because his education was cut short at 16 years old. He never did return to school after his Games. Either way, Arrow is excited when he can explain things to Peeta that he doesn't know ...or maybe he does know.

I don't know if he's faking. I don't know him well enough to tell.

When Arrow is tired of talking about coal and runs ahead of us to look at some animal tracks crossing the road, Peeta turns to me.

"I talked to my brother Bannock last night. He runs the bakery now. Prim and Hazelle can go to the bakery to get bread, free of charge. But it's best if they come to the back door, and perhaps talk to Bannock in advance. Schedule it or something, so my mother doesn't find out. Does that sound ok?"

"Peeta, that's…" I'm speechless. It takes me a few seconds to be able to respond. "Who's paying for it?"

He cocks an eyebrow. "The Capitol. Through their very generous yearly payments to the Victor of the 74th Hunger Games."

"Is that why you…" My voice trails off. "Are they listening to us here, too?" I look at the road, still covered by snow even though it's spring. I don't know if it's possible that they could be listening in on us here. Is it?

Peeta purses his lips before answering. He speaks slowly and clearly, and I know his words are important. "Snow already knows I'm sending your family food, because we've discussed it in the house."

"President Snow?"

"Yes. He keeps a close eye on Victors."

"I see." I want to ask why... But the words die on my tongue.

"I don't want them to know just how much food we're sending, just to be safe. There shouldn't be a problem. They usually don't care much what I do here in 12, as long as I fulfill my mentoring duties, attend the right parties and… well, in general, do as I'm told. But it never hurts to be careful."

"Should I be careful too, Peeta?" Arrow asks, very serious now. He's tired of looking at the animal tracks and is now walking with us again. I didn't know he was listening. But, I wonder how much he understands. Probably too much.

I know I'll have to bend the truth, so I don't scare him. But I can't flat-out lie. He needs to learn to keep quiet. "You have nothing to worry about. There are just some things it's better not to talk about. Not at home, and not at school. It's never safe to say anything bad about the Capitol or the things they do. Okay?"

"Daddy used to say bad things about the Capitol."

Our house wasn't bugged. We could say anything we wanted, as long as we did it in the privacy of our home. Those days are over, though. That life is gone. I swallow hard. "Daddy did, Arrow. He said bad things about the Capitol, and he meant them. But you must never repeat what he said. Keep those thoughts and feelings inside. The Capitol doesn't like it when people say bad things about them."

"Do people have to go to jail if they say bad things about the Capitol?"

I wonder how he came to that conclusion. "Yes, they can." Or worse. Much worse.

"I won't say anything, mommy. I'll make you proud."

His words feel like a stab in the chest. My child censoring his thoughts and feelings would never make me proud. But I smile softly at him, because he so badly wants my approval.

We're closer to town when Peeta's pace slows. The old and thankfully unused whipping post has just come into view when he stops completely. "I should get home," Peeta says. I wonder if he has any specific plans back home, or if he just doesn't want anyone in town to see us together. "Go by the bakery to get some bread from Bannock. He's expecting you. Oh, and stop by Mr. Hanson's shop on the way, too. He has some stuff for you too." He gives me the backpack, says goodbye to the three of us, and turns back towards the Victors' Village.

I drop off Arrow at school first which is, thankfully, uneventful. He hugs me goodbye, kisses Ivy on the forehead and walks into school with his head held higher than I've ever seen.

I try not to berate myself as I walk to Mr Hanson's shop. It's the closest to the school on the way to the Seam. I haven't been here in months. I stopped going when there was simply no more money to buy food for, and he wouldn't give store credit. Mr. Hanson never gives anyone store credit. He can't. The Seam is full of starving families with little or no money.

There is a tiny bell that rings when someone opens the door. The sound makes my stomach growl, even though I just ate. Mr. Hanson looks up when he sees me, and he smiles. He's never smiled at me before. "Mrs. Hawthorne!" he greets me.

I smile nervously. "Mr. Hanson. It's nice to meet you."

He makes small talk, to my amazement. He never has before. Somehow, working for Peeta Mellark has, in his eyes, transformed me from being another poor Seam housewife to someone he finds it acceptable to have a conversation with.

Something feels odd, though. I don't know if it's the way he looks at me, or his words. He compliments me on my hair and says Ivy, who's sleeping on my chest, is such a "treasure." I try to be polite and say the right things at the right places, but I'm not very good at it. If he notices, he doesn't say anything.

"Mr. Mellark told me to give you this," he says. He gives me a large, heavy paper bag. "He told me to tell you to read the instructions. There's something for the children as well." I smile, wondering just what is in the bag. I don't want to seem too eager, though, so I don't open it in front of him. I politely dodge the rest of the conversation and make my way out of the door before he keeps me there, talking all damn morning.

I go to the Mellark Bakery. It's only four buildings down from Hanson's shop, and also on the way to the Seam. Bannock is behind the counter today, and I smile at him as I enter the shop. I haven't seen him in years, but he recognizes me immediately. "Katniss!" He greets me with a big smile. He has a bag full of bread ready for me. "Peeta told me to give you this."

"Thank you," I answer, desperately twisting my brain for something polite to say, but I can't come up with anything.

"Peeta told me you're his housekeeper now?" I nod. "I have to tell you I was pretty surprised. We haven't seen much of him these last few years. He's been isolating himself in the Victors' Village with Haymitch. Rye and I have been worried about him."

I don't know how to answer that. After living in Peeta's house for a week, I'm starting to see just how lonely Peeta's life in 12 is. Even though he has two brothers who live not ten minutes away. I don't think it's only about Peeta isolating himself from his family. I suspect his brothers haven't exactly reached out to him, either.

But that's not something I'm about to tell someone who's giving me bread for my starving family. Instead, I smile politely and mutter something I hope he can't hear. "Yeah, the house is really dirty."

"We're so glad it's you." I furrow my brow, not understanding. We? Who are "we"? And why would they be glad that it's me? Bannock must see my confusion, and suddenly he looks nervous. As if he's said too much. He clears his throat, looking down at the floor

"I, uh… I have to go," I finally say, to end the long, uncomfortable silence. "Thank you so much for the bread."

I go to Prim's house first, but she's not at home. She had twins three years ago, and now they're getting old enough to entertain themselves at least for a little while without being an immediate danger to themselves or others. Prim has started going on patient visits together with my mother again. She brings the twins, and stays until they have a meltdown. It's difficult, but Prim wants to learn, and this is the only way. It's important for 12, too. My mother is the only healer, and she isn't getting any younger. There is a formally trained Capitol doctor as well, but his services are too expensive for all but the wealthier townies and the peacekeepers.

Hazelle is at home, though. She still runs a laundry service for rich merchant families, and Tuesday is her ironing day. I knock on the door, and a moment later she appears, an iron still in hand. "Katniss!" In a second she's embraced me and Ivy. I enter the house. Her kitchen is already scorching hot, from the coal in the irons, as I follow her inside. Gale and I became hunting partners and allies the year I was 12. When we gradually became friends, too, I started frequenting his house. Throughout most of my teenage and adult years, I've been closer to Hazelle than to my own mother.

Hazelle looks thin, pale and worried. The wrinkles around her eyes have become deeper.

"I brought food," I tell her, lowering the backpack on the floor. "Will you divide this between you, Rory and Vick's families? And give some to Prim and mother, too? Prim wasn't at home when I stopped by her house."

"Of course." There are tears in her eyes when she opens the backpack and sees the contents. She takes out a glass jar of pickled beets stare at them incredulously. "Oh, Katniss… Does he know?"

"That I'm giving you food?" She nods. "Yes, of course."

"And he feels your services are worth all of this?" Her voice is hesitant.

"My services?" I'm momentarily speechless. Hazelle thinks that my services extend beyond housekeeping. She's my mother-in-law. I'm still wearing the wedding ring her son gave me, the one that was made from gold that was originally her own wedding ring. Before she herself became a widow as her husband died in the same mining accident as my father. What she must have gone through this last week, thinking that her son's widow had… "It's not like that," I tell her, in a rushed voice. "Peeta has so much, and he said that it was okay. He understands that you are my family, too."

She nods her head, and we don't discuss it further. Though I can tell there are still questions unanswered.

While Hazelle sifts through the backpack, I go through the contents of the bags that Mr. Hanson gave me. It's an assortment of raw protein bars, vitamin supplements, some fruit and even small squares of dark chocolate. I haven't had chocolate since my father bought me a bar for my 11th birthday. I plan to share this with Arrow when I pick him up from school. "Peeta said you can get bread from the bakery. Contact Bannock Mellark, and please be discreet."

She gives me another hug. I can feel her shoulders shaking, she must be crying. "You were a daughter to me long before you married Gale." I nod. I know. "How are you? With… everything?"

She releases me, but I take her hand. "I miss him. I miss him, every second of every day." My voice cracks. It's hard to get the words out.

"I do, too." She sounds so tired. Hazelle has aged so much this winter. She lost her eldest son. Even with the fear I've felt for my children's lives since Gale died, I still can't imagine the horror of actually losing a child. "I wish he had a grave. Somewhere I could go."

I hug her again. "Where his body rests doesn't matter," I whisper. "He's here, can't you feel it?" They never got him out. Gale's body will remain in the mountain. I know he hated the mines, and at first, knowing that his body would be trapped in the darkness forever was almost unbearable. But Gale is gone. He's escaped. Only the shell is left in the mountain. And soon that shell will be nothing more than the dust that covers the Seam.

"When it gets warmer, we'll find a nice spot by the river. We'll make it his place, perhaps find a nice stone and put it there? One that's gray, the same shade as his eyes. And we can plant flowers and take the children so they can play in the grass and talk to their father. He loved the woods so much." We spent many long summer evenings down by the river, Gale and I, before Arrow was born.

She nods. "I'd like that."

We stand in silence together for a while. Finally, I release her.

"I have to get back to work," I tell her.

"So do I," she sighs, and I cringe just looking at the mountain of clothes she needs to iron. But it keeps her alive. We all do what we need to do to stay alive.

As the weeks pass, Peeta and I gradually fall into a routine, which surprisingly becomes comfortable. I bring Arrow to school every day, but it's mainly because I like to get some fresh air. I know he could walk to school safely without me. But there are no other children in Victor's Village that he could walk with.

Ivy is going to learn to crawl soon. She's already slithering on her stomach, crossing the floor surprisingly quickly, and I realize I will soon have quite a lot of work on my hands. She's put on so much weight. This morning, when I changed her diaper, I noticed that she has actual creases on her thighs. She is a natural born charmer, too - a combination of Prim and Gale. I'm sure I'll have a hard time keeping the boys away from her. She's got Peeta wrapped around her little finger in record time, and she knows it. I'm a bit hesitant about having him interact with my children. I'm not sure what's appropriate and I already feel as if we're intruding in his home. But Peeta never seems bothered. Not even when they are both crying at the same time.

Peeta drinks a lot, though. Mostly at night, which is a relief, because it makes it easier for me to protect the children from it. He's never loud or difficult in any way when he's drunk, but he's still drunk. When he does drink during the day, I have to come up with excuses, both for Peeta and for Arrow, for why he can't be around the children. It's exhausting.

We never speak of anything that is too personal. Neither of us is very talkative anyway. Yet we somehow are learning to live together. The adjustments he has to make, are bigger. We are three, he is only one. Besides, I'm used to sharing a house with a man. Peeta is used to living alone. His only visitor is Haymitch, who sometimes comes by for breakfast.

We talk about routines, chores, or the weather. He never asks about my past, and I never ask about his. It's a tacit agreement. Gradually, I allow him to spend more time with the children, even unsupervised, if only for a few minutes.

It's Saturday, and Prim and the twins are here to visit. Even though they are four years younger, Arrow really enjoys playing with them. Peeta isn't at home – I have no idea where he is. He never tells me where he's going, and I never ask, even though I have started asking him when he plans to return home, so that I can have dinner ready. I'm relieved he's not at home now, though, as the boys are running after each other through the living room, and the noise is deafening.

Prim looks tired, but smiles as she sees the boys playing. I know she's under a lot of pressure, with the twins, working with my mother and the constant lack of food. She's holding Ivy on her lap, tickling her feet.

"She looks better already," Prim says. I'm not surprised she noticed. It's her job, after all.

"It's incredible what food can do, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Thank you so much for…" I know what's about to come. I quickly shake my head, sending her a warning glance. She frowns, clearly not understanding.

"Never mind that. It's okay."

She sends me a strange look, but doesn't comment on it. Prim's been in a lot of houses in 12. She's probably learned when to talk, when to shut up, and when to change the subject, which she does. "So… how's the job?"

"It's okay. I mean it's good. It's a bit strange, though. Living in such a big house. And with Peeta-"

"Peeta? You call him Peeta?"

"Yeah." I almost blush. "I don't even know him and now I live in his house, with the children and… Well, he certainly needs a housekeeper. This place was a mess." I roll my eyes, trying to lighten the mood.

"I uh… wondered if there was anything else involved in the agreement." She looks uneasy.

I frown. But I could see how she'd think that, considering how I myself misunderstood Haymitch's intentions that first night. It's not a large step to extend that thought to Peeta.

"No, of course not!" I clear my throat. "Is that what everyone thinks?" Everyone didn't really have any strong opinions on my morals as long as I was just another Seam wife. But now that I moved into Victor's Village, suddenly, I'm different from them.

Prim shrugs. "It's not as if everyone tells me what they think about my sister and her living arrangements," she says dryly, and I know she's right. Though if people thought I was sleeping in Peeta's bed, Prim wouldn't be the first to hear it. "Just be careful, okay?" I nod. "I remember him from school," she continues. "He was always so popular, he always looked happy. He had so many friends. He used to smile at me every time he passed me in the hallway, did you know that?" I shake my head. Peeta didn't smile at me. Ever. He'd always look flustered, if he met my gaze at all. Most of the time, he'd only look down at the floor.

"That was a long time ago," I say.

"Yes," she agrees. "He's changed so much. It's hard to imagine that the sour-looking, inebriated victor we see on the street now is the same person as the blond, cheerful school boy."

"He must've been through a lot since then. With the Hunger Games and…"

"Do you think it's just the Hunger Games?" She interrupts me. I furrow my brow, confused. "Because I'm not so sure. I remember what he was like after he had just returned from winning the Games. He did look different from before he was reaped, yes, and that is to be expected, I guess, but… he didn't look the way he does now."

I hadn't thought about that. "Why do you think that is?"

"I don't know." Prim looks down. "I just think there must be something else, something more. Something more than just the Games. What I'm trying to say, is that I want you to be careful, because he's not the happy merchant boy he used to be."

She doesn't say any more, heeding my previous warning. There's an awkward silence. The twins are fighting over something in the living room, and Prim goes to try to break them up. Peeta chooses this exact moment of utter chaos to come home.

"Who's killing whom?" he asks, nodding in the direction of the living room, where the shrieking has reached a maximum, as Prim tries to convince Thomas and Ridge that they can in fact share Arrow's toy train.

"I think it could end up becoming a double murder," I answer, and Peeta actually smiles at me. I rarely see him smile, except at Ivy.

"I have two older brothers," he says. "I know everything about brothers beating the crap out of you."

Prim returns to the kitchen. "Well, in this case the brothers are the same size," she sighs. "I think it helps. Or maybe not."

Peeta smiles to her. "Prim," he says. "It's been a long time. I can't believe you've outgrown your pigtails."

She laughs. "That was, what – 14 years and two children ago?"

Peeta's smile fades.

I've finally claimed a spot on the couch, after cleaning the dishes from dinner, when Peeta surprises me by breaking our usual silence. He's drinking white liquor, but he seems to keep the amount under control tonight. I'm drinking a cup of tea and reading a book about plants.

"It was nice to see Prim today," he says. "I never get visitors, so it was nice to see… someone else."

"Your brothers don't come to visit you?" I don't ask about his mother.

He shakes his head. "No, we… don't interact much. It's easier that way."

"Easier how?"

"We've… grown apart. Too much has happened. They can't understand what it's like." His eyes are dark.

I put my book down. "I guess no one who hasn't been in the Hunger Games can understand," I say. "I mean, I can say that I do, but…" My voice trails off. "I think it's like any other loss. You can't know what it's like unless you've lived through it yourself."

"I suppose." He pauses. "How do you live with it?"

I don't have to ask him what he means. I hesitate. How do I live with it? The truth is that I don't live with it yet, not truly. "I guess I just go with the motions," I admit. "One day at a time." I try not to think too much. That's the main reason I'm able to get out of bed in the morning at all. I look up at him. "I think you understand. You know about loss." I say softly.

He looks startled. "I… um, yeah. I guess." He looks uncomfortable now. I'm afraid I've gone too far. That we've suddenly become too personal. But it must be true. That look in his eyes… Yes, he has lost someone. I try to think back to his Games. But it was so long ago, the details come back slowly.

His hands don't seem to be able to keep still. They are nervously playing with his now empty glass. I've never seen him like this before.

I've also never noticed his hands before, either. They are large and mostly smooth. His fingertips are calloused, though. That must be from baking. I think I remember him getting a gash on the back of his left hand in the Hunger Games. A fight with one of his supposed allies, if memory serves. But I can't see any scar there now, which is odd. The wound was so big. He flexes his fingers and I can't stop staring. I feel my cheeks burning. I force my gaze up and find that he's watching me watch him from the corner of his eye. I look away.

We don't talk for the rest of the night, and I retire early to bed. For some reason, I'm unable to get the image of his hands out of my head. I wonder what those hands would feel like. If they would feel different from Gale's. Gale's hands were full of scars, too, from the mines and the woods. As I realize what I've just been thinking actually means, I feel like the worst person in the world.

I cry myself to sleep.

When I wake up, there is no sign of Peeta. He doesn't come down for breakfast, like he usually does. I leave a plate on the table as I take Arrow to school, in case Peeta wakes up before I get back.

But on my way home, I'm surprised to meet Peeta in town. Drunk. At 8 in the morning. I wonder where he's been all night, but I force the thought away. It's none of my business. I'm glad Ivy is sleeping – she's only a baby, but I still don't want her to witness this. There are people in the streets, and I can feel their looks and hear their laughter.

"Let's go home, Peeta," I say to him, calmly but firmly, my voice not really giving him any choice in the matter. "Breakfast is waiting for you."

I'm careful to keep a respectable distance between us, even though the road is icy and he could probably need a steadying hand. But too many are watching, and besides, with Ivy on my chest, I have to prioritize staying on my own feet, not saving a drunken Victor from falling.

He doesn't, though.

"What set you off this time?" I ask him when we're on the road to the Victors' Village, finally away from the curious eyes. I've lived long enough in his house now to understand that these binges, much worse than his day-to-day drinking, are set off by something. The first time it was a phone call from his mother, the second it was a mandatory Capitol special about the Hunger Games.

He doesn't answer at first, and I wonder whether he heard me. I open my mouth to repeat my questions when he finally speaks. "Loss."

"Oh."

"Have you ever thought that… life wasn't worth living, Katniss?" His words take me aback. I stop short, and so does he. I look up at him, and his blood-shot eyes are surprisingly clear. They are so incredibly blue, yet they burn with a fire I've never seen in them before.

"No," I answer honestly. I've been too busy struggling to stay alive, for so many years, that I've never considered not living. "I've been too hungry." These are dangerous words, perhaps, but I feel relatively certain we're not being watched here.

"I suppose."

We walk in silence for a few minutes. His shoulders are slumped, and if I had asked him to walk in a straight line, he couldn't have done it to save his life. He looks so old, much older than I've ever seen him.

"Do you remember the bread?" he suddenly asks.

I take a sharp intake of breath. "Yes," I answer. How could I ever forget? "I'm more surprised that you do."

"Why?" I can feel his burning eyes on me, but I keep my own fixed on the road ahead of us.

"Because… To me, it meant the difference between life and death. To you, it was just some loaves of burned bread." I pause. "And a beating from your mother."

I look up at him. He rolls his eyes. "Well, there's been more than a few of those." I shiver. I know it's true. I noticed the bruises and black eyes that Peeta kept coming to school with. Everyone did. He blamed it on wrestling, but none of the other wrestlers ever had that many bruises.

"Did the bread actually save your life? Was it really that bad?"

"Yes," I murmur, my cheeks burning. It still hurts to think about it. My mother's betrayal. How close we all came to dying. It took me years to forgive my mother. And even still, there are days when I have a hard time being around her.

He curses under his breath. "If I'd known it was that bad, I would've…"

I shake my head. "You were a child, Peeta. Don't beat yourself up over it."

"Doesn't excuse being a coward, though."

"What makes you think you're a coward?"

"I watched you wither away at school, but I did nothing. When I saw you under a tree in the rain, barely living, what did I do? I didn't have the decency to invite you in, or even go over to you and give you some loaves of bread. No, instead I burned the bread on purpose and threw it at you, as if you were an animal."

He saved my life, yet he judges himself so harshly. "Peeta… Please don't. I owe you so much already. Don't make it sound like what you did wasn't enough. Because it was, okay? You saved us. You've done it twice now. I'll never stop owing you."

He shakes his head slowly. "No, you don't owe me, Katniss. If anything, it's the other way around."

I have no idea what he's talking about. I want to ask him, even though I'm not sure if I'll actually want to hear his answer. But we're home now, and I don't want to have this conversation when someone is listening.

He stumbles inside, and disappears into the bathroom, where I hear him vomit violently into the toilet. Then he stumbles upstairs. I listen for his footsteps. I'm relieved when I hear the door to his bedroom close and not the door at the end of the corridor.